I had a not-so-awesome week at work this week and on my way on Thursday, I was thinking to myself “oh how I would love to relax with some vino tonight.” Well, lil 19 week old fetus says “that ain’t gonna happen, Mom” so I tried to think about what would be the next best thing when lo! a highway detour took me right by Cookout. (Thank you, single lane on 52 NB.)
Oh, Cookout. Delicious, delicious Cookout. I literally have not had a Cookout milkshake since 2006. I know the exact year, because Zac and Jamie and I were going to see Failure to Launch at the $2 theater (terrible movie) and we snuck in our milkshakes. I had just started working at Wake teaching the weight loss classes for a research study and thought “Hmm, maybe I should look up the calorie information on a Cookout milkshake!”
Terrible, terrible idea. I haven’t had one since.
Although this information was partially enlightening to explain the good 10 or so extra pounds* that I carried around in college. You see, after many a fraternity party, my girlfriends and I would somehow find a “willing” pledge to drive to Cookout and get us milkshakes. And hush puppies. The combination which should preferably be eaten together – hush puppies dipped into your milkshake. If you’ve never tried this before, I suggest you start with the Oreo and go from there.
While I was waiting in the drive-through line for my milkshake – and oh what the heck, my hush puppies too - it suddenly occurred to me that I never once paid for my milkshakes in college. Never! Who did? Was it the pledge? Was it the brother who sent the pledge? I suddenly felt horribly guilty that someone had footed my milkshake bill for the better part of 3 semesters of college and I had never once even asked someone if I should chip in. How entitled was I?!
But then I decided that since women have to go through pregnancy and childbirth, it was the least the males of the world could do to pick our milkshake tab for us in college. So that settled in and I felt better about this debt. (Although I still do wonder who it was who paid for them?)
These are the things I think about sometimes. I should probably keep them to myself instead of blogging about them.
And just in case you’re wondering, the hush puppies and milkshake combo is every bit as good at 19-weeks and totally sober as it was at 19 years old and, um, not.
I’m just not going to make it a weekly thing this time around. I promise.
Although I don’t think someone would mind if I did….
(*Editor’s Note: Those 10 pounds also maybe also a little something to do with beer. Or Fox Run White Zinfandel mixed with Sprite. Or the fact that you could Pizza Hut on Deacon Dollars. Or the Benson candy bins. Just sayin’.)