Jenny Goes Ghetto

I went to Trader Joe's on a (failed) quest for chocolate Mochi, and as I was perusing the less enticing forms of soy-substance-posing-as-ice-cream, I heard a woman to my immediate left say "Hallelujah!" as she reached up to the shelf above the freezer. I chuckled and swiveled my head to see what she was grabbing.

It was the last two bags of some kind of cookie.

As if she had heard my unspoken question of "what snack item is so good you're praising God for it," the woman looked at me and said, "Girrrrrrrrl, these are the cookies. These cookies are SO good, make ya wanna SLAP sumbahhhdy."

(The language-obsessed part of me took immediate notice that this was the second time in a week I'd heard this particular sentiment expressed by a member of the same cultural group. The first person to mention it actually used the phrase "so good, make ya wanna slap yo momma," which I found absolutely fascinating.)

I laughed and asked to see the bag.

So the woman showed me one of the bags and said, "It's too bad there's only two left because I am buying them BOTH. I have looked EVERYwhere. The Trader Joe's near my house does NOT have any more. But if you can find these, girl, you should get them because you will SLAP sumbahhhdy."

Upon seeing the package, I made the connection: these were the little "Stroopwafels" lauded by my friend Deborah in her blog post here.

"I've heard of these!"

"Ooohhhh, girl. These cookies take the edge off PMS." Then she looked around. "You know what?"

I didn't know what. I had a feeling I was about to know what.

She began opening the package. "I am paying for these -- I am buying both of these, and you GOT to have one of these cookies. You will THANK me. I don't mind goin' ghetto, here, because I am BUYING these cookies. Have one of these cookies."

Sure, the uptight whitey in the most law-abiding part of my psyche was frantically scanning the aisle for grocery store packaging police, but I ate the cookie. And the woman looked on, eyebrows raised and nodding her approval like a bobblehead doll. Oh, it was beyond good.

"I TOLD you, girrrl!"

Something in my face must have told her she was right, because she moved away quickly. My slapping hand was at the ready.