Cookie Dough

Alright, so I know I said that this wasn't a food blog, but I've got to tell you about this.

I went down to the dining hall because, since I live in a lovely dorm room, I have to eat most of my meals among the masses. Usually, this is frustrating but convenient. Not tonight.

Feeling more antisocial than usual, I decided to take my to-go box with me and just bring my dinner back with me to eat in the relative privacy and loneliness of my cold, dark room. I was on a mission. Get in, get the food I want and get out. It all started with the cash register lady.

She swiped my card and then, when I handed her my used box and asked for a clean one, she looked at it, looked back at me and started laughing.

"Can I please have a clean box?" I asked.

"I don't understand why y'all are always washing these boxes yourselves and then trying to get a new one. This one ain't clean enough for you?"

I sighed. The first time I used this box method, the man reprimanded me for bringing back a dirty box, although I had been told that if you bring them back dirty they will give you a clean one. So from then on I have been particularly careful to rinse the boxes thoroughly before returning them which means that they look rather clean. But considering that I live in a dorm room, I don't actually have regular access to a kitchen, dish detergent or a sponge. Now, would I prefer to have a box that has just been rinsed and still is completely wet on the inside in which to put my food or a box that has gone through an industrial strength dishwasher?

I just looked at her. She shook her head and gave me a new box like I was some kind of crazy. I hope she didn't put the box I gave her into the clean pile. Some poor, unsuspecting social recluse is going to get dysentery.

Taking my freshly obtained box I then proceeded to the Po' Boy Sandwich station. There was no lettuce left because, apparently, by eight o'clock at night the dining hall staff have decided that it's too late to actually do their jobs. Which would explain the lack of cucumbers at the salad station and the sorry state of the snicker-doodles at the dessert station.

Now, you may be thinking, what is this girl's problem? She didn't get lettuce on her sandwich or cucumbers on her salad? Big deal. And what's with those cookies, anyways?

Perhaps it wouldn't be so upsetting if things weren't always like this. And as for the cookies... It makes me sad, just thinking about it. There was no dessert to be found except for five snicker-doodle cookies. The boy in line in front of me grabbed three. If he had taken all of the cookies, I might have stabbed him with a fork. But he generously left two for me, even though they looked a little squashed.

Cookies are cookies, I thought, and grabbed the remaining two, threw them in my box and left the dining hall for my dorm. On the walk back, since it is such a long, three minute walk, I popped open the to-go box (making the two girls walking ahead of me jump like it was a gun shot) and pulled out one of the cookies. It smelled delicious, all cinnamon-y and sugary like snicker-doodles are supposed to be. I bit into it. It was raw.

Rarely will I use the word raw for a cookie. Soft, maybe; a little underdone. No. This cookie was raw. I could taste the uncooked eggs. Both cookies were raw. Perhaps the biggest disappointment of my life. Or, at least, my day.

While I promise that this will not turn into a food blog, I think it outrageous that I pay a small fortune for my meal plan and have to put up with this bunk. It should be five-star food served up on a silver platter.

And they should include room service! Can't believe I have to walk three minutes to go get food...