$100 Cookies vs. Twitter Blue

One of these things is worth it

Full disclosure: I have a history of buying/paying for stupid shit.

I need to make that clear from the jump.

Over the summer, I was editing Aliza Licht’s book. She mentioned the hype around Last Crumb cookies. An assorted dozen runs about $150 and you have to get on a waiting list to buy them. They come out in "drops," like you'd see for rare sneakers or a Telfar collab and unboxing them is a thing on social media.

Last Crumb Cookies (Copyright @Forbes)

Did I become obsessed with the idea of ordering a dozen? Yes. 

Did I spend a month trying to get in on the latest drop? Again, yes. 

Are the $4/apiece Crumbl cookies equally delicious and incredibly easy to order for immediate delivery if your (read: my) fat behind is too lazy to drive ten miles to the Crumbl bakery to purchase in person? Of course. They even have an app!

However, I wouldn't have been satisfied if I hadn't eventually been able to try Last Crumb cookies for myself. 

When I finally got in on the Last Crumb drop, I was so excited! I ordered them under the guise of being for Fletch's birthday, but I think we all know who I was truly celebrating. 

Honestly, the experience was worth it because they come packaged like an iPhone, each cookie enveloped in a decorative sleeve with its clever origin story on the back, and flavors like A Florida Man, the perfect blend of sweet and tart Key lime, topped with a chewy meringue. They're the kind of cookies you'll warm in the oven and split with a friend because it's too much goodness to consume on your own, even though you (read: me) will try.

Anyway, I rarely reflect on the poor spending decisions I've made in my life, largely because if I did, I'd hurl myself off a bridge.

The worst decision started off innocuously enough. Fletch and I rented a small storage unit when we first moved to a tiny Lincoln Park apartment in 1997. The bedroom wasn't even wide enough to accommodate a nightstand and I had to walk sideways in there to get to the closet, so space was at a premium. Essentially, the place was one step up from sleeping in an actual coffin, but the neighborhood was close to bars, restaurants, and bookstores, plus there was a courtyard where I could plant impatiens, so we made do.