If one confined one's consumption of said syrups, however, to marginally acceptable flavors such as chocolate and hazelnut, one might expect a get-out-of-jail free card for one's candy-ass indiscretions. But pumpkin pie? Gingerbread for chrissake?
I don't have one alibi.
If you stop associating with me on account of this, I'll understand. A person can only ask so much from another person.
That said, I am not trying to take you down with me. I shall stand stoically alone before my sins. But--and not that I'm suggesting anything unseemly here--if you are in, say, World Market or some other candy-ass place (not like you would be or anything) and you see a bottle of Torani Sugar Free Gingerbread Syrup and you accidentally buy it, and you go home and accidentally pour some in your coffee and take a sip, you will find it tastes sort of like Christmas in a sparkle spice* way you can't really put your finger on.
In the process of trying to put your finger on that elusive something, you might be reminded of a Dagoba Chai chocolate bar, which has the same subtle spicy thing going on (with itty bitty flecks of crystallized ginger to boot), and might be the most perfect goddamn thing you could slide into the stocking of your Goat or Goatess. (But not that I'm trying to take you down with me by suggesting you buy a chocolate bar that, as of the penning of this post, is indelibly tethered to a candy-ass sugar free coffee syrup or anything like that. And to the person out there who's about to contrast the non-sugar-freeness of a Dagoba Chai bar to the sugar-freeness of the candy-ass syrup, please don't and instead go to hell).
The O'Brien hasn't tried the Torani Sugar Free Pumpkin Pie flavored syrup yet, so don't ask for some cosmic chocolate connection for that. Can't you people do anything for yourselves?
Christ, this is exhausting.
You see that neon yellow pour spout in the chocolate? I put those in my candy-ass Torani Sugar Free Flavoring Syrup bottles and when someone who is not yet down with the entire Erin O'Brien experience comes over for a cuppa, I get totally jacked when they see me upend one of these mothers into my coffee cup at 9:00 in the morning and think for a split second: is she pouring whiskey into that cup?
(tee-hee!)
About the only non-candy ass element to this entire orchestration is the can of Hills Bros. coffee lurking behind all those Torani bottles. Your Hills Bros. is one of the few shitty old-time coffees you can actually understand on account it still comes in an actual can you can use for cleaning paint brushes after the coffee is gone. (Don't try and find a coffee can that requires the employ of a can opener--they all have these space-age tinfoil seals you peel off, which is satisfying in it's own way but no where near as good as piercing through the tin with the can opener like with your authentic old-time coffee cans, and hearing that pffft noise as the fresh coffee smell wafts up.)
People, this is what my life is like all of the time.
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*please don't tell anyone I said, "sparkle spice."
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