Witty Weekly
In This Issue:
- What Your Grocery Basket Says About You
- Sneak Peek: Life of a New Product
- Follow Us on X So the Boss Doesn't Fire Us, Plz
Reading time: ~4.5 minutes, unless you're having an existential crisis. Us too, bestie
What Your Grocery Basket Says About You
Let's get something straight: grocery shopping is not just about buying food. Well, with today's prices, it's really more of a status flex.
But it's also a psychological profile in cart form. A metal wire window into your soul. A slow-rolling therapy session with a snack aisle.
Don't believe me?
Next time you're at the store, take a closer look at what people are buying. Is their cart overflowing with bulk-size cheese puffs, mozzarella sticks, and shame? Or is it suspiciously empty except for a box of condoms and one rotisserie chicken?
That's not a shopping trip, my friend.
That's an emotional exposé.
So buckle up, and let's unpack the hidden baggage behind that humble little grocery basket of yours.
Vibe: You're trying so hard.
Diagnosis: This basket screams, "I Googled 'gut health' at 1am and now I think I can fix my life with fiber." You haven't had joy since 2019, but dammit, you've had beets. You're hoping antioxidants and a juice cleanse can undo the damage of every decision from college, and honestly? Good luck with that.
Also, you 100% have a favorite spatula.
Vibe: Chaos with a side of MSG
Diagnosis: You don't cook so much as assemble heat and hope. Your microwave is your soulmate. You tell people you're "super busy" but deep down, you know this is who you are now: someone who smells like beef jerky and eats shredded cheese as a standalone meal. You are 34 years old. And that's okay.
This basket says: "I own three hoodies but my ex-girlfriend still has one of them."
Vibe: Pinterest board meets midlife crisis
Diagnosis: You're a wanna-be Kardashian. You came in for toilet paper and left with "essentials" for a spontaneous charcuterie night that may or may not end in emotional tears and a Band-Aid-related emergency.
This basket says, "I'm not sure if I'm preparing for a romantic date or if I'll break another wine glass tonight, but look at how classy I am!"
Vibe: Starch is my therapist
Diagnosis: You've given up. Not on life—just on balance, moderation, and blood sugar stability. Every item in your basket is beige tinted with regret. Every choice you make is one made with heavy sighs and elastic pants. You looked that gluten-free aisle dead in the eye and said, "Not today, Satan."
This basket smells faintly of Netflix binges and Romantasy books.
Vibe: Are you okay??? What are you going to make with these things??
Diagnosis: This basket reads like a scavenger hunt written by someone actively losing their grip. There is no plan here. This is chaos shopping. This is "I came here to get away from my family" energy. Your toddler just asked if "the dinosaurs are still mad" and you knew you had to get out of there.
At least one item was grabbed purely out of obligation, another out of panic, and the rest because you blacked out near the pharmacy.
Vibe: Someone just got dumped…or watched My Dog Skip
Diagnosis: You're in a fragile state. You may not know why, but your basket does. Your basket is whispering, "Let's just curl up and feel things." This is the edible equivalent of screaming into a pillow while binge-watching The Great British Bake Off and pretending you don't miss your ex's dog.
Do not make eye contact with the cashier. They'll know.
Vibe: Monday Energy
Diagnosis: This is what your life looks like before reality hits (usually by Wednesday). This basket only exists between 8 a.m.-11 a.m. on Sundays. It's the grocery store version of joining a gym and immediately buying a water bottle with inspirational time markers on it.
Spoiler alert: By Thursday you're going to be elbows-deep in nachos and using the quinoa bag as a coaster.
Vibe: Liar.
Diagnosis: No one goes to the store for one thing unless it's emotional avoidance (or a pregnancy test). You needed to get out of the house for 43 minutes. You needed to feel something. Gum is just your alibi. You're not chewing it—you're chewing your feelings.
Also, you're 100% about to go stand in the parking lot and overthink something someone said to you in 2016.
Vibe: End-of-days hoarding meets meal-planning optimism
Diagnosis: You don't mess around. You treat grocery shopping like a tactical military operation. Your grocery items are listed in the order in which you go through the store, starting with non-perishables and ending with the frozen section. You've got apps, coupons, and a podcast playing at 1.75x speed. You are the reason they run out of oat milk. You say things like "price per ounce" in casual conversation.
Also, you absolutely judge people who don't go to Costco. (As you rightly should.)
Final Thoughts
Your grocery basket might not define you… but it tattles on you faster than an oldest sibling.
So next time you're wheeling your way down aisle six, just know: every bystander, every employee, and every cashier is secretly reading you like a sad, salty novel of Hot Pockets and impulse Ben & Jerry's.
But hey—whatever emotional tornado you're riding into that store, know this:
You are not alone.
We're all just weird little gremlins trying to find meaning in a 10-for-$10 sale and pretending we didn't just buy six different cheeses because they were "on sale."
So carry that basket with pride, emotional baggage and all. And if someone side-eyes your 12 a.m. frozen waffle emergency haul?
That's what self-checkout is for.
🚨🚨COMING SOON: NEW WITTY YETI PRODUCT🚨🚨
...are you ready for it?? 👀
Yeti Thoughts
