The land of choices: how many is too many?

My daughter is not pleased when I announce that she must accompany me on an errand for my homework assignment . . . and then more than a bit skeptical when I add "to the frozen yogurt place." Ever the good sport, she joins the venture with her typical enthusiasm and attention to detail ("Mom, mom, make sure you put in your blog that the toilet-paper holder in the bathroom is weird.")

We head out to our local "Froyo Life,"  which, when googled, brings up the tagline "Welcome to Froyo Life! Love, Peace, and Froyo Life." That's quite a big bill to fill. Appropriately, a cement statue of Buddha greets us outside the store's door (see photo below). Typical of our hodgepodge neighborhood, and LA in general, it's situated between the Korean-owned dry-cleaners, the "Being in LA" day spa, and the Church of Scientology Los Feliz Mission (see photo below). How convenient: just drop off the laundry, get some electrolysis for those pesky facial hairs, grab a bite of frozen yogurt, then off to the cult--er, church. 

We've arrived. Fifty flavors! Luckily for indecisive ol' me, they rotate only 14 in the store at a time, so my choices are "limited." I mean, whose job is it to sit around all day and think up flavors like "Angel Food Cake," "Taro," "Blueberry Pom Tart" and "Honey-Lavender"? Definitely some cross-brand product placement going on here too, with flavors like "Reese's Peanut Butter Cup" and "Mounds Dark Chocolate."  My daughter and I go for the traditional tart (like real yogurt) and chocolate (see photo). Next there's the subtitles to interpret: non-fat, low-fat, no sugar added. Hey, where's the full-fat, high sugar option? Hellooo, isn't this supposed to be DESSERT?? On to the plethora of toppings: there's dry toppings (nuts, chips, sprinkles, candies . . . cornflakes?!?), wet toppings (pineapple, strawberries, bananas, whipped cream . . . .lychee-coconut jelly?!?), and sauces (chocolate, marshmellow, nutella, caramel,  . . . condensed milk?!?  . . . . cajeta?!?) When queried, the cashier says, "It's like a Mexican version of dulce de leche," (which I thought WAS Mexican, pardon me) Then there's my personal favorite, a perfect example of "choice" on steroids:
vanilla fig balsamic vinegar.
WHATEVER.