When I was little, my mother was always quick to remind me: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.” What she meant, of course, was that the best deals in life come at a price — whether you accept some stranger’s favor and become their mob bitch (a la “The Departed”), or end up being paid by your roommate to tell embarrassingly tepid jokes in front of her 200-person class so that she can get extra credit.

But when I entered college, I couldn’t really afford to be so choosy. My wallet got a little tighter and my appetite for OVT’s disgusting selections plummeted. (Why, “Meatless Monday?” Why?)

My friends and I instinctively began to seek out what college students love best: free food. We quickly realized that one of the simplest ways to snag a free snack (as close to free as I can get, Mom) was through Sprinkles Cupcakes’ Twitter feed.

Every morning at around 10 a.m., the trendy (read: expensive) cupcake shop updates its Twitter feed and Facebook page with a new “secret” phrase of the day. The first 50 people to whisper that phrase in store get a free cupcake — usually an exclusive flavor of the day that you can brag about to your uninformed friends, like chocolate cake filled with marshmallow cream topped with peanut butter frosting. (Actually, that one was disgusting.)

For those too lazy to sprint to Sprinkles at a moment’s notice, it’s also possible to comment on Sprinkles’ Facebook update, where five people get chosen at random for a free cupcake coupon.

Of course, with 500-plus people commenting every day and only five lucky winners, I really can’t be bothered. I have better things to do with my time, like looking up adorable pug videos on YouTube.

Recently, early morning lines at Sprinkles have been short to nonexistent, other than the occasional junkie purchasing her daily dozen hogging up the line, but it was an entirely different story when the store first opened back in January.

The endless quest for my first Sprinkles cupcake was tainted by three-hour lines wrapping around the store. Very little (besides a cupcake) could soothe my raging anger at the hordes of morose, sugar-deprived patrons. Why did they feel the need to pay $3.50 for a designer cupcake? I wanted to pay $3.50 for a cupcake.

In due time, the lines waned, and my tally of free cupcakes has reached six. I can now get a free cupcake in less than 10 minutes (driving time included!), and I’m no longer interested in paying three dollars for one.

Though I will sometimes go out of my way, I only do so on occasion, and when I actually have time to go. That way, I don’t feel quite so crazy for checking their feed every morning. It’s easier to seem normal when you’re not foaming at the mouth for Irish cream frosting.