OK. Fundraisers are KILLING me. I wrote about the babysitters' cookie dough (all 3 lbs of it) that was ingested before achieving its full potential as cookies. And she raised money to go to London. Now, there are Girl Scouts wanting to go on a cruise. First of all, why should Girl Scouts get to go on a cruise? What do tween girls get out of that experience? Sure, someone like me can really maximize the opportunity. I can work a buffet like nobody's business. I can have the margarita man wear the deck thin between me and the bar. I can nap in the sun like a cat. I can stay in a spa 'til I'm pruney. But girls? C'mon. A cruise is WASTED on them. Four days of wearing matchy-matchy tee shirts and giggling up and down stairways. Tromping down hallways and disturbing people's naps. Splashing in the pool and getting water in people's margaritas. Cutting in line at the buffet. All tee-hee and pst psst over some 20 something guy they're "secretly" following around the ship, but who isn't really great, because clearly he doesn't have a job and is mooching this trip off his retiree parents who are playing bridge somewhere on board. Bah. Girl Scouts have no business on a cruise.
Furthermore, they have no business funding their cruise with calories foisted on me. Asking me to allow the Thin Mint devil into my freezer and home. Cracking the door open to Somoas and Trefoils. Knowing full well their seductive powers over me. Knowing, and casually tossing aside my fragile commitment to lose ten pounds by April. Those damn tweens and their devil-may-care relationship with carbs. They walk to my door with the arrogance of youth and high metabolisms and innocently ask if I would be interested in ordering a box of cookies.
Interested? Honey I would smack you down where you stand for a box of thin mints. I would hijack your mom's cookie delivery Suburban. Girlie, you would not want to meet me in a dark alley with your green box-filled backpack. I can take you.
So, in the name of charity, Girl Scout cookies are en route to my house. Some one, please come take them from me. Tear them from my scraggly talons. Please. Exorcise the delicious calories from me. If you see a Girl Scout, nab her cookies. Mock her uniform. Tell her Scouts is a pale, watered down imitation of Boy Scouts and all the real things boys can do. Do anything to keep her from fulfilling her mission of fattening my ass.
The Girl Scouts must be stopped.
Do not eat the cookies. You must not eat the cookies. You will never lose the 10 pounds. Just say no. Or do what I do pretend you never heard a doorbell. Or you are in the shower. That's what the kids tell the Jehovah witness people through the closed door.
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