tired of everything
i hate girl scouts.
here i am, sitting on the couch still in my smelly running garb, watching scrubs reruns on comedy central while my low carb, low fat, low cal dinner cooks in the oven, when the doorbell rings.
and first of all, whenever i am home alone and the doorbell rings, i am always a little apprehensive about opening it because i have seen way too many episodes of law and order criminal intent/svu/csi/crossing jordan (and well, the local news) and so i usually just let the dogs bark long enough to scare any kind of murdering rapist (or ups delivery man) away. but from where i was sitting tonight i could see the unmistakable silhouette of two little girls with glasses and (incorrectly) assumed that there would be no harm in seeing what sort of business they were up to.
and business, is exactly what these cold hearted trifling litte ambushers had in store for me. cookie business.
it's still january. people (including myself) are barely into their new diet resolutions and still suffering from starvation and exercise induced grumpyness and fatigue. and yet! these little cookie peddling midgets pop out of nowhere to seduce even the strongest will power into purchasing not one or two but THREE boxes of sugar comatose inducing delights.
and i don't even like sweets, but something about girl scout cookies whisks me right back to childhood and i simply cannot resist a samoa, (especially if it has been hanging out in the freezer for a little while) or letting a trefoil dipped in milk fall apart in my mouth after devouring half a pack of thinmints. i am a weak, weak woman.
when they handed me the order form, i had to completely restrain myself (do-si-do's and tagalongs and trefoils, oh my!) and only ordered the three boxes, which completely elated the esteem of the little sabateurs who giggled in delight that they suckered this poor lady into buying three boxes of $3.50 cookies, putting them well on their way to winning a trip to somewhere or at the very least earning a stupid badge at the price of me fitting into my favorite pair of jeans.
which, by the way, i am beginning to seriously consider tossing out all of my size two jeans, which i only fit into that summer a few years ago when voldemort broke my heart and my diet consisted of vodka and diet pills. but i digress.
so i had to write my name, address, quantity of each cookie, and then calculate a total of money due. i almost said, "i did not know math was part of the deal. consider this transaction canceled," but stood there for a second, thinking..."okay. if three times three is nine....and 50 plus 50 is 100....." and then ultimately decided to let them figure it out themselves. if they can't multiply $3.50 times 3, odds are they can't build a campfire or do the secret handshake or whatever the hell it is that girlscouts do anymore and they will just be failures at everything so i figured i was doing them a huge favor.
after all, one day not too far into the future, these girlscouts will be twenty something professionals trying to balance work with a social life and exercise and bills and all the thousands of other things that come along with adulthood. no one gives you badges for a job well done, and you hardly ever win a free trip for exceeding a quota. i figure they should relish their innocence while they have it, and karma will take care of the rest.
here i am, sitting on the couch still in my smelly running garb, watching scrubs reruns on comedy central while my low carb, low fat, low cal dinner cooks in the oven, when the doorbell rings.
and first of all, whenever i am home alone and the doorbell rings, i am always a little apprehensive about opening it because i have seen way too many episodes of law and order criminal intent/svu/csi/crossing jordan (and well, the local news) and so i usually just let the dogs bark long enough to scare any kind of murdering rapist (or ups delivery man) away. but from where i was sitting tonight i could see the unmistakable silhouette of two little girls with glasses and (incorrectly) assumed that there would be no harm in seeing what sort of business they were up to.
and business, is exactly what these cold hearted trifling litte ambushers had in store for me. cookie business.
it's still january. people (including myself) are barely into their new diet resolutions and still suffering from starvation and exercise induced grumpyness and fatigue. and yet! these little cookie peddling midgets pop out of nowhere to seduce even the strongest will power into purchasing not one or two but THREE boxes of sugar comatose inducing delights.
and i don't even like sweets, but something about girl scout cookies whisks me right back to childhood and i simply cannot resist a samoa, (especially if it has been hanging out in the freezer for a little while) or letting a trefoil dipped in milk fall apart in my mouth after devouring half a pack of thinmints. i am a weak, weak woman.
when they handed me the order form, i had to completely restrain myself (do-si-do's and tagalongs and trefoils, oh my!) and only ordered the three boxes, which completely elated the esteem of the little sabateurs who giggled in delight that they suckered this poor lady into buying three boxes of $3.50 cookies, putting them well on their way to winning a trip to somewhere or at the very least earning a stupid badge at the price of me fitting into my favorite pair of jeans.
which, by the way, i am beginning to seriously consider tossing out all of my size two jeans, which i only fit into that summer a few years ago when voldemort broke my heart and my diet consisted of vodka and diet pills. but i digress.
so i had to write my name, address, quantity of each cookie, and then calculate a total of money due. i almost said, "i did not know math was part of the deal. consider this transaction canceled," but stood there for a second, thinking..."okay. if three times three is nine....and 50 plus 50 is 100....." and then ultimately decided to let them figure it out themselves. if they can't multiply $3.50 times 3, odds are they can't build a campfire or do the secret handshake or whatever the hell it is that girlscouts do anymore and they will just be failures at everything so i figured i was doing them a huge favor.
after all, one day not too far into the future, these girlscouts will be twenty something professionals trying to balance work with a social life and exercise and bills and all the thousands of other things that come along with adulthood. no one gives you badges for a job well done, and you hardly ever win a free trip for exceeding a quota. i figure they should relish their innocence while they have it, and karma will take care of the rest.