Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Why I Hate the Girl Scouts
Let's ignore, for a moment, my bad experiences with the Girl Scouts. Let's pretend that my troop leader's daughter was not an overachieving twit who always sold like a thousand boxes of cookies. I'll set aside the fact that said troop leader liked to publicly compare our relative achievements. ("Oh, looks like Jamie only sold 199 boxes of cookies; not quite enough to get [whatever the hell prize 200 boxes of cookies entitled you to]. Too bad.") And we can totally forget the fact that my dad was into camping and we did way more fun/cool stuff (camping! shooting GUNS!) as a family than I ever did in stupid scouts.
Why I really hate Girl Scouts is that every February, when I'm feeling down and draggy and really, really ready for spring, those damn be-sashed young women come bearing the comfort food of all comfort foods.
Those bitches bring cookies.
And between my pig-out on Oscar night (cheese! crackers! cosmopolitans!) and the boxes and boxes of cookies at my house (I got six, my brother got six, my parents each got four), I am going to gain back the five pounds I've lost in the last four weeks.
I'm off to the 24-hour Walmart to buy a padlock for the frickin' freezer.