current state
of mind: migranious
Little girls,
Little girls
Everywhere I
turn I can see them
Little girls,
Little girls
Night and
day, I eat, sleep and breathe them
~ ‘Little
Girls’ from the musical, ‘Annie’
My friend “Bah
Humbug Little Girls” (who we will call BHLG for short) contacted me via text
this weekend and requested that I write about those little uniformed girls (and
their cookie-pushing parents) who are impossible to avoid this time of
year. I want to preface this with “full
disclosure-disclaimer” that I used to be a Girl Scout leader and a cookie
pusher. I trained the other cookie
pushers so that I didn’t have to have a pallet of 1,000 boxes of cookies in my
storage room. I was one of those people
who not only went door to door with a wagon of cookies; but also displayed them
on my desk and sold them at the Devil-Mart on Sunday afternoons. Yeah, I was proud of handing a box of cookies
to the cutest little girl in the troop and telling her to sell those boxes as if
she were a starving orphan.
So, BHLG
sends me this text that declares without shame that she is glad she has a son
and not a daughter because she doesn’t ever want to be coerced into selling GS
cookies. She even admitted that she only
bought a box from a coworker so that she could then tell anyone else who asked
that she already bought some.
On the day
that cookies went on sale, I was asked by 7 different little girls (and/or their
parents) to purchase a box. One little girl and her mom even tag-teamed me and
kept asking even after I told them that she was the 8th
requestor. Since she is K-Shrub’s BFF
and our neighbor, I will buy a box. One
box, since everyone is selling and I don’t even like them that much. “What?” you all gasp, “You don’t like Girl
Scout cookies?” I don’t after selling
them for years.
I also don’t
like being guilted into buying anything or donating to anything. I am tired of people standing in the street
with cardboard signs asking for money or food or a fifth of whiskey. If you can afford that Sharpie, you can
afford a pen to go apply for a job. Is
that cruel of me? I happen to know that
I don’t want to donate money to people on the street who get that money tax
free; ever since I saw the 48 Hours special that showed how some panhandlers
clear 60k+ a year tax free by begging.
WTF!?!
Now all of
this may seem rather hypocritical since I am virtually a “beggar” for Susan G.
Komen and I am dating a man who runs a local non-profit. But, I am not forcing minors to sell you food
that makes you fat. So, I get a pass.
PERSONAL
NOTE: 1 month and you are married, baby shrub.
CONFIDENTIAL
NOTE: 20 questions have turned into 21
