Stupid Girls

Friday, March 04, 2011

We'll always have Brownies

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Mina's Dish: The Girl Scouts host a cookie caper
Dear Girl Scouts, 
I have supported you for many decades now, even though my dingbat troop leader slammed my ant farm in a large pickle jar down on a table and killed all my ants, thus causing me to take a hike.

I have, over the decades, bought close to a pick up truck load of cookies. Yes, most of them were Thin Mints, but I've noticed, in recent years, that I haven't found them as satisfying as i remember from previous decades.

So, this year, I bought a box of my second favorites: Lemon Chalet Creme, even though I noticed, with disappointment, that they're no longer "Cream," meaning they're probably lard or plastic or silicone caulk or something. They weren't very lemony; there wasn't very much "creme," which is probably just as well, when you think about it. I didn't bother to read the ingredients; I assume they were pretty poisonous, but that wasn't the point of my purchase, anyway.

And I would have bought more than one box, but they're very small for the new price of $3.50. So, who ever is baking your cookies is baking you, too, and me, as your supporter.

I realize you're risking arrest even selling these anymore. I read about the town cops somewhere that rousted your moms for not having a peddler's license! And I appreciate that there's a recession and that you have to buy your uniforms, badges and lots of other stuff from the Girl Scout Cartel, and that a lot of low income troops really struggle with this.

But I want you to know that, until and unless you decide to contract with a MUCH better baker, with MUCH better ingredients at more reasonable prices for junk food I could pick up for a third the cost at a dollar store, I won't be buying any more Girl Scout cookies in the future.

Thank you for teaching young women self-sufficiency and confidence. Thank you for not taking an anti-Lesbian policy, similar to those sissy Boy Scouts, who should be ashamed of themselves. Thank you for teaching me how to make s'mores, ride a horse, sew a badge on my sash and sing "A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall."

And I forgive you for the ant farm. The ants do not.