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