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girl scout cookies

January 27

It’s Girl Scout Cookie time. Ava wants to start a diet tomorrow. Shocking! we know. The rest of us don’t know how successful that will be with Amylynn running around with cute, tasty boxes of calories. We just shrug. Ok, Ava, go right ahead. Here can you hold this sleeve of Thin Mints. Hey! Where are my Thin Mints? So here’s our week in the gag reel.

  1. Barak. As a president, Barak’s reign has been frustrating and a letdown, but it can’t be said that the man himself is ever boring or less than charming. That fact was never more evident than this past week. Example number one occurred when he went to Disney World for a press conference and remarked how happy he was to meet Mickey Mouse. Said the president, “Nice to meet a world leader who has bigger ears than me!” The Sisters love a man who can poke fun at himself. We do it all the time – not make fun of Barak, but of ourselves. Example number two had Mr. President at the Apollo Theater for another speaking engagement where he wowed the crowd with a pretty decent, if shy and a bit timid, version of Al Green’s Let Stay Together. Charming we say. Charming.

  1. Obama. Our buffoon of a governor, Jan Brewer, made national news – again – by looking like a crazy idiot – again. When looking at this picture, however, the Sisters can’t help but want to add dialogue. Jan – Blah blah blah blah I’m spouting delusional crazy person stuff blah blah blah. President – Uh huh. Could you step back, please? Personal space. I’m sure you understand. Jan – Blah blah blah I’m a lunatic with awful hair blah blah blah. President – Riiiiiiight. Jan (waggling finger) – Blah blah blah scorpion waffles illegal immigrants blah blah. President – OK. I’m done here. Good day, Madam. (turns to go) Jan – Blah Blah look at my press coverage blah blah. President – I SAID, ‘GOOD DAY’.
  2. Gongs. Yeah, we said it. Gongs. We’ll bet that you, just like us, had no idea

    If we get a gong we want a BIG one

    that gongs were a big deal much less important enough to land front page acreage in the Wall Street Journal. We were all mistaken. Apparently, gongs are economic indicators. Also, specialty gongs called “Planet Gongs” they are single handedly going to stop the world from coming to an end December 21, 2012. Apparently the believers say the sound energy from all the gongs will halt the end of the world. There is another gong named after a planet past Neptune named Sedna which is turned to that planet’s cosmic energy. How the hell can they know that? We don’t know, but we guess we’ll just trust them. There is an entire yoga practice around gongs. We blink in amazement. In case you’re interested in purchasing your own gong, they’re all over the Internet but the rules state any gong over 38 inches is an “outside gong”. Who knew

  3. Turtle smugglers. The Sisters read this news bulletin with a great deal of interest since we’re planning our own bit of smuggling. In this incident, customs officials found 1,495 pig-nosed turtles being smuggled in two suitcases. That’s a lot of turtles people – even if they are wee little turtles. We can’t imagine stuffing 1,495 anythings into two suitcases, especially things that are alive. We thought of this as a cautionary tale while we plan our panda/llama/porcupine/red panda smuggling operation. On one hand, it seems like stuffing a live thing in a suitcase is a bad plan, but if you were a customs authority would you open a suitcase that was

    Wishing it anywhere actually

    growling? Us neither.

  4. Intellectual disability. The Federal government in its infinite wisdom has again added a new politically correct exchange to our vernacular. The Sisters think there is no reason in this world why you would ever need to be mean to disadvantaged people, but we are also concerned that we’re raising a nation of mamby pamby shrinking violets who can’t handle life. That being said, we’d like to know if one can collect disability from the federal government for this since we’re certain we could get enough signatures on a petition testifying that we’re idiots. We’re just asking.
     

My boy might be the reincarnation of Jimmy Hoffa

Sassy joined the Girl Scouts this year. Do you know what this means?

Girl Scout Cookies!

We picked up a car load of cookies this weekend and Sassy was all gung-ho to sell them. Back in my day of being a Girl Scout I would merrily go house to house selling Thin Mints, but I can’t let Sassy do anything of the sort. I knew I had to accompany her.

Sassy doesn’t believe that her mother should have naps. The child nagged and nagged and nagged and nagged and nagged. I’ll bet you think I’m being repetitive, but I’m not. There is no fishwife in the history of humanity who can nag with more conviction and unrelenting zeal than Sassy.

So Sassy, The Bandit and I grabbed several boxes of cookies and headed down our street. I waited at the curb and my little cherubs trotted up to the door to knock. Sassy tapped timidly on the door and when no one answered right away she turned as if she was ready to give up.

Bang. Bang. Bang. The Bandit took his knocking seriously. “Open up,” he yelled at the door. “We’ve got cookies.”

Holy Cow! Is my boy practicing to be a member of a SWAT team? I shook my head at them from the curb but they didn’t notice.

The door opened was opened by a very tall gentleman. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Sassy went in to her spiel. The Bandit stood back a step or two behind her. I think he might have been trying to look intimidating – all three and a half feet of him. I watched from the curb and noted that things didn’t appear to be progressing very well.

“What do you mean, ‘You don’t eat this kind of cookie’?” The Bandit yelled. “Dude, they’re Girl Scout Cookies. Everyone likes Girl Scout Cookies.”

The man took The Bandit’s measure. “You’re not even a Girl Scout, little boy.”

“Whatever. You want some cookies or what?”

Even standing at the curb I was startled. The very tall gentleman on the porch looked equally so. “OK,” he said and looked to the case Sassy had in her hands. She smiled at him angelically. “What kind do you have?”

“Thin Mints.” The Bandit took a box from Sassy’s case. “Everyone likes Thin Mints.”

The man handed over his four dollars and retreated to the safety of his house.

I watched with horror as Sassy and The Bandit came down his sidewalk in victory, The Bandit lecturing his sister. “That’s how you sell cookies, Sassy.”

 

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