Sunday, March 7, 2010
Evil little green midgets is more like it. Back in the day, being a GS was a respectable way to earn a living outside the confines of parental slavery. In fact, parents did most of the work. They had to take that oppressive form, pass it around to unsuspecting co-workers in hopes that the guilt of having crumb snatching offspring forced into early labor was enough to secure an order. That transformed into tactical warfare via the home front…at just under 4’8″ the peep hole proved an ineffective means of keeping the enemy off your front porch. What’s a SIF love more than cookies delivered to the home? Not much… other than a naked Brad Pitt delivery boy. Now they have morphed into tiny prostitutes pedaling their wears at the precise spot where a box of Thin Mints is equivalent to Kryptonite….the grocery store! I know this because I almost hit one of those green rodents with my car. I won’t go on record and say if it was intentional or unintentional but either way they should know better than to block a SIF from the front door of any establishment that carries food. Warning…objects in car appear as large as they actually are and can do serious bodily harm when hungry….back away from the door green bitches!
Now that I got that off my chest….I will admit to buying a box….or 5! Yes! Yes, I broke SIF rule #34567…shopping whilst hungry. I was a prime target. Before I even broke the threshold of the sliding glass door to the Food Palace, I had spent my entire grocery budget on Thin Mints, Samoa’s and Tagalongs. The Mom’s took one look at my ass and started telling me all about the healthy new options in GS cookies. Shut it Mommy….I’m a SIF…I know the menu, I don’t need suggestions and by the way… your kids are butt ugly and yes they look just like you! Bag um and cut the small talk. No, I’m not a very nice person when it comes to healthy alternatives. I’ll let you know when I jump on that band wagon. I do recall another rage filled trip to the grocery ruined by the likes of the GS. I was living in VA and had made a quick run to the store for…whatever I was craving. As is usually the case this time of year, the little green prostitutes were out in full force. This time, they got me on the way out. Had I seen it coming, I may have had a snack to offset the impending drool that follows the sighting of a box of Samoa’s. But no, they got me head on. “You wanna buy some GS cookies,” they said. “I want you to crawl back in the womb and make everyone happy,” I said with my ever present inner voice. And then I bought 8 boxes. However, comma, hiding in the shadows cast by my size 53 figure, was a reporter…waiting to ask me why I chose what I chose. Lovely, busted. Luckily it was only the local paper. He asked, “Why Thin Mints?” “Because I’m going to take the home, dip them in the carton of ice cream I just bought, down some Diet Coke and pretend Brad Pitt is on the way over,” my inside voice said snarkily. Luckily, my outside voice came to the rescue with, “Because they are thin and minty.” Hey, the only thing I sugar coat are my cookies. I saved the article as proof that I was famous for being fat long before any of y’all knew me (southern vernacular creeping up on me again).
I hold no ill will toward the GS. They provide me with a sugar high like no other. Perhaps I should start referring to them as drug dealers instead of prostitutes. No…I’m confident they would sell their bodies for cookie sales. I can see it in their whorey little pre-pubescent eyes. I got news for ya girls: having a period sucks, getting married sucks worse and if you want to be a good little whore…stay single! If not them, I’m sure “Mom” would take one for the team. After all, mother’s are just hookas with commitments. Hmmm…I do need sex and….well I do love cookies so maybe I can work something out with these little green cookie pedaling vermin. Perhaps a deal can be had. I do have experience. As you might expect…I was a member of one of these “cover groups for local pedophiles.” I was in fact a BROWNIE! It was my dream job! I could actually be what I love most in this world…brownies! I don’t recall having to act as a prostitute but who was banging me in that nasty brown dress anyway? Exactly no one. I had no aspirations of being a GS. Why would I? No one wants to eat a GS but everyone wants to eat a Brownie. Fat girls get all the action!
Have I lost it? Clearly…and long ago thank you. If only this brownie had known the following prior to marriage: Brownies with husbands are like leftovers….whilst they taste better everyday they are most often left to wilt and very rarely eaten. Isn’t it amazing what one can learn from being a part of a group? Calling the GS as we speak….