First off, I can't believe I am writing a second post about cookies. You may as well paint me blue and call me the Cookie Monster. (Lame, I know. Laugh anyway). But I am. Another post about cookies.
I should be writing to you from a diabetic Thin Mint-induced coma, although by now I believe my pancreas has kicked in full-swing and is releasing buffalo amounts of insulin to combat my sugar overdose. It's that time of year again.
Girl Scout cookies.
Approximately seven cookies for twenty dollars. Okay, fine. That's not true. It's more like fifteen cookies for four dollars. But you catch my drift. Overpriced wafers of scrum-diddly-umtious goodness. All for me. With a side of, "Aww, I just helped some little girl add another badge to that hideous sash (or vest) she's forced to wear to all those meetings!" Been there. Done that.
No, a little girl with puppy dog eyes did not come a' knockin on my door to sell her wares, but rather, one of the Nurse Practitioners that I work with piled fifty-five boxes sky high in her office which is literally thirty steps from the infusion bay where I work. Cruel and unusual punishment.
I could practically smell the Tagalong's peanut buttery centers. I could hear the Thin Mints calling my name. The Samoas. Oh, the Samoas! Every second of every day.
From the foot traffic that this particular NP's office had seen, one would think she was selling cocaine.
Hubs doesn't care much for Girl Scout cookies. But I thought he might appreciate an extra box of Tagalongs. And a box of Thin Mints. Oh. And a box of Samoas, too. Unfortunately for him though, the Tagalongs barely survived the car ride home. Le sigh.
Hopefully he doesn't check the serving size portion on the back of the box. Teehee :)