Don’t Fuck With The Girl Scouts Of America
The Girl Scouts of America. The woodsy divas behind our culture’s favorite bake sale cookies. They’re as American as apple pie, and so deep rooted in our culture that the Statue of Liberty should be wearing one of their hideous badge covered shoulder bandanas. So what makes the girl scouts so American? Why the popularity? It isn’t the fact that they teach young girls leadership skills and how to pull off that weird coral green color. No. It’s that they know how to move product! These preteen titans of their industry push more kilos of sugar than than the mightiest of cartels do cocaine. And if we all appreciate any one thing in this great country of ours, it’s sugar. Just look at us. I can’t go long enough to write this damn blog without having to wash the sweet, sticky substance off my damn fingers. If you want a good gauge at the state of our country and the sugar addiction we have, look no further than every single “convenience” store. What’s the first thing you see when you enter those ever widening sliding doors? It isn’t the vegetable aisle. The Girl Scouts and their overpriced cookies have Americans by the balls. They know it. And they own it.
Fast forward to today. As I was trudging past the perfectly arranged table of cookies these little she devils put outside seemingly every place of business on the face of the American earth this time of year, I overheard them ask a teenage boy if he wanted any cookies. Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected strolled by these witty wolves in sheep’s clothing and hastily answered their “Would you like to buy some cookies?” with the classic “I don’t have cash on me but I’ll get some in the store.” Yeah mhm. Sure. Now this move may work on a rookie girl scout with a handful of participation trophy badges, but not these veteran sugar dough dealers. Because without hesitation, one of the girls said “No worries, we take credit cards.” And to say this boy of a man was at a loss for words would be an understatement. Mr. Confidence over here didn’t know what to say. His mind was broken. The words wouldn’t come out because his baffled brain couldn’t produce any. Hell he probably got lost in the store. His sense of purpose, and direction, was wiped clean like a hard drive full of porn. I bet bozo over here searched up and down every aisle for a leftover halloween mask he could wear on his way out of the store because he knew those cookie queens were eagerly waiting to take the cash he “didn’t have.” These ladies were feisty. And Mr. Zit Zoo didn’t stand a chance.
That bullshit might work on a used car salesman or a desperate stripper, but not at your local Girl Scouts of America folding card table of cookies. Get outta here.