This is a recent conversation I had with one of my coworkers:
Me: Oh, CRISIS.
CW: What's the matter? Everything okay?
Me: No. Definitely not.
CW: What is it? Did someone get hurt?
Me: My snack drawer is empty and I am STARVING.
CW: Oh ... kay ... Okay?
That said, it is no exaggeration that one of the great little joys of my life is Girl Scout Cookie Season. I'm really easy to please. This is a wonderful time of the year. The long, brutal winter is finally loosening it's icy fingers from the throat of New England; as a result, people are beginning to feel and act human again; the layers are being shed; and the Girl Scouts are selling cookies! You want to know what really brought about the Lenten Great Sugar Downfall of 2007? A single Thin Mint. How can I say no to a Thin Mint?! You tell me how and I will tell you that you are not human, sir.
So when I realized that Girl Scout Cookie Season was upon us again, I immediately tasked B with the very important job of finding a Girl Scout and buying her entire cookie supply. He works with children. Every day, in fact. It can't be hard to find a Girl Scout among all those sticky hands and snotty faces and germs. I only need one. And all of her cookies. Each night B would come home from work and I would ask him if he found any Girl Scouts yet. And every night he would reply, "Oh ... I forgot." The weeks ticked on and still no cookies.
Finally, as he was headed to work one morning I calmly requested that he find me a goddamn Girl Scout for chrissake there's like a million kids running around that goddamn place all day I just want my Thin Mints why is it so hard to find a goddamn Girl Scout!? To which he replied, "Oh ... I'm pretty sure they're not selling cookies anymore."
But then my mom came to visit and you know what she brought me? GIRL SCOUT COOKIES. Thank bajesus. But because this year I only have a single box of Thin Mints I have been carefully rationing them out. Each night after dinner I allow myself two cookies. That's it. They need to last. Because once they're gone, there will be no more Thin Mints until next year. I must enjoy these few moments of minty bliss. I must cherish them.
One night this week I walked into the kitchen to find B grabbing a handful -- yes, a HANDFUL, I KNOW RIGHT?! -- of Thin Mints from the box I had carefully hidden in the refrigerator. I had wedged the package underneath a bag of lettuce in the vegetable drawer because, you know, hiding things from B is kind of like hiding things from a six-year-old.
"OOOOHMYGODWHATAREYOUDOING?" I asked him.
"Eating ... cookies?"
"... Yeah ...?"
"No. Nononono. You failed at bringing me my Girl Scout Cookies. You are NOT ALLOWED to eat any of these. These are mine. Spit them out. Right now. Out."
I took the cookies from his hand and shoved them down my own face while he watched his wife sink to what can probably considered new lows of gluttony, selfishness and -- let's be honest -- just plain ol' immaturity. Since then I have been carefully counting remaining cookies every time I take one to be sure that B has not been sneaking any while I'm not home.
It might surprise you that a 26-year-old woman would be so ... paranoid? ... obsessive? ... childish? ... there are just so many words that could work here ... as to count her cookie supply every night to be sure her husband isn't taking any (okay, it probably doesn't) but what SHOULD surprise you (even more) is that her husband totally WOULD steal them. And not because he loves Thin Mints the way I do (borderline inappropriately) -- because he doesn't. But because he would do it JUST to spite me. To send some type of message or something. Like ... oh I dunno ... stop being an asshole? So here we stand, in the great Girl Scout Cookie Off of 2011, just trying to see who can out spite who worse.
I can just picture myself in court right now.
"Yeah I stabbed him. But, Your Honor, HE ATE ALL OF MY THIN MINTS."
This will not end well.