18-20: I used to hope and pray I wouldn’t get carded so that I could go out with my friends
21: I loved loved LOVED getting carded so that I could be all “hella yeahhhhh bitttchhhesss I’m legal nowwwwwww! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! EVRRRRRAYYYYBOOOODY!
22-24: Get carded here and there. No big thang.
25: CARD ME PLEASE, OR DO YOU REALLY THINK I LOOK THAT OLD?!!!!!
25 and in Canada: Bitch please, they don’t ever card here. Drinking age is like 2.
I grew up in the wrong country.
Took Layla for TWO (not one, but TWO) walks today. It was snowin’ and blowin’ out there today. Walk numero uno was cut short because I literally could not hold the poop bag anymore. The wind had its way….
Walk numero dos was much more successful. No doo-doo.
And of course, gurllll did her roly poly in the fresh powder..
It’s a good thing most of her roly poly moments are during the day time while everyone is at work, otherwise neighbors would gather at their windows and watch the madness. One dude did stop his car and she was a nut. Like mother, like daughter. It was a proud moment for me.
Enough with the dog pictures, Jen! Alright, alright….for today.
Lesson #472 about Twitter: Ask (yourself) and you shall receive.
An hour later, and this delovely (delicious AND lovely) smoothie was to be had:
Hit the spot.
(‘the spot’ being the smoothie section of my brain/belly)
This next thing I have asked for, and have yet to receive: Girl Scout Thin Mints. I just want one box people. 2 measly sleeves of those minty rounds of love. Put ’em in the freezer and break out a few every now and then to go with ice cream.
Here’s what I have done to obtain aforementioned cookies:
2) Twitter war cry
3) General around-the-house humming and hawwing until cookies magically appear.
4) I have done my due diligence and Googled where the Girl Guides of Canada are selling their vanilla/chocolate cookies and I will ask them when I can expect thin mints to be on the menu.
I am running out of
Another story for you: I was a Daisy, a Brownie, a Junior, AND a Cadet. Cookie season was the Olympics. Except bloodier. Thank god my dad worked in San Francisco and had major hookups with lots of coworkers.
He I sold the sh*t outta those cookies. I feel a little bit bad now that I think about it because he had to bring all those cookies on Bart on a dolly into the city. And really, what did that get me? A badge (‘we don’t need no stinking badges!’) a stuffed animal, and maybe a coin purse.
*Blah, blah, blah, it taught you hard work and perseverance pay off. Blood, sweat, tears and your father’s co-workers get you a coin purse. Sigh.
What’s your favorite Girl Scout cookie?
Where you a Girl Scout?