I’m totally aware of how this might look.
After all, I’m a relatively intelligent person…other than the whole, covered in chocolate, smelling of mint, thing I’ve got going on these days. So it’s no surprise to me to discover how completely impossible it is to type with a cookie in each hand.
And before you say anything…I know. It’s sad. But that’s what addiction looks like. And Thin Mints might just be a gateway drug to the hard stuff. Like drinking straight from a chocolate fountain. Next thing you know, I’ll be knocking over candy stores in the middle of the night for my next fix!
Oh, the shame of it!
I seriously need to get a handle on this cookie thing.
Can’t we get some sort of government restrictions put on Girl Scout cookies? Shouldn’t they be illegal? They’re so bad for me us. This is totally why the groundhog goes into hiding for six weeks every year. He’s dodging the damn Girl Scout cookies! They’re the food equivilent of Angry Birds and I am clearly out of control.
But it’s March. I have to keep reminding myself the little cookie peddlers will be packed up and out of town in just a few weeks, leaving a trail of empty boxes behind them like a retreating circus.
If I can make it that long without developing diabetes.
So that’s it. I’m absolutely going to make a pact not to eat another damn Thin Mint cookie. Not one. I won’t even smell the box! Yep, giving them up.
Just as soon as they’re completely sold out in Atlanta. Maybe Birmingham too. Chattanooga? How far is it to drive to Savannah?
Until the next time…I’ll be trying to visualize healthy food…like salads and grilled fish.