Who the fuck broke the Girl Scouts?

So I have email from my niece, (or at least a server somewhere pretending to be her and sending me a nice form letter) asking me to help her girl scout troop by buying nuts or magazines…

Ummm… what the fuck? Magazines? Nuts? Where the fuck are the cookies?

I may not know much about this world, but there are some simple truths that I rely on in order to get through this thing that I call life:

1. Water is wet
2. Fire is hot
3. Gravity pulls downward
4. The Boy Scouts exist for the sole purpose of discriminating against homosexual boys while at the same time indoctrinating heterosexual ones into a variety of thinly veiled homosexual rituals
5. The Girl Scouts exist for the sole purpose of providing me with Thin Mints, Do-si-dos, Tagalongs and Trefoils and therefore keeping me off the crack pipe.

That’s it. That’s how the world works. I don’t need a subscription to Family Circle or Teen Vogue. I sure as fuck don’t need a bag of pistachios. What I need is a box of Do-si-dos. Look at me. I’m clearly unstable. A Thin Mint or two may be the only thing keeping me from blowing some guy in the alley by my house for an eight ball cut with baking soda. See what you’ve done, Girl Scouts? See what has become of me?

By the way, the picture that accompanies this post is not my niece at all. I don’t have a picture of her selling Girl Scout cookies. Instead it is my good friend PhotoKat, because I’ve always loved that picture and because as creepy as I may be, I’d totally rather stare at Kat’s legs than my seven year old niece’s. See, even I have standards!