My Fellow Inebriates,
It was “friend night” at Brownies, and Miss P got an invitation from her BFF. She was so excited that she ran all the way to the meeting. When it was over, she begged to join.
This confirms a household suspicion about Brownies: it is a cult. Think—what other sorts of events lure you in via the buddy system? An already-brainwashed friend invites you along…
- Anthony Robbins–style self-help seminars
Good grief—if only AA meetings were as compelling as any of these. They leave you feeling abject—like something’s missing from your life that only that special group of special people can supply. Without it you’re empty, bereft. Seriously, you could attend an AA meeting and walk out of it with a shrug (how good is cake without kirsch, anyway?) but Brownies? OMG, P is rabid to join Brownies.
Yesterday fairies, sprites, and pixies were the stuff of books she’s not that keen to read anyway. Today Miss P would yank out another tooth for the privilege of dancing around a toadstool, selling Dad overpriced cookies, and earning badges for such accomplishments as putting her underwear in the hamper or breathing air. Holy crap, it looks like Brownies is in our future.
How much does Brownies cost? Like the web page is gonna tell you. L. Ron Hubbard wouldn’t tell you up front. The info is nowhere to be seen on the website. As with scientology, we’re going to endure some face time with entities such as Snowy Owl, Purple Owl, and Horny Owl getting the sales pitch on what essential skills P now lacks that cannot be gleaned anywhere else.
Desperate to know how much money we’ll need to divert from liquor to Brownies, I queried another source. Apparently Brownies costs more per year than a very good bottle of Scotch, and they hit you up for $2 every time you attend. Never mind the multiple cases of cookies we’ll end up buying when my parents are too busy/lazy to trot P around the neighborhood pleading with people to pony up $5 a box.
So this is all very dire. Let’s hope it makes P happy.
5 thoughts on “Brownies vs Xenu vs Scotch”
Bwahaha! Look into the price of adoption. You will be adopting at least six of the little monsters to keep Miss P happy. xxx
I wonder how I am going to avoid this. When asked, the Haybag said, “Oh, hell no. I didn’t do shit like that.” So maybe there is hope. I just don’t want to have to sell Girl Scout cookies…especially because there is someone who already does at my office, and it seemed like she had to wait until a different co-worker’s kids grew out of Girl Scouts so as to not infringe on some sort of unspoken, exclusive cookie license. What a nightmare.
It’s horrible. We’re going to end up buying cases and cases of those stupid cookies. But, as with Barbie, the more parents hate it, the more likely the kids are to like it. My mum hated being in Brownies, but P will probably love it. Good luck navigating the cookie scene at work. Aren’t there, like, a dozen types of GG cookies in the US? (We get only two here.) Does it mean they get sold year-round there or just twice a year? Last time the GGs tried to sell us cookies, Scary said: “Two words: ‘Golden Oreos.'” Then he reconsidered and wanted them anyway. They have some sort of drug in them.
I’m sorry, but brownies and scotch with Xenu, sounds a far better evening to me.
On the plus side, if Miss P hones her craft on cookie sales, your twilight years are assuredly going to be comfortable as the well kept bear of one of the nation’s top car salespersons!
If only! More likely she will be selling her parents down the river to do stuff like become a Horny Owl for a camping trip.