When spring isn't bringing its trademarked April showers and May flowers, the season is busy expanding America's waistlines.
America's collective belts are being loosened to accommodate a rise in Dunlop's disease from all the people whose bellies have "done lopped" over the waists of their pants after giving in to annual Girl Scout Cookie sales.
For more than 80 years, the Girl Scouts have been the headliners of this cookiepaloosa. Their reputation for quality cookies has created a serious demand for the treats during their spring debut. In most cases, people place their order through a Girl Scout in their families, but it has also become extremely common to see the Scouts selling outside of grocery stores.
Well, let me rephrase that. It is very common to see Girl Scouts' parents selling these cookies outside grocery stores. Sure, the Girl Scouts are there, but they'll most likely be executing cartwheels and dance routines in the streets nearby.
But hawking cookies outside grocery stores isn't good enough for the Girl Scouts. Now, they're invading ASU, and I'm beginning to sense something sinister about their presence.
You can find them near the Memorial Union or the crosswalk between Palm Walk and Tyler Mall. At the crosswalk, the Girl Scouts have constructed a cookie tent to house the thousands of cookie boxes. When you step inside, it's like its own cookie store with aisles of cookie varieties.
A step inside is like walking into a convenience store. Part of me wonders if they had considered shopping carts to go along with their aisled sweets. The best part about the whole venture is the cookies sell themselves. Advertising is unnecessary.
As I passed the tent last Tuesday, I was coaxed to buy a few boxes. The temptation was there. I tried to fight it. My resistance was wearing down with every mouth-watering thought of those petite patties. In the end, I surrendered myself to the cookie craving. I watched as six of my dollars left my hand, only to be replaced by two boxes of Thin Mints.
I told myself that I would save them. I was going to keep them around, long after the sale was over, so I could relish something that was no longer available. A day later, both boxes were empty, and my stomach was full. As I was sprawled out on my bed, sprinkled with chocolate crumbs and plastic wrappings, I realized that the "Freshman 15" myth is probably caused by Girl Scouts on campus.
That got me thinking. For only three dollars, you can claim ownership of one of eight different varieties of cookies, ranging from the infamously treasured Thin Mints to the sinfully sweet Samoas. In addition to the ever popular Thin Mints, I'm also a huge fan of the Tagalongs. These cookies elevate peanut butter to a whole other level, making it fit for the gods.
That's when I began to suspect something.
We all remember the tale of Hansel and Gretel. Two children are lured to a house made of candy. The old lady who lives there lets them eat as much as they like, in order to fatten them for cooking.
The same story should be applied to the Girl Scouts. They want us plump and chubby, so we'll be tastier ingredients for their yet-to-be-released cookie flavor, 'Sprinkled Sun Devils."
Beware of their seemingly innocent cookie sale. I have no doubt that they have other agendas.
Jimmy Shoffman puts on his pants one leg at a time just like the rest of you, but once they're on, he writes gold articles. Reach him at james.shoffman@asu.edu.