Corporate Conspiracies and Cookies

A friend solicited me with Girl Scout Cookies today. "Hey, just so you know, my friend's friend's daughter is selling Girl Scout Cookies. If you want any, I'd be happy to pass along your order."

How quaint, right?



But then it hits me: I've never met a girl scout. And whenever I get guilted into buying those cookies it's always because some co-worker's brother's niece is selling them. How convenient that these "girl scouts" are never directly known, seen, met, touched, or present!

This has got to be the greatest marketing gimmick ever. Phillip Morris has thought of a brilliant way to hock excess cookies every year.

This is big... It may go all the way to the White House...

An Informal Job Interview with Myself

Three things I need to improve upon:

1. Calming down, relaxing, and enjoying the moment.

2. Thinking too much.

3. Judging others and sharing said judgments with other others.



Three things I'm good at:

1. Judging others.

2. Thinking.

3. Looking outside of the moment.



Where I see myself in five years:

A nicer, kinder, thirty-three years old, much more capable of handling and even enjoying normal adult activities and responsibilities. Smoking hot wife. Potty-trained children. Lovely home with lots of paned windows and a garden.

Home Coming

Dear Mother,

A bike? What was I thinking? Please load up the land cruiser and come pick me up. I'm coming back home to the suburbs.



I like driving to the mall and miss the affordability of big-box retailers. There are all sorts of sounds and smells I'm not familiar with here. Many people don't even speak English and don't seem to bath regularly.

Big screen TV, ping pong table, and an unlimited supply of pizza bagels--I'll never leave your basement again.

Yours,

Daniel

Last Note

Dear Mother,

I am leaving home and becoming an urbanite. I've tried and tried to fit into your world of loose fitting pants and unscarved necks, but I just don't belong. I am who I am and I'm entering a very real time for me.

Don't bother looking for the ten-speed in the garage. All I left behind are the nine gears I no longer need. It's not about convenience. You just wouldn't understand.



I can no longer resist the call of vehemently politically supporting social programs that I could never hope to financially support. What little money I do make from free-lance design must go to satisfy my tremendous lust for specialty coffee beverages, new apple products, tight fitting t-shirt designed to look "old," and going to "shows."

Goodbye, Mother. By the time you read this, I'll probably be in yoga class.

Yours,

Daniel