OK, lest any girlscout groups get upset with me, let me state loudly and clearly that I THINK THE GIRLSCOUTS IS A SUPER KEEN ORGANIZATION. I DO NOT REALLY THINK THERE'S ANYTHING EVIL ABOUT THE GIRLSCOUTS. Except, maybe, their cookies.

I have no self-control. And yet, there they are, foisting cookies in front of Wal-Mart, in front of Office Depot. And, yes, I'm trying to lose the ten pounds that have leeched onto my hips since I started working at home (okay, it's only 6 pounds, but its all in my hips and MY CLOTHES DON'T FIT. But I'll rant more about that later.)

Anyhoo, there I am, innocently off to buy folders, .07 HB lead mechanical pencils, rubber bands, and, if I'm feeling really wild and crazy, some odd-sized Avery labels. I'm thinking after shopping I'll get a Venti Nonfat Latte from the Starbucks a/c the street (one of approximately 897,254 in the greater Austin area), but noooooo. That plan is shot to heck by the darling little pigtailed blonde in the green vest, standing there with her mom, hawking cookies.

And before I know it, I have 3 boxes, I'm driving to Starbucks, and before I've even exited the parking lot, I've snarfed down two Animal Treasures. I tell you, it's not my fault!

You know, it's almost enough to make you empathize with the spate of criminals and punks out there in this brave new world we live in. You know the type: It's not my fault: the girl was wearing a really short skirt. It's not my fault: my neighbors were making too much noise. It's not my fault: there was too much sugar in my Twinkie. It's not my fault: my parents didn't read to me at bedtime. There's a dearth of personal responsibility in this country lately and, frankly, it ticks me off.

But no more. I mean, how can hypocritical would that be? After all, the sudden tightness of my blue jeans is not my fault: it's those damn girlscouts.