I Made It to Star Scout, By The Way

Had some stale Twizzlers at work today, and now my jaw is tender from all the hardcore chewing.

In other confectionery news, Girl Scout cookie season has started, and already proud mothers are dutifully carting their daughters' order forms about work, shoving them under people's noses and asking if they would care to make any purchases. I'm really glad that, in the Boy Scouts, we never had to hawk cookies or light bulbs or other stuff. Everything we did was on the cheap, just like real men would do it.

Dome tents? Those things are expensive! As our quartermaster (easiest job in the troop, since we didn't have anything) used to say, "some tarp 'n twine'll do ya just fine!"

Toilet paper? Use leaves. The bigger the better. You better not wipe your ass with poison ivy because we've only gone over what it looks like a hojillion times.

The oar just broke? Paddle with your damn hands! The webbings, use the webbings of your fingers! It's there, just cup your hands and paddle.

In fact, I'd say our troop had only one thing, but that just might have been the most important thing of all:

The dignity of not selling cookies.