Crack Cookies

On Saturday we went to our city's Farmer's Market, because after realizing we ate Taco Bell three too many times the week before, we were really eager to get some healthy food. 

Farmer's Markets usually get me feeling a lot of things. 

A lot of things...

But then...

I don't even know what they make Girl Scout cookies out of, and I don't really care. They could stuff them with three kinds of illegal drugs I would eat them, no questions asked.  I don't even like desserts or sweet things that much. If chocolate suddenly disappeared from the earth, I probably wouldn't even notice until Girl Scout cookie season, which is when my body starts requiring Thin Mints in order to operate (I think they probably act as a sort of oil for my joints so my bones don't turn to powder when I walk, idk, I'm not 100% sure how bodies work).

After caving surprisingly easy into buying some cookies, I began my strictest practice of self control that I reserve only for when I am near Girl Scout cookies, and at first, I did okay. I rationed them for my first waking 12 hours, but by the next day, it went something like this:

MORAL OF THE STORY: Farmer's Markets are good. Yep, that's the moral.