If we could sell our experiences for what they cost us, we’d all be millionaires.
– Abigail Van Buren
Friday is National Girl Scout Cookie Day, so go buy some.
According to the note that came to me with a cookie box bribe, girls across the nation are asking 50 million cookie fans to buy or order cookies, an effort I fully support.
I say that because years ago when I was new to the column-writing game, I offered to buy a box of cookies from any Girl Scouts who might be having trouble making sales quotas.
As you might imagine, I ended up buying a lot of boxes that year.
A whole lot.
If there had been a Girl Scout Customer Merit Badge, I would have earned it.
SPEAKING OF TRYING TO IMPRESS: I think it’s sort of funny why UGA football Coach Mark Richt had hip replacement surgery. According to our Athens correspondent, Richt, a former college quarterback, actually hurt his hip years ago while showing off for his wife on a child’s swing set.
AHH … MEMORIES: Old friend Barbara Seaborn comments on my senior moments. She writes: “I guess you could say I suffer from the forgetfulness malady, too, because this note is at least a week late. But I have an explanation for why we forget things, and the one I always use to bail myself out. It’s not original with me, but I plagiarize it a lot: ‘We don’t forget things because we are getting old, but because our disks are full.’ ”
(Thanks, Barbara. I am apparently playing with a full disk.)
YOUR MAIL: Here’s a post card from Hilton Head where Sandra and Shirley Johnson took Pat Dunbar for her 50th birthday.
And Pat and Wayne Fuller, of North Augusta, send a card from their trip to Memphis with a list of things you will never hear a Southern boy say. Among them:
“I’ll take Shakespeare for 1000, Alex”
“Wrestling is fake”
“Do you think my gut is too big?”
TODAY’S JOKE: Sam Booher, of Evans, shares this one.
It seems a good man passed away and was greeted at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter.
“Say,” the new angel asked, “do you have any golf courses up here?”
“Sure do,” said St. Peter. “They are the best golf courses you can imagine. You can play as much as you want.”
A few weeks later, the guy bumped into St. Peter and was asked what he thought of the golf.
“It’s even better than I thought, but now I feel bad because playing golf makes me angry with my wife.”
“My goodness, why?” St. Peter asked with surprise.
“Well,” the man said, “if she hadn’t pestered me for years about taking better care of my health, I would have been up here sooner.”