Sucker for a sucker.

Go away, Cindy. I don't want
your delicious candy.

I'm a sucker. A huge fucking sucker. I heard a knock at the door yesterday, and opened it to a little girl with Cindy Lou Who eyelashes selling candy bars for $2 apiece.

There were several reasons for me NOT to buy candy from her. First of all, I'm on a diet. (They're these weird Swedish nutrition bars. They burn carbs. They just burn up all your carbs.) Second of all, I'm trying to save money.

So what did I do? Went and got a 5 spot out of my purse and brought it to the door. "Do you have change for a 5?" I asked. Of couuuurse she didn't. So instead of saying "you know, I'm all set, sweetie, thank you!" Which would have been absolutely acceptable, I said:

"Okay, I'll take 2 then. And you can just keep the change."

Sucker.

As I shut the door behind her, my eyes crazy with desire for the devil's chocolatey playthings in my warm little hands, I realized that I had forgotten to even ask what the donation was for.

Hopefully I didn't fund an underground cocaine ring for schoolchildren.