Back when Joan Rivers was wearing her own nose, I used to be a Girl Guide. When I wasn't learning to do things that have absolutely no relevance to my life (like the correct way to do blanket stitch or how to start a fire), I was conned into walking the mean streets of Lower Hutt flogging biscuits, helping to make zillions for some Girl Guide kingpin.
These days, the buttery circles of enchantment come to me (via a work colleague). They've even introduced chocolate to the whanau.
I know these biscuits will slide directly down my throat and land on my arse but I've done three lunchtime runs this week; am hoping the God of Calories Vs Exercise will help sort it.
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