Anyone who knows me really well knows I love pickles. No, I'm not preggo. Been there. Did that. Nope, not again. Sorry.
You can ask my Momma. Ever since I was a tot, and probably when she was preggo with me, I've loved pickles. But they have to be dill. Not those crazy bread and butter ones. Oh and they must be Claussen. I'm such a pickle snob. I am and I know it.
I've said on occasion that I love chocolate. I do. Must be Lindt milk chocolate or Dove. I'm a chocolate snob now, too, apparently. But there are VERY few things that make my mouth water. Literally water --besides certain man obsessions of mine-- I can be looking in the fridge for a snack and yes, I know that's bad, but man, if I see the pickles...must not grab for jar...Sad really. DH keeps threatening to buy one of those HUMONGOUS jars at the Sam's Club and just let me go to town. Part of me is like, heck yeah man. The other part of me is thinking...I'd die of salt overload, but it's sooo worth it...then the rest of me is thinking, I'd actually have to share that. Rats.
Oh well. It's still the briny, crunchy, yumminess of pickles. I'm good.
And this picture is for those who thought the whole time I was going to go somewhere totally bad with pickles. Come on. It's like the saying from some old beer commercial (or was it a Foxworthy bit?) anyway, don't get stupid and spill the beer, er...I mean, don't get stupid and waste the pickles.
That's what bananas are for...so I've heard.