Except for this one.
And it's fuckin' huge.
I cleaned out this:
To make room for 16 of these...
After an hour, a glass of wine and the entirety of Nirvana's Nevermind, I succeeded in reducing the contents of my fridge to this:
That was after tossing out almost everything inside - including two jars of lemon curd. What the fuck am I doing with lemon curd? I'm not British, nor do I prefer any manner of curd other than the cheese variety.
Anyway........I did it.
Impressive, isn't it. Wars have started over these glorious homemade pickles. Peace treaties have been negotiated. Children have been sold. Lambies have been martyred. Civilizations have been conquered. Goods and services have been bartered. Homesteads have been pillaged. Stamp collections forsaken. Leather jackets sold to Buffalo Exchange. All for these pickles.
Impressive, isn't it. Wars have started over these glorious homemade pickles. Peace treaties have been negotiated. Children have been sold. Lambies have been martyred. Civilizations have been conquered. Goods and services have been bartered. Homesteads have been pillaged. Stamp collections forsaken. Leather jackets sold to Buffalo Exchange. All for these pickles.Normally the pickle-making party is the event of the season. This year it was just WORK. The demand has gotten so high (see paragraph above) that there is no joy in the stuffing of the jars...only determination to get as many cucs in as possible. Ok, there was some joy, but it was working joy. Is that a thing? Seriously though, I broke a sweat.
Next year I'm bringing up the option of outsourcing. I know lots of children without jobs.
Anyway, if in two months, when they mature, anyone remembers that it's time for the pickles to be mature and writes me a gloriously pickle-related limerick...I'll send them a jar.
See, I'm safe because no one will do that.
13 keep(s) me blogging:
Are you going to eat all of those, Missy? Now I know why you've always got a sour expression on your face.
Two months?!
Can't. Hold. It. In!
*belts out;*
There oncw was a lad from South Perkin.
Who just loved to play with his gherkin.
Said he, its not fickle
To play with my pickle.
At least my gherkin's a-workin'.
You know where to send my jar, K-rah!
OMG...too funny. And seriously, can any top Rachel's limerick?
OMG..... hahahahahahaha
Isn't it funny that all of our activities now require us to take pictures of the stages of aforementioned activities? Did that even make sense? Seriously... everything we do these days gets documented with a camera. Kind of scary...
I'm guessin' a bunch of us will be getting jars-o-pickles for Christmas. Must be a New Orleans thing... I can't figure it out any other way.
I was dreaming of your delicious pickles until Rachel interrupted it with a trip down TML (Teenage Memory Lane).
Nowadays, I much prefer your delicious pickles.
I thought I'd come up with a clever rhyme and then sassy pants above me there got to it first... she deserves pickles... although they look freaking incredible! I'm craving pickles...
And no, I'm not pregnant
Kara, do you have one of those little plastic wands you're supposed to pee on to get a result? Because seriously, that is the first thing I thought of.
Though come to think of it, I LOVE pickles, and I'm okay. I love lemon curd too, and I haven't turned British.
MOTHEROFGOD!
Yes, I would have you as a roomie.
What kind of pickles are they, dill or sweet? Because if they're dill, yum; if not, eeeeww.
goranas - i've always thought of my expression as 'pensive'.
rachel - TWO MONTHS! (notes...can't follow directions
jenny - she's out of control.
twinkie - what.
ms salti - it's like modern day cave art. 1000 years from now people need to know how i spent my wednesday.
dad - if you don't WANT the pickles for christmas then i'll just go ahead and get you SOCKS.
charlie - i hate teenagers. and their lanes.
auri - it's when you're not craving pickles that i'll worry about you.
mary - no, but i could pee on a pickle. though that would render it useless.
or - and someday, inshallah, you will...at a retirement home in the sky.
yin - well since i called them "pickles" and not "pieces of shit" you can be pretty certain that they're dill.
Nice job, but personally I would have love to see your fridge before you reduced its content, 'cause for all I know, maybe it was empty...
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