busted

i have a problem.

i can't stop eating the peanut butter in our house.

right there out of the jar.

heinous and uncouth.

please, if ever you are our guest, and are offered a sandwich with this said condiment, insist that we use a fresh, unopened bottle. otherwise you are subject to a peanut butter ravaged and abased with my passed, unstoppable spoon dips.

i try to qualify my food crime with buying organic, unsalted, sugar-free peanut butter.  in the end though, when you're scraping the bottom of the glass, and your peasant blouse fits like lycra.....does it really matter?

last week i had had enough. i trash canned ALL the peanut butter in the house.

out of sight out of mind. out of my mouth.

{maybe the silverware will go next}

all was going so well until hunky hubby wanted his saturday peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

him: where's all the peanut butter?

me: uh. well, ah...hmm. ahh....don't i look cute in this dress?

20 minutes later my beloved returned from the market with a jar of.....skippy.

skippy?!!!??

skippy, in like annette funicello?

skippy, where the ingredient list has sugar before peanuts?

if ever a label could boast its hydrogenated oil content this one does.

remind me of this when i'm checking in for my bypass surgery.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXxZufU13qQ]

happy monday m'loves, this youtube walk down memory lane has me major crushing on annette's hair;  i'm dashing to the salon.

oh, and yes, i finished that goddamn jar of skippy too.

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