peanut butter – TheWebWeavers

I’m sure all of these problems have graced you, dear reader. You wouldn’t believe it, but they’re quite common, really. You’re just sitting there thinking that all your problems are unique because you are a unique and special human bean with your own unique and special set of problems. But nope. Everyone else deals with them, too. You are completely generic. But they won’t anymore, because I’m about to solve all your stupid problems!

Lettuce, begin the drumroll!

You get gum stuck in your hair, but there are no worries. As good ole grandma used to say, “Peanut butter will get gum out of your hair, your pet’s hair, your cactus’s wig. And then you won’t have to become prematurely bald!”

But Grandma never considered what happens after you get the gum out of your hair. What happens when the peanut butter gets stuck?!

The answer is simple.

~~Become prematurely bald.~~

Go outside and grab a squirrel. Make sure it doesn’t have rabies! (Rabies are bad, in case you didn’t know.) If squirrels aren’t available, other small, peanut-butter-loving animals are good substitutes.

Set the squirrel in your hair and watch it work its magic.

You are a lover of pickles. (These kinds of people are strange. Dear readers, I know that you are not pickle-lovers, because I like you, so a word of advice from author to reader: Don’t associate with pickle-lovers.) You are such an enthusiast of pickles, that you decide to use your life savings to buy a ticket to Pickle World, the pickle-themed amusement park in L.A. (L.A. is also strange. Do not associate with people from L.A. I mean, those L.A.-ians decided to build a pickle-themed amusement park. Couldn’t they have at least gone with cucumbers?)

At Pickle World, they have giant jars full of giant mutant pickles. Trust me, pickle-lovers love giant pickles and will willingly swim with them, despite the fact that the vinegar will make their skin all pruney and will make them smell awful for weeks.

But sometimes, accidents happen.

Sometimes, people get stuck inside pickles. (Don’t ask me what they were doing. I told you, pickle-lovers are insane.)

But there is an easy solution to this, excuse me for the pun, pickle, as well. But I’m sure you readers won’t need it, since you are not of the pickle-loving breed.

Simply ask a trusted acquaintance to pull you and the pickle out of the jar. You will see that in minutes, no seconds, the pickle will be devoured by ravenous pickle-lovers and you will remain magically unscathed. Pickle-lovers are insane, but they’re not cannibals.

I hoped that I have solved some of your (many) problems. And don’t worry if you have problems that haven’t been addressed in this short post. There will be more parts.

Peanut butter is an acquired taste. One does not simply adore peanut butter upon their first tasting. In fact, I absolutely abhorred peanut butter for the longest time.

But now, I love peanut butter. Sometimes I’ll eat spoonfuls of peanut butter just because I can.

I used to detest peanut butter. I would definitely not eat PB&J, would not think about peanut butter, would not eat peanut butter, would not touch anything that had previously touched peanut butter, and I would cringe at the sight of peanut butter at the store.

I used to claim a peanut allergy so I wouldn’t have to explain why I couldn’t eat a PB&J. No one questioned it (even though I loved Snickers bars and the like).

Then, in fourth grade, we had a field trip to a museum and the school would provide the lunches. They would be serving PB&J. My friend, let’s call her Catherine, has Celiac Disease, and she actually cannot eat PB&J, but that is due to the bread, not the peanut butter. So, because of this, she was allowed to bring her own lunch, but I wasn’t because my peanut allergy was made up.

So on the field trip, I ate only the crusts of the bread, because the peanut butter made me gag. I realized then that my aversion to peanut butter was a real problem. What would happen if there was nothing to eat but peanut butter, jelly, and bread?

When we got home, I lied to my mom (I know, how evil) and I told her that I ate the sandwich and that I loved it and I wanted to eat more PB&J.

The Dark Days began. Due to my supposed “love of peanut butter” we had PB&J ALL THE TIME. Sometimes, my mother would make my brother pasta or noodles and she would make PB&J for me since I “liked it better”. It was hard, and it was painful, but I ate lots of peanut butter and I acquired the taste.

After I had acquired the taste (through a great deal of hard work), PB&J actually became my favorite food and I ate it even more, which was probably not the most nutritious.

The moral of the story is that you can do anything you put your mind to, even learn to love something as disgusting as peanut butter.