Dont hate the pickle.
This is another funny from last night that was definitely Seinfeldian in nature. When we go out to eat or dancin’ we take The Wife’s truck because the surburby is a POS. It’s still reliable, but still a POS. She is almost ten, what do you expect.
So anyway The Wife has a pickle on her key chain. In contrast, I have a mini-flashlight on mine, super thin and thumbsize with a bright-ass light good for small situations or signaling. All beside the point.
The last several times I’ve used her truck I’ve taken the pickle off when I leave and then put it back on upon return of the truck. Last night before we left, I took the pickle off and left it on the kitchen counter. As we were walking out the door she notices the pickle and says, “Aw, you don’t like the pickle.”
“I don’t mind the pickle, I just don’t want to have to carry the pickle around in my pocket all night,” I explain.
“Yeah, right.”
“Really, it’s not about the pickle. I love the pickle. It’s the pocket bulk. I don’t like the pocket bulk.”
“Don’t lie, you hate the pickle.”
I try to re-assert, matter-of-factly, “Its not about the pickle. It’s about pocket bulk,”
“Liar…. Dont hate.”
I give up.