World Cup Snack Shopping (and other gambles)
My hubby and I got out of the house and went shopping for snacks in jolly-ole-too-much-rent-for-not-enough-sunshine, in honor of, well, not having any food in the house.
Lookie, lookie what we found on the "Get it the bloody HELL out of here!" discount end cap.
Here's some close-ups for better appreciation of English cuisine!
Yes, fellow gamblers, these are, in fact, Gingerbread footballer and wife. Or, Becks and Posh, cast forever in lard and sugar. Hey, check out her eyes! Now we know why she always wears those really enormous sunglasses!
Now my hubby is definitely less cynical than I, especially when it comes to foodstuffs.
"Hey honey," he said, after we guffawed over this one, "brine after all is just salt water. How bad could they be?" Um, personally, I just think popping open a tin of GIANT Hot Dogs for the game-- especially a tin with a talking weiner whose dressed like Uncle Sam, calling himself "Captain Hot Dog," and proclaiming the health benefits of this delightful treat-- might actually send me over the edge. What is next? Beefburgers sold swimming in a ready-made tomato-ketchup sauce, packaged in a boil-and-serve plastic bag?
In other news, poker is boring, so I write about things like this. $200 win, hands folded, hands played third place in tournament. Blah blah blah.
So much more to life!