I know not as much as I once thought.
I find myself thinking this all the time. Feels like getting older is just the process of finding out how little you know.
Andrew ,'Damage'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I know not as much as I once thought.
I find myself thinking this all the time. Feels like getting older is just the process of finding out how little you know.
Dill: half-sour
Dill does NOT equal half-sour.
Half-sour pickles are salty. Dill pickles are sour.
Signed, loves on dill but hates on half-sour.
I had beer battered pickles at a "gastropub"
The brewpub I got to all the time (two locations) has had deep fried pickles on the menu as long as I can remember. I've heard they are good, but I've never quite worked up the nerve to order them.
I might only be buying a year. I really shouldn't google. I know better.
In the immortal words of Han Solo, "Never tell me the odds." There's no way to see into the future with cancer.
Feels like getting older is just the process of finding out how little you know.
Yep. That and the process of finding new ways your body can turn on you.
I'm driving to Nashville tomorrow. Do Not Want.
"gastropub"
That name makes it sound like you're drinking beer from someone's stomach.
Feels like getting older is just the process of finding out how little you know.
Isn't that also the first step to wisdom?
In which case, I am wiser than fuck!
Deep-fried pickles are pretty common in New Orleans.
Feels like getting older is just the process of finding out how little you know.
*sigh*
My favorite pickles are half-sour. Preferably from a barrel. Supermarket pickles just aren't the same.
Feels like getting older is just the process of finding out how little you know.
This is depressingly true.
Also, I don't like pickles. Fried or otherwise. Actually, maybe I *would* like them if they were fried...
That name makes it sound like you're drinking beer from someone's stomach.
So that's what they call those Heineken robots.