Pbj Quotes

Calvin the zombie searches for food. Horribly, the undead feed upon the living! ...Although, in a pinch, a PBJ will do, if you eat it messily enough.

So I'm like getting some perspective now - like when you're a kid and you think it sucks that you have to eat hydrogenated peanut butter on your PBJ, and then you see one of those starving commercials kids with flies in their eyes, who don't even have a sandwich - and you're all, 'Well, that sucks.

You know, Junie, you're fourteen now. I think you can certainly manage to put together a sandwich. ... The thing is, if my mother had any idea what I had in my backpack, she would have made me that sandwich. If she knew that I'd searched and searched the house until I finally found the little key to the fireproof box buried in the bottom of her underwear drawer, if she knew that I'd unlocked the box and taken my passport out, that I had it with me right that very second in a Ziploc bag in the bottom of my backpack, if she knew why I had it there, if she knew even a bit of all that, she might have made me that PBJ. She wouldn't have said, "You're fourteen now," like she thought I was some kind of responsible adult. No. If she knew about my plan, she would have said, "you're only fourteen." She would have told me that I was crazy to think about going to England with I was only fourteen.

I will not eat it with a DOG! I will not eat it with a FROG! I will not eat it with a CAT! I will not eat it with a RAT! I will not eat it in my ROOM. On the BUS. Or on the MOON! I will not eat it NORTH or SOUTH! It made me throw up in my MOUTH! Call me PICKY! Call me FICKLE! I DON’T like PBJ and PICKLES

My heart swells when she walks in, the infant with the round face and enormous eyes reaching out to touch my face, the little girl lifting herself on her tippy-toes to kiss me with a PBJ-smudged face, the teenager slicing the air with her hand as she argued the merits of alternative-energy incentives at the state debate finals.

What is the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich, exactly?” Tess asked, pursing her lips. Erin knew it was her attempt at making light of a heavy situation. “You know, just the right amount of jelly where it doesn’t squish out when you bite into it. Not so much peanut butter that you get all goopy-mouthed. Making the perfect PBJ is an art form. And it has to be fresh white bread, and the best grape jelly and creamy peanut butter on the market. No exceptions.” Tess bobbed her head. “Ah, yes. The dreaded goopy mouth.

I will eat it with a DOG! I will eat it with a FROG! I will eat it with a CAT! I will eat it with a RAT! I will eat it in my ROOM. On the BUS. And on the MOON! I will eat it NORTH and SOUTH! It tastes so yummy in my MOUTH! Call me PICKY! Call me FICKLE! I so LOVE PBJ and PICKLES!!” I

Twitter @PhillyD: Best part of being a Dad is I can do almost anything and people are like OMG YOU’RE THE BEST DAD IN THE WORLD!!! I’m like . . . for making my son a PBJ? Meanwhile my wife who does 90% of the work can tweet how she needs an hour for herself to recoup and people will try to shame her.