Pickles: I hate them. I don’t know what my deal is. I know everyone else fiends the things. They're clearly a very lovable foodstuff. But I hate them. Every last briny one of them.
And I’ve tried to confront this hate! Lord knows I’ve tried. I’ve got a buddy who hates Slurpees. Crazy, right? Slurpees are the best! And that’s what everyone tells him. So he tries one every Summer, just to make sure he didn’t have it all wrong somehow. And he always hates them. Pickles are my Slurpees. Except I never actually run the test, because I know they’re effing terrible.
Fast food pickles: the worst. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in a Burger King, furious that we didn’t go to McDonald’s, because McDonald’s doesn’t casually boobytrap their burgers with surreptitious pickles I clearly didn’t request, MOM. And here's the thing about removing unwanted pickles from burgers: you can’t. Not all the way. By the time you sit down with that burger, it’s already too late. It’s spread. Your only hope is to burrow deep inside the airy, diffusive ductwork of that bun and jackhammer out the affected areas, which turn out to be about 65% of its total mass. Now you have holes in your bun and ketchup is squirting everywhere. What a great dinner this has turned into.
Fried pickles? Confoundingly intolerable, especially considering I ate, and enjoyed, a stack of deep-fried Weetabix back in college. I can’t even handle the parts that’re just oil-zapped breading. The pickleness infiltrates all.
Sandwich stackers? I'd rather eat a sandwich made entirely of Stacker 2 Real 2-Way Action Diet & Energy tablets. Fine, and maybe a little honey mustard.
Artisanal pickles? I’ve been asked to leave parties because I insulted some cucumber magician's Protestant work ethic -- wow, you toiled SO HARD to place those things in a jar with vinegar, and then, a prescribed amount of time later, take them out of that very same jar. How many decades did you apprentice for?
Picklebacks? I call those "whiskey plus some other shot glass I 'forgot' on the bar. Because I’m pretty sure someone rung out a sweaty gym shirt into it."
And possibly the worst offender: bread and butter pickles. Where in hell did this name even come from? I can't help but notice that neither can be found in the finished product. On top of that, bread and butter are literally two of my top 10 favorite foods in the world. Please stop trying to turn them into pickles.