Dude, all I want is some mass-produced "moms like you choose ___" peanut butter, but my girlfriend insists on buying the organic, separating-oil-from-water-in-the-jar health stuff that you couldn't spread with a $5000 knife.
I think she's trying to save my life, but I'm adamantly slowly suicidal.
I'm at the local mall at the moment, catching Internet access. Russia has free Wi-Fi at places, by the way. The rightmost is the local blins-making fast food company, Siberian Blins (or, as you see it, berian Blins).