I'm on Facebook!

:D


So, I've had this blog for awhile, and so far have a total of five "followers". But it came to my attention that more than that number were actually reading this blog. SO, I have set up a Facebook page to find out who is actually reading it, and hopefully attract a few new readers.

Here is the link to the page. "Like" it if you do, in fact, like it. As benefit, you will receive updates about my posts in advance (this way you will know that I'm not dead when it takes me forever to write a new post), I may share a picture that will be in an upcoming post, and you can read the occasional funny status or see an ironic picture from my life, as well.

It will also motivate me to write more frequently. (Yay for bribes!)

So, come, and be my friend. :)

Sincerely,
The Peanut

It's Christmas!

♪♫ 'Tis the season to be broke... ♪♫

Christmas is here. Christmas is the only time of year in which Sally spends all her money on a present for Jill, only to receive a gift of the exact value in exchange. Sally thinks it would be more profitable, and easier, to just keep our money. But, then, Sally wouldn't have gotten those Hello Kitty fuzzy socks, and Jill wouldn't have gotten the picture frame that she already has two of.

But what do I want for Christmas? Why, thank you for asking! You are great followers!

Here's my list!

#1. A Car (preferably an exact replica of "The Blueberry" from "Psych".)
#2. Fire!

#3. Chocolate

 
 #Also: Money, Dragons, Magical Scepter, Galaxy 7, and the like....


To conclude this post of wonders, I shall sing you a song!

♫♪ Deck the halls with bowls of chocolate!
nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
'Tis the season to eat Herseys!
nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
Munch we now our Butterfingers!
nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
Pull the string and eat the kisses!
nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
NOM! ♪♫

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Meet Marco:

my son.

First of all, I would like to assure my 2 or 3 faithful readers that I am still alive and I will be posting on a more regular basis soon. AND NOW.....!

There is someone I would like you to meet. His name is Marco and he is my son. He used to be an egg but he converted to Soft-Membrane-inism and I adopted him. The conversion was a long, stressful process that took three whole days!

First he was baptized in a coffee mug of vinegar.

 Then he rested in the Bowl Of Syrup.

 He then drank the Water of Great Value.

   And it was finished.

  He was reborn sixty grams, two inches. He even grew hair!

  Yes, he was a happy egg. ......until he rotted.

  But, as Auntie What's-Her-Face said -

  At least he converted before he died!

The Reunion, The Mustang, and The Espresso Shot

And the hill of dirt and doom.

Sunday afternoon, me, my family, and my sister's boyfriend went to our once-yearly family reunion at which we eat lots of chicken and corn, and kiss, hug, and talk to people we don't know, but who definitely know us. We meet under a primitive shelter located at the very top of the mountain, by way of a bumpy, dangerous, dirt road that goes straight up. Here is a diagram for you:

I rode with Sister and Soyfriend in Soyfriend's brand new Mustang! It was white and pretty and  un-wrecked and loved. It tried. Perhaps I should rename this post "The Little Mustang That Tried But Failed Epically Despite The Grunts and Groans Of It's Master".

Here is some of the dialog that took place during this Drive of Doom:

Sister: "JUST FLOOR IT!"
Soyfriend: *floors it*
Peanut: "AHH....!"
Mustang: "vroom vroom OUCH"
Rocks: "chink. chink. LOL, chink."
Peanut: "Hear that? That's the sound of ruined Mustang."

Eventually we made it up the hill unscathed. I can't say the same for Mustang.

Once there under the shelter, we took a count of all the people present. I was number 72 or 74, but definitely not 73. We ate food, pretended to laugh at our relative's jokes, and a chair broke under my weight. Highlight of my day. At one point I visited the outhouse that had been there since 16 BC. Then we left.

Musty was a good bit worse for the wear, but she volunteered to take us home anyway, and off we went.

Halfway down the Hill of Doom we met a big truck. Hi, Truck! So, we went backwards up the hill and didn't die. We were off again! After several ominous "sccccccrape!", "Chinkchinkchinkchinkers!", and "BOOM!"'s, we made our appearance on the civilized road once more! Never have three people ever cried for happiness at seeing the highway, until now.

After all this adventure, Sister decided she wanted coffee. We went to Starbucks. For a reason unknown to me now, I decided that I wanted an Espresso Shot! Soyfriend and Sister also ordered, and up to the first window we drove! Here is a picture of Sister's parking skills:

Twenty minutes later, we were five minutes from home! At last! I couldn't wait to be free! Hurra....Wha..wha...what are you doing?!? Why are we turning around?!?

Sister had the sudden desire to go back to Starbucks and get Brother something to drink. Need I mention that by this time we had already drunk our drinks, so Brother need never have known that we had gone without him.

Oh well. There is no stopping the will of Sister, especially Soyfriend. The majority was against my overruling, and an hour later, we were home!

Thus ends this dramatic retelling of my Mustang adventure. We are sorry about your car, Soyfriend.


Do not try this at home.

The Time My Dog Didn't Lose Weight

(Note: No dogs were harmed in the making of this post.)


My dog is fat. This is partly why we get along so well. Here is a picture of my fat dog:

One day, we decided to put him on a diet. So we bought some new, revolutionary, doggie weight loss food, and poured it into his bowl with high expectations. It looked like this:

Doggie-Version-Of-Peanut was very offended. He refused to eat the yuckyuck in his former bowl of happiness. Thus Doggie began to starve. Every night he would wait under the Human's eating table thinking longingly of the days when begging was not a necessity of life.

So, in the end, it worked! By not eating the diet food, he lost weight!
We had pity on Doggie, eventually, and returned the Happy Food to his bowl, which is happy once more.

Doggie is still fat.

Fish: They Are Yucky.

Of my disgust for seafood.

As you may have gathered: fish is yucky. I have no problem with Dory and Nemo, but my taste-buds do.

I can see you laughing at my Nemo.  I'll have you know, that Nemo might have given me carpal tunnel! What we do for followers.
Despite my disgust for fried fish, and despite the fact that my family knows of it very well, I have been FORCED to eat yucky fish two nights in a row! I might have lost weight, but what I lacked in fish I made up for in ice cream. Ice cream calls to me. There is no turning back once we've seen each other. But fish repulses me, and it's definitely a mutual feeling.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's post! (Hint: it's not about fish.)

Math Is a Bad Man.

And, I mean, really bad.

Someday, children, you will miss the simple formula of 2+2 and 3x3. Someday, you will have math problems so BIG AND SCARY that only four will fit on a 7” by 10” page! And you have to buy special paper that will do nothing but torture you! Unless you become very ill or mentally unstable, in which case you may be able to wriggle out of it. Just something to think about for your future. You must decide between the two evils.

Yes, Math is a bad, bad, man. This is my drawing of what Mr. Math Ematics must have looked like:

 I made him look as evil as I could! That's why I added fangs. Though, come to think of it, fangs seem to be hot now. *cough-Edward-cough-is-stupid-cough*

Anyway! This is the material you get from me after I've done a particularly yucky math lesson. And I got a C.

Thumbs Are Scary:

A List Of My Fears.

Generally speaking, you would be hard-pressed to find something normal that I am afraid of. If you dangled a spider in front of my face, I wouldn’t flinch, but I probably would blow it onto your face. I’m all about forgiveness and niceness and stuff.

If you put a snake around my neck, I would probably kiss it or at least baby talk to it. Of course, if snake in question was a cobra, I would most likely begin writing a hurried will.

I could care less about bees; I’ve been stung, and I know enough to not pick one up, but I still enjoy watching them in my overgrown garden.

No, I’m not afraid of normal things. But I do have several paranoias that people find funny/weird/asylum-worthy, and I feel I ought to share them with you, my dear invisible readers!

First of all, from whence this title came, is my fear of thumbs. Actually, thumbs themselves don’t bother me, but I have this thing with thumbs-ups. One of my worst nightmares is being cornered as hundreds of people come marching at me with their thumbs raised high, singing a war cry of emanate death.

Perhaps weirder than this, is my fear of things falling into my bellybutton. Yes, I realize what I just said. Yes, I realize that nothing can actually fall into your bellybutton. But to this day, I cannot wear jeans that rest at the bellybutton, for fear of them falling in and the pain that will obviously ensue. For this reason, showering can be torture.

COOL FACT: My bellybutton fear has a name. Omphalophobia! There are even support groups. Nothin’ like going to a psychiatrist because you’re afraid of your bellybutton.

A Blog, I Have. Read it, You Will.

Talk Like Yoda, I Do.

Good morning, Starshine, The Peanut says hello!

FACT: The Peanut Gallery is where the poor people sat in the theatre. This applies to me for a number of reasons. But there are advantages to being poor. For instance: you learn that rat meat is really good! And the rain dripping from your ceiling can be quite cooling in the summertime.

Of course, the phrase usually refers to being uneducated about the conversation you are butting into. This also applies to me because……..     IS THAT A SQUIRREL?!?!?

In any case, I hope you enjoy my blog. And I know you will read it because I’m using the force on you.  Most of my posts will probably be short, and they will probably contain pictures. FYI, I cannot draw. This is a foot:

 Because all feet have six toes.

FACT: Upon sad discovery I have found that there are actually other blogs with the title “Peanut Gallery.” However, none of them are called “Life in The Peanut Gallery,” and none of them are as awesome as mine.

FACT TWO: I think peanuts are yucky.

End of first blog post.