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.