arrivederci, giliann

dear peanut guy,

Good day, my dear friend

I still live with my parents under the same roof and I am sorry to say this, but I am already tired to see how they rule over my life. I work hard and I make enough to have a good life, but I give a lot to my parents. My friends ask why don't I just rent an apartment and leave: I just think that I will be sorry all my life for leaving them: Maybe you can give me an advice? Is there a way to get "divorced" with my parents and build my life with a man who will love me. I am looking for a life partner and friend, for lover and gentleman in my future husband. I hope all these features are combined in you. Your answer should wait for me and I am thankful to my destiny that I have a chance to get to know you better:

A rivederci,
~Giliann D.

dear giliann,

you are not the first vertebrate maiden to swoon over peanut guy's perfectly salted rind, his glistening protein-rich stalk which feeds upon the roaring firelight in the legume-hungry eyes of all the female phyla of italy.

but alas, sweet giliann d., i have sworn but one true love and peanut gal is she. however, no known by-laws of the peanut code preclude me from helping defenseless italians, so long as they swear allegiance to the peanut guy and join his royal peanut armada as as a junior midshipman every other new moon. have you sworn yet? then:

first, quit your job in the sugar mines. if your parents protest, simply recite the peanut oath of cyclical responsibility: "i, peanut giliann swear upon the seeds of mine fathers thou hast approved of mine actions whilst intoxicated beyond the legal limit."

next, you must immediately ask the following of each eligible bachelor you meet: "stilgar, do we have wormsign?" to which your lover of destiny will surely reply, "usal, we have wormsign the likes of which even peanut guy has never seen."

the rest, as they say, is foodsandwich.

lasciarme passeggia quell'asino,
the peanut guy!

le hotel d'earwax

(originally answered 7/31/1998)

Dear Peanut Guy,

I've been wondering, about this riddle. This guy goes in to town on Friday, and stays three days in the very cheesy hotel, and leaves on Friday. How did he do it? I have another question, too, what do I do about the ever present problem of EAR WAX?? I thought maybe you could help!

Thanks, Peanut Guy!
~Amanda

P.S. Here's one for you to ponder: Why did the chicken cross the road?

dear amanda,

the answer is: the hotel is made of cave aged emmentaler, which as we all know can stop time for up to twelve moon cycles when properly hexed by an ancient avatar of the peanut clan. as for earwax, send it airmail to me:

PEANUT GUY
beverly hills, ca

i shall bury the wax in my garden where the wee billygoats feed.

princely and yours,
the peanut guy!

p.s. it was merely a mop made of feathers.

steevie's good nighte kiss

Dear Nut man,

My name is steevie. I have two questions for you. MY first quesiton is how can you have a website you're apeanut?!

MY second question is a bout girls. I know this girl, A, who wants to date but I don't know where to take her or what do to odo for a date. What should i do to really WOW her for the date? CAn i kiss her at the end of the nighte???

LEt me know if you can help me.

Signed,
~ Steevie the Man

dear steevie "the man",

although you are clearly a drooling, pantsless philistine unworthy of my georgian quill, i shall answer thine appeals pursuant to clause five, section ten of the peanut clan scriptures:

"whosoever tosseth the drooling and pantsless a bone shall receive a heavenly spiced rind massage from the nitrate-rich angels fortnightly."

i am a saint.

now then, steevie. brace yourself: it is said amongst the peanut elders: rinds of a kind crave similar salt. being a dunce, i can only assume your pastimes include horticulture and loin-soiling. if you should perchance to notice a pungent urine-musk cloud billowing forth from the crotch of your beloved - or a bonsai tree in her locker - then you need only follow these simple steps:

purchase a pair of filthy dungarees

fasten them about you, one greasy tentacle at a time

ask your lover-to-be if she has been recently flagellated by any members of phylum heterokontophyta, for her sheen is rosy and pure

when she swoons, offer her a moldy asparagus and have her meet you behind the laundromat in her aforementioned "nighte"

when she arrives, sing "come sail away" by styx, shirtless

kissing the end of her nighte will be difficult, but you will find oil-encrusted, serpentine lips there if you look closely. these lips bear the secrets of the multiverse and untold pleasures of the rind.

i'm ready for my enspicening,
the peanut guy!

"my name is chad. i have a sirius prolbem."

(originally answered 2/18/2006)

Dear Peanut Guy,

my name is Chad. i have a sirius prolbem. theirs this HOTT chick in my algebra class and instead of doing work i usually just flirt with her all class period, like passing her notes and touching her leg and stuff and just you nkow trying to get with her. shes into it 2 and she flirts back, feeling my bicep sometimes or like licking her lipps and shit.

anyway, sometimes because of this i pop a boner and it hits the bottom on my desk. its totally embarrassing and also im worried that i'll be called up to the board to do a equation on the board.

what shoudl i do????
~ Boner Always Deeply Affecting Social Situations

dear "chad" or "BADASS",

every day before class, simply repeat the following ritual:

close your eyes for a moment and imagine a cool mountain spring percolating up through the tender, mossy soil of the old growth forest bed. inhale. follow the crisp, crystaline waters down the emerald hillock and into the deep, calm alpine resevoir.

now you are floating over the center of the translucent lake. you see a giant horsehead deep below, rising slowly to the surface and growing larger with each molecule of mountain air you helplessly inhale until its leviathan nostrils hover one centimeter below the lake's veneer, its hideous, beady eyes piercing you, haunting you. forever.

this, chad, is the horse of shame. at its command, you shall henceforth wear mascara and only black. that, or try peanut gal's suggestion: hold a large textbook over the affected region.

fondly,
the peanut guy!