"when i go to church, my throat will always be stopped up"

Dear Peanut Guy,

I like you. When I go to church, my throat will always be stopped up and I can't sing very well. On the other hand, after I come home from church I can sing very well. What should I do?

Love,
~Tristan, 16

dear tristan,

your voice has been silenced by the lord on account of your ungodly forays into white collar crime. for how can one praise His name on sunday when saturday one worships at the altar of insider trading? oh yes, tristan. your verboten stock ventures may have evaded the lazy eye of that pock-marked boob chris cox, but i assure you they are quite well-known to the peanut clan. our radiant silken vines have crisscrossed beneath the earth undetected for centuries, channeling knowledge from the far reaches of the universe into our subterranean georgian compound. we also know all about your secret case of astigmatism (kendall marie will be so very disapointed!), and that bogus hedge fund run by skyler murphy -- who incidentally is skimming a little off the top to pay for his calf implants in a desperate attempt to steal kendall from your lie-encrusted arms.

face it, tristan: your world is rocked. peanutkind has once again triumphed. not since the ancient times when horses ruled the earth and oats created mankind in their mysterious bog-labs to avoid extinction have elements of the plant kingdom held such a tight grip on the wheels of the world. with this in mind, consider the following excerpt from the holy peanut scriptures:

softly doth the nut descend
for he whose stock is falling
from the ripe and silken vine
when one has lost his calling

swiftly should the nut repent
by singing one great carol
written by all peanut kind
and played by john and darryl

replace the church organist's music with the score to 'rich girl' by hall and oates. you will sing like choirs of angels.

magnanimously,
the peanut guy!

to french or not to french

Dear Peanut Guy,

I can’t get myself to French Kiss this guy I like a lot! I have never done it and I can’t get myself to do it. How do you do it? What else could we do to stay intimate other than sex?

Signed,
~ Never Been Kissed

dear never been kissed,

if love were a meat, it would be beef tenderloin - cut from the juiciest, most tender middle of the cow of life. the key to happiness, NBK, is to season the love with onions, seasonings, and sometimes raw eggs. only thusly can we blend the perfect steak tartare of happiness.

sadly, "frenching" your man is the only way to stay intimate other than sex, known amongst the peanut folk as the sashimi of intimacy - the first course of food-love. you are ordered to french him. here's how:

discretely cover his eyelids in yuba

powder your lips delicately with horseflesh

carefully place the LP "private eyes" by hall & oates on your turntable

recite the pledge of allegiance

open mouth

commence frenching

adieu,
the peanut guy!