the steve-encrusted soulcore

Dear Peanut Guy,

Say you told this girl that you were skydyving over the summer to impress her even though you were really at your Nanna's house in the outer banks and that your really afraid of heights but you still want to impress the girl. how do you do it?

~Friend of A Wimpy Steve

P.S. this happened to my friend STEVE not me.


dear FAWS,

deep within thy conscious being lives a creature much like steve. there is in fact a steve in all of us - all seedlings beneath the rind-charring sun. for only underground will the steves of the world perish, like so many past-due discount half & halves in the Albertson's Dairy Aisle of life. as you read my lordly response, meditate on thine own inner-steve and apply the requisite "steve salve" henceforth daily upon thine tender, steve-encrusted soulcore.

first, know this: engaging in the pedomorphic act of sky diving is roughly as impressive as mastering the cheat code to contra: everybody knows how to do it and you were probably physically strapped to some burly, mephitic expert while doing so. lying about such things is fathomless indeed. the dame of steve's desires likely requires a more subtle, seasoned approach. might i suggest steve take the following steps:

purchase and wear a top hat, monocle, ascot, and kilt, posthaste.

approach the mademoiselle at dawn from the east, such that a halo of dewlight frames thy majestic figure

offer her a single, perfect cactus.

speak the following words: "my lady, i have wronged thee. i lied to win thy heart. i now grovel, pantsless before thee. and if thou should see it fit not to toss me aside like an old bag of moldy tangerines, i would honor thee forever amidst an ever-growing pile of cold, hard cash."

commence frenching.

a steven lurks in all of us,
the peanut guy!

i suck at sports...especially running

Hey Peanut Guy,

I'm 13 years old, in 8th grade. Well, since the end of last school yer, I've really liked this guy in my school. I hardly know him, but I just feel that he is right for me. (And I think he's so adorably cute) Also, he is hilarious, which is a good thing. He even danced with me and signed my yearbook. My question is, how do I get to know him? I want to get really close to him. I don't expect a dating relationship becuase I've only had one boyfriend before, and I don't think anyone likes me. I also wanted to ask, what do I do? The same guy that I like is in my gym class, and I SUCK at sports...especially running. When we have to do the mile, I'm going to feel like a complete moron..any suggestions for me?

Thanks!
~Sara

dear sara,

my suggestions are endless as the sands of time. start here: carry one sack of flour in each hand at all times. "who's the girl with the flour sacks?" they'll say. and in time, "why, that's sara the dame!" he'll reply.

know thee, sara, that 8th grade is a vicious time. it's the spanish inquisition of adolescence and few if any escape its malice. the sacks will carry you through, young sara. the sacks will carry you through. consider my story:

t'was 8th grade, 1845. i had the biggest crush on the delectable peanut marie. she asked me for a raisin in home ec, but i just ran out. my heart sank. all the others laughed at peanut guy as his stalk wilted in distress. but then, from the bowels of my being: "a prune, perhaps?" sang i, in glass-shattering tenor, and the skies opened, revealing a neverending prunestorm that swallowed us all.

then, hidden 'neath the prunes, peanut marie came to me and sang sweetly in my rindpipe:

t'was written in the peanut tome
one would call all prunekind home
and at the beckon of marie
would steal a kiss of nougat foam

and here beneath the deep prune sea
i clutch you ever close to me
and at the beckon of marie
i offer you this pocket comb

the comb was all i ever got from marie, dear sara. but the comb secretes pomade in limitless quantities, and can decode animal thoughts.

what's the moral?: carry your sacks the day of the mile, sara. let him come to you. and in time, he will learn to call you master.

der erzherzog der erdnüsse,
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!