free peanut shells?

My car is completely full of peanut shells. Remember those ball pits at McDonalds and how awesome it was to still fit under the Hamburglar's hand and plunge into a world of balls? Yeah, my car is like that, only it's more goober-themed. Anyway, I convinced Tim-tim that since the mess is mostly his, he needs to clean out the car, but I kind of feel bad just throwing them out. Peanuts seem like such a wasteful food, since we can't eat most of it. If you have a use for peanut shells, I can wrap them up in some big plastic trash bags and send them your way. If you have really valuable naked peanuts that need more protection, maybe you can individually wrap them in these only slightly used peanut shells.



what a trip to irvine!

I just got back from a pretty cool road trip to Irvine, which is a CD and a half south of Los Angeles. It was just me and Tim-tim my monkey roommate in a car filled with peanuts, and I have to admit our adventures have brought us closer together.

At one point, a huge tiny-penis-compensation SUV cut us off as it raced by at 95 miles per hour, causing Tim-tim to drop his banana on the floor. He barely picked it back up within the 5-second-rule cutoff, and then he got really frustrated because all he wanted to do was curse in sign language, but his hands were full of banana. We thought that would be the end of that, but lo and behold, the prick-mobile got stuck behind a truck trying to pass another truck. We waited right on their tail while we formulated our plan.

When the 18-wheeler pulled back into the right lane, the SUV (Navigator? Explorer? Firefox?) gunned it, but we kept right on their tail. As soon as we were past the trucks, we jumped in the right lane, sped past our prey, and swerved back into the left lane right on their front bumper, causing them to brake really hard and honk a lot. We then executed the coup de grace: Tim-tim rolled down his window, pooped in his hand, and launched his feces back where it splattered all over their windshield! It was a beautiful direct hit, and the SUV went into a tail spin and had to pull over to the side of the road.

We high-fived (left-handed) and pulled into the next rest stop where Tim-tim cleaned off his hand and we hid from the prick-mobile. Tim-tim even got a free banana from a girl with pigtails who didn't want to eat hers. Pretty soon, the prick-mobile went speeding past on the highway again, swerving around some old lady as though old ladies grow on trees or something. We were sad that they didn't learn their lesson, but it looks like they won't learn their lesson until an old lady poops in her hand and splatters it all over their car.



my monkey doesn't know the sign for compromise

Tim-tim is totally a liar. When he first moved in, he assured me that he was potty-trained. His exact words were, "toilet toilet use me use me me." In fact, all he really does is throw his feces at the toilet, and believe me, his aim is horrible. I would kick him out, but he paid his rent for the month up front, and I would feel bad asking him to leave.

Currently, I am resorting to passive-aggressive tactics, like leaving dirty dishes in the sink, or complaining all the time about his lice problem, but then saying it isn't really a big deal since he can't help it with all his body hair. You may call me a coward for not confronting him with my complaints, but remember that a monkey clever enough to learn sign-language and earn $500 in rent money is not a monkey you want angry at you.



my roommate is a trained monkey

So my old roommate moved out a while ago to study marine biology in Hawaii for a few months. He left a whole bunch of his stuff too, because he said he was hoping to move back in for the summer, but then I saw him a few days ago working at "Hot Dog on a Stick" at the mall. He had on one of those red-yellow-white-blue striped get-ups with the matching funny hat, and he didn't look particularly happy about his job. I was going to ask him what the hell he was doing in California, but then this really overweight woman came over and started yelling at him about how he mixed the lemonade wrong and it was mostly syrup. I think she was the manager, because she was wearing the same striped color pattern, but she didn't have the hat, and she had a little laminated name tag and a ring of keys, which she probably uses to lock the cages of the employees when they aren't working.

Man, was she fat. She had these pants with the same striped pattern, only they were stretchy sweat pants, probably because the company didn't have regular pants with seams in her size. And to make matters worse, she was so big, the other employees behind the counter couldn't get by her while she stood there. She was like a tiny road block sitting behind the counter, yelling about lemonade, with my roommate on one side looking sheepish, and like three employees on the other side all in the same striped clothing, holding buckets of ice, which I assume was for diluting the lemonade my roommate screwed up.

Oh man, I got all side-tracked. The real story is that I decided my roommate wouldn't be coming back, so I found someone else to live with for a few months. Unfortunately, he is a trained monkey. His name is Tim-tim and he speaks sign language, which is cool, but he ate every damn banana in the house and hasn't bought more, which is totally not cool.