The Peanut & The Pea's Open Salon Blog

'Twas Not a Flounce...

Wed, 22 Jul 2009 10:07:38 -0400

I was accused of flouncing back in April, when in fact, my last post on OS was an April Fool's prank gone awry. I fully intended to return the next day. Then things happened.

Big things. Scary things. Taxing things. Fun things. Hands were tied and pencils were down.

The Peanut & The Pea moved.

The Peanut & The Pea have been really sad they can't seem to make a Lil' Pea or Lil' Peanut.

The Pea had to take a pay cut at work and was lucky enough to find a second job. Second jobs give you tired head.

The Pea found herself being ambushed for TLC's 'What Not to Wear' and cried and smiled a lot on national television.

The Peanut decided to join the Air Force. Yes, THAT Air Force. Now that he's qualified for Special Ops, as either a SERE instructor or SOWT, The Peanut nor The Pea knows what is in store, short of being apart for BT at Lackland. The Pea is both excited for The Peanut...and scared.

You know, stuff like that.

Now that things have settled to a semi-dull roar...I'll be poking my head - and words - back in here from time to time.

Special note to my Mumblety...thanks for checking in on me and for your kind words of encouragement.

Dead at 5 Months of Age

Wed, 1 Apr 2009 16:04:48 -0400

The Peanut & The Pea blog, died on January 21 aged 5 months, was once described by The Squirrel as "verbose, self-indulgent swill with authors who will end up as somewhat successful pimps", which was true, though they were also a botched theatrical troupe, crack-smoking serial adulterers and writers of autobiographical novels under the nom de plume Dick Craven.

Both authors were fond of saltines and cribbage, but disliked their snobbish, bullying house maid and never forgave her for firing the family's faithful chauffeur after discovering that he voted Socialist.

Pea was educated at Sarah Lawrence, where she discovered that she had lost the contest for the title of Most Lascivious Girl in the school when her competitor, a Countess, whored herself out to an entire lacrosse team. She then concentrated on honing her skills as a peculiar annoyance, wearing a yarmulke at a teasing angle, conducting psychological experiments on unsuspecting boys behind the bleachers and training marmots in the art of the Flamenco in her spare time.

Peanut, highly intelligent, articulate and possessed of an attractive and powerful voice, could have attained enormous professional heights, but his boisterous nature and bouts of thinking himself Superman rendered it impossible for him to adhere to the routine required to sustain his position on the blog. He retired to a life of painting civil war miniatures in the nude, crafting braid rugs from cats hair and developing his skills as both a prognosticator and slow food chef.

Highly devoted to one another, the Peanut and the Pea agreed to a suicide pact which involved a high-speed chase with authorities, via both car and hot air balloon, across Indonesia and suffocating themselves with the chlorophyll-soaked hides of nutria.

Peanut & Pea are survived by their child, Edwina, a terrier mix. Edwina, acting as executrix and sole survivor, bequeathed to herself a lifetime supply of bacon, squeaky toys and suite lodging at the W. Peanut and Pea were buried along with the remains of their beloved Beano and their collection of carrot top trees.

Hi.

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 17:01:53 -0500

How are you?

Seriously. I really want to know.

The Squirrel - IDENTITY REVEALED

Sat, 17 Jan 2009 10:01:55 -0500

Many of you are fans of the mysterious Squirrel andwe certainly know that the ladies can't keep away from him. But I know that I'm not alone in my curiosity, just who IS The Squirrel?

We all know there are those of you on OS who insist, nay, demand that we all reveal our true identities. These identi-zealots, though they refuse to name anyone are so damned transparent. We all know the true motivation behind these identi-zealots' demands: Its all about The Squirrel.

After countless hours and with the help of a Lady Detective, I now can reveal several things about The Squirrel, most of which will prove to be much to his chagrin, but perhaps it will quell the identi-zealots demands for full disclosure:

The Early Years:

This is the only known, verified baby picture of The Squirrel

It has been learned that The Squirrel was born ito an upper middle class family. He was an unruly child, often throwing tantrums and was expelled from several daycares for biting other children. At age 6 he set the house on fire and was known to terrorize the neighborhood by throwing his poo. This is why the family was forced to move to Chicago. And this is why brother Glen is the favorite.

The Teenaged Years:

Dropping out of high school at the tender age of 16, The Squirrel moved to New York City to pursue his dreams of starting a punk band. After cold nights sleeping in abandoned buildings and foraging in Battery Park, he took a job as a hot dog salesman in the East Village. It was there he met bass player Rodney Direct, guitarist Flopsy Haynes and drummer Nigel Pishof. Under the stage name of Ballsy Flopper, The Squirrel, Rodney, Flopsy and Nigel formed the band, Jeebus & The Christ Punchers. A favorite at the now defunct CBGB, they rose to great fame, playing with such acts as The Velvet Underground, The Ramones, and Iggy and the Stooges. After 3 glorious years of fame, The Squirrel fell for the bite of the mistress known as alcohol. Sadly, Squirrel was only 19 and already an alcoholic.

The Drinking Years:

After becoming a laughingstock, often being found passed out in streets, parks, or found screaming at traffic, Squirrel relocated to Minnesota. Destitute, Squirrel could no longer afford to buy the alcohol he so badly needed and finally, after desperation, resorted to consuming large amounts of fermented fruits, much to the terror and amusement of a Minneapolis family:

The Intervention:

After being jailed for fermented fruit pilfering, the Squirrel sobered up and began an attempt to rekindle his singing career by becoming a Michael Jackson impersonator. After five years of performing at children's parties and corporate events, he retired his act and returned to Chicago.

The Acting Years:

At 25, The Squirrel began acting in small community theatre shows and was received graciously by critics and audiences alike. He lit up the stage and was approached by Hollywood director Martin Scorsese. Scorsese convinced The Squirrel to return to New York for a film he was shooting, a retelling of the famed Humphrey Bogart film, The Maltese Falcon. Scorsese, determined The Squirrel could fill Bogart's shoes as Sam Spade, began filming the following week.

The Movie:

Sadly, the Squirrel proved to be what critics called, "The Most Laughable Tough Guy in the History of Ever." This is the only known still from the film, as the movie was destroyed at Scorsese's request.

>The Army Years:

Reports that Squirrel went into banking are false. Contrary to previous interviews with the Squirrel regarding his banking career, he joined the army in an effort to shun the public spotlight and learn some discipline.

His miliary records have been sealed, and my efforts to unearth more than dischage records have been denied through the FOIA. I can tell you the Squirrel was dishonorably discharged.

Squirrel Today:

Today Squirrel is a writer and co-owns a restaurant with his partner, Jimmy, pictured below, who is a human. However, the restuarant in question is NOT in Chicago, it's located in Bellingham, WA.

I WILL NOW REVEAL THE SQUIRREL'S RESTAURANT:

Pea No Can Sleep

Thu, 15 Jan 2009 01:01:24 -0500

Pea no can sleep.

Pea is on new medications.

Make Pea not sleep.

Peanut is asleep, though, with Edwina, and Pea doesn't wish to interrupt Animal and Peanut Snuggle Time.

So maybe you indulge Pea and her random poetry?

Balsam of Myrrh

Balsam of being here
With you and a thoughtful beetle,
I kept my sense like that of a wishful penny,
I insisted that your compass & passkey were safe

Yet I rifled through your pockets

And while you were sleeping,

I let myself inside of you
Peeked at your gumption
Saw your tin pitcher and bent cup,
A cut boy doodling in his slumber,
My photo taped to the back of a banjo.

I walked the bridges you built

of whimsy’s heartache

I spent all night sweeping
Your clumsy pathways and pitfalls
Pasting up stickers to show you where
You hid the dreamer,
The ice cream,
And the sunrise behind the refrigerator.

I even found your ear and upon my tiny toes I shouted,
“Oh, to be your sleeve, your shell, You’re lunar rolling stone, your radial tires, Your blanket, your spacesuit, your neckline, Your smoke working its way through your lips! To be in your skull examining your files And unearthing your thoughts of me!”

And I saw your hand grenades
Clenched in identical fists,
What did you do to be so afraid?

I will never leave you to be forgotten I promise you.

And when I let myself out

I whispered,

“There’s nothing you don't keep up your sleeve, you with all the time in the world,
You’re my bird with one wing.”