Constant Bust

Peanut Butter. Back in my life. For some reason I haven't eaten peanut butter for like a million years. But I bought some the other day and now can't stop weezing the gloop. I'm an orange clag mouth hyped up on the thick nut butter. When I was about twelve I would spread peanut butter (or peanut paste as I tried to call it forever) so thick on bread that when I tried to eat it my oesophagus would basically be putty-filled and I couldn't breathe. It was a god damn rush. Living year 7 on the edge, not knowing if the next sandwich would kill me, hoping, hoping to lord vishnu that there'd be enough so good and milo in my glass to bust through the dam.

The great thing about peanut butter is that it's super energy rich. I saw these guys on tv who had dragged a cart across Antartica while growing beards and talking about girls. They said they'd survived on a diet of peanut butter and chocolate. 'Interesting' you say 'tell me more about chasing the yanky dollar'. Unfortunately I am not Anthony Robbins, I will say, and I have less money than a kid, the only advice I could give you would not to go on ebay when drunk. Especially when you're the competitive type. Fuck I've got this yellow gingham shirt that my girlfriend said I must never, never wear and a pile of old National Geographics (these actually rule. They've got pictures of guys holding a turtle with a cigarette in it's mouth and some dudes slicing up a whale). I also bought some primary school chalk and a piece of shit bike from a guy in Rockingham who was drinking beers at 10.30 am. Stay away from that shit.

The other great thing about Peanut Butter is that it's actually dangerous to a heap of people. Not you though. You're super tough. Remind yourself about this as you sit on the floor in your undies spooning it into your mouth with a makeshift lego spoon. You're basically going a few rounds with a cobra. You're taking life on. Screw Koshy and his morning diatribes, screw that old lady that keeps parking shopping trolleys in the grass across from your house (don't actually screw her unless you're some sort of actual sicko), screw the real estate skeletor who won't fix your shower. This is the real deal. Third eye open and all of that.