Hello. I’m Johnny Cashew.


A bunch of little things, again.

* When my sister asked me what I was planning to do tonight, I said, “I only wanted to cut my own bangs and maybe paint my toenails” and she observed, very astutely: “‘Oh, man. ‘I was going to cut my own bangs’ is one of the saddest-sounding things ever!” She’s right. Now I am amusing myself envisioning me, sitting on my couch with some scissors and a hand mirror, with a towel wrapped around my shoulders (fastened with a clothespin), the only light coming from a flickering TV, a tub of Betty Crocker frosting sitting open on the coffee table in front of me. It’s all accurate, except I’d be in the bathroom b/c you can’t cut your own bangs while holding a hand mirror. COME ON! Get real.

* This sounds innuendo-esque, but it is true: This weekend, I need to get out there and rake up some bark. Clean up my front yard, so to speak. My tree’s been shedding bark. It’s sloppy.

* Still can’t stop eating cashews like a motherfucker. I mean it– I’m pretty sure it’s an addiction now. Like smoking, only with lightly-salted nuts instead of nicotine.

*…”lightly salted nuts” = heh heh heh heh heh. Nothing like a little salty stuff on your tongue.

* I want to see “Snow White and The Huntsman” because it looks so cool. I love all the special effects and those costumes… holy hell, Colleen Atwood! You are tremendous.

* RaeAnn gave me the coolest birthday present: It’s a tall apothecary jar filled with vintage doll hands! I will be taking a series of photos of it, because it’s awesome and is going on display in a prominent spot in my home. I’m well aware that a “jar of doll hands” isn’t something a lot of people would want, but I sure love it. If I have to explain why, you don’t know me very well. The answer is JUST BECAUSE.

* So I used the treadmill last night (yay for me), but it was cracking me up because the whole time I was on there, Moose was standing right next to it, looking so very concerned and confused. He almost looked like he was going to jump up on the moving surface a few times, which would have sucked, since he’d have gone flying off the back, probably trip me in the process, and we’d all end up broken and destroyed. His face was so funny, though. It was so expressive in its earnest concern. Hurley and Grem were all jacked up like usual– when I use the treadmill, they start to play all rough– and tried to get Moose to play, but poor Moose was too worried about me to get into it. I’m laughing to myself right now remembering the scene. I have to get a video camera that works, damn it, and start filming these guys so I can show other people what I’m talking about all the time.

* Time to go home and stop working. I have had a long day and I don’t need any shit from you people.

* I just wanted to write that sentence ^ for some reason. I know you don’t give me shit. Don’t worry, you’re fine. (Well, except for YOU. Yeah, you. You know who you are, you son of a bitch.)


2 responses »

  1. I’m the same way about cashews. So is my dad. The only thing that keeps me from eating as many as I want is- they are expensive! I only buy them occasionally, when I find a good deal. 😦

    I bet Moose would like taking walks on the treadmill!

  2. I’ve used cashews to replace a lot of other stuff I used to buy (pretzels, snacks, frozen dinners, etc) so I’m not actually spending more. But yeah, they ARE pricey. And I’m picky. I won’t eat the regular salted ones b/c they’re way too salty, and some of the ones I’ve tried to buy in bulk from the bins at the store taste stale or something. Mehhh. Cashew problems, man. It’s tough. 😉

    Oh, I wish Moose would go on the treadmill! But I know him and he’s way to skittish for that thing. Hurley won’t go on it, either, even though I was training him to walk on it for treats about a year ago. He’s weirded out by it.

    It cracks me up that pretty much any appliance or machine in my house that makes a lot of noise seems to flip a switch in Hurley’s brain and he turns into a goofy, playful, maniacal bastard! He looks around for the closest cat (or Moose) and starts wrestling and yip-yapping. What a goofball. ❤

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