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How do I keep my apartment clean when I’m a lazy ass?
Adderall, obviously. But if your lame-ass doctor won’t cough up the prescription, homemade meth will help you do the dishes, or better yet, scrub your bathtub grout out with a toothbrush until your fingernails fall off. But who needs fingernails? Just another thing to clean, as far as we’re concerned.
How come it’s called a Peanut Butter and Jelly and not a Jelly and Peanut Butter as the alphabet would suggest?
For legal reasons, we must unequivocally state that everything you are about to read is a joke. We have no beef with the Peanut Butter Lobby™, in fact, we love them. Do you hear that, Peanut Butter Lobby™? We’re big fans. We pay homage. Gulp.
But all we can say is follow the money. What is recommended in every single dietician’s guide—vegan or keto—as a good source of “protein”? Certainly not jelly.
How do I find motivation on days when it’s sunny?
Were you ever bullied in high school? Of course, you were, you’re reading the Grapevine advice column. Sit back and ruminate on this trauma. Remember the quiver in Kyle’s voice when he told everyone in math class you were adopted and had lice? The look of pure disdain in his emerald orbs as he set your science project on fire? The way he methodically seduced and married your Mom post-graduation, breaking up your family and ultimately causing the life-long depression and drug addiction of your little brother?
Get Kyle in your head. Viscerally feel his presence. Now, every time you lie in the sun while you should be doing the dishes, just imagine Kyle is next to you, whispering in your ear, “Yeah, you WOULD act like that, you fucking simp.” If proving Kyle wrong doesn’t give you the motivation to do the damn thing in nice weather, perhaps you deserved to be cyber-bullied.
How do I avoid the “hot tub” conversations when the pools open up again?
Pretend you are a mute. Bonus points for cutting off your tongue for evidence.
I think my cat can understand me but I’ve been saying some sensitive stuff in front of her. How do I make sure she won’t snitch on me?
Obviously, you’ve gotta get some dirt on her. We can’t reveal our sources, but we’re 99% sure your cat attacked a nest of baby starlings last week, effectively putting an end to a genealogical line travelling back to the first prokaryote. While starlings aren’t legally projected in Iceland—so you couldn’t send the bitch to jail for this genocide—you could def ruin her social standing in the neighbourhood were this information to be ‘accidentally released on Facebook’. Those forest rangers who live in the apartment next door will never again give her tuna knowing her crimes. Voilá! Perpetual silence.
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