Leave it to Peter

The tale of a man with too much hair and too much genius.

February 1st, 2001

Leave it to Peter for endless cheap entertainment. We just spent a good five minutes flicking lit matches off our balcony into the tinder-dry living room below. Luckily most of the matches went out before hitting the carpet… luckily the smoke detector didn't go off… luckily no matches found their ways into the fish tank… luckily the matches that refused to leave the box after lighting were unable to start a chain reaction with their eager-burning companions.

February 4th, 2001

I bought a coconut. The coconut came with instructions. The instructions say, "To open coconut, pierce one eye with an icepick." Peter first questioned the assumption that the everyday American family keeps an icepick in their home. Then Peter got an image of a person piercing his own eye with an icepick, and laughed hysterically. No Peter. Bad Peter.

February 10th, 2001

"The fight against entropy has to start somewhere."
- Peter while cleaning

February 20th, 2001

"Eh, those look kind of wrong… you get two points."
- Peter correcting papers… and talking to them.

February 20th, 2001

Peter went to the library and got a slew of electronics books. If there is anyone I do not trust with this information, it is Peter. One of the books tells us how to make homemade Tesla coils... they generate a quarter-million volts and can create sparks that span fourteen inches. Peter wondered if this project would be considered a fire hazard. I said no, as there is no open flame involved. We have an eel in our aquarium. Peter wants to teach it to be an electric eel. "I wonder if the other fish will start swimming upside down?" he pondered.

"Possibly, but definitely not on their own accord," I replied.

February 27th, 2001

"This professor can't spell to save her life! Transfaered. Chloropophyll. Hydrophylyc. Kind of like Hydro-phallic, I suppose, but with a Southern accent."

March 18th, 2001

"You know what state park we saw in Kentucky? Big Bone Lick. Ha!"

March 19th, 2001

Right now I am quite angry with Peter. I was down in the living room and what should fall in my hair but a lit match (please see first Peter entry). The hair I don't mind, but that kid is lucky the match didn't hit my new silk shirt. 10 bucks and I'm lookin' like a guy from Trainspotting.

March 31st, 2001

Peter says that we can cut his hair after his last final. I'm gonna hold him to that. It looks like we have a gorilla that sneaks in the apartment at night to take showers. I have Peter hair stuck to absolutely everything... there, just pulled one off of my sock. Augh.

April 2nd, 2001

I (I being Dane, the mediator of all things Leave it to Peter related) have a friend that occasionally has adventures while sleepwalking. One night he apparently went out to the kitchen to go cook, and got as far as opening cupboards and getting dishes. Very bizarre behavior, if you ask me. But if you ask Peter…

"You know, if Ryan did that we'd all be dead by now. Burnt to a crisp."

How right you are, Peter.

April 3rd, 2001

Alright Peter, enough is enough. The hair needs to go. The sink looks furry and alive. It looks like it's shedding its winter coat and trying to mate with the wall. From henceforth you will be required to comb your hair outside, where it belongs.

I do not apologize for Leave it to Peter being reduced to mere rants about Peter. If Peter had more wisdom and less hair this degeneration would never have happened.

April 5th, 2001

Our apartment sits next door to the Machine Room. Like its name implies, the machine room is filled to the brim with steam, gears, grease and noise. This morning it is making considerably more noise than usual. Why, the floor is even shaking. Usually only the floor scrubber has that amount of power… never the machine room.

"Man, listen to that. I'm just waitin' for something bad to bust right through that wall," I said to Peter.

"Yeah, and then the boss music will play," he replied.

April 6th, 2001

"Hmm… I don't think a clove hitch is a good way to tie off my hair. Do you have any recommended knots? …no, not scissors. I said knots."

April 7th, 2001

Peter has a tough time with computers. Microsoft Word was auto-formatting, a feature that Peter did not desire at the time; does not desire ever.

"Auto-format this, you motherfucker!"

April 18th 2001

"Peter, are you a whip cracker?"
"I'm not a wet cracker."

April 19th, 2001

A silverfish was in the shower today. I'll bet anything it came from Peter's hair.

April 26th, 2001

Peter picked up AOL Instant Messenger. Now instead of speaking through our flimsy wall we just use our computers. Technology has greatly simplified our lives; removed the profound confusion that can ensue from actual talking. In a recent message, Peter praised the goodness of IM:

"This thing is great! A lab writeup that should have taken an hour has taken over four and a half thanks to AOL IM!"

I stifled my laughter, not wanting to violate our new method of communication.