PeterIsSorry.com

I’m sorry for telling an old teacher at school that awesomeness can often be found “in the buttocks.”  On a related note, I am sorry that my filter has pretty much totally disappeared.  We should have snacks!

I’m sorry for almost dropping a hacksaw right on my face while looking for a chocolate cookbook.

I’m sorry for overestimating how fun it would be to be hit by a car.

I’m sorry that (by a wide margin) the majority of visitors to PeterIsSorry.com come here looking for erotic content (usually erotic cannibalism).  Unfortunately, no one has come looking for erotic robot vacuum cleaner stories, which is more my area of expertise.

I’m sorry that my apartment smells like a combination of a minor gas leak and burt tuna fish.  I don’t have any leaking gas (that kind, anyway) or tuna here.  Curious.

I’m sorry that every time Mexican food, Mexico, or Mexicans are mentioned, I immediately order some mexican food (online, so that I don’t have to talk on the phone).

I’m sorry that almost all my pants have really awkward holes in the crotch now.  I’m also sorry that I’m going to keep wearing them anyway (until my mom sends me some new ones).

I’m sorry for telling a male teacher that I would marry him if he would just buy me some pizza.

I’m sorry for eating an ice cream sandwich SO HARD that I ended up bleeding all over the ice cream.  (The miniature chocolate chips were cutting up my gums.  It was totally worth it.)

I’m sorry that I didn’t think of this first.

I’m sorry that I keep accidentally stepping on, kicking and generally hitting your sprained ankle (because I keep forgetting that it’s sprained).

I’m sorry for greeting you with the somewhat politically incorrect phrase: “Hello, retard!”

I’m sorry for launching a big, heavy tire into the trunk while you had the car jacked up because you were trying to replace the tire that I myself may have punctured.

I’m sorry for trying to nickname you “13-Year Old Jimmy” due to a voice cracking situation.

I’m sorry that I just paid $8 for what was essentially an Egg McMuffin. Thank you SFO.

I’m sorry that Roomba got so mad that I made him vacuum all day long that he sat right in front of the door while I was out so that I couldn’t get back in.

I’m sorry that I’ve been out of toilet paper for over two weeks.

I’m sorry that I own a pair of soon-to-be-crotchless pants.

I’m sorry that I’m an incompetent toenail clipper and also that I make Roomba eat my toenails.  And I clogged up his innards with plastic wrap like one of those dead seagulls.

I’m sorry that I can’t always tell whether I need to breathe in or out.