INVASION!

Life is about to change around here. Number One is moving in. (Quick update for Foreign Visitors = #1 daughter; pregnant; w/ boyfriend; yes Penny's gonna be a granny very soon)

I have been valiantly trying to maintain a certain Zone Of Sanity in my house. There's been a lot going on and I've been basically triageing the round the homestead chores. For instance, I do wash dishes, but I do not trim the hedges. My two little stay-at-home kids are slobs. So, I do bathe them but I do not clean their rooms with the leaf blower.

The line was drawn at the living room. My contention was this ~ You do not need to go in there so STAY THE HECK OUT! All I really wanted was one little spot where I could say to a visitor "Won't you please come in. Sit down. How have you been?" with out adding "Try not to step on that, oh! Don't sit there, let me move that. No that's not still alive I'm sure the kids squashed it yesterday... Are you sure you can't stay? Oh dear, have you had a tetanus booster?"

It was a small dream but you gotta dream, right.

Now I just have to let it all go. I don't live in a hotel. and I am adding 2 and a half more people this weekend. Something had to give and guess what? It's the living room.

I will be moving in there. I am sure the privacy will suffer since I no longer have doors. (I am going to hang drapes which will only provide cover for smallish eavesdroppers) But what the heck does Penny need privacy for anyway? Its not like I have a whole heck of a lot of private stuff going on in my room now. **sigh**

There is one bonus though. I will be rooming with my computer. Jackass thinks this is a fantastic opportunity. The ability to leap out of bed and ... what? IM? E-mail? No, I get it. If I am overtaken, in the night, with an irresistible urge to compute something then I am all set up!

Every rose has it's thorn, kids, but every cloud has it's silver lining...

This has been a Penny's Bed Room Update ~ I'm Bad Penny

small&helpless Penny Womb Wishes

I am struggling this morning... Not to email Jackass and beg "Please be OKAY with me."

What in the name of all that is good and pure in the world is this all about?

It's a fractured analysis. On the one side I have this crazy notion that I UNDERSTAND things. On the other side I have this hand delivered notion that I never understand anything.

How is it possible that we can both want the same things and yet be so totally out of synch? I have started and aborted at least 15 emails to him. And here I am starting and really thinking ABORT ABORT ABORT! this blog post about the things I wanted to put in the emails to him. I am a stew of not even knowing what I'd like to figure out about what I do not yet understand about me and this and him and why oh why does it go wonky all the time?

I wish I was still drinking, blindly not realizing that getting loaded is a BAD way to deal with unhappiness and confusion. I'd like to travel back to that unexamined place where its just all good and who cares if Penny's drinking a tad more now than usual? Well, as long as we're wishing I guess I'll wish for a trip back to the womb.

"here i float warm and small and not touched by a thing but her nicotine lubdub is the sound beats all around me placenta whooshes like wind through a tree i think nothing but red filtered light and water muffled sound and always warm always safe always not the one who has to decide"

Jackass Update

For those of you who are new to the many lands of Penny's angst, you can catch up on Jackass by reading 98% of everything ever written for this blog. Go ahead, the rest of us will wait....

Humming.

Thumb twiddling...

A little surreptitious look around "Anybody peeking?" Some stealth nose picking.

Back? Good... now I can go on.

WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING!?!

I am not like this with any other person on the planet, this strange non-spoken what in the world does all this mean CODE communication. What the hell is that all about?

Tonight was a train wreck. I miss this man in a visceral way. I have called it like my need for oxygen, the way I need to get squished and just set right by him. Would I choose it? Nope.

You come along with the dessert cart of mate choices: "Would you care for a man tonight? A partner? A corresponding Ying for your Yang?" Penny pauses... Hmmmm? Perhaps I am still far too full of this from my long dark tea time with Scooter. BUT NO! I think I'll just look, see if something catches my eye.

Top of the cart: all single, look tasty! Some men my own age, yum. A few older guys, a couple younger guys, some that are clearly not my idea of dessert. Some I can't afford... but wait. There's the one I want. That one that girl over there has! AK.........

You say "I'm sorry miss but we've given that one to her. She owns it. It's already covered in teeth marks, been dropped on the floor, paid for." I reply, calmly but with an air of dangerousness "PERFECTION. I must have it. No expense is too great, get it for me now or I shall explode and take out your whole damn establishment with me. And that pet shop full of puppies next door. And the old folks home, and the day care, and that place where nuns read to the blind. GIVE ME WHAT I WANT NOW!"

Clearly if I had been given a choice I'd have selected from the cart, kids. But I did not get the choice, I got him. And he is the best thing and the worst thing that has ever happened to me. And he keeps on happening to me every day.

To be perfectly honest with you, which is important cause you're all complete strangers who do not know me or give a hot damn for me (except J who is mad for me, just ask him), I want him to happen to me twice a day.

~~Sucking Mud Pit of COMMENT dilemma~~

I do know some bloggers who reply to comments in their own comments... This has some utility I suppose. But it does require a constant comment checking ritual (Is it possible that Lipton some how foresaw the future?) that I am just not prepared to engage in. I'd have to check and reply and then you'd have to check back for a reply and then I'd have to check to see if another reply is required... End Result? We become mired in a sucking mud pit of comment-re-comment-ism. It makes me weary just to think of it.

So! I love the comments from Loyal Blog monkeys & neophytes alike; but if you wanna hear back from me then shoot me a email to

badpenny_eviltwin@Yahoo.com .

Until I hear from you in a very personal way I will just read your comments, consider them witty, insightful, or insane (MY CHOICE!) and then get on with the rest of my life. This is really as nature intended it. Please don't cry. You know I love you, baby.

This has been a Blog Ritual Reformation Moment ~ I'm Bad Penny

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Spell Checker Update: For badpenny it offers me ~ bedpan. OUCH.

The Short Bus

I received a comment which wonders... Does Penny have some amazing grasp of herself and reality and a comfortable I-Am-What-I-Am-Ness or does Penny belong on the short bus. The special bus. The bus with padding.

Well you'll just have to decide for yourselves. I have had an IQ test. I was not disappointed with the results. I did wonder, for just a moment, if taking it more seriously would have made a difference.

I spent today comfortably seated in the passenger seat of Metro-Sexual Guys new BMW. (Travel back in Penny blog history if you want to know about MSG) We drove around and looked at investment property. His broker (a rather huge line backer like man) was crammed into the back seat in order to make me comfortable. Had the major flirt on for me. It was cute. I asked how old he was. He answered "How old do you want me to be?"

OH HOLY HELL!

Is this what single life has in store for me? J, oh my sweet and lovely J, run away with me...

But here is the transformation-girl response to line backer man. Wait. First, lets just imagine what it would of been if this line had been played on the old me.

any guy: "How old do you want me to be?"
Old Penny: "Fuck off."

OR

any guy: "How old do you want me to be?"
Old Penny: "How old will you be when you're dead? That old plus 2."

OR

any guy: "How old do you want me to be?"
Old Penny: "Forget it, I've figured it out for myself."
any guy: "Really?"
Old Penny: "You're 12, its obvious. Does your mom know you're out this late?"

I could go on and on. I could. But lets skip ahead to the kinder, gentler Penny.

any guy: "How old do you want me to be?"
New Penny: "The age that you are is fine, I'm sure." (gasp, struggle, fight urge to say caustic, sarcastic, horrible thing) Smile pleasantly.

"Now, Penny," you'll ask "what was so hard about that? Did it hurt you? Are you injured?" Perhaps, in some subtle as of yet undetectable way I am injured. We won't know until we get the test results. But I know that I feel a little tired at the prospect of smiling at crap like that.

And a little more tired at the idea of being alone until I am the age at which I die. Plus 2.

LOOK AT ME!! LOOK AT ME!!!!

Apparently I am an attention whore. I jumped into the Blog Explosion pool canon ball style with my nose plugs on... Only just now came up for air.

What have I encountered you ask?

Many many scary things. A person asking what is the point of having a president when we've got the Congress and the House? No, really, what is the point? Ah! Lovely question, so insightful. Lets just wonder for a moment what would happen if every decision ever made had to be debated and put to a vote. Then we'll ask again: Why have one guy for that? Wish I knew.

Various knitting blogs. I'm sorry. Knitting sucks. The only thing that sucks harder than knitting is writing about knitting. Sucking just beyond that? Reading writing about knitting.

Scads and oodles of political commentary. I suppose if I was short an opinion or two, and in need of finding one QUICK, I could get into reading the random thoughts about politics of others. But I find myself thinking these thoughts for myself. Its far more efficient to do all my own thinking in house.

I've seen some tragic things. A man struggling to cope with his wife's personality disorder, photos of an impossibly small baby born too soon, and all manner of heart break. Mixed in there with a woman who fervently announces that her cat has "Past Away". You will congratulate me when I say that I did not pause to correct her in respect for her grief.

But it all begs the question, doesn't it? Who are you? and what do you think of me?

ME! ME! Look at me!

New Feet

Hola Blog Monkies & Others ~

Here are some new feet. I know this feet thing is kinda strange but its better than posting photos of my butt... At least I think it is. Maybe not. I guess I need to think a bit more about that, huh?

This has been a Photo Switcheroo ~ I'm Bad Penny

TUB FEET 

I Think Therefore I am Tortured

Preliminary warning... This is not edited, spell checked or obsessed over. Grammar phobes are warned -- Emotional guidance suggested:


There is a theme, isn't there? A prevailing genre for your life. The thing that just seems to pop up again and again. Some people think these things are guided by stars. STARS!

"What's your sign? Let me read your palm. All you need is a psychic friend."

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Last night Jackass says to me "I'm sorry." This is lovely. But does he even have an idea, a thought in mind, a comprehension of what he is sorry for? So I ask "What are you sorry about, really?" He answered but I do not remember his words. I replaced them with my own.

"Sorry for dragging me back into this only to kick me out again?"

How much of this am I supposed to be able to take?

First off, let me just tell you that I am not certain any more where reality begins and this insanity ends. I feel, and this is nutty I am sure, but I feel like I have to chose between wide open raw "kick me while I'm vulnerable"-ness and walled off safe but forever alone-ness. Is that rational? NOPE.

But my goodness. That's how it appears to me. And the really tough part is denial. I do not know what to deny anymore. Should I deny this perception that I have now which seems so irrational to me? and if I deny it, what do I replace it with? Perhaps reality is irrational. But that's not rational. Look at the horrible circularness of my thinking.

"I think therefore I am tortured"

How can we ever deny that ultimate truth of that statement?

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He said to me "You always seem to have the idea that this is so easy for me. Like somehow I just decide and that's it. Well, I do just decide and that's it. That's how I am, what I say. But you know that's now how I really feel."

me; "I don't get why you say things that aren't what you really feel."

him, pissed; "Why do you think I say things that aren't what I really feel?'

me HOLY CRAP!; "That's what you just now said."

He doesn't want to engage in code communication any more. I'm happy about that cause I don't want to either. I need to be in reality. Yet, he totally coded me yesterday. and got pissed that I did not de-code. Now I'm dizzy. Are we code? are we not code? WHAT THE HELL ARE WE?

What the HELL are we?

That is the question, isn't it? We're friends again. He wants to stop the improper stuff but keep all the rest. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. I feel so incidental.

Music 4 Today

She said

I don't know if I've ever been good enough

I'm a little bit rusty,

and I think my head is caving in

And I don't know if I've ever been really loved

By a hand that's touched me,

well I feel like something's

Gonna give

And I'm a little bit angry,

Well

This ain't over, no not here, not while I still need you around

You don't owe me, we might change things

You know, we just might feel good

I wanna push you around,

I will, I will

I wanna push you down,

I will, I will

I wanna take you for granted,

I wanna take you for granted

I will

She said

I don't know why you ever would lie to me

Like I'm a little untrusting when I think that the truth is gonna hurt ya

And I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me

You couldn't stand to be near me

When my face don't seem to want to shine

Cuz it's a little bit dirty

Well

Don't just stand there, say nice things to me

I've been cheated I've been wronged, and you

You don't know me, I can't change

I won't do anything at all

Oh but don't bowl me over

Just wait a minute well it kinda fell apart,

things get so

Crazy, Crazy

Don't rush this baby, don't rush this baby

Female Genitalia & YOU

Hello My Blog Monkeys! Don't ask "Why?". I have no idea. I just felt the need to lay this all out for you and so here goes...

I am truly tired of hearing about vaginas. I don't know, honestly, if this is the chosen word for girly parts because its so lyrical and lovely and easy to pronounce or merely because people are lazy. I mean how hard is it to say vulva? It even starts with a V.

Vulva Vulva Vulva. There it is, kids, get used to it.

Before we go on I will tell you that I am quite pleased that folks are at least trying to get their kids to use the right words and not bizarre nic-names and euphamisms. My mother-in-law explained to her youngest son (5 at the time) about birth when I was pregnant with #2 by telling him all about a "special hole". Special Hole! Poor boy. He's in junior high now. Getting interested in girls and their special holes... Wonder if he'll find a girl who was also schooled in the special hole nomenclature? Or will he get a girl who thinks of vagina? Or, for god's sake, Pee-Pee or (As one little girl I know was told to call it) Po-Po.

Its funny really. Can you see it? Prom night, making out, whispers in her ear "Oh, Suzie, I just really want to touch your special hole." That'll operate as birth control, if nothing else. Maybe it's a good thing.

So, friends, here's the low down. The vagina is only the inside part! Referring to the entire female genitalia as the vagina is like calling your car the bucket seats. It's got a bit right but missed the mark on the whole.

Starting on the outside you have the mons (mons venus or, guys should love this!, mound of love). This is the part covered by pubic hair where the abdomen ends and the girly parts begin, characterized by a pad of fat over the pubic bone. This is technically genitalia, although the least interesting bit. Moving down and around you get the clitoris, the urethral os, the vaginal opening, the perineum and then the anus. Around all of that (well not the anus but you know what I mean) is labia, majora (on the outside) and minora (on the inside). All of this together is the vulva. Inside the vagina is either the hymen (Usually gone pretty early even without penetration of any sort) and left behind the hyminal ridge. The vagina is the inside part, really not all that interesting compared with the other stuff, and way in the back there is the cervix. The cervix is really part of the uterus, but its fun to add it in cause its in the vagina which we all love so much. That's it. The whole kanoodle.

Now, I would prefer if we called the whole thing vulva. It's correct. It's not too technical for little girls and boys. It uses that fun letter Vee. Can we give this a shot?

As for intimate discussions with your lover you can name it Sally for all I care.

This has been "Fun With Words and Phrases Pertaining to Genitalia" ~ I'm Bad Penny