Made My DAY!

Go have a look at Motoki!

Here's a bit of a Blog Explosion Experience. When I first started surfing I ran across this blog of a hopelessly small baby, born too early. One of the problems with BE is if you are interested in something you can't just swipe the address or make a link as all of that gets directed to the BE sign in page. It's a pain in the ass. All you can do is blog mark it in BE and go back to it through BE and be a slave to BE.

So call me daft, but I spent a minute this morning getting a good address so I can make you a link so that you can go and see Motoki smile.

My babies were all big. Number 2 was 9 1/4 pounds for crying out loud. I wished I could send this small boy 3 of those pounds, air mail. And so heart broken was I, the day I read he had this horrible brain problem show up on the cat scan. I have spent an inexplicable amount of my time feeling ... STUFF ... for this boy I do not know and will never meet.

So today when I saw the photo of the smile!

Let me just tell you that all my daily whines and rants go pale and surrender to the reality of this little guy. And I was made very happy by that little smile...

Poll Post

I am really interested in how this poll will turn out. Right now its neck and neck! How come no one wants me to get a full back tat of Sly? I think this one will hang out to 50 votes and then we'll get a new one. Maybe we'll rename this blog...

As long as we're talking I have to tell you guys that I am not looking forward to the holidays. Bah-Humbug. I have a birthday coming up too. and J promised me Las Vegas, party and hookers! But I don't think it'll really turn out that way. Maybe a Vegas post card from J written against the ass of a hooker. That's about all I can expect.

I'm SICK

That's ill-sick not perverted-sick. ACK! I thought all that hot soapy dish water was protecting me from disease. But apparently I was wrong cause now I have a bug and whine sniffle sob whine some more. I'm SICK!

My Boy offers this, in cyber-space so it's not REAL: jammies, socks, blankets, crappy TV, soup and lock the kids in their rooms. "That's the best part. I'll lock the kids in their rooms and pet you." Yes. Please.

But in the flesh world (J calls it this. Flesh world, flesh girl. I am a non-flesh girl... Which makes me really hot no matter how I look right now) I have to take care of the kids and the laundry and answer the phone when it rings and do the dishes and all that other stuff that you never get a day off from. I'm mommy. That's that.

So my head is pounding and all I really want is quiet and a nap. But I've got a lot of law to read and its against the law to duct tape your kids into shushhhhhh mode. Feel sorry for me. It's all I have left.

Perhaps if I Had JOB I'd Be Worth More

I'm worth $2,156,941.04! How much are you worth?

Be sure to let me know...

Ten Things I Have to SAY to Those I Live With (& Scoot Who Comes and Goes at Will)

1. I know that you leave all those dishes for me to wash because having my hands plunged into hot soapy water 5 times a day is what keeps the flu away! Your great love for me grants me this favor. However, I LOVE you all too and wish to share the gift. Do some dishes, it's my pleasure to endow you with some of the disease fighting properties of manual labor.

2. The floor is not a trash can. Magic faeries do not come in the night to collect your crayon bits and snotty Kleen-exs, dried up play doh, dropped noodles, crushed cheese-its, beads, leaves, pebbles and dead bug collections, paper clippings and candy wrappers, ends of granola bars or the parts you clip off the go-gurt tubes.

3. The stainless flatware, that you find clean and placed neatly in the drawer, is not self replicating. In fact, it is rather expensive to replace. Every time you throw a piece away a puppy dies.

4. Shutting doors and windows, wearing long sleeves and socks and not eating popsicles are all better ways of feeling warmer than turning the thermostat to 90.

5. The mere fact that I gave birth to you does not mean that I want you in the bathroom while I pee.

6. YES! There is weather outside and BOY! it is interesting.

7. I did put us on the "New Pet Waiting List" but they wont give us one until all the poop from the ones we have now has been cleaned up properly.

8. Proper Potty order is remove pants, pee, wipe, flush, wash. For those of you that flush first - WRONG. For those of you that fail to flush at all - WRONG. For those of you that hate the flushing mishaps of others - Complaining to me will not fix anything, just flush for a friend and get over it.

9. The refrigerator is not a magic portal to the land of neverending butter and stuff. Once you eat all of a thing it is gone until you buy some more. Yes buy. As in go to the store and exchange for money. Try it! It's fun.

10. I was just a girl before I was mommy. And soon I'll be granny, as well. But in the end I'll be just a girl again. It's not a statement about you, its just how it turns out. Ultimately we are all alone and life is just a trip to a place where we finally realize that and then die.

Of Blogs & Super-Secretness

As Constant Reader will know, and casual surfer will ignore, I've called my love interest Jackass in this blog. Dude. "Love Interest". I can not even come up with a generic term for him. He's not my husband, or even really my boyfriend (can you have a super secret boyfriend who is married to another girl? I guess you can).

Read back and see the day I suspected he had read this blog. At first I was suffocated! ACK! This is filled with such an avalanche conflicting emotions and confusion and angst and anger. There's stuff in here I would never have told him, but not stuff that I would never have let him know. I just would of candy coated it a little to remove the sting... One of those things is this name I put on him. Jackass. It's not nice. I chose it when I was feeling hurt and manipulated and very much like I did not WANT to like him any longer. There are lots of things I call him. Dork. My Boy. Baby. His actual name. I call him that. I sing it in my head as a happy little song that plays all day long. But here he's been Jackass. Ouch.

So, from now on he's just gonna be My Boy. My Sweet Boy.

My love. My heart.

He's started writing. I told him he should. He is such an island and such a crush of confusing things right now. He needs to sort and order. I sort and order by writing. Oh my gosh! It is like a miracle sometimes how very useful writing is.

So we talked about it. Cause he did read this blog. and it hurt him. and he regrets it. Regrets standing at the threshold and not just walking away from it. He was overcome by that cat-killer: Curiosity.

But you can't unring a bell. and you can't unread a blog.

He's writing one now. His own catharsis. There is something about knowing it will be read. To write with a reader in mind. But not a specific target, like a letter to someone you know, but to you guys The Blog Monkeys! Plus, you can keep your stuff out there in the cyber-sea... adrift and untethered to your My Documents folder. Super-Secret-Safety!

We're talking and he asks "Will you read it?"

"Do you want me to?"

That's a hard one, kids. Maybe he does want me to read it, to find it, to hear the things that he can not just say. But probably not. He's not even sure now, what it is or how useful it will be.

This is me speaking now and just note how logical and wise I am "Will you put it in blog explosion?" He said no. He doesn't really want anyone to read it or comment.

"Well then I will not run across it. I don't push that next blog button."

He asks "If you saw it, if you knew it was mine, would you read it?" I thought for moment about this one. And I gave him the most truthful answer inside me "Nope."

He is impressed, because he read mine. The siren song of looking at my secret places overwhelmed the reasonable man inside him. I go on to explain "It's not that I do not want to know what's there, but if I read it then I would have to pretend that I did not know it. That or confess that I read it. That's too hard to do."

The conclusion is this: If you want me to read it give it to me and I will read it. Otherwise I will leave it alone. Marvel, for a moment, at how filled with maturity and self-control Penny is!

For now.

He's written it. It's out there. He even got a comment from some person who does not know him and certainly does not have the same urge to know all of him that I do. You guys can read it. Just go fishing in the cyber-sea and catch it on your browser hook. Know the things that I do not. Go and see what name he has selected for me. Is it My Love, My Heart? or is it Evil Bitch? Or, god help me, am I not there at all?

That Next Blog button has begun to wink in my dreams. Calling to me. It whispers "Penny. Clink me. I may show you something secret if you do..."

Regular Reader Notification of IMPORTANT Penny Blog Fact

Hola Blog Monkeys ~

I had to do a little Blog Explosion account tweaking. I have no idea if that will mess with your blog marks or not! It did mess with my rating... I have none. and It did mess with my comments... I have none.

I hope I haven't made life difficult for those of you that dangle on my every word.

This has been an important update ~ I'm Bad Penny

Domestic Penny

OMG. I am overwhelmed with this desire. You will say "Penny, girl. You are free as a bird. Go get a boy toy and have some fun!" but I'll respond with

I DON'T WANNA!

I feel unsettled and at loose ends. What I really want is to be domesticated. Like a house cat. I will lie around the house, being petted and fed. Maybe sit by the fire. Lay up in his lap. Sleep curled into a cat-nap ball with my cold nose in his neck.

I don't wanna date! I don't wanna get out in the world and look around. I just want to settle myself into a place where I know what comes next. With him.

Funny Stuff!

Clink that Link! and have a laugh on me.

Another 30 Seconds of Satisfaction

Here comes the 30 second post. Ready, Set, GO!

Can not think a damn thing to say while the seconds tick by in my head. I am not a multi-tasker, can I count the spell check time? OH GOD, I can't what if I typo?? What if I blurt something so private, so personal and I can't take it back then everyone will know like that time I was away at band camp and the counselor thought I had pretty eyes and we went down by the lake that one night, around midnight and he put his hand on my -

OOPS, times up.

Pensive Penny

I am feeling seriously introspective again... I find the changing moods of this blog very funny. Usually I flow on the tides of Jackass. When all is well with him I am Ms. Funny Penny. When things are screwy I am Angst & Anger Girl.

Today is different, though. Things are fine with him. I am just thinking about the future, and thinking about choices. The process of really choosing things. Some people, and I am not sure if I am one, become paralyzed by choice. There are various levels. You make little choices every day (What socks, what shoes, what cereal, floss?) Most people make these little choices with out difficulty.

Most people.

But if you've ever had kids you know that they have to learn this. They all go through a period where they stand frozen, unable to select from two pairs of shoes. (and we've all seen at least one kid who resolved this by wearing one of each... on the wrong feet) It's like learning to walk. You are supposed to do it when you're small and close to the ground. That way when you screw up there's not that far to fall... Amazingly, some people get stuck here and never are able to make any choice. These people drool a lot more than average but I think they have a certain freedom in zero responsibility for anything at all.

Most of us move on to being able to do the little choices without even thinking ~ Unconscious Competence. Our major skills fall in this category. Stuff like driving, WALKING. When was the last time you saw an adult carefully placing his feet, hands splayed out, consciously walking? That's reserved for babies, drunks and people in physical rehab. For the rest of us its just something we can do.

Then there are the bigger decisions. I made one yesterday. The phone rang and Number Two's school wanted permission to release her name and photo for publication in the newspaper. That's a pretty exciting thing for a 7 year old. But Mom said no. I just sorted the plus factors (How cool!) and the minus factor (Various stranger deviants now know your name, age, school and what you look like!) and came up with the right answer. Decisively made the call. I did not flip a coin.

And at the top, or the bottom depending on your preferred direction of hierarchy, is the HUGE decision. This is where I find myself strung up. And all of the stuff that this implies is so overwhelming that I can hardly sort out the global issues, let alone get into the minutiae.

A lot of it has to do with faith. There are many kinds of faith and I have none of them. Every ounce of serene belief that things will just work out that I have ever experienced has been dragged from me kicking and screaming. Because in my very center I am in charge, ultimate charge, of the universe.

I was married to a boy (yes boy) who never decided anything because he could rest quietly knowing that I would handle it. All of it. I am Marge in Charge. And when shit goes wrong I am the one that takes the heat, gets the shaft, does the time and pays the piper. Everything is always my fault.

Do you know what a crushing weight this responsibility is??

So, right now I am not really making a decision. I am trying to sort out HOW to make a future decision. Clearly I did not decide well with scooter. I don't want the same sorts of forces to drive my decision making in the future... I want to be a careful and considered, intelligent and wise, sure and decisive decision maker. But mostly I want to trust myself, to have enough faith, that I can choose well, that I will choose well, and that I have chosen well.

Afterall, I can't just cook up a poll and let you guys decide everything from now on. That'd be funny.

Jackass "I am ready to leave my wife and be with you. Whadda you say?"

Penny "I'll get back to you in three to five days when the poll results are in."

The End of the LESBO Poll

Hola Blog Monkeys & Surfers ~

The poll has passed that 100 mark and it's time to say "Goodbye". Here's the final wrap up:

Penny needs a DATE

Should Penny Give that LESBO thing a shot?
Hell Yes!
69%
70
GOD NO!
31%
31
total votes: 101

Thanks a bunch to everyone who pondered this question with sincerity and love. Hoping to help me in a truly difficult decision. I know you all put a lot of thought into your answers, feeling the crushing responsibility that is structuring the major life choices for other people. Especially for other people you do not even know. You will be gratified to know that in order to truly honor those heartfelt choices you all made for me (Majority RULES! Yeah!) I can only do one thing which is to IGNORE YOU ENTIRELY AND MAKE UP MY OWN MIND.

Now that's out of the way the choice is easy. You guys! I am so straight. Straight as an arrow. Straight as that thing they make super straight lines with... What's that thing?... oh yes, a straight edge.

So we shall usher out the lesbo poll and replace it with the only suggestion I received, compliments of my pal Ms. Lori.

Please Vote.

Multisylabicaliciousness ~ Not The 30 Second POST

I just read an article titled: Does IM Make U Dum? In it the author suggests that we did not engage in IM abrieviationalisms pre-IM. (I anti-abbreviate sometimes ~ Making words far longer than they really are in an effort to improve my multisylabicaliciousness) To this interesting but nonetheless stupid contention I say this, PSHAW! Or Oh, Poo! Or something equally dismissive.

Who remembers the advent of personalized license plates? I do! And it sure as Sadie predates IM. Think about it. It wasn't on the computer screen but it was directed at others. It wasn't so easily changed so you had to really put a lot of thought into that plate cause it was gonna stand for you in the public view. It was meant to sum you up. It was more like a screen name I guess but it was certainly an arena to hone the abreviational skills.

I knew a chick, in the early 80s, whose plate said TooHip. She was "Too Hip" and she had to go a lot. She communicated this to us all by saying, with brain rending frequency, "Too Hip! Gotta Go!"

Just imagine the moment some intrepid plate "idea man" realized that you could sum up an entire syllable in the number 8! What a great day for the abrieviationalists. We got L8TR, GR8, and D8 (GR82D8!)

I also knew a real estate guy who could not get the plate he wanted so he altered his with colored tape to read Re-Max. (Titter in amusement while picturing this guy changing an IM typo with white-out on the screen. That's funny. Poor stupid bastard)

Also knew a guy with IFiteFir on his plate. I'll give you a sec. HA! It is kinda funny. Fir! The meanings are endless and none of them are clean... BUT what he meant was I Fight Fire. He couldn't get the "e" in there. So he went with fir. and then spent hours standing near his truck to tell passersby that there should be an "e" and he's really a fire fighter, just look at his big yellow boots!

Look around you cyber-friends... They're every where. We have just learned to ignore them. Does IM make U dum? Duh. I know a few folks that were dum already.

P.S. Number One does not find this post so funny. I laughed my ass off. I think it's cause she wasn't there to witness the birth of the vanity plate, to puzzle out the meanings, to feel impressed cause the dude in the car in front of you at the drive-thru (abbrv. in ACTION there) was a HRTDKTR and not a LUVDKTR or 1SXYGRL.

Too Hip! Gotta Go.

30 Seconds of Satisfaction!

I am attempting to write the Ultimate Blog Explosion Post. It has to have a catchy title (see above), interesting and topical content (see below) and a nice short-ness which lends itself to 30 seconds (maybe 45) and then lets you go on your way.

This is it for today ~

What Penny Had 4 Lunch

Today I had three snack size candy bars (stolen from my helpless children's left over Halloween candy) and a banana.

Next Up! A post written in 30 seconds flat. Sure to be a real crowd pleaser.

This has been a DOSE of satisfaction ~ I'm Bad Penny

Poll-O-Rama (Lama-Ding-Dong)

Penny's lesbo poll has almost worn out its welcome. So, when that thing reaches a hundred I am gonna 86 it and get a new one. The question is: What should Penny's new poll ask? Should I post a poll asking what to put in the next poll? Or, one step up from that...

What Should Penny's Poll Asking What Should Be in Penny's Poll POLL Ask?

Are you dizzy? I sure am.

So, I'm asking sans poll... What should my next poll be about?

P.S. Have you ever so over used a word that it loses all meaning and becomes completely nonsensical? That just happened to me with poll. In fact, I am at this very moment almost certain that poll is not even a real word. Poll poll poll, meaningless noise.

Confessions of A Bad Penny

Hola Blog Monkeys & YOU (just surfing by) ~

I have a confession to make. It's kinda tough for me, you know, to admit this stuff and just lay my soul bare for you. Quivering and naked. But the entire point of my Penny Blog (Porno Blog as Jackass calls it) is CATHARSIS. Right? It's got utility.

So I must confess. And I am just slightly ashamed to admit... I mean confess. Oh gosh. This is harder than I thought it would be. I mean I feel pretty close to you right now. I feel like we have something special. It's time to tell you. Sit down.

I've been using you.

Please don't cry. If I'd of known it would end up this way I would never have started but once I got going I just couldn't stop myself. I'm compelled. OK. I'll tell you all the details but I only think you're hurting yourself.

I crack myself up. Sometimes I come back and re-read something I wrote a long time ago and I have a little "Heh, that is FUNNY stuff" moment. I am just cracking myself up, day and night! You, I am soooo sorry to say, are merely incidental. I didn't mean for it to be this way.

It's not that you mean nothing to me. I count on you. And I certainly care for you. But I just need you to know that for the most part this has been all about me. And, when I accidentally blurt out a name while blogging, well... It's always my own.

"Oh PENNY! Make me laugh! (chortle, snort)"

Poll Update

WOW! I am quite amazed at how many of my loyal Blog Monkeys and random visitors have bothered to cast their votes in my lesbo poll. 47 of you (as of right this moment) think I oughta give Angel a go. 26 say Stay Sane! Come on you guys! What part of lusting after Jackass and all my girly angst gives you the idea that I could just switch teams like that?

On a totally unrelated note, someone asked me to put up a picture of my sex bomb dress. Gosh again guys... I feel so used. I had an email from a guy awhile back asking me to send him some project photos, nice guy don't get me wrong, AND FUNNY! but dude... NO. And the dress request, though slightly less sleazy is getting the same answer. Dude, NO.

The reasons, however, are different. No nakey fresh photos cause that's just private. No sex bomb dress photos cause WHAT THE HELL IF SOMEONE RECOGNIZED ME!?! There goes my bid for the Supreme Court. Hell, there goes my bid for People's Court.

So, I dig it that you guys are looking. And I dig it that you guys are talking back. And I even dig it that you're asking as long as you understand why No means NO. Ok, sure, yes, my eyes are like glistening pools of moon light, limpid moon light. And yes, the night is fragrant and balmy and sweet. And, yeah I'll give you that you did spring for a pretty nice bottle of wine... sure, my mom does seem to like you. Oh, yeah, um... that does feel pretty good. Really? My lips they say no, but my eyes are saying YES YES YES? Oh all right.

What the hell.

It's not like I'm getting any from Angel.

A Thought for Today

"Absence is to love what wind is to fire;

it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great."

Thanks, Mom!

When I was 13 I had a dress my mother hated. (Today I have a similar dress; I call it my Sex-Bomb dress and it's worn to SHOCK & AWE) Mommy Dearest hated my dress in a way that was inexplicable to me.

At the time.

Looking back now I sort of understand it. I did not look like a hooker, exactly, but I looked... what's the right word? ... RIPE. Where'd I get this dress? I think I must of traded something for it. Probably some piece of amazingly expensive jewelry, valuing my own ripeness over gold. So, my mom would take this dress and throw it in the trash can in the garage. (She was very passive aggressive that way) Then I would dig it out of the trash, wash it and put it on. It went like this ~

Sleep
Sneak
Trash
Sneak
Retrieve
Launder
"What do you think you're wearing young lady?!?"
"You DON'T OWN ME!"
Slam

We did this 5 times. I swear. Five times she tossed and 5 times I retrieved. We seemed locked in a battle here. SEEMED. Passive aggressive Mommy Dearest got me on the 6th go round.

Take a wee moment to imagine what she did. Some might think she just took it away. Throw it in some undisclosed trash can. Give it to a friend of hers to dispose of. Make my father take it to work. Good Will. Here's what I'd do NOW; Wear it herself. To my school. (I'm evil but not passive aggressive) Or, perhaps, just insist that her rules were the rules til I went to college and got a job of my own and really understood what it meant to be thought of as Lolita.

She did not do any of these things.

She cut it up. Into tragically misshapen and small pieces that could never be reconstituted. She cut it up and threw it right in that same trash can, right on the top, to assert her superior position. Those pieces looked up at me as if to say "Surrender all hope, you can not win. Missy."

Boy. You gotta know that at the time I was pissed. But looking back (When I look back on all the crap I learned in high school, it's a wonder I can think at all) Looking back I realize the utility of her method. She decided it needed to be gone and it kept turning back up (Just like a BAD PENNY: ironic). Just kept turning back up like that movie monster no one ever kills. She decided not to run screaming from the dress, hide in the closet and hold her breath. Nope, she killed that monster, but good.

Moral of the story? Some times the only way to really be rid of something is to just break it.

Squeaky Girl

OKAY. This is it. I will whine for one moment and then let it all go.

I MISS MY BOY & I WANT HIM BACK RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT!

Now I am gonna eat some stuff...

Jess!

Go visit Jess at Life Or Something Like It. I feel kinda crappy. He's linked me. He's praised me with cyber mama love. He's been a pretty good boy, and I've ignored him! What a bitch.

Also, I just suggested a new name for his blog;

Dish Breaker Days & Sleep Walker Nights.

Can you kids think of anything more enticing than asking "So Jess, what's this dish breaker stuff we've heard so much about?"

Herpes & The Perfect Man

When I first started my Penny blog I wrote a post called "What I Want in a Man". I will not link it now. If you wanna read it just go find it, it's not hidden or anything...

This is a sort of reprise of that. but not really a list. It's an ideal, I guess.

Jackass and I are in "Rules Land" again. That's ok. Some things need to be done 7 or 8 times before you get it right. But I figured we'd have a problem. A jealousy problem. So I tried to divert it to begin with. I can not sit and wait for him, speaking to no one. Hell, I might even venture out on a date. I NEED that.

But I can not get all worried that every time I speak to another guy he will get the idea that I am just peachy keen and have moved right on without him. I can not deal with angry jealous guy.

Which brings me to the ideal. I have a friend who is married. She got married the month after I did. We've been friends since she was 5 and I was 6. In other words, forever. She's had some complaints about her husband. He's a sports guy, not too touchy feely. He's not a cuddler. She's been around when scoot was wedged up my ass and seemed to think that a sniveling boy-man was something to envy. I tried to tell her...

Anyway. Something truly and completely awful happened to her. She got a very mysterious, painful rash. On her genitals. ACK! It was classically herpes. There is more than one variety of this virus. Chicken Pox is herpes. So are some mouth cold sores. and so is shingles. But she's got it on the Sally (See my genital post) and its bad.

I know what would happen in my house if this came up. There would be no question that I was a dirty, filthy, diseased slut. After all these years of honesty and faithfulness, fidelity. I'd just get a knowing look. My heart sunk when she told me. It is bad to have such a loathsome disease. Worse to lose your husband over it.

I asked "What did he say?"

She answered "He said 'I'm not worried about it. I'm sure there's some other explanation.'" End of story. He didn't even pause to contemplate what it might mean, so certain was he that it meant nothing. So certain of her.

I want that. Thanks.

I Need A New Poll

SEX. I am hetero.

This is crystal clear to me. But Jackass keeps suggesting that I must be at least curious or I wouldn't have put up the poll. I just thought it was pretty funny. Tee-Hee.

Scooter left tonight, with the kids. Walked out and said "Have fun." to me on the way. Wouldn't it be lovely if I was going to have fun? All I am going to do is take a bath and then go to bed and probably cry.

I am waiting for Jackass to call me. So we can talk about how this is no good for us (read - HIM) and how we've (read - He's) made a huge mistake and how he's sorry. Always sorry.

Me, too.

We were talking last week or the week before and I told him this:

"I just want you to be happy."

That is really what I want. How can you love someone and not want that? He told me he would never be happy. So caught in this conflict where being with me ruins his entire life and being without me... It means being without me. I honestly thought that what I really wanted was to figure out how to make him happy.

Yet...

Right now I am contemplating the idea that we reached the end of what we are and he is done with me. Ready to be without me. This should please me since it gives me exactly what I thought I wanted - Happy HIM.

A Request...

Some one asked me, in my Blog Explosion Post comments, to link this blog:Love or Hate? There you go.

That is possibly the most helpful I have ever been in my entire life, don't get used to it...

Invasion Reprise

Number One is here and I live in the living room... Which begs a few questions. Mainly, what the heck am I gonna do about Christmas? Put a little tree in the kitchen and hang stockings at the foot of my bed, I guess.

My ISP Sucks... & They Don't Care

I have been woefully disconnected for 9 STINKING DAYS... while my ISP/Phone service provider had evinced a nonchalant disregard for my pain. I will not name names but it rhymes with HORIZON and its initials are V. Yes. Vee. Nuff said.