425 Million THINGS!

Are people really posting lists of things? Are they really doing this? Who reads these freaking lists and, better question, who gives a rats ass what your favorite flavor of ice cream is?

My first Penny post of was list of 10 things that I hate. Now it's 11. I hate your lists of things. Oh crap. It's 12. I hate those stupid quizzes which tell you what fragrance of shampoo you most resemble (YOU'RE AWAHPUI! No one knows how the hell to pronounce your name, where the hell you came from or what purpose you serve on this earth. Kindly rinse rinse rinse until you're gone gone gone)

Double crap. It's 13. I hate it when people post what the hell Flavor of Gum they are. I know that you are a juicy fruit! I can tell by the way that you write.

14. Photos of your cat/dog.

15. Post written in cat/dog voice (My owner keeps putting the toilet lid down. What does she want? For me to die of thirst!?!)

There are more. Many many more. Why I think I guessed at 425 million and thats probably just about right. But, maybe.... just maybe... I am in a really bad mood today and you should just ignore me.

Yeah that's it.

This Was a DATE

This time I'm sure it was a date. I got a movie, and dinner (Anything you want) and a birthday present. An actual present in a bag with paper and stuff. An obscenely priced coke from the concession stand. 2 hours of dark movie proximity and laughter. It was really very nice. Only problem is it was not My Boy. (Need a nic-name from this new guy so I'll call him The Bartender)

This is the sorta girl I am. I feel like I'm cheating. How can you cheat on a guy that's married to another girl? How can you cheat on a guy that doesn't even ever take you out anyway? How can you cheat on a guy that isn't even sure from day to day whether or not he'll keep talking to you? But that's how I feel. Like I am two-timing My Boy. And it freaking sucks.

So here's what I got for my birthday from The Bartender. He doesn't know me so well. But he gave me a book. The third collection of Darwin Awards. How well do you need to know Penny to understand that this is good stuff? I LOVE this stuff. Funny and tragic and OMGosh. DING DING. He picked a good book.

There was something else in the bag. It had a chocolate sticker on it, one of those mall shops.

He says "Did you see what else is in the bag?" and I said "Yeah."

And he says "Well, what is it?"

"Chocolate."

"Dude, look in the bag."

I say "Why? It's chocolate. Thank you."

"Just look."

So I look. and its a caramel apple.

Flash back to a conversation between Penny and The Bartender ~~~~~~~~(these are wavy flashback lines) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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We're talking on the phone, just shooting the breeze. Random stuff. Jokes. Crap. Laughing. and he says "Do you know what that the greatest edible panty flavor would be?" and I say "ummmm? Cherry?" "Nope. Caramel apple. Someone should invent that sh*t." so I go into detail about how I could construct this panty out of those Wrapples things from the super market and crushed up Jolly Ranchers. "But that'd be crunchy... that's just wrong." We laughed like mad over this. MAD. (Flashing forward) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Recall that I say "Why? It's chocolate. Thank you."

"Just look."

So I look. and its a caramel apple. OMGosh. You guys. He gave me a caramel apple.

He says that I intimidate him. Trip him out. Finally I say "Listen, if you are trying to tell me something then you need to just say it." He reminds me so much of my sweet J that I can hardly stand it. He wants to know where he stands, which is weird cause we hardly know each other but he is getting a yellow light which is not red and is not green and maybe I just wanna hang out which is cool cause he really likes to hang out and that's cool but maybe there's the yellow light it could be more than just hanging out and he'd just really like to know cause I intimidate him and he... can not believe he's even said any of this to me.

All of this means "I'd like to kiss you with out getting punched in the nose."

But I can not kiss The Bartender. Cause I am married in my heart to The Boy.

Birthday Penny

It's my birthday today.

I will not say how old I am but old enough to not feel like ASS just cause its my birthday.

My boy remembered. But how hard is it to remember when you've had the count down going for at least three months?

The guy I am apparently dating now remembers and will be taking my sorry self to a movie.

Scooter remembers. I find a card propped in the bath room this morning. Signed with love. I guess if what he does to me is love then I'm glad he doesn't hate me. That'd be lousy, eh?

Well.

I am gonna get on with it and see what happens from here.

The Microcosm of Online Dating

My great pal, cyber-boy friend, and project manager (J!) recently got me to join an online dating thingamajigger.

"You're not looking for some guy to marry!' He says. "Meet some people! Get a BOY TOY!!"

I reluctantly agreed. What good is a project manager if you refuse to take their advice? But Oh My GOODNESSSAKESALIVE! This is nutty stuff. First off... Who the hell is on these things anyway? Second off, is it fair for me to think that I am the only sane one? No. There have to be guys that are just like me. Sincere and just not into that bar-club-brothel thing. There have to be right? Statistically? At least one??? That doesn't want me to give them IM sex cause they said I was a "Fine piece of ass."

Travel back in Penny Blog time to the day I told you about Line-backer man. These guys make Line-backer man look like some kind of sexless monk. If I had to struggle with patience for that guy you can imagine my patience with these guys. And what the hell should I be patient for? Do I run the risk of insulting the PERFECT MAN when I insist that we discuss something besides the size of his dick on the first chat?

Does this represent the real world or is the online dating scene reserved for freaks and jerks and hormone marinated boys revved up with anonymous courage? It is all those guys that will not hesitate to grab your ass with both hands cause "You know you like it, baby." Maybe I need that wall of bitchyness. NEED IT. To protect me from the hoard...

Ours is not to question why, though, it is just to do or die. When the project manager says jump I've tried to say "How HIGH!?!" And sometimes I just say "Yes, sir." cause its pretty hot. But really, how much of this should I tolerate before I tell J that his plan sucks and give up? A GOOD project manager would just date me. He could dress up like different guys so I'd feel popular. Wear several hats and talk in various accents. One J-Date could be really forward and get slapped so I can practice that. And another, in a different hat of course, could be sweet and shy. Giving me the opportunity to practice my own forwardness.

There would be the J-Date with money ("Whatever you want Baby, money is no object!") and the J-Date with extra wittiness ("Oh my, Penny, I've never laughed so hard before in my entire life!"). And the J-Date with extra mojo ("Penny, Baby, you are the hottest thing I've ever been within an 18 inch radius of before. Baby.") And the J-Date who is jealous of all the other J-Dates ("You were out with J!?! You're f**king him, aren't you, you evil b*tch!?!")

My point is that I do not really need to meet new people. All I need is for the people I already know to just step it up a notch. How freaking hard is that? If you really loved me you would placate me in my time of need.

This has made perfect sense, trust me I'm a professional ~ I'm Bad Penny

Merry F'in Christmas

I will not try to sugar coat it. This year sucks.

I bought a real tree. Oh god, I am a tree killer. But I was just too damned weary to drag my fake tree in from the garage and put it together. This requires death defying garage skills. (Men! Men are the garage masters and women should never have to go and risk death to get down the f'in Christmas tree...) So I bought a real tree which is placed not-so-conveniently in the kitchen. Near all the appliances that get hot. What can be more cozy than a nice Christmas fire!?!

I have no money and therefore no money to spend on lavish (or even not so lavish for that matter) gifts for my friends. I love to give gifts to my friends. And I have no time to make gifts. And no patience to give something like a back rub or a kitchen floor scrubbing or what not.

WAH!

This year sucks.

(I am secretly hoping to get analyzed by that psycho-analyst blog thing who remembers the name? Sigmund what's his face and company. I am secretly hoping for that cause I know I need therapy but I CAN NOT FREAKING AFFORD THAT EITHER!)

So here's the Penny update for those of you that are missing little old me.

Number One grandbaby is due in about a week and a half... as is Penny's best effort to write 9 passing law school exam essays. Which will be more painful? Exams.

I think I had a date on Weds. I say think cause it didn't start that way but it ended up seeming a lot like a date once it got going. He opened doors for me. Said things like "Get what ever you want." Was wearing a nice, clean and apparently ironed shirt and smelled pretty damn good. Called me first thing on Thursday to say he had fun. So much fun. Lets do it again. oh yeah. He paid.

Does that sound like a date to you?

You are starting to chuckle I bet. Thinking "Oh but this is Penny! There has to be a catch... She can't just go on a date and say THAT WAS FUN!"

Here's the catch. Actually there are two. Why do things simple when you can muck it up with conflicting levels of conflict, right? First is that this guy I had the "date" with is in a very vulnerable place in his life right now. And I get this sneaking feeling that he is much like my sweet buddy J and his "I am so interested in this girl does she like me?????"-ness right now. Too much pressure.

Then there is this insanity... OMGosh! Can I even admit it? I feel like I am totally doing something wrong because of my thing with My Boy (formerly known as Jackass for all you old friends). This is the level of my monogamy. I feel like I am cheating on the married man that cannot be my boy friend...

So Merry F'in Christmas to you! Hope yours does not suck.

Time to Re-Name the Penny Blog

Hola Blog Monkeys and Surfers alike!

I am ready to rename the blog. It has been called few things along the way... My Boy calls it "Your Porno-Blog" and I woke myself once, talking in my sleep, fairly sure I was calling it "That colossal waste of time".

Bad Penny - Evil Genius! This thought has crossed my mind a time or two.

But, as I blog along, I have discovered that I am less fractured from my Penny self than I was when I began. I am reading a book which suggests that we all learn to repress parts of ourselves in childhood and that we tend to couple with people who represent this missing part of us. People who somehow "complete" us. This is problematic. It causes great conflict. And it also begs the question... Why did Penny end up married to a looney tune? After all, we are all fairly sure that Penny is outright crazy -- no repressed crazy here.

I would love to hear from YOU! What should I start calling this blog? I actually suggested a name for cyber-sons blog: Dishbreaker Days & Sleepwalker Nights. Go see Jess. Tell him I said HI!

Lay it on me, kids! Hit me with your best shot. And if I laugh hard enough to pee a little then I'll rename the blog and share the leak...

Granny Penny

I gave a baby shower for Number One daughter today. ACK! I am a granny. Penny is a granny... There are baby clothes, and baby towels and a new baby car seat here. It all screams THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING! RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. Weep now and then shut the hell up.

If the fact that Number One, an unmarried girly, will give birth 2 months before her 20th birthday does not tell you that I raised her wrong then this oughta do the trick. She came to her baby shower dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt. A faded BLACK t-shirt with fingers giving a peace sign on the front.

Hang on a minute while Penny lays her head down on the desk to rest a bit. Sooooooo sleepy.

OK. Its not the end of the world. It's just a t-shirt and it's just a silly party and it really doesn't matter in the grand scheme. Right? Right!?!

But Penny would of liked a blouse at least. Maybe a dress. Something. Anything but a ratty black t-shirt.

**sigh**

I am gonna do the head on the desk thing for a bit. Get back to you later. Thanks for stopping by. Have some cake, I have a lot of left over cake.

End Of A Poll

It is the end of my second poll. I have to say that I am a bit surprised. I was pretty sure that the Ass Tat would win.

Penny NEEDS A New Tattoo!

Which is the BEST tattoo for me?
TAT of Sly w/ "Me so Horny" on HIS Ass
46%
24
Tasteful little ass TAT that reads "Me so Horny"
44%
23
Full Back TAT of Sylvester Stallone
10%
5
total votes: 52

Now I have to find someone who is able to artfully render Sly for me. I may have to look all over the world for just the right person to do my tattoo. It may take years of diligent and patient searching and interviewing. I will let you know when I have located the perfect artist. Don't hold your breath though. This could take awhile. Speaking of taking awhile... See my new poll and Please VOTE!

Poochy

For all those who do not subscribe to Penny Nomenclature I shall now define "Poochy Belly" with out photos:

Not pot belly as that is round and I always thought sorta firm, and not love handles as those go on the sides and why the hell do we call them love handles? Not hairy, like a little dog.

Poochy belly is one that is just a little sticky outie but not a firm sticky outie more like a doughy sticky outie. Kinda puffy, and sorta drippy and not so hot. Not fat. Not enough to change the size you wear but enough not to wanna show it off at parties.

Does that do the trick?

Tomorrow I am back to sits ups, lots of sit ups. And crunches. And maybe some kind of surgery. We'll see.

Project Update

For those of you that have been around here awhile, you know about The Project. For the new kids I will just say this... all you need to know can be found conveniently in my blog under titles such as "How I Started Taking Naked Pictures of Myself" and "What I Did While in the SHOWER Today". Go read them and discover why my beloved boy calls this my "porno-blog".

Today, while trying my best to cheer up one of my dearest friends, I sent J the IM message "Going to take off all my clothes and get wet and soapy now" (or something substantially similar). J is supposed to laugh, and have a dirty little shower thought about me and respond by saying "You LOVE to tease me, don't you?" but instead he said "Take some pictures."

And that made me think OH YEAH... the project. I mean The Project! What the hell has happened to the project? Truth is I am busy. And I really got a lot of project work done in the beginning (I'd like to thank my super secret Project Manager for making a real difference) and then the project sorta lost its spot in my agenda. And I've been... um what's the word?... LAZY. Not a lot of working out these past few weeks. Got a little poochy belly thing going on right now. Don't want to really preserve that for posterity do I?

But that's really a cop out I think. The mere fact that I am having poochy belly objections to project work is evidence that the work is not yet done. Further more, and this is BIG, kids, everyone I've talked to about the project has gushed about how brave and wise I am. Gushed. Will I have to return all the gushing if I cop out before I am done?

So it is with great trepidation that I now endeavor to set a project goal of some sort. An objective indicator that The Project is complete and is no longer necessary and can be safely stopped, shelved and ended. Something reasonable.

If I only knew what that is...