Merry Christmas

I've got a cold, and my darling little angel is worshiping the porcelain god.
Karma? Or a cosmic balancing of the scales because we're so brilliant and gorgeous?
Either way....while our mental health is still lively...our physical health is sliding into the hopper.
So just a quick note to assure you all I am still alive.
(And lest you worry...there are tons of things to update..and as soon as my brain can stop wrestling for space with the mucus..I'll be a tap tap tapping away!)
I hope you all had a lovely Christmas, surrounded by your loved ones.
May whomever or whatever you pray to, bless you and keep you safe this Holiday season.
Much love and Phlegmy kisses
Penny*
Oh...and be aware... Furby's are evil...do not be fooled by their cute little furriness...while you are asleep they drink all your liquor, smoke camel unfiltereds, and try to knock up the cat...
E V I L

Just the two of us....

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone"


When my son was younger, there was very little that couldn't be healed with a kiss, a hug or a self affirming chat with me assuring him he was the most wonderful thing since wonderful things became wonderful...
Now that he is older, there are complications from life that are beyond my powers as a loving mother to fix, and I hate it...
We want our children to learn problem solving skills, but it's painfully difficult to stand back and watch this process.
We want them to succeed, but we dont want to push too hard.
We strive to teach them to think for themselves, yet we dont want to see them ostracized by their peers for being different.
This fine line we walk as parents in this world is precarious at best.
And when as a single parent, the burden falls on your shoulders to be that everything to your child, it is nearly impossible not to make mistakes...not to falter..and not to feel like shit when you do.

Death By Chocolate

We had our company "Holiday" luncheon today.
They had one of those trendy new chocolate fountains..
::shudder::

Anyway, I have eaten way too much and have also mixed entirely too many food species..I am surely going to die.

Never ever ever get near a buffet when you've got PMS.
It's just asking for trouble.

For every foot there is a shoe...

Frankly I am just flabbergasted... I think the listing says it all...thats_some_big_knickers


Really, what more could I possible add to this brilliant example of weirdness?

Well that explains it...

Do you know why athletes dont smoke?
Because it HURTS...
I had a soccer game last night, and as some of you may recall I went out twice this past weekend...and smoked like a canned ham.
Last night, once again my team did not have subs. Not one. So I got to play the whole game..yippie yippie joy joy..or more realistically hack hack wheeze wheeze.
I was sure I was going to leave a lung right there on the field...and for about three hours after the game I coughed and hacked like an old sailor.
Now, how I have previously worked out the "smoking only when I am at a bar drinking" thingymahooey is, I dont go out...lol Ok seriously I go out rarely and leave early.
Well thats shot to shit since one of my current paramours works in a bar as a bouncer type person. And of course for the next few weeks he works...Fridays and Saturdays!
Anyway, I hurt, my lungs hurt very very bad still this morning..
And I had another of my weird being chased in a stairwell dreams..stairwells play a big role in my nightmares...hmmm....

What diet taketh away..Krispy Kreme returneth

Today was my weekly date with destiny...meaning my date with the bathroom scale.
And when I hopped on the torturous device this morning..I have lost 5 pounds!
Woohooo go me!
And I get to work to discover..someone has brought fresh Krispy Kreme doughnuts in.
After soundly thrashing the traitorous cow who brought them in, I ate one (I was famished from the butt whupping)
Luckily I work in a office almost full of women, so they have already disappeared so I am safe from the threat of a return visit - and to any of you who might be tempted to say "Well you could have waited till everyone else ate them and then you would have been safe from temptation" obviously you have never been close to a warm fresh Krispy Kreme doughnut, their siren song is impossible to ignore, they are like little pillows of heaven glazed with love and crack.

The Wing....person

Ok, while I did drag my ass out the door on Black Friday...the only thing I purchased was a pair of jeans that made me look even more fabulous than usual... And no, you status whores, they were not whatever the latest trend of cool jeans is embroiderly/glitter/studs hoopa hoopa with a price tag over 100 bucks...they were godblesstheusa Levi's.
And they worked their magic extraordinaire on Friday night.
Once again my evil local friend lured me away from my darling child to the local quasi-dive bar.
And I looked fucking FABULOUS, hell I felt fucking fabulous. (wore the new jeans natch)
All I needed was a damn tiara and I'd have been queen of the universe!

About halfway through my lovely evening of flirtation and amusement, I noticed that a newly acquired friend type person was making that face at me...
Women, you know that face. Invaribly it is not on the face you want to be making it, but on the face of someone you are not romantically interested in.
So I did my very best to ignore, of course my evil friend had to point it out and mock me..
Anyway so Saturday night after I had seen my darlingangel off into slumber city (after watching my beloved Capitals lose in the 15th round of sudden death shoot-outs..dammit)
Previously mentioned evilfriend had made quasi plans to "hang-out" with her crush, and of course first the first time in the history of me...I went out two nights in a row! (and no of course I didnt leave my little one alone, sillyrabbits!)
So I got to be a wingman...and take in the *ahem* scenery at local quasi-dive.
Anyway, I think my ill timed arrival made her crush nervous because he bolted downstairs when I arrived..I showered, I swear!

He eventually came back upstairs and was most attentive to my evilfriend while I had inappropriate conversation with another male friend about the appalling number of women who dont know how to give proper..oral. Really its appalling how dreadful some women are at this...anyway I digress.
Evilfriend gave her crush a ride to his friends house where he was staying whilst visiting our fair area..He tried to get her "inside" and she politely declined (good for her!) But at least the lucky bitch got smoochies...

So of course being women, we had to analyze every single minute action the next day for some possible double meaning...And when I mentioned his withdrawl from her side upon my apparently frightening appearance, imagine my shock and horror when she had perhaps a different view, instead thinking he might fancy me and didnt want me to think they were "together" NAH UH!
I immediately replayed evening in my smoked brain..and told her she was daft...repeatedly.

But it did bring to mind the potential for a certain circumstance to arise when one is playing the wingman...

So gentlemen...You do not hit on the wingman..person.

For example, when you meet a girl and/or start chatting up said girl you are NOT allowed to tag up and change in the middle of the evening to her friend. This makes you a slimy wad of snot.
Of course we appear witty and charming, this is because we are not interested in you.
Do not stare at us, wink at us, or attempt to touch us in a overtly flirtatious manner. And under no circumstances attempt to get our number or give us yours.

I do not care if you are a British drummer with fabulous hair, who happens to be a PhD (yeah sure like one of those exisits!) you are not fabulous enough to make me stab my friend between the blades for.

Women (and I mean the grown up intelligent ones here) do not and will not screw their friends over for a man.
And if they do they are stupid vapid little cows who's karma will fromhereforward be screwed for a very very long time.
Yes there are women who value getting a man above their girlfriends, they are called idiots.

Smart intelligent women recognize the precious value in their friends and we dont try to bolster our ego's at our friends' expense.
Alrighty? Alrighty!

Which brings me briefly to...And, I loathe that I have to even write this.

Ladies, it is also not ok to attempt snag your friends crush.
I do not give a frying fruitfly how you justify it to yourself or to the world.
It is the shittiest of the shitty.
And do not say "But we talked about it and she said it was cool"
She is lying, because unlike you, you faithless trallop she is being a good friend, though you do not deserve it.
There is absolutely no excuse for this...It is disrespectful..period.

The mating dance

Alrighty! So I had a craptastic date the other night who spent the dining portion of the evening watching the fucking football game over my shoulder..
My relief that the movie we were going to see was sold out was palpable.
And I ended that tortuous event immediately, feining concern for his "busy day tomorrow"
Yeaaaah Riiiight. Like I really give a crap about ya'll day when I want company...it's all about me.
Anyway, it was 8:45...And considering I had already procured childcare for the evening, and goddammit I looked hot as hell, I called a local friend and demanded she meet me at the dive up the road...after I went and purchased the demon weed tobacco. I quit smoking over a month ago..and a shitty date has me sliding back into a haze of tobacco!
My friend is a regular there..everyone knows her. And I shit you not I mean everybody..she's like Norm..only significantly less rotund.
Whereas, I am a regular nowhere but the sportsplex where I play soccer..
Hence nobody knows me. I am the "woman of mystery"

According to my friend was it was unusually busy for a Saturday night (meaning it was pretty much packed)..possibly due to the holiday week approaching....whatever the reason, it worked for me..better for me to just sit back, work a little of my magic, and watch the weirdness.


And one last note..I have resigned myself to the fact I like "guys"...show me a man in touch with his emotional feminine side and I'll show you a puke bucket...
Or in the now infamous words of a very dear friend "I just cannot be attracted to a man I could take in a fight"

Amen!

Confessions on the bedroom floor...kitchen counter... and atop the washing machine.

On the way to work the other morning I heard a DJ on the radio talking about a recent study stating that 44% of men in the UK would prefer NOT to have sex on the first date...
Now..granted I am an American, but I have dated several lovely men from across the pond...and even almost married one.. having also made numerous trips across the pond...and observed said species in their natural habitat..(plus my ex-beloved has 5 brothers) I feel I have a pretty good understanding of the hybrid known as "the british bloke"

So at first I was quite perplexed by these findings, since every British man I know and adore (yes that means YOU too) would likely screw a post if it flirted with them. I even attempted to query a friend, but he was too busy finding the cure for ricketts or other such nonsense to return my calls....
Then...I recalled a conversation I had with my once beloved about the concept of "dating" versus "sex" ..
"Going on a date" as we know it, is an American concept...we "go on a date" as in make plans to spend an evening charming the opposite gender in the hopes that they will like us and we will like them enough to progress further to said 2nd date...it is part of the getting to know you process before the actual term of "dating"

So, when I asked him how many women he had dated (not advisable but love had made me stupid) he gave a number that was not alarmingly large so I filed it away....and that was that....So upon my first visit to fair Albion I was suprised to be greeted by some hostility from a few of the resident females....which I queried as to whether he had "dated" any of them...and he responded "Fuck No! I mean I've shagged them, but I havent dated them, I've fucked loads of women, but they didnt mean anything"

After I regained conciousness, and I explained the difference for Americans, he scoffed and said "thats just silly, Americans are all are such prudes"
SO....NEVER EVER EVER ask your British boyfriend this question. If he loves you he will be forced to lie....and you do not want to know the answer anyway....He is with you now, and that is what counts.

p.s. if however by chance you've just been "pulled" and are thinking/hoping it might mean more...it probably doesnt.
Again this is just my experience/observations speaking, but British men are generally loathe be rude to a woman, they dont WANT to tell you they arent interested in more...but if you press them, stalk them, force their hand, THEY will tell you to bugger off...



I realize I may have digressed a bit, but ADD sometimes has it's own path..

He who dies with the most toys wins....

Well the holiday season is upon us. Starbucks has their Gingerbread latte's on the menu! (which I am dancing the happy dance over)
But the most obvious sign arrived in my inbox today ...the advertisements for "Black Friday" at various retail establishments in the area...for those of you who are unfamiliar with the significance of this day in the pantheons of American History..Allow me to enlighten and delight you..
Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving... and why Miss Penny is it called "Black Friday"?? Brilliant question kiddies! ..it is because as the BIGGEST shopping day in these here United States, if you run any sort of retail establishment you are virtually guaranteed to be in the "black" on this day. (meaning you'll fatten your coffers)
On this fine day...a large percentage of Americans (well except federal government workers, who in the great law of averages- managing to have almost every other freakin quasi-holiday and random Friday off- are actually required to report to work) rouse themselves from their post turkeyday tryptophin coma's at the ass-crack of dawn to queue up in front of Walmart/K-Mart/Target/insertnameofastorehere and surge into said store to get the super dooper bargains/latest cool item when they open the doors at whatever the announced hour.
A few years ago a woman was actually crushed and seriously injured beneath the deluge of people trying to cram into a local Target. PEOPLE ACTUALLY STEPPED ON HER to get into the store.
How absolutely frightingly fucking pathetic...
I have witnessed seemingly rational mothers go positively ape shit over the wrong color game-boy for their child...their eyes glassy and spittle on their chins as they screech at the sales clerk "THE THE ROYAL BLUE WILL SIMPLY NOT DO!!! I MUST HAVE THE ICE BLUE!!"
And they treat the sales persons like complete crap in their single minded quest for gift giving perfection.

And somehow I fear this year, in spite of several pretty catastrophic ass whuppings by Momma Nature, we won't be any different. Last Sunday, I was in Target looking for a basketball backboard system for my darlingangel when I witnessed a woman was being lectured by her corpulent child as to what was and was not acceptable as a christmas gift this year.
And when she dared to mention that the new Playstation was just too expensive, he actually called her a cheap bitch..I KID YOU NOT. Now the temptation to divert and address the appalling deterioration of the family relationship dynamic is strong..But, I shall save that for another post because it deserves it's very own post dammit...so I'm sticking to this topic..for now.
Anyway, it made me wonder why do we as parents/spouses/children/significant others/ect..ect. believe that only the best most fabulously sought after present will do for Christmas? (and I am using Christmas because that is that winter holiday we celebrate in my house, but whether you deck the halls, light the Menorah, celebrate the seven principals of Kwanzaa, or dance around a flaming shrub ...consumerism has your number as well)

Now dont mistake me here. I like my "stuff" as much as the next red blooded american who doesnt live on a compound with alot of fire power and a constant state of paranoia does.
I do not shun technology and only feed my child organic food..Far from it..I love my television, Levi's, Doc Martens, other tangible goods and I REALLY want an iPOD.
But I do not, and have not roused myself at the buttcrack of dawn on a day off to go shopping for "the gift" ..cuz that's just stupid.


Parents...that item from last year that you woke at 5am, stood in line for two hours and almost came to blows over, is it still your childs favorite?
Ladies Gentleman..do you remember what your loved one got you three years ago for Christmas? Two Years? How about last year? Was is so fantastic that it proved their undying love and devotion to you forever?

So you ask what will I be doing this Black Friday?

Well I am going to call every single one of my friends who is toiling away for the Federal goverment and gloat.

Because I'm petty like that :-P

Well that blows...

Blah. What a screwy morning!!!
I had a root canal about two weeks ago (my first) and the procedure itself was not particulary bad, even played soccer the next day. And tomorrow I am scheduled to go back for the "restoration" portion of the procedure..AND NOW it starts to ache.
I went to the hockey game last night (discovered my company has a box, even has our name on it..oohhhh yeahhh) and did a lot of hootin and hollerin and a fair bit of my whistling thing....and I think the latter may have irritated my root canal. Because I feel like shite today...I still look fabulous mind you..(and even scored the digits of a lovely YOUNG man last night...WITH the progeny in tow...heres to me Mrs. Robinson!)
And, of course is my co-worker is out sick again today and "will try to make it into work tomorrow" Come hell or high water I will be going to the dentist tomorrow.
I hate dental issues.
And another thing.... whats with women who wont change the goddamn water bottles in the cooler thingy???..they will drain it down to the last freaking drop...but are too fucking weak or lazy to replace the bottle?? (and I say women because it is only the women who dont change the bottle)

A Russ Meyer Moment...

So, armed with my "buy more save more" coupon I headed to the local shopping mall with the intention of purchasing some new "uplifting" foundation garments after work yesterday.
The one body part I've always been more or less consistantly content with (truthfully considering the woeful shape of my legs and arse, its the only thing I've left to flaunt..even discreetly) has been my breasts. They're quite nice actually, but as every well endowed girl out there can attest, I know one morning I will wake up and I'll be able to tuck them into the waistband of my pants . So I figure I'd better take care of them by buying them lovely supportive garments while they're in a good mood.
Wellllll, here in lies my dilemma. Who on GODS green earth come up with the brilliant idea of making ALL bra's having even the slightest hint of allure all padded??? A 36DD does not need padding..I look like I should be in a Russ Myer flick! Yet ALL bras that not "minimizers" are padded now. One actually said "Cleavage enhancing" WHAAAAAT?? I already have cleavage,..I just want a relatively pretty bra that covers and lifts. So my choices are to either flatten myself in a GIGANTIC minimizer so I look like my granny, or push me out/up/together so I look like a trallop...Choices..choices..whats a girl to do? Every time I put on one of those hoochie push up thingy's I feel my IQ drop ten points...at least. Of course I own one (or two) having purchased them in a wild moment of wanton optimism...mind you I have yet to work up the courage to wear them. Because quite frankly even I'm intimidated by my breasts when I do.
And don't fool yourselves girls..when a gentleman sees blonde hair and big boobs, he is not thinking of your brilliant intellect, nor of your ability to knit a fair isle sweater...He thinks..OH Pamela Anderson! (ok in my case he's probably thinking..Ohh Saint Paulie Girl..but you get the point..no pun intended) So I wander into the local Victorias Secret to test the lingerie waters..(I am such a dumb ass) First, there is not only a rent-a-security guard, but an actual police officer on the premises..Are they there to deter would be shoplifters? Keep the hooligans from stuffin knickers down their..knickers?? Or is it something more..sinister?? And why is that cop smirking? All I know is I find it very telling that the larger population in this store is male, and aside from one other lovely grown up, the remaining females either are just entering or can fondly recall puberty. After carefully scouring the racks I find one...yes I said one, uno, singular bra in my size in the WHOLE store..and its FULL coverage, which means I have a triangle of skin about the size of a triscuit that is NOT covered...and the thing costs 41 bucks...So I then meander over the the shiny display with photos of uber model Giselle throwing her hands up in ecstasy...She is wearing the NEW TECHO RAH RAH bra.."The IPEX" which is apparently now the most popular bra in the universe (according to shiny words under Giselle)Of course they dont have my size, because apparently either us Jane Mansfield types are either a. to exhausted from heaving our bosoms to shop, or b. too damn embarrassed by our huge breasts to go out in public..And this bra ladies and gentlemen is...49.50....50 dollars for a bra! Then the perky hummel like sales person skips up to me and chirps "Are finding your size?" I almost burst out laughing..Still clutching the ONE bra I have found, because if someone else were pick it up after I put it down, I would then be forced to trail person around and curse myself for not holding on to it. I smile and say.."Yes thank you" because I suddenly do not want to admit to this tiny little person that I wear such a HUGE bra.In retrospect I wish I had, just to see the look of awe/horror that would cross her face as she tried not to stare at my chest... that would have been fun. I think that cop knew there weren't any in my size...

Another fine use of my time..

Because heaven forbid I actually work while at work, upon the urging of my already blogging friends, and because I am weak to peer pressure. I am officially one of the of masses.
Joined the club...I'm in with the in crowd.
Of course, I'll probably forget my password on a month or so, or just get bored and stop.
But hey why should this be different than any other entity/project in my personal life...it will join the bathroom with half the wallpaper torn down, the bureau in my living room I still havent moved into my bedroom, the half dozen sweater/scarves/ect ect I've started to knit and wandered off somewhere else... not to mention the various relationships I've left littering the interstate of romance..
Ahhh the joys of ADD..welcome to my world.