Breaking My Emotional Hymen

I have decided to wind this blog down. I got this email today from gbs. He is an old boyfriend from the late 80's and a wise man...

I recommend that you stop your blog.  Your man friend doesn't want to be another character in this story.  If this doesn't work out, and I certainly hope it does, you can start writing again.  If you need to write, which is an excellent need, then start another blog.  I miss the blog when it is not there but you are not writing it for me.
Take care, gbs

I have gone back and forth over the past few months...to blog or not to blog. When I read gbs' email it made me think. I showed it to Polly. Her reply was, "what if ManFriend™ wrote a blog and you didn't have access to it? Wouldn't that be a red flag?" She was right. ManFriend™ does know about the blog (the fact it exists and I write under a different name). I mentioned it in passing and told him I had written much since we got serious. His only comment was, "I couldn't put myself out there."

I will close this thing down with a story of hope (laced with a bit of dysfunction). A couple of weekends ago I was on my porch with ManFriend™. I was watering and deadheading some of my plants. My hose was leaking and needed to be replaced. I asked ManFriend™ to unscrew it and put it in the trash can. He looked at the dripping water and said, "it's all wet and the hanging plants are dripping. I'll do it after the water evaporates." I'm not sure why...my filter was not screwed on tight, I said, "what are you...a fucking pussy?" he looked at me with a confused expression. He slowly walked back into my house. I walked in and saw that he was putting on his jeans. He told me he was going home, to the library, then to the gym and he would be back later (we had plans to go to the movies.) I told him I was kidding and I was sorry. He said that it was an inappropriate thing to say even in jest. I got defensive and gave him the "this is the way I talk" speech. He calmly said it was disrespectful.  He hugged me, told me he loved me and said he would be back at 5. I was speechless. He left. I promptly ate 3 popsicles in a row, cleaned my already spotless house and sent Lynn an email to set up an appointment. STAT. When he got back at 5 I told him I was really sorry and I would not do that again. He smiled and said thank you and we got ready to go out.

The Lynn appointment--I told her the story. She never flinched at the "What are you a fucking pussy?" comment. Sidebar...here are some comments I received when telling the story to others:

• Hairdresser (from NY): "oh no you ddd'ent!!!"
• Sulie-"What did your face look like when you said it? Oh no, I know how ManFriend™ felt. Poor ManFriend™"
• Niece Jackie--Choked on her breakfast sandwich.
• Gynecologist-(had appt to change BCP. Hormones came up). "Penelope, I can't see you talking that way...let's see what new pill we can change you to..."

Back to Lynn. She said, "he sounds healthy", "he set boundaries". She said I was a "virgin" when it came to healthy relationships. She was right. She said except for the one a long time ago (that would be gbs). She asked me what I would do if I had a really nice family heirloom given to me. I said I would take care of it, keep it safe, treasure it...she said, "wouldn't you do the same thing for ManFriend™?"

So I have broken my emotional hymen.

I thank everyone for the emails, comments and support over the past 2 years. What started as an impulse to purge about a shitty time became a way to heal (and laugh). I'm going to leave this open in case someone Googles "cheating" or "ManGroomer", or if some big Hollywood producer wants to make a movie of this. I vote for Sandra Bullock to play me.

xo

Working Fake Boob vs. Real Boob

My friend just called me with a random thought. She said, "working real boob looks so much better than working fake boob." Apparently she had seen both types recently (a fake boob woman "working it" and a real boob woman "working it"). It was profound.

Catching you Up

Okay, I'm going to give a Reader's Digest version. Met ManFriend™ in April. Hit it off. Shared a bit of my history with him. Slowly. In passing comments. (Just top line info--divorced because of cheating. Not the gruesome details). He shared his. He's been married twice. The first wife cheated. Second one it didn't work out. He remains on good terms with both. Number 1 was a long time relationship and they have realized they can be friends (kind of like me with my Number 1). Number 2 recently remarried. He's been divorced since 2005. No children. He checked out on myfloridacounty.com

Went on dates. Had fun. Invited him to my place to watch a movie. Did it.  

No MUTHA FUCKIN RED FLAGS!

Oh but you know me...it creeps into my mind. This guy can't be real. I'm missing something. All guys suck.

I kept it under wraps. It is easy to be cool chick in the beginning. Waking up with fresh breath--thanks to oral hygiene done at 0600 in the morning before he wakes up. Clear sparkling skin--thanks to powder and blush applied after oral hygiene. Always perky--thanks to wine and sex.

Here we are 4 months later. He leaves his cell phone on the counter. There is no slinking away to text. He takes Daisy for walks (actually he runs with her). He scoops out the cat box. He puts dishes in the dishwasher.

Normal people would think...I am in a relationship with someone that is my emotional equal. That would be too easy. And sane.

Can't think of a title

It has been a really long time. My cousin in Hawaii says this blog is how she keeps in touch and knows I'm okay. My out of state friends say it's better than FaceBook. I have wondered about shutting it down. One very Wise Friend told me that I needed to do an "ending" if I do stop blogging. 

It made me think about what is so different that I don't have as much time to sit down and write. My job still sucks the big one, but it doesn't interfere. School starts next week. ManFriend™ (I may have to think of a new name) and I spend about 4 nights together. It's not like I'm in bed getting down 24 hours a day. Wise Friend (mentioned above) commented that it may have been easier to write when assholes (men I didn't respect or care for) were in my life vs. writing about someone that I care about.

I thought about it and I think I can share the transition to a healthy relationship vs. dysfunctional and all around fucked up.

ipad Prisoner

I used to be shackled to my ipad. It went to bed with me under a pillow. I carried it in my purse.

I have broken the shackles. Don't get me wrong--I can still spend hours clutching it. Email, quick Internet searches, Words With Friends (which is like crack by the way...)

One of my friends named her ipad Esteban. Another one has Bruno. (I'm having deja blog--I may have mentioned this before.)

This is the picture I got when I googled "chained to ipad".

It is a computer wallpaper. What kind of creep using this???

Mystery

I believe in mystery when it comes to men and women. No one will see me flossing, peeing (I've done it in the past--no more), picking my teeth, shaving my legs, tweezing, or any other maintenance/body function.

One of my work friends poops in front of her husband. Yuck! How does one get a hard-on after seeing his wife poop? She reason that he saw it when she had their son. May I say it again? YUCK.

Manfriend™ has learned my ways of mystery. He does not floss in front of me. He knows to leave me alone in the bathroom.

I say let them think you are a "Natural Beauty".

Correlation between having sex and blog time...

I've gotten many emails asking me where I've been. I just got back from a trip, but it was only a week. I was surprised to see my last post was June 2. It made me wonder if there is a correlation between my lack of blogging and starting a new relationship. I used to blog at night and on the weekends. I'm pretty busy on the weekends, but I still have time in the evenings. I have a really long list of subjects. It is so interesting to me that when I was once so prolific (as my friend GBS commented) and now I'm not as disciplined at writing.

I do believe there is a direct correlation between having sex and blog time...

25 years of Oprah

You know, I can't decide if I love Oprah or if I want to kick her in the box...

Dating after divorcing a ManGroomer™

People, I got boyfriend, a lover, a companion (what the hell do I call a guy I like, we do it and he spends the night when I'm 46?) I shall refer to him as my Manfriend™.

I've been keeping my red flag detector hidden. Of course I did a full background check on myfloridacounty.com. He truly was divorced for 5 years. He really does have a condo he is buying. He's polite. He plans dates. One night he asked me if I was comfortable in bed because he had his arm around me. I almost had a fuckin seizure. I've never had a guy ask me if I was comfortable. They sure will tell you if you inadvertently bump them with your elbow and it hurts while you're blowing them. Ugh. This one is different.

We talked tonight about what our "Issues" were. He quietly said his are around trust and fear of abandonment. (his father died when he was 11--same as me). I agreed that when you lose a parent that young that abandonment could come up. It was my turn to share. People, we know I got a long ass list. I stuck with the top level items. Trust particularly around cheating. I experienced a large amount betrayal in a short period of time--John, match.com tool, Spencer, Special Ops Boy and Dillhole. Thank god I didnt sleep with them all. My other one is convincing myself that I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. I didn't tell him that one. I can't show all my crazy cards. I also know I can be kinda sassy to cover up my nerves.

He will occasionally say that I am "crazy". I had him clarify that he meant in a funny way. I told him I've had extensive sessions with the finest therapist in Tampa Bay and I'm essentially cured. Some of my friends read this,but more strangers follow the blog. I talk like I write. It's in my mind and my mouth is open and the words tumble out.

Tonight I told him I write a blog(and that I haven't blogged much lately since I was making up for lost time in the sex department). I also told him I would not feel comfortable letting him read it. Some is me at my worse. A lot of me at my funniest. It may show sides that a manfriend may never see and may not need to see. He said he understood. Give me your opinion. You guys have been reading this since the beginning.

He's kind and really smart. He's good looking. He loves my animals. I started to fall when he kissed my dog on the head goodbye. He doesn't compliment with words. I don't like to fish for em either. Lord knows after the road I've been these past few years a girl has gotta hear some nice stuff. I stare at his eyes and his smile and I think that's it. That's his compliment. And then he pets Daisy.

I need a secret Manfriend™ decoder ring...

Exes Birthdays--Have your own party

Today is John's 50th birthday. I looked at the date this afternoon and remembered. He often had big blowout parties to celebrate. Polly pointed out that most men have their drivers license by the time they are 50.  That made me laugh.

When will the jokes at John's expense ever end? Sulie did a spoken word voice memo about John. It is classic. I wish I could post audio on here. It says some like like, John, You're a fat fuck and it's not bad luck, it's choices. And you know what? You're a fat fuck. It is classic. Tonight she sends me a Talking Tom e Cat video (some apple app) where the cat says, "you know what? You're a fat fuck.

I missed the bullet with that mutha FUCKA. I say next year I need to whip up some daiquiris and boil me up some crawfish to celebrate.

Sending off the vibe

I have so much to write about. I have been sending myself emails so I don't forgot. Okay, in the last 2 weeks I have been contacted by 3 guys from the past. Let's examine:

#1: Guy from past that I haven't seen in forever. I don't think he even got a name on here (he was B.B.--before blog). He sends me an after midnight text that simply reads, "I want to lick you.". WTF? Does that work? My niece said she bets he sent that out to all the ladies in his cell and waited to see who responded first. I just deleted it.

#2: Out of Town Liaision. Oy. A drunk call. Apologizing. Saying he messed up with me. He missed his opportunity. Blah, blah, blah. I thanked him for his apology. I reminded him that I have moved on. He then suggests we get together. Ugh.

#3: Dillhole. This is the oddest. I get a text that says "Happy Nurses Week." Okay, I don't work as a nurse now. Wasn't aware it was their week and WTF? I write back, "huh?". (thanks to Polly for that suggestion). We corresponded a bit about healthcare (yes that was a springboard to talk about the economy and healthcare reform). It was weird. I started to analyze it and then I quickly dropped it. The road to Dillhole leads to CrazyTown™.

Brain and Coota are none of your business

I'm down in Naples having a girls weekend to celebrate Sulie's birthday. I'm writing this on my my iPad. I hope it looks okay because you can't do formatting.

There has been a lot of talk about the guy I'm starting to see. I have made a vow to myself that I will not blog about him in a way that is not respectful. I've saved that for the parade of tools I've known in the past.

This subject came up in the pool yesterday while sipping mojitos--the age old "how much do I tell?" scenario. I am a firm believer in never talking specifics about numbers of past partners, positions, quotes like "the first time I saw his cock I asked, you think that thing will be able to fit in little ole me?", or anything else that remotely suggests that I've had sex before (even though I've been a licensed driver and sex haver for 30 years).

We also talked about therapy and medication. I said how (what do I call him?)... Let's say New Guy innocently looked at the pill box with M, T, W,T,F,S,S on it and said, "you have a lot of pills." I deftly went into my game face and replied, "yeah, vitamins, blood pressure and cholesterol." It wasn't a total lie...


That is when niece Jackie brilliantly said, "you know what? Your brain and coota are your business." First, let me explain the definition of coota. Coota, an off shoot of cooter. Cooter is a commonly accepted term in the south for the front butt on a woman. In our neice/sister language it has transformed to "coota". It started one night when we changed the words of Heart's "Barracuda" to "Stanky Coota".

It does make sense. I don't need to share any stories about the history of my precious coota or the ups and downs my brain has been through. Not now. The main thing is right now, my coota smells like a spring day and I'm feeling good.

Hoohah Shaving

This is classic. Courtesy of my friend Scott...I think the article says it all. It may be small. Double-click on the article to make it bigger.

I'm okay!

I've gotten several emails checking on me since I haven't blogged in so long. I'm okay--just super busy. Here's a list:

• New man--yes people, I met someone that I really like and I have seen no red flags. He's vegan. We will discuss...
• I got accepted into a masters program to get my practitioners license.
• Asshole boss with lots of drama. 
• Bullshit work meeting

I have lots of stuff to write about. I will get back to it this weekend.

Thank you!

Penelope

How Q-Tips End Up in Weird Places

When Sulie bought her house we found a used q-tip in the floor. It was gross. I've come across many random q-tips through the years. In the road when I walk Daisy. In a parking lot. I once saw one on a friend's bedroom floor. Why, why, why all the q-tips? I'll tell you why. People get distracted. Last night I was performing ear hygiene in the privacy and comfort of the master bath. The phone rang. I removed the q-tip from my ear and swiftly walked to the phone. It was my niece. We began a lengthy conversation about deep things. I found that I was gesturing as I spoke with the q-tip waving like a conductor's baton. I put the q-tip down. Not in the trash mind you. That would have been too easy. I finished the conversation and the q-tip was no longer on my mind. Imagine my horror when I saw it this morning on the ottoman in my living room. That, Dear Readers, is how q-tips end up in fucked up places.

There's an App for That!

Every few days I get an email from the itunes Store that says, Your receipt #XXX blah, blah. Just for shits and giggles (that one is for Sulie. She HATES that expression) I will check my inbox right now. Yep...

That is for Word Storm. A fun little game to play finding words that all have the letter shown in the center of the hexagon. It is like crack...

There are horoscope apps, tarot card apps, dating apps, travel apps, weather apps, meditation apps, you can have a friggin Starbuck's card on your iphone app, track your period app (gross, get a calendar), movie time apps...

Pretty soon there will be a Talk to your Child through an App, App, Communicate with your Mate without Talking App, Have Virtual Sex with your Boyfriend and Avoid the Mess App...

I think there needs to be a Be Comfortable Sitting in Silence Without an iphone or ipad in your hand App.

This is a perfect lead in for a future post:

My ipad is my new boyfriend

Definition of Insanity...

Things that I have given a 2nd (or 3rd, or 4th) chance that didn't deserve it:

• Anything made of citronella that says it will kill mosquitoes. I am a Florida native. I have been eaten alive again. When will I learn?
• Victoria's Secret Bras--they were shitty in the 90's and they are shit now. I have a new $50 bra and the underwire is stabbing me.
• Internet Dating--Requires no explanation.

Boobs + Truth = New iphone

The hair was perfect, the makeup flawless, the shirt LOW cut. I signed in at the Apple store. I sat on a stool waiting for my name to be called. A young guy came over in the familiar blue shirt and said, "Penelope?" I smiled and told him my iphone had been submerged in water and it was my fault and it wasn't worth going into the story. He asked when I got it and looked up my psychotic apple buying history. I don't know if it was the fact I had purchased every model of ipod since they came out, a computer, ipads 1 and 2 or the boobs. He said, "I can replace it. If you have to replace the second one it will be $199." I asked if I could hug him. He smiled and went to get the new phone. When he came back I asked if replacing the phone was standard or if it was up to the individual's discretion. He paused and I said, "It was you, right?" He smiled. I thanked him and asked his name--it was Gus.

I left with a smile and went to buy a thank you card and an AMEX gift card. I hurried back to the store and gave it to him. I thanked him for going above and beyond the call of duty.

My new phone shall be referred to as "Gus".

iphone + water = DOOM

You may say, "Penelope, why is your iphone in a bowl of uncooked brown rice?" My reply, Dear Reader, would be, "Because I'm a dumb bitch!" Yesterday the sun was shining and my prescriptions were ready. I put Daisy in a fashionable harness. I grabbed her water bottle and a back pack. I put my debit card in a pocket and threw my phone in the bag. We headed to my neighborhood (family owned) pharmacy around the corner. Brad let me bring Daisy in. He petted her and got a dog biscuit. I opened my bag and shrieked. My iphone was marinating in a pool of water. Quickly we dried it off. Brad held Daisy's leash as I jumped to action. I shook it. I cussed. I commented that my drugs must be working because I was not flying into a public tantrum. We agreed I could be in Japan. This was not a big deal. I put the phone in my pocket (where it should have been to start), paid, and Daisy and I headed home. Google "iphone 4 wet" and there are tons of hits. I removed the SIM card (very tough), I shook it some more, I vacuumed the holes to remove any more water, and then put it in a bowl of uncooked rice to soak up the water. She has soaked overnight. I tried to turn her on today. Nothing. I plugged her in to the computer. The Apple symbol flashed mockingly on the screen and was quickly followed by a grinding noise as the screen went blank. I am heading to AT&T first. I have an appointment at the Apple Genius Bar at 2. Here's a comment Polly found on a board about getting iphones fixed after water submersion:

I've already chosen what shirt I'm going to wear...

Mixing it Up!

Do you ever mix up beauty products? Ya know, put conditioner on your hair when you think it is shampoo? I've had a few near disasters I would like to share with you all. Note that many of them ALMOST happened when I didn't have my glasses on:

• Monistat instead of toothpaste
• Ambien in the morning (on the day of a job interview) instead of Toprol XL (my blood pressure med)...they kinda look the same
• Clorox disinfectant wipes instead of Cottonelle butt wipes
• Zit cream instead of under eye cream

The list goes on and on, AND people, I am not making this shit up. Moral to the story...wear your glasses and keep me out of your bathroom.

Apparently I am not the only one with these problems...

Ode to Shoes

These shoes rock,

In them I can barely walk.

I'll test drive them tonight while eating sushi,

I hope I don't fall on my tushy.

Returning shoes that I paid for in cash,

The clerks always treat you like white trash.

I hope in them down don't I go,

Because I LOVE them so.

-Penelope 2011

Deep Thoughts with Penelope™

• Do the words "mini" and "wheats" cancel out the word "FROSTED"?
• When my cat runs really fast from room to room with the "must get there now" look on her face and then she just plops herself on the floor...is that the same as when my mind races with all the shit I need to do and then I plop myself on the sofa, open a book and read?
• When I meet with my boss and I numbly nod my head as he is talking, can he read my mind and know that I am thinking that I want to kick him square in the balls?
• Why did I get a nursing degree and now I'm in sales when I find that I don't like many people?
• I got a notice from Chase that after recalculating, they have found that I am deficient $0.01 in my escrow account. It instructed me to send a check to get my escrow account up to date. A penny? I called (and got India) she laughed like I was an idiot and told me I didn't need to send a check for a penny. The why send me the fucking bill?

Blind Leading the Blind

So I had an OK Cupid date on Sunday. It was our first meeting. I get to the coffee place a bit early. I scanned the room and did not see him. I went to the bathroom to make sure the "do" was smooth, lipstick even and no boogs. I go out and scan again. It is a beautiful day so I decided to wait outside. As I walk out the door I see a guy sitting on the bench with sunglasses on that kinda looks like the OKC guy. He gives me a nod and stands up. He hugs me and kisses my cheek (ew).  Right away I notice he is eye level with me. OKC guy said 6' on his profile. Not 5 fuckin 8. He says, "Let's go in." We go in and I look at his hair. He's looking at my boobs. His hair was shorter than I remembered from the pictures. He takes his sunglasses off. I said, "you look different than your pictures." He said, "Really?, I think I look the same." He started to tell me about his 10 year old. OKC guy definitely did not have kids. I said, "wait is your name _____..." The guy laughed and said, "Oh no!" We walked back outside. A woman walked up that had the same hairstyle as me. He whispered, "say nothing." He smiled at her and she waved. He said to her, "this place is crowded, let's go down the street." I nodded. 2 minutes later, OKC guy walks up. He is 6 feet and he looked better than his pictures!  He shook my hand and did not gawk at my boobs. I told him the story and he laughed. Stay tuned for more details...

Sometimes I wanna kick AMEX in the box

I have a love/hate relationship with American Express.  Way back in my nursing days I had the green card. I kept getting things in the mail saying, "As a small business owner you deserve the benefits of a corporate gold card." I would always shread them and put it in the trash. One day I was feeling a bit frisky. I filled it out, called my company Sassy Inc. and made my cat Penelope the VP of Sales. A few days later I got a gold card. As the years have gone on they moved me up to a platinum. I can kick it into the airline rooms and drink all the coke and eat all the crackers I want. Every once in a while AMEX will call me to update their files. They ask, "What is Sassy, Inc.?" I always say I specialize in accessories. One night when I was married to John I used it to pay for dinner. The server (a young girl) asked "What is Sassy, inc.?" John replied with a straight face, "We pimp out baby strollers. You can get spinners, different colors, racing stripes, whatever you want." I kept a straight face and nodded. She said, "that is so COOL!" (he did have some good qualities...) It got to be a game of who could come up with the craziest description of the "company."

When the economy tanked they decreased my limit from unlimited to $50,000. (First of all, who needs a 50k limit?). I understood because it was the creditors protecting themselves. Today I got a letter saying "Congratulations, you can spend all you want" (not the actual wording). Cuckoo. AMEX is the one you gots to pay at the end of the month. I've had some months where I've opened it and said bad words. It's comforting to know I can go buy a Porsche now if I want to.

The VP of Sassy, Inc. May she rest in peace. The cat that used to bring me dead fish when I lived on the beach...PENELOPE. Here she is taking a break between meetings.

Big News on the Man Front

I know I haven't been blogging as much as I used to...I've been really distracted. I've been afraid to tell anyone until I was sure. John got in touch with me a couple of months ago. We started emailing and talking on the phone. He came to visit a couple of weeks ago. I realize I never stopped loving him.  I visited him last weekend. We have decided to get back together. We are going to start long distance at first. I know it sounds wacky but he is the one.  ha ha. April Mutha Fuckin Fools!

Is there a statute of limitations on hurt and anger?

I got an email yesterday from a guy that read the blog. He commented that it was intense and that meant I was intense. He also said there was a lot of energy and he wasn't sure if it was anger. He commented how I was obviously stung by a man and hurt by it so many years ago. I read the email a couple of times to make sure I understood it. I felt my cheeks turn red. Not anger...embarrassment. He asked if I felt like it would make it difficult for me to get into a serious relationship again. Email is so hard to get sometimes--I'm in a thing with my boss right now about communication gone haywire. But back to this...I've never censored what I write. I certainly have hit "publish" and then wondered if it was too much. Usually the posts that make me a bit nervous are the ones I get the most emails saying things like, "I feel that way too!"

I don't think the guy meant the email to be mean--he was just writing what he thought. I replied and said I wrote how I felt at the time. I laughingly thought to myself should I change the blog name to the "She-Woman Man Haters Club"? Then I really thought about it. Can you put a timeline on anger? Is there an acceptable amount of time to be hurt before a siren goes off telling you that your time is up? I've got 2 kinds of readers on here. Close friends and complete strangers. My friends would say I am not this bitter woman punching her way through life. I told him in my reply that I did not feel defensive, but I will admit this morning I am starting to feel like I should type things like "but, but, this, this and this happened....!" I'm not going to do that. 3 years ago I could have eaten my way to 200 lbs, drank a bottle of wine a night, stayed on my sofa watching some dumb ass Housewives show and chanted "All Men Suck" until the end of time. Instead I gained 10 lbs, drank 2 glasses of wine a night and ate tortilla chips for dinner while watching trendy series on HBO and Showtime while chanting, "I can't believe I didn't see it."

I think there is a continuum of hurt and anger. We all have different timelines and don't necessarily process things the same way. I met a couple of guys post John that were toxic (Spencer and SOB). It makes sense that if I was still mired in the gunk that I would attract equally unhappy people. 

Perhaps this is an opportunity for a new invention? Chappelle hit on it in one of his sketchs:

Wrap It Up Box - watch more funny videos

I'm a Pusher

Daisy the Dog of the Century™ has been freaking out over all the thunderstorms we've been having. Tonight was the worst. Nothing worked. I sang, I blasted music, I tried to distract her with toys. 

Now, I turned to drugs and alcohol. She has hydrocodone drops for if she has collapsed trachea issues. I pinned her down and dosed her. I then went to the fridge and popped open a Rolling Rock. All is well...

Disturbing, yet funny.

Catching Bad Luck

Is there such a thing? Is it on the toilet seat? How long can it live on a kitchen counter?

Seriously, do you ever notice how friends scram when the proverbial shit hits the fan? I've blogged about doing some friend housecleaning over the last few months. Also, a couple of people that are close to me have mentioned how close friends they had vanished when the going got tough. Sucks. ASS.

Perhaps a full body condom to keep the bad luck from spreading...a perfect segue to a scene from one of the BEST MOVIES EVER!

Fun music blogs I found through friends...

http://musicyouneed.blogspot.com/

Radio Cure--A Music Blog From Down South

http://amysdailysong.blogspot.com/

A song a day keeps the doctor away....

http://heatherensley.wordpress.com/

Titled "Comb Your Hezaire"!


http://amydbringinbacktheblog.blogspot.com/


Amy Dalley's Blog (aka bigmama amyd)

What Would Bridget Do?

I couldn't sleep last night. I was scrolling through other blogs. There was scrap booking, baking, and pictures of babies. It bored me...then I came across this GEM:

http://whatwouldbridgetdo.blogspot.com/

This was the picture that caught my eye:

Their tag line (there are 3 bloggers from different cities) is:

In a pickle, we ask ourselves, what would Bridget Jones Do? Then we do the opposite.

It has achieved a spot in the "Stuff I Like To Look At" column!

Reading you teen's texts

Okay, we've covered reading your spouse/boyfriend's/girlfriend's texts. Here is a new one...

do you have the right as a parent to randomly pick up your kid's phone and read the texts? 

Penelope Votes HELLS YES!

• As a parent you're #1 job is to protect your child
• I was once a 16 year old girl that snuck Jimmy in through my window at 0100am so we could fuck (until that nosey dickhead Mr.Toohey that lived behind us saw and told my Mom...)
• They are still kids. Judgment isn't all there yet. Brain scans of teens have proven this. 
• You are keeping them from doing stupid shit or being aware before stupid shit happens and offering condoms, a ride home or just plain old advice.
• And last and least--you pay for the phone. It was purchased for safety and calls for rides. Not "hey I can't wait to blow you again."

I am not an asshole. I am also not a parent. John and I used to intermittently check the boys' phones. We told them it was always a possibility. 

One of my Mom friends just had an experience with this. Her child had written a couple of texts that indicated devirginization was on the horizon. She stopped reading And chose to have The Talk™ again and purchased condoms. Long story, short, the mother of the other teen picked up their child's phone and texted, "I had a great time last night." Friend's child responded (thinking it was their young love) with graphic details. Now other teen's mother has forbidden them to see each other ever again.

Great, now we have Romeo and Juliet with a 2011 flair. Other mother sucked. She crossed the line.

Teenagers are going to fuck. I know. I did. The point is to arm them with protection, information and do everything you can to not provide a place for them to do it!

Penelope out.

Ching Chong, it means I Love You

I'm sure you seen the controversial video that some girl did about Asians in the library at UCLA. You all know I've struggled with my issues after Pao. After extensive therapy, I do realize it was a woman that betrayed me not all of Vietnam. She could have been black, white, yellow or green. But it still feels so good to make fun (I will analyze racial issues on a later blog). Here's the other side. What it is like to be the Asian that is getting dissed. This guy rocks...

Kick Boxing™

Do you ever wanna just kick someone in the box? That has been a recurrent theme for me this week. If my Mom was alive, she would take a big drag from her cig, slowing exhale the smoke from her nose (going down) and her mouth (going up) and say, "where are you in your cycle?" Translation: you're being bitchy, are you having your period? (again, sorry boys. I've had 2 period references in 1 week and NO, I'm not having my period!).

Changing words to songs

That last post reminded me of all the songs I have changed/misunderstood the words to over the years. I'm having Déjà blog™.  I may have written about this before, but it is worth another go.

Blinded by the Light-Bruce

"Wrapped up like a douche you know the runner in the night" is really...

Blinded by the light,
revved up like a deuce,
another runner in the night

Tom Sawyer-Rush

"Maybe as his EYES are wide" is really...

The world is, the world is
Love and life are deep
Maybe as his skies are wide

Sweet Emotion-Aerosmith

"Some stuck up mama with a face like a gent" is really...

Some sweat hog mama with a face like a gent
Said my get up and go musta got up & went.
You got good news but you're a real good liar
Cause backstage lover set your pants on fire.

This one I used to belt out of the back of my Mom's light green Monte Carlo with the white landau top--

Barracuda-Heart

"Back over time, we were apart, trying to pee, you ran the forest for me, no right no wrong, singing a song, a wisp again" is really...

Back over time when we were all
Trying for free
Met up with porpoise and me
No right no wrong your selling a song
A name whisper game

Another Tool in the Internet...

Get it? It's like Another Brick in the Wall for all you Pink Floyd fans. I never knew they said "bikesheds" until my ex-Brit husband told me.

If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding. 
How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?
You! Yes, you behind the bikesheds, stand still laddie!"



But I digress...

While I was looking for a guy taking a self portrait in his car, I came across this little jewel. I'm in a kinda cynical, I'd-like-to-kick-you-in-the-balls mood right now. It is taking all self restraint to not send him a message that says "You are a tool." Here's an excerpt. Double-Click to make it bigger for easy reading (and then puking).

Vehicular Date-O-Cide

So I've been chit chatting with a guy I met online. He is smart, funny, divorced for a couple of years and (most importantly), can spell and has a full command of the English language. The other day we were talking about how queer (odd, peculiar, not gay, homosexual) it is that people post pictures of themselves in their car. One moment while I google up an example of a random online dating fool...

Easily found in approximately 0.4 sec:

Poor guy. But you know my rule...you put your shit on the web you run the risk of Penelope doing a screen shot and making fun of you.

So funny new guy sends me an email on Thursday with a picture of himself sitting in the car and the subject line read, "Before the Accident." Okay, that shit is funny, BUT I am highly competitive. I had to one up him. I sent this with the subject line of "During the Accident"...

Now THAT is some funny shit. I was in a parking lot laughing my ass off while I took the pictures. I bet there was a crowd looking out a window wondering what I was doing.

While googling fat...

I found this. David may need to join a gym and quit all the fast food.

Why assholes should not have pets

I was driving down my street and a big black lab ran out in front of me. No apparent owner was around. I stopped the car and opened the door. He ran up to me all smiling and happy. I parked my car and got out. He had a chain collar with no tag. A guy was coming out of his house across the street and I asked if it was his dog. He said no and went to knock on the house next to his. No answer. No one in the street. We started to give up when a little boy that was about 3 opened the door. The guy talked to him and asked if that was his dog. The little boy said yes and then fat dad appears. He casually says "he keeps getting out." I lead the dog up and fat dad says, "you can let him go, he will run to me." No "thank you for saving my dog". Nothing. One moment while I google fat asshole to make him into a cartoon...

I love the Internet!

Oh yeah and p.s.--what about the toddler answering the door alone? I guess "Stranger Danger" is not taught in that house!

Single Ladies Devastation

Maria at Old Navy

I don't think I have blogged about a "Maria" in a long time. We got the news that my cousin's father was dying. She flew quickly got a ticket and flew in from Hilo to be in Ocala. She had to scramble to get ready and (not to be morbid) we weren't sure how long he had to live. She mentioned she had mostly shorts and Hawaii type clothes. I ran by Old Navy and got a couple of things she could wear to the nursing home, etc. In Hilo she dresses pretty casual (like I would if I didn't work for the MAN). The cashier asked me if I needed a gift receipt. I was in that manic, tell everyone your business mode (you know you do it too). I told her "no" and explained the clothes (I thought she may wonder why I was buying smalls...) She smiled and whispered, "I just gave you 30% off." What a MARIA! Interestingly enough, if you recall, the first Maria was at the Banana.  Old Navy and Banana are owned by the same company!

Butt Blow Dry

Yesterday was voting day for the mayoral run-off. Hope I used that word right. Who gives a shit--you know what I mean. It was hot as balls and even though I had the air cranked I was sweating. I had a dress on and I was walking up to the voting room. A lady with 2 kids said, "Excuse me, ma'am?". I said, "yes?" She crumbled up her face and said, "You have a stain on the back of your dress." I was surprised and thanked her. I then whispered, "is it ...ya know?" She looked at me puzzled. I said, "blood?" (sorry to my boy readers, but it's our cross to bear...) She said, "no, go in the bathroom and look", while pointing to the bathroom with a Nancy Grace scowl on her face. I go to the bathroom and it is your typical, run-of-the-mill Florida ass/leg sweat. Dead sexy, but it happens. I thought, "I needs to vote." I deftly angled my big ass  purse over my back and went in. I was at the wrong church. I went to the Greek one when I was supposed to be at the Baptist one a block away. I decided to go around the corner to fix the STAIN. I blew my ass dry. Didn't take the dress off. Just cranked up the dryer. It was fixed in a jiffy. I was able to get to the church and vote with confidence.

As for the Nancy Grace twin--may your ass be sweaty all summer.

Something goes amiss...

This is one of the best videos I've ever seen. I took a couple of years of French and I have forgotten most of it, but I understand her. I love when "something goes amiss."

It is long but well worth it.

I totally get her!


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

Ghosts in general

I was with a Polly today driving over to Hyde Park Village. She used a road to cut through that I NEVER use. It is the road that Dillhole's house is on. I couldn't resist.I looked right as we drove by. There was a woman on the front porch arranging flowers in a pot. Geraniums. Red ones. I'm sure it was a girlfriend. It was weird. He is the one guy that I spent the best years of my ass on. Polly asked me if it bugged me. At first it didn't. I knew he was dating someone. It had been years since we we're together in a romantic sense. The more I thought about it, the more it bugged me. I don't know if I can even describe the type of "bugging me" feeling it was. He is the one guy that I put my life on hold to be with. I think it brought up anger at myself for the time I sent (therapy has taught me to refrain from using the word "wasted").

It seems like guys just compartmentalize and move on. Maybe there is a lesson there...

Ghosts of Internet Dating Past

Okay, so the other day I get a text from a number I don't recognize. It says "are you working?" I write the polite, "I'm sorry, I'm not sure who this is." They write, "is this Penelope?". I say, "who is this please?" The reply was, "Spencer."  Thanks to the technology of screen shots I can give you a play by play. I couldn't do the initial texts since it has my real name and my cover would be blown...

Commentary...he sent me an email a few weeks ago (which I promptly permanently deleted) and told me he was getting divorced (recall he is the tool that got married 5 months after we stopped dating...) I wasn't rude in my reply email, but I was cool.  Thoughts...he's looking for poonanny. He's white and I'm green in the texts. Notice his defensive tone. 

p.s. in case you are wondering...from Urban Dictionary:

Commentary...Have to put this in context for you. In his email he sent a couple of weeks ago he said he realized he married a woman that he was trying to "save." I didn't ask from what (cuz I didn't really care).

Commentary...The Punisher™

Whutever. I did not reply...

Lauryn Hill is the New Whitney Houston

I went to see Lauryn Hill last week. It was the WORST concert I have ever gone to...

let me count the ways:

1. The doors opened at 8 pm. She came onstage at 11 mutha fuckin 45 pm. It was a week night.
2. Her voice was horrible.
3. She kept telling the light guys to change things. She was bossy and unprofessional.
4. Same shit to the sound guy.
5. I know ALL her songs. I couldn't recognize most of them until they were almost done. I understand it will not sound like the cd. This was shit.

Most of all...she looked like a crack head:

How do you go from this:

To this hot mess?:

I learned a valuable lesson. There are tons of articles about how bad she is in concert these days. I could have saved 70 bucks. We left (along with many others) after 4 songs.

Her DJ was great. I wish he would have just played. I just tried to find his name. I think it was DJ Rampage. I found this comment in the Orlando paper. Apparently I was not alone in my review:

Are you kidding me with this positive review of lasts night concert? It was absolutely awful! The opening act with the brass band looked and sounded as though they just decided to go up on stage and preform since HOB knew she was running late. Horrid. Then after another hour of just waiting her DJ came out and I will admit played some good old school hip hop and reggae. After about 45 minutes of that though the crowd grew tired because of course who were we there to see…oh thats right Lauryn…and where was she….oh yeah not there. I actually saw one woman sitting in a chair sleeping waiting for this woman to grace us with her prescence. When she FINALLY did come on at MIDNIGHT she looked liked a HOT MESS and made no apologies for being late. Her voice was good…not great but this really didn’t matter since any of her songs were recognizable! They were mostly rock renditions of HIP HOP songs. People started to leave not only due to a POOR PREFORMANCE but EXHAUSTION. What a disappointment Ms. Hill!

Reply

Is Confidence in Women Cultural?

Sulie and I went to see Lauryn Hill at the House of Blues last week. I used to LOVE her. She now resembles Whitney Houston. That's another post. This one is about body image.

Penelope Disclaimer: I am making observations. This is in no way meant to be racist.

I noticed that all of the black women at the concert were working it. It did not matter what size or shape. They stood tall and were proud. There were no slumped shoulders. Everyone was smiling. I wondered if they measured their food, stared at the scale or berated themselves when they looked in the mirror. I don't think so. Sulie said she thought it was cultural. I wonder if there is a different message given to little girls. One that instilled more confidence. 

I am not the only one that thinks it. I just Googled it and look at the hits:

The Vortex of YouTube

Have you ever gotten stuck in it? You start with one video that was sent to you. Then you hit related videos. The you click on most popular. It's like hitting a crack pipe. 2 hours later you've seen and heard  "Charlie Bit My Finger", "If he's a gonna come in here and kick my ask", and numerous puppy videos. Just in case you don't know what I'm talking about:

How did they teach this kid the accent?

I said, I'ma gonna kick his ask...

Online Dating Hell Part 1 (From a woman's perspective)

Online Dating Hell Part 1 (From a guy's perspective)

I made this little video. I thought it would be funny to do a series about online dating.  It is my first try. I will keep at it.

The website is pretty cool : /www.xtranormal.com

Shit on a Do-Si-Dos

You know them--the Girl Scout cookies that are better than Nutter Butters? I just had a personal intervention. I threw the box into the trash. Emptied the cookies in with all the skank and THEN I put cat shit from the box on top. There is no way I can get to them now...

They don't look like Girl Scouts...

Bedroom as a symbol of relationship

I was watching In the bedroom with Dr. Laura Berman. She helps couples deal with relationship/sex issues. It can be entertaining, sad and/or quite funny. She always goes and looks at the bedroom. She says the couple's bedroom is a symbol of their relationship. There are couples that let their kids sleep with them. Some that one will sleep in the bed while the other is on the coach. The rooms can be totally messy or not decorated. I really thought LB was onto something...

It made me think back to bedrooms that I've shared with boys/men.

• College boyfriend: We had a blow up beach ball of a globe hanging from the ceiling, a second hand dresser, a double bed on the floor with a view of the parking lot. It was a loft, so it was cute. 
• G: We lived in a few places. I remember the rooms always being nest with the typical bed, night stands, and pictures.
• Bald Headed Bastard: It was his bedroom set. An ugly ass modern kinda Scan Design looking thing. It was sterile. And boring. 
• Husband #1 The Duke of Narciss: It was my bedroom set that was kinda girlie but we were poor. We lived on the beach and had a view of the Gulf. 
• Husband #2 Cheating Mutha Fucka: Really nice. Beautiful wood floors, sitting area, pretty furniture, kick ass lamps and I always had sassy bedding.

First, I would like to observe that I have shacked up quite a bit! But I digress. I don't agree with Dr. Laura Berman. My sassiest bedroom was violated by a Vietnamese 'ho. The happiest, sanest relationships were in apartments with rooms that weren't anything fabulous. It has to do with the people in the relationship.

WiFi Names

My friend in Seattle was searching for a Wifi and look what she found:

Big=Good
Floppy=Not Good
Donkey=Not Good
Dick=Good

It's Girl Scout Cookie Time!

As I walked into Publix today I heard the sweet little voice saying, "Would you like you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?" I gotta do it again...one of my faves:

Blog Celibacy

This is the longest I've gone without blogging so far. I still have all the stuff in my head. As I fall asleep I think, "I need to write about that." I have a bunch of emails to myself with subjects and titles. I'll get back to it. 

The Glades, Antecedents and Chemistry...

Oh my!

This is such a crazy dating story that I am not sure typing it out gives it justice. I would video this post, but I've been really sick (i.e.minimal hygiene has been going on). Here goes:

Started talking to a guy via email that I met online. He is my age, single, said (key word said) he was an attorney, 6'4" (always a plus) and seemed very intelligent in his messages. We agreed to meet for drinks. I have a rule. I don't give my number out. I see no reason for talking on the phone. This is why:

1. I don't want them to have my number if they turn out to be a psycho (think Craigslist Killer).
2. I've talked on the phone with guys before. They seem funny and smart. I get to the date and they are either 20 lbs heavier or with breath that singed my nose hairs (or both).
3. I prefer 20 minutes at Starbucks or a fast drink. Nothing out of my way and I see it as a way to hone my dating and limit setting skills.

Day before we are supposed to meet, Jeff (real name because ASSHOLES get to keep their real names), sends me his phone number and asks for mine. I send him my standard reply--I don't give out my number, thanks for understanding, blah, blah. He writes back that the fact I will not give out my number sends him a red flag. Oh NO!--don't you dare use red flag on me! His message is kinda funny and he outlined 4 hypothetical scenarios as to why I may be reluctant to give out my number. They range from-- I am not who I say I am, to I am a nice woman that is a bit gun shy. There was one where he made reference to the fact that with his position he surrounds himself with quality people. He suggests I do *67 and block my number. I decided to call him (gut told me not to. always go with the gut...). I use my work Blackberry and blocked the number. Our call goes okay and he is pretty funny. We agree to meet the next night at 5 (he has a charity event after...or so he says). He does let me know in roundabout ways that he is very successful at what he does. Ew.

I get to the place a few minutes early. It was Cerviche for the Tampa folks that want to visualize the scene of the crime. I sit at the bar and order a water. In walks a really tall guy. He looks at me and smiles. He comes over and does the hug thing. Not a fan. I feel like it is a boob feel/smell you/too invasive thing to do on a first meeting. He knows the bartender by name, "Mike, I'd like a dirty martini..." Ew. He then haggles over which brand and then settles on the house gin that probably comes in a plastic bottle (you can take the bartender out of the bar, but you can't take the bartender out of the girl. Or something like that). We start to talk. He looks at me and says, "you look much more fit than I imagined." My mind races with possible responses:

1. Actually, you look much worse than I imagined. Do you own an iron or know about something called the dry cleaners?
2. Thanks
3. Fuck you

I opt for just a vague smile and say I do Pilates. He starts to tell me how he is an appellate attorney and how perceptive he is about body language. I nod my head and wonder how quickly I can down my drink. For some reason he starts to tell me about a trip to the "Glades". Using the term "Glades" instead of The Everglades is similar to tourists calling San Francisco- "Frisco" or Atlanta- "HotLanta". Ew. He goes into a story how he was with his buddies and he was swimming in a creek  in the "Glades." Suddenly a 12 footer [alligator] is swimming towards him.  He pompously tells me that gators are afraid of people and this one was obviously a problem. He said he kept swimming towards the "12 footer" and suddenly the gator drops under the surface of the water. Jeff said he kept swimming to the other side without knowing if the gator had left or was underneath him. He tells me that gators eat people once they reach 10 feet. I make my eyes wide and nod as I have my straw crammed in my mouth sucking up much needed alcohol. This dildo never asked me where I was from. He then says he and his buddies knew they needed to "take care" of this problem gator. He says that they formed a lasso out of rope. One guy threw the lasso in the water while another threw bread in front of the loop.  The alligator went for the bread and by doing so went through the loop of the lasso. The guys tighten the lasso and wrestled the gator to the creek edge. At that point Jeff said he took a fishing spear and killed the gator. He tells his story and looks at me for approval. I said, remember when you told me you are really perceptive? I point my index finger at my face and circle it a few times. I say, "tell me what my face reads right now?" He says, "disbelief?" I smile and say, "Bingo!" I said, you never asked me where I'm from. I am born and raised in Florida. For the first 11 years of my life I lived on a creek that was full of alligators. I was raised by a major outdoorsmen and shot my first gun at 7. "So no, I don't believe you." He then asked which part of the story did I find hardest to believe. I said I wondered about the rope being positioned perfectly and time and buoyancy would have to come into play. He replies, (and I shit you not), "Really, I figured killing the gator with the spear was harder to believe." He then said, "what can I do to get you to believe it?" I asked if there was a picture.  He said no. I then said, "I'm really not that invested in the story to care if it is true or not." I tilt my wrist to check the time. It is only 5:15. Ugh...how do I leave?

He then tells me he made dinner for a woman last night at his condo. Plank salmon. He had brought this up on the phone too. I commented that they must have been on several dates if she is going over to his place. He said he's made dinner for her several times and smiles. I said, "are you sleeping with her?" He replied, "yes." I told him I was confused because he said he was interested in a long term, monogamous relationship. He said that was true. He said he and the woman had chemistry, but knew they didn't have the potential to be a couple. I asked if she knew he was dating. He said yes and she was too. Ew. He then goes on to talk about dating in your 40's. I made the comment that with life experience everyone has their stuff and it is all how one deals with it. Do they stay stuck or move on? He stares at me and says, "I don't understand what you are saying." I repeat myself and say, "Some folks have baggage/issues/stuff. It is all how one deals with it that can impact future relationships." He then says, "Stuff is a pronoun. I need an antecedent." PEOPLE, I CAN NOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP!!!

antecedent |ˌantəˈsēdnt|nouna thing or event that existed before or logically precedes another : someantecedents to the African novel might exist in Africa's oral traditions.• ( antecedents) a person's ancestors or family and social background : her early life and antecedents have been traced.• Grammar a word, phrase, clause, or sentence to which another word (esp. a following relative pronoun) refers.• Logic the statement contained in the “if” clause of a conditional proposition.• Mathematics the first term in a ratio.adjectivepreceding in time or order; previous or preexisting : the antecedent events that prompt you to break a diet.• denoting a grammatical antecedent.

First, my mind scrambled...antecedent. It's one of those words you kinda know, but no normal person uses it in conversation. I figured it out by the context. I then said, "Stuff means baggage. Here's a prime example, a woman gets cheated on. Trust is breached. She puts a wall up. In her next relationship she has to decide if she proceeds as if all men are cheaters or be open to trusting again." Again, the freakish stare and "I don't understand. You speak in colloquialisms."  At this point I am looking for a rusty fork to impale myself on. I said, "that's interesting, I feel like I am articulate and people seldom ask me to repeat myself. I may use modern language and slang, but I use it in ways to get my point across."  Then I said, how about this, "Woman finds out husband is fucking someone else. She is pissed. Doesn't trust. It is up to her how she deals with the fact that she worries all men will fuck around. Does that make sense?" Blank stare.

I then dig out my valet ticket and tip for the driver. He says, "Oh, I'll get this. " I told him, "this is for the valet." He then tells me he will wait for me because the valet takes forever and he parked on the street. Now for the Pièce de résistance:

Envision me on left bar stool. He is on my right. My legs are practically straight to the bar (as in you gross me out and I am not turning towards you). He puts his left  hand on my right leg and squeezes and then slides up towards my hooey. I squeal and smack his hand. He then cocks his head to the right, gently brushes my hair to the side and leans in for a kiss! I physically recoil and say, "Oh no, you're not trying to kiss me!" He looks like I slapped him and says, "I thought we had chemistry." I said, "First, I don't make out in restaurants!", he replies, "this is a lounge." I then said, "More importantly, I don't kiss guys that slept with someone the night before or possibly today AND WE DON'T HAVE CHEMISTRY!!!!" He then says, "I need to go." I go out and hand my ticket to the valet. Jeff shakes my hand and tells me "good luck." I kinda laugh and say, "you too."  He walked really slow to his car. The valet did take forever. I got to see him get into a really old Jeep Cherokee and drive away.

There is no way I can make this shit up.

ps my friend that is an attorney could not find him anywhere on the law sites...