Sunday, December 28, 2008


Why the deuce don't you love me?

Aaaargh.
I cannot be that bitter tard who complains about getting older while maintaining a perpetual singleton status.

But come the fuck on!

Every dude I meet is either in a relationship or contemplating screwing one of my friends.

What is so awful about me?
The ladies like me.
Here I go tooting my own horn, but, yeah, the ladies like me a lot.
I could be a seriously busy lesbian.

But I am not.

I choose the dudes.
Sorry ladies...don't mean to break those hearts but a butterfly has got to fly, ya' know?

So my mom has this theory.
And of course she's my mom so she might be a bit biased...but I like her story and I am fucking sticking to it.

Mom thinks I am just too smart for most bros.
That's the kind of rationale I can get down with.

So here is my challenge for the day...

If you own a pair of gonads and think you are up to it...
give a sista' a call.

I promise scintillating, mentally challenging convo and, if you play your cards right, a possible nip slip.

Oh yeah, boobs.

I have those.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 2:22 PM
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Friday, December 26, 2008


Tis' the season for well-wishings and all that garbage.
But I am here to remind you that things still blow heartily.

oh crap..did I just say that?

Yeah, consider me the beckoner of un-joyous things.

I have scores of grievances that just leave me appalled...ala' the fatuity of cheer accompanying the season.

2008 sucked hardcore.
Even those who weren't affected economically must admit that the past year had little in the way of good tidings.

A few examples...

1. George W. reigned supreme (oh, and on a not-so-side note, we are still occupying Iraq)
2. The economy earned a top grade in FAIL!!
3. Paul Newman died, thereby rendering my list of top two (holla' Marlon Brando!) stars I would totally fuck in their heyday, down to zero.
4. I have a herniated disk---probably not on your list of fuckage, but this is my rant..so---go bob an apple or something.

Point is, I have neglected this blog.

So sue me.

I promise that on January first I will write something relevant...

Who am I kidding?
Probably not as much relevant as acerbic and mean spirited.

Until then, get your nog on.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 3:29 PM
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Saturday, December 13, 2008


Shit, my family is weird.

Today was my nieces' birthday celebration.
Much love, Nico and Lena!

And my dad and step-mom flew into town to join in on the festivities.

Much fun was had.
We read books, made yarn-balls (yup! I was a straight up girl gone wild with the crafts today), and played dress-up...the usual.

PAR-TAY!!!

So my pop and I are kickin' back in the big people room talking current events and family stuff when he informs me that my brother recently got married.
Wait. What?

I like to think that I am close with my family.

Sure I dodge a call here and there when I just can't take the inevitable barrage of questions...i.e. "What are you doing with your life", "What happened to the last guy you were dating", "Are you eating enough", and, oh, my fave.."Should we be concerned"?

But I keep in touch.

My brother lives in Nicaragua, so it's feasible that distance just got the better of us.

But MARRIED?

That's kind of a big announcement.

So I am assuming there is only one reason that Michael (and, Mike, if you are reading...congrats and call me immediately) neglected to tell me the news.
You are worried I won't approve.

Pisshah!

I learned for the first time today that you are fluent in Spanish.
How did I not know that?
Color me impressed.

Then I learned you were married.
Color me confused.

I love you bro.
Reach out and touch someone.

So, after having my mind completely fucked, My mom and I take our leave.

I couldn't shut up about Michael and his new bride.

My mom looks at me and asks, "Are you feeling the pressure"?

I had to take a moment before I realized, excommunicated though they may be, my parents are, for all intents and purposes, still stalwart Catholics.

And I am their spinster daughter.

Thanks Michael and Mehera.
For making me look bad since 1977.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 7:12 PM
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Tuesday, December 9, 2008


Mama has a new job.

I know I should be hallelujah'ing, but it's not like I am movin' on up.

I had to go to TJ Maxx today to find an undershirt that would magically transform my new work shirt into something less than a one-woman burlesque show.
Whoever decided that a form-fitting, transparent, poly/lycra blend was appropriate for daytime wear is clearly a sadist...
or, well...a straight man.

I'm not exactly complaining.

I mean, it's Christmas. I keep seeing softly lit commercials with the faintest twinkling of bells and voice overs of people talking about their loved ones followed by the ubiquitous ad-spot for jewelry, toys, McNuggets...ya'know, all proofs of love, Capitalist style.

I would love to go shopping.

Wait. Let me reiterate.

I am the rare woman that detests Sex and the City (go on haters, bring it!), loathes fruity drinks (folks, that splash of cran is just there to fool you into thinking I am a lady), and HATES shopping.

I would just love to be able to have that disposable income.
And let's face it...If you are buying somebody an ear-muffler/sock set, chances are you have money to throw away.

Yeah, we are in a recession.
I am feeling it.
You are probably feeling it.

If you had the foresight to make your chosen field that of a doctor, a pharmaceutical sales rep., or a real-estate agent dealing in foreclosures, than YOU are only feeling the aftertaste of champagne wishes and caviar dreams.

Good for you.
And Merry Christmas to yours!

As it stands, I have this romantic vision of Christmas...sugar-plum fairies and all.

We might not have had a lot of money growing up but my parents were damn good at fostering dreams.

So. Here I am...When my mother was my age she already had three children and more than a few Christmas' under her belt.
As much as I am bothered by the actuality of the season, I am heartened by the intent my parents' gave it.

It's all about surrounding yourself with the people you love.

I mean, if I was on the dole and had one stick of government cheese left, sure as shootin', I'd pick up some complimentary toothpicks from the Whole Foods and make a ghetto deli platter to celebrate the occasion.

Looks like I am about to be able to afford my own cheese.*

*(But it really is about surrounding yourself with the people you love. And the cheese you love. Stay away from my cheese, good for nothing scoundrels!)

I'm Yosemite Sam!

Merry Christmas!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:59 PM
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Saturday, December 6, 2008


I have moved around a lot.

I suppose some of the times the destinations have been legit.
Parents divorce, I moved to a state with a lower cost of living, I went to college...blah, blah...natural progression.

But the majority of my moves were solely based on fanciful impetus.
Here are some of the major reasons I have abruptly left one state for another:

My friend slammed my head into a car door and I was so pissed I decided to ditch town.
I really liked a song about the place.
My out-of-state friend was lonely and swore we'd be the prettiest girls there..

The list goes on.

Along the way I have made some friends, joined a few circles, and vagabonded my way out of dodge.

Every once in a while a person from my past suddenly materializes and we end up engaging in some stilted rehash of our past, regardless of how little time we actually spent together.

This used to happen often via myspace when I used my real name.
It always made me feel awkward when I would get a friend request from someone I barely remembered or someone I outright disliked.

Long story short, I dropped that account.
Now both my myspace and facebook accounts are under pseudonyms.
The people I talk to on there are actual friends.

So, imagine my dismay when I was walking to the store the other day and ran into a girl who grew up right down the street from me.

One in a million chance here, as I grew up in South Carolina and now live almost 1000 miles away.

I also rejected her as a friend on aforementioned legitimate, now defunct, myspace page.

Uncomfortable!

I'm not an asshole.
I just always found this girl unbearably boring.

You know those types who have absolutely no opinion about anything. They never make a joke. If you go out with them they cling to you like so much saran wrap.

Imagine this scenario...
You go to a movie.
Afterwards, as so often happens upon exit, you give the show your own review.
Something like,
"Wow, those special effects were so sub-par. Talk about suspension of disbelief! And that story line must have been written by a fifth-grader. I mean why did all the women from planet Zortron look exactly like Victoria Secret models? And do you really believe that Liv Tyler would end up with Steve Buscemi?".

And boring friend opines, "Yeah".

Period.

So, I am standing outside the store just trying to think of things to say.
I am asking open-ended questions, attempting to get an ounce of reciprocation from a clearly dead horse.
I was so bored I could have taken a nap right there on the curb.

Talk about "blanket" statements! Oh, I am bad!

It maybe lasted five minutes but felt like mother-effin forever...so I did what I had to do...

I pretended I had an appointment and gave her my number, promising to "catch up".

Dear lord.
Please don't punish me for giving out false digits.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 11:17 PM
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Some friends accused me last week of referencing my age too much. Or, rather, that I often complain about getting old.

Let me defend myself a little here.
I know I am ,by no means, old.

When I talk about getting older, it's usually in relation to the fact that most of my friends are younger than me.

All of my friends are extremely bright. Stupid people bore the hell out of me (take note, Anne Coulter).

And I know that wisdom is not directionally proportionate to the length of one's tooth.

It does seem ,however, that while the majority of my contemporaries, as well as my younger friends, had their shit figured out by twenty-five, I am still floundering.

I have been applying to jobs that pay the equivalent of what I was getting paid when I was fourteen and working at McDonalds (and yes, I know, evil empire....but before you scoff, I was underage, had an in, and a burning desire to afford a car by the time I was legal. I really wanted out of the styx).

Point is, I just feel too old for the same old dead-end job.

Of course, I majored in Creative Writing, so I might just be one of those people who floats through a banal existence only to get published and lauded posthumously.

I mean, I do actually write (I mean besides this little baby girl).

But I can't seem to figure out what to do about it.
It is sooo hard to get published.
Especially if you are unmotivated.
Ahem, not that that's me. Motivation and laziness are totally different animals.

Aside from all my whining about my lame path at the moment, I am also plagued by my body's reaction to aging.

Nobody can guess my age and I get carded all the time (though I think a lot of bartenders do that to up their tips...especially considering that there are ones who do this repeatedly, probably as a reaction to my emphatic, "Oh yes! You may".

I think my main problem is that I have no desire to become a workaday adult...A clock-puncher.
And because my daily life is so monotonous, I spend every free moment searching out fun.
Perhaps more often than I did when I was half my age.

You may ask (though probably not) where this coming from?

Well, I have been laid out in bed for three days straight, unable to move.
It blows. My body has betrayed me for my youthful escapades.

I have had a bad back since I was in high school.
I ran a lot. Up and down mountains.
That will fuck up your alignment as much as Boss Hog's after chasing the General Lee over a ravine.

So because it has been Holiday season, friends have come into town...and those who are already here had time off.
And because I have been a veritable hermit since I quit my job, I decide to cram three months worth of shenanigans into two weeks.

My back went out on Thanksgiving.

It does it a few times of year and usually with no apparent trigger.

This time, I blamed it on the mattress I slept on.
Usually, I take it easy and recover after a few days.

But because I am a fool for fun, I figure why not just worry about it later?

I am so grown up.

Needless to say, I went out dancing (and in pain) every single night after I killed my back.
Up until three days ago.
It was then that I tried to get out of bed and ended up screaming so loud I worried the neighbors would call in a domestic violence report.

I just cannot reconcile my body's limitations with my need to eat life for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

I am totally going to be the old lady on the dance floor when I am seventy.
Only I will be wearing my bling in the form of one of those medical alert necklaces.
You know...the ones you push when you have fallen and can't get up?

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:02 PM
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Tuesday, December 2, 2008


I talk.
A lot.
It's kind of my thing.

I like to keep it light and airy for the most part.
But I am pissed as all get-out and this is as close to a diary as I have so... here goes.

What the fuck is wrong with the giant cock-tards bombing the hell out of India?
I get it...sort of.
You are extremists and, therefore, every move you make is a calculated attempt at getting attention.

Why bomb a factory making capitalist-friendly goods when you can bomb a hospital?

That will certainly earn you a place on the nightly news.

I try to avoid politics on this blog as much as possible because I tend to think of it's format as an enjoyable alternative to the suck-fest that is life.
But I have way too many family and friends in India to just remain silent.

I am no Tom Brokaw, nor do I purport to be.
That said, I know what I know... as a human being with a conscience.

Of all the people in the world to target, these industrial sized ass-hats choose the people of Bombay?

I'm going to get a little personal here, as I have some history with the region.

I have never encountered a more lovely, loving, spiritual, and completely centered people.

My love and prayers go out to you, India.

The dick-faces responsible for your suffering are sure to endure a world of hurt considering the folks they are messing with.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:33 PM
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Sunday, November 30, 2008


Man oh man.

Do you remember when you were young and it was Christmas eve and you couldn't get to sleep because of the promise of shiny new toys awaiting you outside your bedroom door?
And then Christmas morning would come and for an hour or so, you were on top of the world.
And then Christmas night would dawn and you would lie in bed wondering where all the merriment went?

I hate the holidays.

I feel like we use them as a marker for our slow march towards death.

Thanksgiving was a few days ago.
It's a holiday I'm not really jiggy with at all.

Hey! Let's celebrate the raping of this great land of ours! With mashed potatoes! And dead birds!

I mean, thanks, Columbus.
Or was it Amerigo Vespucci?
All depends on your sixth grade teacher's account of "history", I suppose.

That said, I am lucky enough to have spent face time with family and friends.
And for that I am indeed thankful.

But holidays inevitably lead me to think about what exactly I was doing on said previous holiday.

Okay.
Last year at Thanksgiving I had a steady boyfriend.
Um, sucks that I don't now, but, honestly, I can give thanks that he's officially curb material.

I also had a full-time job.
Sucks that I don't now, but...
Yeah. That one still stings.

My sister was pregnant.
Uncomfortable for her.
Not so much me, really.
But I have a brand new member of the family.
And she rules! (but then, she is an Aquarius...so it goes without saying)

One of my B.F.F.'s had yet to take root elsewhere.
I miss you, banana!

But some of my friends have returned.
Thankful scores another!

I am bothered by so many elements of the whole holiday concept.

As soon as Halloween was over, all the fucking radio stations started playing Christmas music in heavy rotation.

Are you kidding?

Who bops along to Silver Bells when driving down the street?

I see you bobbin' yo' head...cause' those bells be a' jinglin'

For real?

There are maybe three Christmas songs I enjoy.
But only ONE time every 36 hours, please.

I'm getting off course here, but Jesus. (I meant that as an expletive. I wasn't naming him as the reason for the season)

Can't we just fast forward to New Years Eve.
Drinks, debauchery, making out with random strangers....that's a holiday I can get down with.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:43 PM
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Wednesday, November 26, 2008


It's certainly not bringing any boys to the yard.

I went out with a friend last night who, as of late, is making all the men swoon.
Of course, she has a boyfriend, so all the attention is moot.

Meanwhile, I am desperately single and ready to get my lovin' on.

What the hell.

Everytime I have a man in my life I am constantly hit on.

It's like some serpent eating it's own tail affair.
One can't win.

So if I need a man in order to get a man, I might as well just settle, yeah?
Attention all balding, overweight, middle-aged, acne pocked men with self-esteem issues:
I'm available!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 7:02 PM
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Tuesday, November 25, 2008


I woke up late today.

This is good, as I have been a straight-up insomniac lately.
That said, the days are short, the sun is all but a memory, and it's frigid.

I swear I had to summon up my internal jaws of life in order to just get the fuck out of bed.
I figured I had exactly two hours before darkness dawned.

Sure it was sprinkling, nee, pouring...but it was relatively temperate considering the arctic blast that has been the mainstay over our region this past week.

So, I decided to take a walk.

People, my walks are not cute little jaunts around the hood.
My walks are exodus-style journeys.

My poor dog.

It's storming and i am dragging my pooch all over Providence.
She looked like a key character in Watership Down.
And I was the scary fuhrer at her lead.

So I am two hours into my walk when my dog refuses to move.

When I first procured the lovely Ms.Sheena, she was but a baby.
8 months old.

At the time I was living in North Carolina (Holla atcha Ashevegas!).
I spent my spare time hiking.
And I had ALOT of spare time.

I would take Sheena up on the trails with me and she would poop out after an hour or two of our uphill climbs.

I inevitably would have to carry my sweet little bundle of fur down the mountain.

But she's now eight and her time with me has been pretty predictable.

My dog is the most exercised dog on the block.

So I was not at all pleased when, two miles from home, I had to pick up a soggy mass of stink and carry it all the way home.

I was singing a new version of Manilow's Mandy all the way to the homestead.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 6:37 PM
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Monday, November 24, 2008


I have a wickedly talented friend who has recently designed a line of t-shirts.

Friends, I limit the usage of my signature tag line to the few things worthy of it...but I will go ahead and say this,
Debbie Allen's tees are phunky phresh.
That's right, you heard it from Krunky Brewster first.

(For all of you scratching your heads, that's my breakin' name)

So Debs enlisted a few of her friends to model her shirts in order to pump up her look-book.

I was on board because:
a) I'm a ham
b) I honestly have nothing better to do
c) FREE AWESOME T-SHIRT!!!

I'm not harboring any delusions of grandeur.
I know I am no Giselle (even Giselle's not Giselle, but rather a space alien cloaked in humanoid skin), but I like to think I am easy on the eyes.
Dear god, either I have been fooling myself or the camera HATES me.

I do not like having my picture taken.
I am always the one with her head turned or down.
I know it sounds silly, but I feel like I am grandstanding if I actually pose for a picture.

I mean, every time somebody tells me I have pretty eyes, I can no longer look them in the face.
It feels like bragging.
Like, "Damn straight! Look at these superior orbs!"

In other words, I make a terrible model.

I walk around everyday using my face.
I eat, I breathe, I smile, I grimace (oooh, do I grimace!).

But put a camera in front of me and I am a one-trick pony.

My go to face says "Do I smell a fart"?

Tyra and crew would have a field day with me.

Add modeling as one less option in my search for gainful employment.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:02 PM
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Tuesday, November 18, 2008


I am allergic to gluten.

Every time I eat wheat I develop a cough that sounds like a malfunctioning steam engine.
It's not at all appealing.

And, unfortunately, gluten is in everything.
I dare you.
Take out a few containers of food from your fridge or your cabinet and there she is.

Evil bitch is in more food than Will Smith is in movies.

So it makes for a serious quest when I am searching for a suitable meal.
I like esses!

I just got back from staying at a friend's house.
Much love, sugar biscuit!

And due to the aforementioned omnipresence of my gastronomic nemesis, I was left few choices.

Fruit, blah.
Vegetables, blaher.

When I snack, I like to make it count.

Then I see them.
Lit by what could only have been the halo of the gods (or at least a built in shelving bulb) were my beloved cheese cracker of choice---Cheez-Its.

I cracked.
I was in the midst of culinary delight for the briefest of melancholy moments, for I knew tomorrow I would suffer the injustice of bronchitis.

I'm still not sure if a moment of pleasure was worth the gluten-induced huffiness I endured on my walk the following day.

I do know that when (or, I suppose, if) I end up sentenced to the electric chair and the death waiter comes to take the order for my final meal, I will already have a menu in mind.

I will calmly request a freshly baked loaf of bread (with a side of cashew butter), a white pizza, a heaping plate of pasta, and an economy size box of Cheez-its.

It will be, from now on, the best day of my life.

Until the inevitable after party in hell.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:31 PM
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Friday, November 14, 2008


I have been waxing lunatic lately.
Seriously, I eat a box of looney-tunes for breakfast each morning.

Those who don't follow this blog regularly may not know that I quit my job just in time for the worst economic collapse in American history.

Oh, yes I did!

So I have made finding a new place of employment my full time job.

Nobody will throw me a bone.

I honestly don't get it.
I am way over-qualified for most of the meager positions I apply to.
And consider my horn tooted, but I am damn personable.
I can rock an interview like AC/DC rocked a seventies era concert hall.

And yet, by noon today, I had sent my resume out to 3 different prospective employers and got back exactly 3 rejections.

I wanna' be done with the food industry.
I really do.

Nothing is sadder than a career waitress.

Shit, there is this one pizza delivery guy who frequents my place and must be pushing sixty who, if humanity has a heart, must be making bank...'cause "there but for the grace of god"...

That kind of decrepitude earns big tips.

So today I went to my mom's in order to "borrow" some dinner and was all kinds of confused.

I went on another of my epic walks and returned at a quarter to 7.

I could have sworn I left at 4.
I judged my time by the show she was watching before I left.

I remember distinctly because Beyonce was on.
I was like, "Mom, since when are you into Beyonce"?

She said something along the lines of, "Ah, not so much. But she's on Oprah"
You know women of a certain age group love the big O (no judging!).

So when I got home and pilfered her fridge I asked about Beyonce's performance.

Mom said, "That was yesterday".

Holy mother of hell.
I have lost track of time.

I need something to do.

Bartender, I'd like some milk with my looney-tunes!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 8:07 PM
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Thursday, November 13, 2008


I am once again pissed off at my computer.

Many of you know my problems with mac have been frustratingly frequent.

A few days ago my firefox went haywire so I have been using the wildly inferior Safari browser.
And every time I want to look something up that I know I have looked up like, a million times before, I have to type the whole damn thing in.

Now, I am by no means fluent in computer terminology, but isn't that called enabling cookies?
I cannot for the life of me figure out how to do it.

And I cannot bring myself to go to the apple store yet again, because I'm sure they have started to think me some feeble-minded putz.

I have too much pride to drag my ass into that shame spiral.

And, oh lordy, please do NOT get me started on Itunes.
I can't afford a fancy Ipod. No, I have a faux-pod.
And because apple has such a monopoly on music sharing, I am unable to get my music onto my crappy Mp3 player.
So, when I want to rock out at the gym I am forced to listen to f.m. radio.

Heavens to murgatroid! Contemporary pop sucks a fat one.

There's this new media darling, Katy Perry, who just gets my goat.
She kissed a girl. Big deal. What self-respecting woman hasn't experimented a little.


Wow, you are soooo counter-culture.


So today I heard her new hit.
I'm not sure what it's called, but suffice it to say, it blows meteor-sized chunks.

The refrain has this clever bon mot..."You change your mind like a girl changes clothes".

Ummmmm, since when did girls corner the market on changing clothes?
What kind of stinky-ass dudes are you hanging with?

Some stupid magazine I was reading dubbed this bitch "America's next pop goddess".

Well, if that's true, consider me a heretic.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 3:37 PM
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Tuesday, November 11, 2008


It has happened to me.

I'm as excited as Jessie Spano when she got her hands on some no-doz and a unitard...

witness my missed connection here...

http://providence.craigslist.org/mis/910790558.html

Thanks, Michael.

Yeah, I know it's a fake. But it's nice to know my friends care enough to falsify an internet listing in order to qualm my supreme bouts of insecurity.

Much love!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 3:18 PM
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Monday, November 10, 2008


If you abbreviate it, you get P.D.P.

It's also the group whose mix-master extraordinaire, one Mr. Dox, got me actin' a fool up on the dance floor at the Local 121 Saturday night.
I must say, I got down in a bad way.

When I say bad, I mean I was throwing out moves like the robot, the shopping cart, and, god forbid, the fishing line.

I know a lot of people don't know the technicalities behind most of these moves (besides the regrettable robot) because I have made them up, Paula Abdul-style, as well as having given them their respective monikers.
I like to think I can dance.

I have seen extensive wedding video footage proving just the opposite.

But hell. I like to dance.

I just cannot shake my fury for the funk.

And my propers go out to all those who had to be within three feet of me on the dance floor because I was sweating so hard I could have been the before pic in an Arid Clinical Strength photo shoot...or an extra on Titanic...after the ship has sunk.

Holy hell, I was drenched.

I swear, I never sweat.
My pores are like a miracle of science.

My friends who have gone on a run or to the gym with me can back me up (please back me up).

But something about hitting the dance floor and getting jiggy turns me into a fountain of perspiration.
i think it must have to do with the pure pleasure of moving around wildly on account of delicious beats. One loses time until the bartender shouts last call and you realize you have been shaking your shit for six hours straight.

I was glistening like Richard Simmons when I finally left the joint.

I have to once again give my stamp of approval for the boys of the P.D.P., for their skills are admirable in that they got a relatively gland-less wonder like me to produce enough moisture to irrigate a small African village.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:44 PM
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Saturday, November 8, 2008


So my friend is in town visiting.

We went out for a late night soiree (classy, right)?

After the festivities had died down and we had gotten our cardio via funkin' it up on the dance floor, we head to the 7-11 to replenish our resources. My late night snack of choice is corn nuts.

I do love corn nuts. Mmmmm, barbecue, thank you!

As I put my bag on the counter, a well dressed, seemingly sober, and, quite frankly, fairly decent looking dude, turns and asks if he can pay for my purchase.

I am thinking, wow... what an upstanding gentleman. Chivalry is not dead!

My bafflement was evidenced in the form of shocked silence whose void he quickly filled with an addendum...

"All you have to do is suck my cock".

What?

A bag of fried corn kernels for my virtue (not to mention outright professional skills, bitches).

I was so taken aback that I had to walk away and tell my friend.
Visibly livid, she confronted him.

"What the fucks?!" followed as she let out a torrent of rage much to the obvious shock of the clerk.

After the assbag made his exit, the clerk apologized, head hung in shame.

I'm sure he must have felt emasculated.

I know the economy is horrific right now and that any stable employment is hard to come by, but come on!

The customer is not always right.

Especially when he is a fucking pile of misogynistic stool.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 7:46 AM
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Wednesday, November 5, 2008


It's about mother-fuckin' time!

I swear to god, I was walking with a spring in my step today.

I was smiling at strangers, filled with admiration for my fellow man, and just generally enjoying this new day.

No lies, I was concerned because the polling place was empty when I went to cast my ballot.

And Florida had me freaked for a hot minute, but then Florida always has me freaked.
My Floridian friends know how I feel about the state, but you guys pulled through in the clutch, so thank you.

Hell, I am positively on the verge of tears just writing this.

Obama, '08!!!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 4:55 PM
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Tuesday, November 4, 2008


Today has just been craptastic.

I went to vote but apparently I was the only one.

I swear to god, during the primaries, it was standing room only. And today I could have said "Obama '08" in a whisper and gotten it back ala' echo.

I'm starting to freak out.

Mainly because I have decided, whole-heartedly, to make good on my plan of getting the fuck out of the U.S. if this election doesn't go my way.

Land-ho! Antarctica!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 12:20 PM
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Monday, November 3, 2008


Yesterday I was at the gym, just trying to chase away the doldrums.

I brought along my latest issue of Blender (which featured the reprehensible media sensation Katy Perry) to read while I attempted to forget my decline into poverty.

I was happy to find an exclusive with Chrissie Hynde, whom I have always admired.
She was going on and on about her recent return to Ohio, her burgeoning community activism in said state, when the reporter asked her about her thoughts on the upcoming election.

Her response was priceless.

She'd rather "vomit and lick it up" than talk politics.

I'm on board with that!


Can we just get this election over with already?

But then Chrissie said something that troubled me.
She swore allegiance to Obama but declared that he would never win.
She claimed she "knew her people" i.e. the people of Ohio, a key swing state.

I might be a perpetual Pollyanna wearing rose-colored glasses, but seriously, I find it impossible to believe that any person owning a fully-functioning cerebral cortex would vote for anyone other than Obama.

I am positively stymied when I walk past a car with a bumper sticker celebrating the McCain/Palin ticket.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

I got home today to find this sweet little youtube nugget.

Palin, you are owned!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4aHL12vtEM&feature=related

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 6:24 PM
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Saturday, November 1, 2008


Yeah..
Not much new here. But I am supersticious and felt I had to say it aloud.

Yesterday was Halloween and, like every single other holiday ever, I was sick.

The majority of those reading this blog know me personally.

Can you remember some kind of holiday-related festivity when I was not under the weather?

It's as if my immune system detests parties.

So, I had a rad costume ( I know it was rad because I tested it out on the audience at "The Friends of Brown St. Park" get-together yesterday afternoon, to much acclaim) and a few parties to hit when I came down with a serious bout of "I feel like ass".

So, I bow out of my party-going, make a mess of mashed potatoes (nothing soothes the soul like dreamy, fluffy, carbs) and take to bed.

I was enjoying some Family Guy when the first of way too many trick-or-treaters came a 'knockin.

I had two bags of candy.
One was a mixed bag...Paydays, Whoppers, Heath Bars, Milk Duds...all respectable sweets.

I also had a reserve bag...the shangri-la! Reeses Cups.

I was hoping that I wouldn't have to dig in to my Reeses.

Not gonna' lie, I usually end up going out before all my candy has been distributed. So the second bag, the one holding the delicious chocolate/peanut butter goodness, was supposed to be all mine.

My very first costumed hellion, after receiving a box of milk-duds, looked at the bag on the foyer table and said, "Can I have one of those too?"

My precious cups?

I expected her mom to butt in, say something along the lines of, "Don't be rude", "Appreciate what you got", "Say thank you", or, I dunno, "I was clearly drunk when I conceived you, you bastard!"

No.

Nothing.

So, being the magnaminous person that I am, I opened my bag of Reeses and gave the brat her charitable due.

Folks, I know we are in an economic decline here, but, what the fuck?

I had more visitors/beggars last night than ever.

I swear people were pulling up in wagon trains.

I had thirty people at my door at one point. And some of them weren't even dressed up.
That pisses me off to no end.

I mean, if a stranger wearing sweats walks up to your door on any other night of the year and asks you for candy, do you give it to them?

Now, I know I may sound like a grinch. But come the fuck on!
If you are over the age of 14 and can't at least dab a little Clearisil under your eyes ala' Bride of Frankenstein, buy your own damn candy!

Traffic got so bad that I ran out prematurely and had to turn my lights out, fearing that I might get egged or t.p.'d.

I am done with holidays.

Bah Humbug.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:59 PM
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Tuesday, October 28, 2008


I woke up feeling awful.

I was weirdly tired as I have been the past few days.
I say weirdly because I haven't been doing much at all.
I swear I had to deliberate the pros and cons of remaining as is and just allowing my dog to pee on the floor.
And it's cold and rainy, perfect "staying in bed" weather.

Finally, my better judgement won out and I threw some paper towels down.
Just kidding!
I layered up and released the hound.

I got back inside to make coffee, realized I was out of cream, threw the whole day in the pisser, and got back in bed.

I spent the next few hours watching the daily show on my laptop.
It's the only news source I turn to these days.

I finally had to get myself together enough to bathe because I had an interview.
I quite honestly didn't have my hopes up because though I may be charming, witty, own a Breck girl smile and buns you could bounce a quarter off of, the job market is, shall we say, as slumped as Lindsay Lohan after a night on the town.

But, gotta' keep the faith, right?

I'm not gonna' count any chickens before they hatch, but fingers crossed, I do believe I nailed it.

This comes on the crux of a new potential writing gig (unpaid, but damn interesting).

So,I get in my car enjoying a tiny glimmer of hope.

And I turn on the radio and they are playing And She Was by the Talking Heads.

Friends, that is one of my all time personal favorite feel-good songs.

So I am just driving along, singin' aloud...
God was my co-pilot.

Just as I pass the big blue bug, I spot a rainbow.

Are you kidding me?

You could have knocked me over with a unicorn sprinkled in fairy dust.

It turned out to be a good day.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 6:37 PM
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Monday, October 27, 2008


I was walking to the store today and passed a bevy of candidate support signs.

I also think I ran into Nosferatu, but that is a whole other story.

So I was thinking about politics. How, I am indeed and whole-heartedly behind one candidate. How my politics are right 100% of the time and how people who disagree with me disgrace humanity...and the good ol' American way.

Shit has been bleak.

Sliding down a razor, dousing yourself in acid and then rolling around in rock salt, bleak.

So imagine my dismay when Hollywood came a courtin'.

Every time I watch t.v. (and it's a brand new day, America, 'cause I watch all my t.v. online---fuck all this converter box business! I don't need no stinkin' H.D., I need something that converts television into something less like a giant seething pile of crap) I am bombarded by some loser celebrity telling me about my need to vote.

Duh.

If you don't vote then you are retarded.

And if you are retarded, then that means you are voting for the McCain/Palin ticket.

So, we are safe, right?

But right now I must immediately bathe and say a few rosaries, 'cause that Nosferatu is one scary dude.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 7:00 PM
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Saturday, October 25, 2008


I recently re-joined the Y because I have nothing better to do.

I am ambulatory enough as it is, I don't need some cardiovascular machine making me it's bitch! No thanks.

But I am just bored as hell and need something, ANYTHING to do.
So, I take stock of all the possible options (a. completely succumbing to crazy-person behavior and walking around the burg mumbling and acquiring tics, b. moving to Cambodia to do charity work....i.e. help raise the Pitt-Jolie's next pet project, c. taking up macrame, or the god awful d. making myspace a serious habit) and I settle on the most palatable recourse...working out like a fiend. Anything to cure me of the "what-to-do's".

It's helped a bit.

I have some place to go besides my godforsaken apartment.

I even amp myself up before the two block walk with mantras like, "hey, maybe you will meet somebody new".

As if!


Since I renewed my membership I have seen a score of ass-hats that I would never, ever, talk to if polite society didn't deem it necessary.

There is the grunter. He is at the gym 24/7 and I'm not even sure if he has a larynx because all he manages to say is "uuunnhhh" and "aaaahhh".
And p.s. your parachute pants are not fooling anybody!

Then there is the anorexic hipster.
I'm confused.
You are on a cardio machine and wearing a sweater vest.
What?
I was on the machine behind you for well over an hour. I must admit, It's kinda' enviable that your body doesn't emit sweat. But, seriously! I was trying to figure out your butt the entire time I was there. I am not the proud owner of junk! Wish I was...but you are just frightening. Get yourself to an outpatient clinic immediately. Honestly, Karen Carpenter called and wants her body dysmorphic disorder back.

And finally, former customer who might just double as a creepy exhibitionist.
Why is it that every time I am in the locker room i see you in all your Adam and Eve-ery?
It's weird.
It makes ME feel like a perv.
And you wanna' make small talk when we are both buck naked?
EEEEEW!

Dress thine self..and then maybe?

At a later date.

At a less pervy environment!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 8:21 PM
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Monday, October 20, 2008


As you well know, I have been caught in the grips of some life-changing bull lately.
I just don't know what to do to fulfill my dream of making my life as awesome as it possibly could be.
I wanna be loving it like those air-jumpers in the mid-nineties era Toyota commercials.

Instead I feel like I am driving around life's highway in a Yugo.

So, I have a friend, Julia (x's and o's, my friend, and thanks for changing the landscape of my google analytics page to represent the foreign corners of the globe...keep on logging in...I needs to cover the global map, muahaha!) who is a trekker of the nether regions of our little planet.

She writes about her travels and gets a few odd jobs along the way.

Other words, she is living my dream.

I had it first!
Only I never had the determination or drive to make it happen.

Ladies and gents, if there is anything I have in abundance right know, it's determination and drive.

Something has got to change.


So, while Julia's been continent hopping and sending ecstatic reports all along the way, I have been sitting at home reading every last jet-setting account with more than an ounce or two (okay, maybe a kilo) of envy.

And as much as she has enjoyed her travels, my little butterfly wants to return to the cocoon of stability.

She suggested months ago that we move out west together.

I was all in, because it had been a plan of mine years ago, which was quickly thwarted when I ended up totaling my car in Memphis.

Graceland was sooo not worth it.

A moment of kitsch was all I got from what was supposed to be a soul-lifting sojourn.

So we have talked on and off about the possibilities.
The where and the when, as you have it.

Two days ago I got a report from Julia, who is now on her way back to the states.

She suggested Hawaii.

Fire up the poi, boys. I am there.

I had a fleeting moment where I doubted my Hawaii-iability.
I was thinking, "Could I really subsist in the great land of the brohan?"

But I had to mentally slap myself when I realized, Duh...It's Hawaii.
Who couldn't make a go of it there?

They have my two favorite natural features, the mountains and the ocean.

Crap. I think I might just be a wahine in the making.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 8:06 PM
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Sunday, October 19, 2008


I finally found a philosophy I can get down with.

I am newly obsessed with the show, Taboo, on The National Geographic Channel.
And by newly, I mean since 5 a.m.

Damn this arctic tundra we live in! I was arrested from sleep no less than four times last night.
I miss you, slumber...You were so kind!

So I am tooling around on my computer because it is within arm's reach and I am too motherfunkin' cold to leave the warm nest of my bed.

I am willing my stomach to shut up because it wants cereal and I can't bring myself to put on pants just yet and make the 10 foot trek to my kitchen.
Instead I banish my culinary yearnings (albeit meager, because my cabinets hold mainly spices and dried goods---livin' la vita dolce here, my friends) in favor of a few pre-dusk viewings of Taboo.
I won't insult your intelligence by going into detail about the shows content.

The name speaks for itself.

I got caught up in a few episodes about nudist colonies.
There was some full-frontal attack on my senses.

Why are nudists always so damn un-sexy?

It's completely counter-intuitive...Why you wanna drop your drawers when you own a twelve pack?

Beats me!

I think the problem is that National was covering (to loosely coin a phrase) American nudists.
I swear they don't look so rotund and furry in the south of Cannes.

Whatever.

My most favorite episode thus far covers a wee group called Freegans.

These are people who subsist on the waste of others.

Hello! That's me!

Those who live in or around the east-side know there is an abundance of pure gold in the form of trash.
I have furnished my apartment with cast-offs.

And those of you who know me, know that there is a certain dumpster residing in the 02906 that is shangri-la for unwanted goods.

Finally, a name for me.

I am a freegan!

Only snag I can foresee is food appropriation.

I am not at all jiggy with the idea of eating vegetables from a dumpster.
I am not interested in harshing your mellow if you happen to be alright with said excavations.

Hell, one of my best friends hitched her way from North Carolina all the way to Big Sur with zero cash in pocket and a will to thrive subsidized only by eating trash remains.

I have worked at enough bakeries to see that there is a huge contingent for this activity.

But I draw the line at old food.

Unless I spent money on it.
Then I am in it to win it.

I say, psshah! to bacterium!
What's a little tummy-ache compared to the act of getting a meal for free?

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:41 PM
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Saturday, October 18, 2008


I have said it a million times...Providence is small.
But lately it has been getting downright claustrophobic.
In a town that's barely a few miles wide, it is impossible to retain any amount of anonymity.

It blows.

Inevitably, one has to encounter their past.
I'm not sure of the proper decorum when running into exes. I don't know if anybody is prepared for such awkwardness.
But I'd like to think that I can rise above the weirdness of the situation and behave like an adult.
I mean, we all know there is a giant fetid elephant in the room, so let's just do away with the pretense, say hello, exchange some non-controversial pleasantries, and move on.

Where is all of this coming from?


I got the fake-out today.

You know the move.
I'm sure we have all been guilty of the maneuver at least once or twice.
I was walking to the bank today when I became unfortunately aware that I was sharing the sidewalk with someone from my past.
Now, let's just delve right into this conundrum...
You have seen me naked!
You have heard me utter some meaningful nothings.
We shared a period of time together that meant something, at the time.

I am no floozy!

My dating history is not littered with many casualties.
So when I see you out, I expect at least a nod of recognition.
Instead, you are pretending to make a call.
I know you are pretending because you are overly animated and flushed and just doing your best to act like the meter-divide that seperates us somehow offers a cloak of invisibility.
Guess what?

I saw you.

And now is where karma catches up with me because, I too, have used the fake-out.
I'm not proud.
Uncomfortable conversations are not high on my list of enjoyable activities.
But we are for all intents and purposes (not to mention, calender-wise) adults.
Say hello to a sista'.
I'm not going to bite your ankles, I swear!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:56 PM
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Yeah, I have now decided to be French.

Something about short grey days and chilly nights makes me go all Anais Nin.

Shit, it's cold.

I have been drudging through my wardrobe, dressing and undressing, all just for a short jaunt to the Cumby's.

How the hell did this happen?

It seemed like yesterday I was walking around in cutoffs and a tank top.
I am now wearing my fuzzy pants.
They are not cute at all.

How the hell am I supposed to get laid if I am dressed like a frickin' Inuit?

Ahh, man.
I need cute winter-wear.

Does that exist?

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 4:43 PM
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Thursday, October 16, 2008


I have recently been introduced to a book-sharing club (by proxy, thank you! I am not at all that nerdtastic!).

I don't buy books anymore.
I have moved often enough to learn that accumulating books is moot.
I mean, once they are read, they are read.

My father called me a couple of months ago asking my permission to ditch the library I had growing in his garage.
Yessir!

I loan books from the library.
I own a few essential tomes...
Please Kill Me, Lovesigns!!!, Roget's Thesaurus...the classics!

So, color me tickled when I find a venue for sharing books that doesn't involve actual pay for purchase.

The fun thing about this literary community is that you never know what to expect.

One week it could be some Tuesdays with Morrie affair, the next, The Collected Works of Will Shakespeare.

Shit runs the gamut.

I recently received a book entitled Into Thin Air.
I am obsessed.

I dig non-fiction, mainly because most modern fiction seems hackneyed and makes me doubt my chosen dubious profession.
Reading is a lost sport, sadly.

And writing is the Chicago Cubs of professions.

Ouch.

So, I would have never gone to a book store and chosen this account of an Everest climb. It was chosen for me

I am going to give a shout out to my N.C. friends 'cause they know I like to hike.

I adore making mountains my bitch.

I have fervently climbed to peaks well after daylight has given way and resources and reserves were low, whilst pushing for the summit.

I'm not fooling myself.

I know Everest is no Candy-Mountain land..but gosh, darnit! I have made climbing Everest my new "goal to achieve-before-I-die".

If one Sandy "reprehensible" Pittman can do it, for the love of god..so can I.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 9:21 PM
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Monday, October 13, 2008


I have nothing of real import to do...
Nothing to set the alarm for, nothing to mark the calender for (save friends' visits, doctor appointments, the charting of my decline into poverty, etal.).

So I have become obsessed with minutiae.

I have slept an average of three hours per night for the past week and a half.

How do I fill my days?
I have been cleaning like an underpaid and overworked migrant.

Two days ago was a dear friend's birthday...Happy, happy, Rosa Sparks!

Because I am like the little drummer boy and have no gift to give, I decide to a)
make a mix tape and b) clean out my closet and give my cast-offs to said wonderful lady.
Apparently she liked both. Or she is just completely un-superficial and doesn't give a diddly about the net worth of my "present".

Either way, awesome!

It took me well over an hour to clear out my wardrobe.
I was psyched to have spent 60 minutes doing something conclusive---something with a purposeful end result, if you will.

I proceeded to get down and dirty.
I rid my apartment of all meaningless detritus.
Bye-bye, high school and college yearbooks! Sionara, first drafts of stories I thought I might someday complete. So long, letters from exes!

You have been exorcised from my living space.

So I am running around just trying to find things that serve no purpose in my life so that I can do the ultra-cleansing ritual of throwing them to the curb...and I keep coming back to my refrigerator.

When I was working full time I never cooked.
Excuses prevail but, not the least of which is, I am tired and can afford to eat out.
Long story short...my fridge became the burial ground for more than a few take-out containers.

I am quite frugal.
I refuse to leave half of my dinner uneaten.
It goes in tupperware if I am at home or in a box if I am out.
Thing is I never eat the remains.
The act of taking it with me soothes my conscience even if it makes for a nasty breeding ground of bacteria in my Frigidaire.

One plus about not having a steady income is that I honestly don't eat that much.
I don't have to spend a ton on groceries.

And seeing as how I am on a fucking gluten-free diet and gluten-free equals highly specialized and highly specialized means I shop solely at Whole Foods and Whole Foods equals wallet raping, I can thank god for the small grace that I am not a foodie.

Whew..

Anyways, Ms. Rosa came over after my crazy merry-maid fanatics went down and was like, "Holy, shit! Your apartment is spotless and so organized!"

Then she went to retrieve a drink from my fridge, which I formerly dubbed Darth-Rator.

"Umm, haven't hit the fridge,yet?", she asks.

I answer that, with all my newfound zeal for cleanliness, the refrigerator is the final frontier.

Scary ominous shit goes on in there that I don't want to know about.

Who knows? The purple moss growing on the butter tray could hold the cure for AIDS.

I'm too scared to look inside sometimes.
True story.

Folks, I got so antsy today that I tackled it.
My fridge is so clean, Outkast could write a song about it.

Cue Star Wars music.

The final frontier has been conquered.

Sadly all that is left on it's landscape is a loaf of bread, some cottage cheese, a million condiments, and some turkey dogs.

Fortunately, thin is in.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 9:44 PM
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Saturday, October 11, 2008


I have been feeling stressed lately (see below post).
The world is just nuts and I have been seeking some kind of recourse for my anxiety.
If I had the dough, I could just throw caution to the wind, get loaded on liquor and drugs, flee to Vegas, and kill a stripper.

Been there, done that.

Time for something new.

As you know, I have taken to walking everywhere.
I am doing my part for the environment (hell, my mere presence outdoors is beautifying the neighborhood, zing-o!) while keeping my mind on leaves and pretty things rather than the current state of affairs.
But it's turning chilly and Providence is only so big...I'm getting cold and bored.

So, I decide to take me some yoga. Word.

I grew up on the ancient art of pretzling. My parents were hippies, tried and true.
So I am not unused to the exercise.
It has been awhile though, so I am unsure of what to expect for my first class in three or so years.

Let me tell you, when you have taken yoga from a ninety pound human contortionist in a dingy little mud hut in India, the paunchy nose-breather at the Y is not at all intimidating.
Dude teaches ghetto yoga.

So I situate myself in the back, because I am new and quite frankly don't want to embarrass any of my humble classmates with my skills, fo' realz. I kid! (no really, I kid.)

And I find myself next to "the talker".
This woman keeps asking me questions like, "He wants us to put our hand where?", "Is this supposed to hurt?", "Do you come here often?"...you get the gist.
All the while, every time we strike a pose, she is groaning like Monica Seles.

People keep turning around with a look in their eye that says, you are ruining my chi, bitches.

I am guilty by association.

And there was a mighty wind a'blowin'.
I imagine that 80% of those taking the class are vegetarians/vegans and because the class starts at eight, it's safe to say that a fair number of them had already supped. Surely some legumes were consumed. Any one could have been the guilty party.

But the aroma came from my vicinity.
Jesus H.

Ever feel like announcing aloud(much to the condemnation of the gaseous person standing--or as in my case, grunting and rolling about ,next to you) that you are innocent of the smell?
Like when you enter a public restroom after the previous patron has dropped the bomb and then you have to exit defiantly with that disgusted look on your face that says, "Not me!".

But that would be breaking Murphy's Law, right?  I mean wasn't Murphy's Law, whoever smelt it dealt it?  Or something like that?

Just for the record, I have never, ever farted in my life. Ever. Gross.

No matter. I pat myself on the back because I am hyper-extending, reaching things nobody else can reach, screw the sun---I am saluting the milky way!

Other words, I am showing off.

So much for harnessing my chi. I seemed to have harnessed, instead, a world of hurt.
Might be time to look into cheap flights to Vegas.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 10:26 AM
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Friday, October 10, 2008


It's gearing up to be election time and, as per the usual, everybody seems eager to share their views.

And because I am no stranger to espousing my opinions whenever and to whomever I please, (Dear RISD student in ironic Urban Outfitters tee, Everybody does NOT love an Italian girl---I happen to think Sofia Coppola can kiss a ripe ass....don't get me started on the theatrical version of the Virgin Suicides--rubbish!) people have been bending my ear for weeks about my take on the race.

There is a surfeit of coverage out there just gagging up the airwaves and I have had my fill.
Most of the the mainstream news is manufactured hype anyways.

The televised news program is a fairly boring genre.
There's no stunts, no laugh tracks, no real big draw most of the time.

I mean, ever heard the way these guys enunciate?

Take for example Stone Phillips (The fact that his "name" is Stone should tip you off that he's a fraudulent prick)..."I'm Stone Phillips. Tonight, a gruesome discovery--there seems to be a giant metal rod betwixt my ass cheeks. More after these commercial breaks".

Even respected news anchors like Brian Williams sound like douchenozzles.

Point is, I have enough problems to worry about than the fucking Dow Jones falling another hundred points. I get it---hell in a hand bag!

I have heard enough!

So, I vow to keep my eyes and ears off the news until this election blows over.
I will vote. I am no dummy.
I will watch the returns.
And depending on the outcome, I will breathe a sigh of relief and resume to my pundit-ing, or I will pack my bags and hitch a bus north.

Amen.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:12 PM
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Wednesday, October 8, 2008


Oooh...my name is in lights.
Or at least my candy-bar's name is in script.
http://theplug.net/35/ifyoucouldnameacandybar.htm

I highly recommend this blog.
Mainly because they printed something I had to say.

No seriously, it's one of the only blogs I read.
Good times.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 12:22 PM
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Sunday, October 5, 2008


I was taking a walk around town yesterday, as I am likely to do, like....everyday.

I am just feeling mad insane on account of having absolutely NO obligations.

So I am people watching...one of my fave hobbies.
And I see some of the usual townies...
the stereotypical Norman Rockwell'esque misfits that make our 'burb unique.

There is the dude who looks like skinny Santa in short shorts who carries a cane despite being completely mobile as evidenced by the fact he rides his bike everywhere and slings his walking stick over his shoulder for, show?
There's the kinda' scary, kinda' hot (in a grizzly adams kinda' way) lovable neighborhood schizophrenic pacing about.
Then there's fucking hippie dude walking around with ribbon sticks.

What is it with hippies and their props?

They always seem to have a hackey-sack, a bouncey ball, a frisbee...

Is there a connection between crunchiness and O.C.D.?
Must you always carry a prop?

So, my Debs came in for the night...

Love you Debbie and yo moms!

Big thanks for the brunch, Mrs. Allen.
And you guys sooooo need to try hushpuppies.
Life-changing experience for the palate, I swear!

And we get to talking about recent events...i.e. how all I do all day is walk around town like a certifiable nut.

I'm thinking, "I'm okay. I don't have a prop. What all these weirdos have in common is a thing, a gimmick...a schtick...if you will'".

Father Time has his tiny man pants.

Schizo dude has his facial hair and noticeable tic.

Mr. Phish (p.s. the Jesus look is not at all hot) has his girlie ribbons.

I'm safe, right?

Then I realize....oh, Shit!

I was walking down the street the other day when I tread past a golf ball.

It was unassuming... nestled in a patch of wet grass.

I am thinking... I can't bother.

Must. Move. Past. The. Ball.

Ten minutes later the thought of it is weighing down on my psyche like the North Korean Crisis.

I had to go back.

I have been carrying this golf ball around with me like it's a medic-alert bracelet.

Oh god.
I have a prop.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 6:48 PM
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Thursday, October 2, 2008


Generally speaking, I am freaked out by the police.

Even when I am being nothing more than an exemplar citizen, I am frightened.

Nothing makes me more nervous than seeing the MAN in my rear-view.
I drive a little slower.
I chuck anything and everything I am smoking.
I am the picture of propriety.

I have had quite a few issues with the police...because I break laws...and often.

I don't endanger other people.
I am not at all reckless.
I reserved that right for my twenties.
That's what your twenties are for, right?

No. I break stupid laws.

I jay-walk. I throw the occasional cigarette butt out the window.
I commit man-slaughter.

Who doesn't?

So, I am pleased when I come across a 5-0 who has a sense of humor.

For some reason, all the cops on the east side hang out at the take-and-bake pizza place I often walk by.

They recognize me and my dog.

And for a gag that never gets old...

I got one of those hair-dryer looking things that measures one's speed pointed at me the other day... followed by, "You are walking way too fast...Slow down, miss".

I love you Mr. Cop Guy.

Remember that sense of humor the next time you pull me over and I claim I am on "cold meds".

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 8:42 PM
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Wednesday, October 1, 2008


One of my fave shows is Jeopardy....'cause I am a nerd.

But I am pissed as hell at it's proctor.

Will Ferrell might not have done anything good in awhile, but his parodies of Mr. Trebek are so hilarious and on-point that they made S.N.L sweet...for at least a hot minute.

Jeopardy has been on air for well over 20 years.

I don't need to research that fact because Toolie Trebek and my family have some history.

I was born and raised in the redneck riviera...a.k.a. Myrtle Beach, S.C., a.k.a., home of Hooters, a.k.a., Putt-Putt capitol of the world, a.k.a., birth-place of Vanna White.....You get the point.

Trashy!

For a clearer representation of the wonder that is the South Carolinians...
witness this beauty.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww

So my mom, my sister, and I went to some stupid tourist attraction one day.


I can't remember the specifics because Myrtle Beach is rife with stupid tourist attractions.

And we happen upon none other than Alex Trebek!

My mom is psyched, I am indifferent, and my sister is, well...just a hot looking 14 year old.
My mom is trying to have a conversation with her hero--
One intellectual to another, if you will.

The entire time my mom is talking, Trebek is sizing up my sister.

EEEW!

Alex Trebek pinched my sister's ass.
She was 14.

Grodie, much?

So I am watching Jeopardy tonight and answering the questions aloud.

Not gonna' lie, I got a few wrong.

I know's what I know's.

But I don't make a living rattling off trivial factoids.

Other words, knowing shit about anything and everything is not my full-time job.
No, it's just a hobby.

Let me tell you, Alex's smarts are all a front.

Dude really doesn't know shit.
He's got a tele-prompter with all the answers.

So I don't know the capitol of Moldavia?

Do I really need some knucklehead in a suit condescending me?

You have been called out, douchey-McGee!

The penis mightier than the sword.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 7:02 PM
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Tuesday, September 30, 2008


The news has been depressing lately, to say the least.
I love that I quit my job just in time for the economy to go belly up.
I have always had awesome timing.

So imagine my delight when I came across this little snippet.

http://www.wlwt.com/cnn-news/17589970/detail.html

This woman is my new favorite person, ever!
The accompanying picture is utterly priceless.

See what I did there? Utterly? 'Cause cows have utters?
Yes. Yes, I am that clever.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:12 PM
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Sunday, September 28, 2008


So I am browsing the Craigslist Missed Connections today, because, let's face it, I am obsessed.
And I come across one that describes me and my friend to a T...
Something along the lines of, "Wow, you were hot". Definitely us, right?
Well, there were other factors at play in making my ultimate determination, of course.
They named the place my friend and I were hanging out at and seeing as how we were the only ladies there, and it was a M4W posting, Bingo!

Let me back up to the night in question.

My friend and I went out to watch the debate on the big screen.
After it was finally over, we and a few other girls decided for some godforsaken reason to go to the gay bar.

Let me clarify by saying we didn't go to the lesbian bar.
No we went to the dudes looking for dudes bar.
I am okay with that because ,as of late, I have grown aggravated with the encounters I have had at the places around town that we typically patronize.
That said, I usually only end up at the gay bar when I am hanging with one of my gay male friends. So I have a buffer, if you will.

I tell you what, the drag queen at the door was not happy to see us.
It was blatantly obvious. Afraid of a little competition, perhaps?
She had 'tude to spare, folks.
And all the guys at the bar were looking at us like we had some kind of agenda.

Let me reiterate, we were the only women in the establishment.

So my friend and I take a seat while the others go and engage in some tomfoolery on the dance floor.
This guy walks up to me, introduces himself, says something about how we look like we need some shots...and proceeds to heavily vibe us.
After our obvious snub, he casually walks away.
Afterwards, I ask my friend, "What the fuck... Is that dude trying to pick up ladies at a GAY bar?"
I believe he might benefit from rethinking his tactics.

It reminds me of this one bum that lived by the trash can outside my building in New York.
Everyday I would walk to school and he'd yell out, "Hey, ugly! Hey, ugly! Come over here, I got something I wanna' ask you".
Hurt my pride a little bit, but the guy was clearly drunk on the mad dog 24/7, so I can rationalize it by blaming the beer goggles.
Finally one day I had had enough. So I go over and say, "What?!! What do you have to ask me?"
He answers, "Come lay down naked beside me".
Ummm, might wanna try a different approach, bud.

Sorry about the tangent.
I just can't figure out dudes sometimes. Not to mention the whole ritual of going out to a bar and trying to meet someone.
It seems to me like the last place on earth you would expect to find a suitable mate.
I know it does happen on occasion. Hell, it's happened to me once or five times.

Okay, back to the missed connection.
I'm thinking this has got to be the guy (name withheld for obvious reasons).

So, the more I am thinking about it, the more I need to know!

I am away from my computer so I call up my partner in crime from the night in question and ask her to respond to the poster for details.

She does.
He responds.

Turns out, we are not the ladies in question. I had gotten the nights mixed up.

Oh well.
I wasn't looking for any romantic outcome. At. All.
I mean, dude is clearly confused about a few things.
And anyways, he wasn't my type.
No sir! I say expose your chest hair only when you're naked.

I have just always wanted to be a missed connection.

But here's where things get weird.

My friend writes back to say, sorry, wasn't us.
And the guy writes back, saying, "Too bad. I would love to chat sometime".
And, wait for it, he includes photos of himself!

Hunh?
What?

He's responding, sight unseen, to someone he's never met before on the premise that she is, well, a she?

Or maybe he admires the fact that she can use a keyboard?

Man oh man, I will never understand you guys.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:15 PM
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Saturday, September 27, 2008


So sorry.

Let's just say I had a helluva whirlwind week which culminated in my lying in bed all day trying to recover.

Good times were spent writhing around and praying for god to end my suffering.
Excellent!

So, anywho, when I finally felt my motility returning, I forced myself to take a walk.

Of course it's raining. And hard.

For the love of mother nature! What the hell is happening?
Maine...Mother effiin' Maine is under a tropical storm warning.

As if I need another reason to leave the planet (besides the fact that McCain's popularity is on the rise and how the fuck did that happen considering the ass-whupping he took in the debates last night).
Dude is a total doppelganger of Quagmire. Honestly, what is wrong with his face?

Okay, back to my day.

I need to get out of the house. Screw the elements, I'll bring my umbrella.
So, I find aforementioned umbrella, leash up the hound, and get to walking.

It's sprinkling, but nothing to alert FEMA about, yet.

Ten minutes into my jaunt it starts to really come down end of days style.
I am fumbling with my umbrella, pressing the button and then manually trying to push the metal rods up....all to no avail. My cursed umbrella is broken. I am getting soaked.

So I turn around to get my damp ass home when I come to a cross-walk.
I am standing there with sopping wet hair, a more than likely anguished look on my face, holding onto an unruly dog and a bum umbrella--- when not one, but THREE cars pass me.

I have said it before, I will say it again...

What is wrong with your stupid heads?

White lines in street=stop for pedestrians.
Especially pissed off wet ones.

My urgency is (for lack of a better description) more urgent than your urgency.

You are in a moving vehicle with a roof.

I apologize and fully retract if you had a stubborn sun-roof that was malfunctioning.

Seriously, I have been there.

And in Florida, no less!
Those downpours are apocalyptically torrential.

Snap! Most uncomfortable twenty minutes of my life.

But my guess is, you just didn't give a fuck.

Perhaps, dear readers, you haven't gotten my drift...albeit a continental-sized one, but I need to get the hell out of New England.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 6:08 PM
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I just heard the terribly sad news.

Paul Newman was the ultimate guy.
I mean for chrissake, Cool Hand Luke?

He will be missed as a beacon of everything that does not suck in Hollywood.

Which, let's face it, is pretty much everything these days.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 6:04 PM
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Tuesday, September 23, 2008


See what I did there?
It's fun with phonetics!
Snap! I did it again!

So, last week my mom and I were having a conversation when I made what I thought was a perfectly relevant observation (I think it might have had something to do with how pink is the spectrum's ultimate color winner---orange and yellow, you are sooo owned!) when she opined, "You are so weird. You have always been so weird. Even as a baby, you were so weird".

Okay, mom. I get it.

It's been coming up an awful lot lately.

My friend and I were having a discourse the other night about the ills of high school, the psychic scars that it leaves, and how nerds do indeed triumph.
I mean, doesn't it seem like people who were popular in high school always manage to abandon their cool status the minute their cheer leading uniforms and glamour shots become irrelevant?
And how were they relevant in the first place?

God, teenage-ism blows so hard.

My best friend does the most wonderfully precise recount of the day we met in high school.

It was my first day.
I had bonded with a chick in typing class over our "tats".
Oh, god!
I happened to get the most horrible offender covered up with yet another offender.
Don't get me started on tattoo regret.

I still have an ankh (yes, an ankh! so counter-culture, so unique, I know) on an area that fortunately doesn't see the light of day that often, but makes for some hilarious pillow-talk when it does get viewed.

Point is, the true test of any first day of the high school experience is the lunch room.

I never brought lunch. Not once.

So, my first day at this particular school, all I had on me was a bag of fire flavored jolly-ranchers. Mmmmm.
Do they still make those?

Never mind, my teeth weren't what they were 15 years ago.
I tried to eat a sugar daddy the other day and almost knocked out an entire row of chompers.
Damn human fallibility!

So, my friend reminisces that on the day of our meeting I said nothing but, "Psst" and then dropped a jolly rancher under the table and into her lap.

She's like, "You were sooo weird".

And then I was talking with another friend who was sharing her own horror stories about being an outsider and a nerd, when I said in agreement, "Oh, god, yeah! I was a total nerd".

And she says, "You aren't a nerd. You are just a freak".

So it's unanimous.

I was thinking about this today as I was walking around town (as I am wont to do, because I have now officially crossed the town-line into crazy-person-ville and have nothing better to do than amble about aimlessly...keep your recyclables safe, folks!) and having a conversation with myself.

I do it often when I think no one's watching.
Shut up! You do too.

Then I get home and read the news.
I find two bits that trouble me deeply.
1) Sarah Palin okay'd charging rape victims for test kits.
2)Global warming has gotten so bad that Polar bears are resorting to cannibalism.

I'll be renewing my visa soon.

Destination=Moon!

This little snippet made me feel 1000 times better.
Finally a voice (or voices) of reason!....

http://www.kpho.com/news/16758520/detail.html

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 7:32 PM
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Monday, September 22, 2008


It's officially fall and with it's arrival came some cooler temperatures.
Today was the coldest day so far this year since last spring.
Way to hit the ground running, Autumn!

So I am rifling through my dressers looking for a long sleeve shirt. Any long sleeve shirt will do.

Hand to god, I am not in possession of a single long sleeved shirt.
Jesus on a pogo stick, what the hell happened?

And then I remembered that I had a rather speedy exodus from my former apartment which resulted in the sacrificing of a pretty substantial chunk of personal belongings.

Apparently a fair portion of the stuff I left behind was my winter clothing.

So, until my financial situation changes or the wardrobe fairy graces me with some new clothes, it's all about layering, baby!

Fortunately, I have a new favorite hoodie...thanks Jana!
So, I am comfortably dressed and ready to drink in the fall with a walk around town.

I can't believe how much bitching I have done over the end of summer.
I plumb forgot how much I love Autumn!


I find myself thinking about cuddling.
I realized that the majority of serious relationships I have been involved in were conceived in the fall.
I figure it might have something to do with our evolutionarily driven need to find a partner in order to keep us warm throughout the colder months.
Then, with the inevitable return of spring and summer, we shed our layers and those irksome partners!
Ah, the circle of life.

Whatever the reasoning, there is nothing like hibernating under the covers when the thought of getting out of bed is just unbearable.

I wanna' snuggle.

Time's a tickin'!
Any takers?

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 5:08 PM
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Sunday, September 21, 2008


I spent all day at the zoo yesterday.

I'm not at all a zoo fanatic.

Matter of fact, I try to avoid it at all costs.
I don't like seeing animals behind bars.
There is something unsettling about bearing witness to a creature out of it's natural habitat.

I mean, if you are a giraffe, native to west Africa, how the fuck are you about to enjoy fall in New England?

Not so much
, probably.

And don't get me started on all the scrotum munching Rhode-Islanders who tap on the glass in an attempt to wake a sleeping animal for no other reason than to pacify their whiny brat's desire to see it up close.

Calm the fuck down!

As I learned yesterday, a snow leopard can leap 32 feet! The fence enclosing said beast looks half that.

So, you want your adorable little spawn to see the creature's face?

Let's see what her face looks like after it's mauled off, chewed like so much Wrigley's, and spat on your stupid feet.
Sooo precious!

Yeah, the zoo and I have issues.

But I needed some cute kid therapy and my nieces fit the bill so, I acquiesced.

The day started out peaceably enough. My nieces were rad, the weather was nice, the smell of excrement was not yet downwind (curse you, 4:00 p.m. gust)...all's good.

About three hours in, however, I was having a straight-up boredom-induced nic-fit.

I removed my niece from my shoulders, bid my mom and sister adieu, and made my exit.

Next hour or so were spent with me chain smoking, soaking up the last gasp of the summer, and growing very, very, hungry.

By the time my family met up with me I was willing to chuck my humanitarian ideals out the window and eat a fucking snow leopard....with some fava beans and a nice Chianti, good sir!

My mom was right on board.

Thing is, my mom is singularly minded.
When we hang in the 'konk, we dine at one place only.
I have no say in the matter as I am just along for the ride and, therefore, dine for free.
So, though I hate the themed restaurant she prefers, I keep my chow hole shut... 'cept for the eatin' times.

As we walk up to the hostess stand, I realize there is some weird shit going on in my uterus.
I need to get home as soon as possible.
But the promise of a free meal is so tantalizing that I suggest we stay, but take our food to go. In the meantime we can wait at the bar while it's prepared.

Mom's down! So she orders a beer and we bide our time playing ghost.

The food took so long that we practically ran out of letters in the alphabet.

I'm antsy and uncomfortable and mom's losing her patience.

We ask about our order.

Bartender comes back with our food and we are set to jet.

As we take our leave, the server asks, "Oh, did you already pay"?
My mom answers, "Yeah".

I'm confused because I don't remember the portion of our evening when we anted up, but my insides are jumping and my mood is slumping and I need to eat my dinner like, yesterday!

We get outside and my mom is walking with total tunnel vision towards her ride.
We get inside and I ask, "Did you really pay"?

Diabolical laugh...

"No, did you"?

Holy Christ.

I aided and abetted my mom.

My salad sucked...but I would so do it again.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 7:39 PM
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Saturday, September 20, 2008


God is laughing at you and all your silly science, Hadron Collider technicians!

So, clearly this is an issue that has been on my mind since I first became abreast of said shituation.
That could probably be evidenced by the number of times I bumped my initial posting about it.
I am going to spare you another bump, so if you don't know what the hell I am talking about, please avert your eyes to the list of previous blog entries to the right of the screen, click on the "0 minus right fucking now" posting, and prepare to get schooled.

Turns out, the collider has been shut off.

WooHoo!
Go back to partying like it's 1999...when times were simpler and s.t.d.'s like Sarah Palin hadn't yet blipped our collective radar.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/science/09/20/hadron.collider.damage.ap/index.html

My favorite part of this article is when they expose that the collider emitted a pretty substantial amount of helium.

Can you imagine all the scientists running around, freaking out, saying things like, "Trouble in quadron three! Danger! Let's go on highest alert!"...all in the dialect of Alvin and the chipmunks? Awesome.

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 6:47 PM
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Thursday, September 18, 2008


Man oh man. It is practically fall.

I know, Captain Obvious called and he wants his earth-shattering observation back...

But the season just crept up on me like all get out.
I was taking a walk today and had to wear a jacket for the first time since memory allows.

Waaah! I was just getting into the summer.

And for some reason, the colder the weather, the more melancholy I get.
I found myself listening to some wrist-slittingly somber music today.

Spring and summer were all about hip hop and dance music (shut up, haters...I can get down to a Kelly Clarkson remix! Yes I can!)

Something about less daylight and chilly temperatures makes me want to listen to the shoe-gazers.
It's totally counter-intuitive.

I mean I'm feeling down and what do my ears want to hear?
Interpol, The Editors...God forbid, The Cure!
Misanthrope music!

I am not at all ready for the fall or winter.

Anybody else wanna go to Alaska and spend six months in daylight?

No, scratch that...I forgot how ass-backwards Alaska is (sorry, 3030).

Greenland it is!

Posted by Posted by penny earned at 7:16 PM
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