tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26019247721105152572024-03-05T03:34:00.183-08:00Just a Lost Soul Swimmin' in a Fish BowlThe mindless banter of a 20-something attempting to figure out this "growing up" thing everyone keeps talking about.Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-89537469174276609802010-03-23T14:17:00.000-07:002010-03-23T14:23:53.626-07:00Updated your reader yet?Just a friendly reminder for those of you behind the 8-ball that <a href="http://jeneypeney.wordpress.com/">I've moved</a>!<br /><br />Be sure to change your readers and bookmarks if you want <a href="http://jeneypeney.wordpress.com">to keep up</a> on my debauchery and shenanigans!*<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://jeneypeney.wordpress.com"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtmNCZA5nYBx9eldTyLfR6wf9fH_iLoWPOrc7avqdXVgPLXEptGoFFkAPyLu2epfQybG_xaZwC1eOVVk6cf1aiEtY1xgCywc_NmLNpHSnGrG6KiXNyJzecRaFEJUZAuThHTf_v1tOV4f63/s320/untitled.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451942585148830898" border="0" /></a><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://jeneypeney.wordpress.com"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >http://jeneypeney.wordpress.com!</span></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >* Seriously, people.**<br /><br />** There are four different links to the same page on this post. ***<br /><br />*** No more excuses.</span><br /></div></div>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-38810453023156419052010-03-01T07:06:00.000-08:002010-03-01T07:20:04.955-08:00My Final PostNo, no, no! Not my final post EVER. That's just silly!<br /><br />I meant my final post here at shamrock-on.blogspot.com<br /><br />I have decided to move my little corner of the internet to <a href="http://jeneypeney.wordpress.com/">jeneypeney.wordpress.com</a> <br /><br />So you know the drill... if you <strike>treasure your life</strike> wish to continue reading my rubbish, go update your reader, bookmarks, etc. Like, now.<br /><br />Please and thank you!<br /><br />I wish you all quiet Mondays with copious amounts of coffee and Pandora bliss.Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-47421671508637659482010-02-26T07:14:00.000-08:002010-02-26T07:46:40.731-08:00Me Loving Harder, Part One<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.loveharder.org/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLvvaTnmiJiWx9Najtt79Te_kKO6DqyZCdXT-V1jrIhOJytjKA4VaVphNtGt6yNaoLej7iIZSfOTx0Cf1b2vGKh1L4qZDxNAxmM3w7JKVdDUKpydGliFoyc6kPNfONquoyQDs3P0tS4BIx/s320/1040.535000070.custom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442575075895352146" border="0" /></a><br />When I was a freshmen in college, all of us little lasses were forced into these awkward <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPk8pFFokSlGWwKsYKcInsWesgYBSVkCctwATocUNnhcavZbPiViOO6WpRxgvz4h3QWCGH7YR9gRHs0MZgtox8ee6m1AE7uqscABHHDVMBBstgv3s96Rjm-yVv8ZeYNnxEIssncv21jP8j/s1600-h/Biz3.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPk8pFFokSlGWwKsYKcInsWesgYBSVkCctwATocUNnhcavZbPiViOO6WpRxgvz4h3QWCGH7YR9gRHs0MZgtox8ee6m1AE7uqscABHHDVMBBstgv3s96Rjm-yVv8ZeYNnxEIssncv21jP8j/s320/Biz3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442575451101196050" border="0" /></a>orientation groups in which we attended to a bunch of pointless lectures to teach us all about what <strike>the administrators thought</strike> being in college was all about. It was in this group that I met a spunky, outspoken girl who introduced herself as Biz.<br /><br />Biz is definitely a unique spirit. The fact that “Biz” was her short for “Elizabeth” rather than “Beth” or “Lizzy” was proof enough. The fact that she wasn't afraid to let her decidedly liberal views be heard in a massive sea of conservative classmates only solidified it. She quickly became my hero.<br /><br />She has an incredibly infectious smile that honestly spreads to her eyes and lights up her whole face - and everyone's around her. She is the kind of girl that will drop everything to bring you Italian chocolates and boxed wine to cheer you up.<br /><br />She has a wonderful sense of humor that she applies to everything she does (every single one of her Facebook photo album titles is a Super Trooper quote). She is an amazing artist and to this day I still have several of the pottery pieces she gave me around my apartment.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqLcgXAKiezanwDbefpbZpIGu4WLvDhjSVL7axEx12-OXWitWExnzsSn1GHmBt5OlgaaERBljZ6P83L8lJJAhrDM6BK8he2nvziPiYE8JSYC2TzCQPybrOQgCy-Vm5VBdj5nvTT6LovZP/s1600-h/Biz1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxqLcgXAKiezanwDbefpbZpIGu4WLvDhjSVL7axEx12-OXWitWExnzsSn1GHmBt5OlgaaERBljZ6P83L8lJJAhrDM6BK8he2nvziPiYE8JSYC2TzCQPybrOQgCy-Vm5VBdj5nvTT6LovZP/s320/Biz1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442575166738388594" border="0" /></a>She is the most outgoing, bull-headed, and strongest women I have ever met. She never failed to be the life of a party and always had a story by the end of the night. She is an absolutely beautiful person; almost painfully so on the outside, too.<br /><br />She is that kind of girl that you really, REALLY want to be friends with but you’re afraid she’s just too cool for you.<br /><br />I am honored and blessed to say Biz is my friend. One of my best friends, actually.<br /><br />You see, she was <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DN4Dw3tyLY&feature=related">my person</a>. I could go to her for anything… and sa-weet Jesus do I mean anything. She was the one and only person I could go to for everything from “What the hell kind of shoes goes with this top?” to “My Grandma was just diagnosed with cancer…” to “You will not BELIEVE who I went home with last night!”<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXdDTD-Uoj1NXQQCwyy3ycEXffwC5ZEBLSbchmGR05yMTkFlJxE9gM4rf0V8qwZLq8SjwnHX5t8chNH6Mu7nRfv53aBE22bu533ID4gh9YeKBn77_d1KH_mvn2WltQAtTcdEZCgizzlpG/s1600-h/Biz2.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXdDTD-Uoj1NXQQCwyy3ycEXffwC5ZEBLSbchmGR05yMTkFlJxE9gM4rf0V8qwZLq8SjwnHX5t8chNH6Mu7nRfv53aBE22bu533ID4gh9YeKBn77_d1KH_mvn2WltQAtTcdEZCgizzlpG/s320/Biz2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442575340188685042" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />She always listened and she never judged me.<br /><br />Back in June, right before I moved to Fargo, Biz was driving through a wicked thunderstorm to work a basketball camp at Notre Dame. She hydroplaned, ran into a semi, and landed in a ditch. She survived the crash with no broken bones or any massive blood loss; but she suffered severe brain damage from the accident.<br /><br />Her BPI was so high at one point we thought we were going to lose her. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t lose my person. I never got to tell her how much she mattered to me; how much I loved and valued our friendship.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vUB8AFRmUVV5UaSyH6gsrnldnKgJk3a882TW_kfHCwRMNzFeX08FpPu2kkHG5-SuY7Kl4y18wNuuv94hYh-v5c-BP7SRPg2i4EQsHtZmXfla4gg92IZY61srRgVU98R4BGXcae8Zfk6Q/s1600-h/Biz4.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vUB8AFRmUVV5UaSyH6gsrnldnKgJk3a882TW_kfHCwRMNzFeX08FpPu2kkHG5-SuY7Kl4y18wNuuv94hYh-v5c-BP7SRPg2i4EQsHtZmXfla4gg92IZY61srRgVU98R4BGXcae8Zfk6Q/s320/Biz4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442575560152223954" border="0" /></a>By the grace of whatever God there is, Biz did survive. She is still learning to walk and talk again, and she struggles with her short term memory. Biz and her family lost her father this past Christmas to a long-fought battle with brain cancer, and she still asks, "Where's dad?" several times a day.<br /><br />Despite all of this, she is fighting harder and stronger than I could have ever imagined. Through this tragedy she has not only showed all of us how to live – but how to survive.<br /><br />Biz is one of my inspirations to love harder.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">What’s yours?<br /></div>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-74351048261992082682010-02-25T06:56:00.000-08:002010-02-25T07:55:30.510-08:00TMI Thursday: One Girl, One Cup (Not like you would think...)<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >Mom... I am so very, very proud of the fact that you have somehow swindled my brother into showing you several of my blog posts. Your cunning and deceit astound me. But this is NOT something you would necessarily want to read about your only daughter. You have been warned.</span><br /><br />***<br /><center><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!</span></span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" alt="TMI Thursday" border="0" /></a></center><br />When I was a sophomore in college, I went to a huge dorm party on the co-ed campus across the street called <span style="font-style: italic;">The Zoo</span>. This party ended with two of my friends leaving without us to go to Steak N' Shake while another was ticketed for being a minor in possession.<br /><br />But that's besides the point.<br /><br />Anypoorlifedecisions, after arriving at the party in all of our awkward, under dressed glory and many rousing games of Fuck the Dealer and Kings later, I was decidedly good and schmackered.<br /><br />Said schmackered-ness had my brain thinking that Creepy McLoser across the room was worthy enough of my attentions.<br /><br />Said attentions lead us to his room where he proceeded to have a 'little problem'.<br /><br />I would have simply left after the 'little problem' surfaced (or didn't surface... whatever), but one friend was possibly in the slammer, the others were gorging themselves on greasy, delicious amazingness. It was also after 2:00am and thus, <a href="http://www.thingsnotredamestudentslike.com/2009/11/63-parietals-although-they-refuse-to.html">I was technically not allowed to be there</a>.<br /><br />So I just went to bed with every intention of waking up at at the ass crack of dawn and making my walk of shame back across the street to my college.<br /><br />Then it happened...<br /><br />I had to pee.<br /><br />Now, many possibilities went through my (still very drunk) mind at this point.<br /><br />I could have peed in the sink - but I'm really short, a girl, and was afraid that sitting on it would break it off the wall.<br /><br />I could have snuck downstairs to the women's bathroom - but if I was lucky enough to even make it that far without being caught by the rector I might as well just leave.<br /><br />I could have creeped to the men's bathroom down the hall - but I was at equal risk of getting caught.<br /><br />So what brilliant idea did I decide was the best course of action? Peeing in the solo cup I brought into the room and then pouring it down the sink. Perfect! Fool proof!<br /><br />Wrong and wrong.<br /><br />I grabbed the cup, set it on the floor (<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Why on the floor? I have no earthly idea. I was drunk.</span>), dropped my pants, and began to relieve myself.<br /><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Honest to God I am having serious issues typing this without laughing right now...</span>)<br /><br />Once I was finished, I began to stand up when my jeans hit the lip of the cup and KNOCKED IT OVER.<br /><br />Yes, ladies and gentlemen. I had just spilled my urine all over this guy's floor.<br /><br />Let that soak in for second.<br /><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Pun totally intended.</span>)<br /><br />So I did the only thing I could think of: I made like a Shepard and got the flock out of there.<br /><br />(Thank the good Lord above that this guy was a senior and I never saw him again...)<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" ><br />* I did break parietals once more after my senior formal, but it was in my best friend's dorm room and I was graduating in two weeks and I didn't care anymore.</span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-41845926635162633642010-02-24T07:23:00.000-08:002010-02-24T10:17:49.850-08:00Would You Rather Wednesday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvU4c6SDfRT54QXAz5g_f-_R6VYeZt2NN3G_X8Qh9T6hJiZl1czX5ZRsUjvAbPOd-qmSiOTaUj7hBgK_vzj0kxu3nPt8NMwO4s_0IS2bRzyMFZkXkGhbF-NpC6_37KZ-4KZB7ljvPhC0C/s1600-h/cavalierco-nd-winter-2009-2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvU4c6SDfRT54QXAz5g_f-_R6VYeZt2NN3G_X8Qh9T6hJiZl1czX5ZRsUjvAbPOd-qmSiOTaUj7hBgK_vzj0kxu3nPt8NMwO4s_0IS2bRzyMFZkXkGhbF-NpC6_37KZ-4KZB7ljvPhC0C/s320/cavalierco-nd-winter-2009-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441832310198618354" border="0" /></a><br />Does anyone else say "Wedd - nez - day" in their head when they type Wednesday?<br /><br />No? Just me? Figures.<br /><br />Anysnow -<br /><br />Would you rather spend the rest of your life where it is excruciatingly bitter cold during the winter months (as in <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> below zero <span style="font-style: italic;">before</span> wind chill), but less than six inches of snow actually falls?<br /><br />Or would you rather spend the rest of your life where the temperatures are relatively mild, but you are guaranteed several feet of snow every year?<br /><br />Things to consider: Digging your car out of the snow or digging yourself out of your house... your nose hairs freezing whenever you walk outside... frostbite risks... high electric or gas bills for heating.<br /><br />In other news, I<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> finally</span> posted a little something over at <a href="http://jeneywritingblog.blogspot.com/">Nothing Rhymes with Orange</a>.<br /><br />Happy Hump Day!<br /><br />***<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">UPDATE : This is not a test. This is a message from the Emergency Free Shit Giveaway System. There has been a Free Shit Giveaway notice for anyone who has the mental capacity to type. For more information, please see </span><a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" href="http://thepqnation.com/dcprincess">DCPrincessQ</a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> at </span><a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;" href="http://thepqnation.com/dcprincess/2010/02/adding-spice-to-the-mix/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+DcPrincess+%28DC+Princess%29&utm_content=Google+Reader">PQ Nation</a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Again, this is NOT a test. This is a message from the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Emergency Free Shit Giveaway System.</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> She is giving away a $50 gift card to <a href="http://www.lulus.com/">LuLu's</a>, people!</span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-13443751974878620822010-02-22T13:47:00.000-08:002010-02-22T14:36:31.149-08:00This Post is Brought to You by Inordinate Amounts of CoffeeOnce again, my normal posting schedule has been thwarted by the evil, conniving, cold hearted beast that is my job.<br /><br />Beware, job. You will get what is coming to you. I will have my revenge and I will seek these missing moments of my life back!<br /><br />I may be small, but I am RUTHLESS!<br /><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Aaaaaand. I've lost my mind.</span>)<br /><br />Anyrambles, seeing as how I can't produce a damn thing worth reading as this juncture, I will direct you to some pretty fantastic people that can.<br /><br />If you are not on this list, I apologize. These are really just a snippet of the blogs I follow and the ones I honestly look forward to reading everyday.<br /><br />***<br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/02227988278852139497">Amy</a> is a girl I met in my first year of undergrad and desperately wish would have gotten to know better. She's an excellent writer and has an awesome sarcastic sense of humor. She also will probably hate me for doing this, but you should all go check out her little corner, <a href="http://allliesandjest.blogspot.com/">Bookends</a>.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/02912887923180093346">Kate</a> has a very unique style of blogging that I love. As she reveals stories from her life, she only exposes a small amount at a time; leaving the ends of her blogs with the ever feared and often loathed "...to be continued." But the girl pulls it off. Follow her along the path to find the <a href="http://search-for-the-perfect10.blogspot.com/">Perfect 10</a>.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.gingermandy.com/about/">Mandy</a> is a one big Funfetti cupcake made of snark and spice and everything hysterical. When she isn't making people pee their pants on <a href="http://www.gingermandy.com/">her blog</a>, she is the <a href="http://www.examiner.com/x-25736-Detroit-Relationship-Angst-Examiner">Relationship Angst Examiner</a> for Detroit (ROCK CITYYYYY!!!!*) Her handle also happens to be the #3 search term of people who end up here.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.dramaticsigh.com/?page_id=228">Just A Girl</a> is one of my favorite people. Ever. Sadly the evil, conniving, cold hearted beast that is <span style="font-style: italic;">her</span> job just recently has thwarted her from social media in its entirety while she is at work. However, her blog, <a href="http://www.dramaticsigh.com/">Dramatic Sigh</a>, is still magnificent. Especially if you love all that can be inappropriate and ridiculous.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/12761003604210840898">MJenks</a>. I'm sure most of you know him so I am not going to explain him. I don't think I could if I tried, anyway. He recently moved his corner of the internets to <a href="http://exuimus.blogspot.com/">Vita Brevis</a>.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.carissajaded.com/about/">Carissa</a> is honestly one of the funniest people I know. Her TMIs are always priceless and I can count on <a href="http://www.carissajaded.com/">her blog</a> to put a smile on my face no matter how much my fellow employees hate me.<br /><br />And <a href="http://theoddduckling.wordpress.com/soy/">TheOddDuckling</a>? He's just plain awesome. I mean... he's a teacher. And he loves french toast. And he wrote about <a href="http://theoddduckling.wordpress.com/2010/02/22/the-odd-ducks-top-20-nostalgic-television-shows-part-i/">90s cartoons </a>today.<br /><br />... there are so many more blogs I want to direct you to, but my clever quota is on E. So if these bitches don't entertain you enough then scroll on down to my blog roll and check those hookers out.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >* Sorry. I had to do it.</span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-82664788200885878112010-02-19T13:24:00.000-08:002010-02-19T13:46:37.729-08:00Waste of a PostGuess what? I had an awesome post all cooked up and golden brown in my head for today. It was inspired by <a href="http://loveharder.org/">Love Harder</a> and I was uber excited to publish it.<br /><br />Then I had a super shitty day yesterday. And I couldn't cure it with chocolate and copious amounts of cherry coke like I normally do because <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lent">God won't let me</a>. So I'm taking out my frustration on you guys.<br /><br />Really... I'm sorry.<br /><br />Here's a super adorable video to prove it:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X0-Sv6YnxEc&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X0-Sv6YnxEc&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><center style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">This is how I felt yesterday.</span></center></div><br /><br />And since I'm not cool and I don't live in DC and will not be attending the <a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/hh.jpg">post -snowpocolpyse DC Happy Hour</a> tonight, I am competing in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZBJxhjqUgs">Beerlympics</a> with the authors from <a href="http://weheartcookiedough.wordpress.com/">We Heart Cookie Dough</a> on Team Scotland. Ridiculous pictures, stories, and possibly videos to come next week.<br /><br />Happy Friday Hookers!Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-65792703676228260082010-02-17T07:43:00.000-08:002010-02-17T08:25:33.435-08:00I'm callin' you out.For those of you who are not using <a href="http://www.google.com/analytics/">Google Analytics</a>, you need to be. Not only is it an awesome way to see just where your blog falls in the big, bad world of the internet, it gives you a really deep look into your readers. (<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >It is also an endless source of entertainment.</span>)<br /><br />I know you guys know all about me and some of my most <a href="http://shamrock-on.blogspot.com/2010/01/tmi-thursday-time-my-boyfriend-hid-in.html">horrific</a>, <a href="http://shamrock-on.blogspot.com/2009/01/midwest-chainsaw-massacre.html">terrifying</a>, and <a href="http://shamrock-on.blogspot.com/2010/01/tmi-thursday-crapping-my-pants.html">embarrassing</a> moments… but just who the hell are you?<br /><br />Well, ladies and gentlemen, while blogger tells me I have 61 followers, Google Analytics tells me over 100 people read my blog on a peak day.<br /><br />While I knew most of you were from the United States, I had no idea you hailed from all but one of them (<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">No one cares about South Dakota anyway.</span>)</span> Nor did I realize you represented 492 different cities<br /><br />I never even imagined you international readers went beyond Canada and the UK to reach places like Australia, Singapore, Malaysia, Norway, Slovenia, Croatia, and over 50 other countries.<br /><br />Most of you use Firefox when reading my blog. Others prefer Internet Explorer, Safari, and Chrome. One of you even used a Playstation 3. (<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">WTF?</span></span>)<br /><br />For those of you who found me using Google search, the keywords you used mostly are related to tattoos and fish bowls (<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">My favorite of which was “bad ass fish tattoos”</span></span>) But a couple other gems are “pissing in swimmin “, “jeneys boobs“, “tamponpanty “ and “jeney movie porn.” There were also about seven of them that had to do with shitting/pooping your pants.<br /><br />I was also shocked to see how many searches were actually for my blog or my name directly.<br /><br />Most of you seemed to have found me through <a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday">LiLu’s TMI Thursdays</a>, while others stumbled over from <a href="http://exuimus.blogspot.com/">MJenks’</a>, <a href="http://www.dramaticsigh.com/">JAG’s</a>,<a href="http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/"> Ben's</a>, and <a href="http://www.carissajaded.com/">Carrissa's</a> pads. A couple of you are even creepy enough to follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/jeneypeney">Twitter</a> or my feeds on <a href="http://apps.facebook.com/blognetworks/blog/just_a_lost_soul_swimmin_in_a_fish_bowl/">Facebook</a>.<br /><br />So now that I have an idea of who you hooligans really are, come out of the woodwork already (<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Especially you people from Dilworth, MN… you’re like 10 minutes away!</span>) I am declaring this an unofficial de-lurker day.*<br /><br />Comment and tell me more about you! If you’re uncomfortable with going public (<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I would be too, don’t be ashamed</span>), go ahead and e-mail me at jeney (dot) anderson (at) gmail (dot) com.<br /><br />I promise I don’t bite.<br /><br />I just drool a lot.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >* But that doesn't give you jerks who comment regularly a free pass.</span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-85650435161279033652010-02-16T09:44:00.000-08:002010-02-16T10:24:41.620-08:00Post It Note Tuesday: Fattie Gras<center><a href="http://supahmommy.blogspot.com/2009/09/post-it-note-tuesday-what-will-you-say.html" target="_blank"><img alt="" src="http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s27/dperry_2007/superstickies-413-1.png" border="0" /></a></center><br /><br />So today is Mardi Gras. A day of full Paczki's, colorful beads, boobies, and cakes with plastic figurines of babes in them.<br /><br />But for those of you who are members of the Catholic Church,<strike> or as I like to call it - The Life of Eternal Guilt</strike> today is the last day before you attempt to give up something that you typically cannot go without for an entire 40 days of absolute hell to better yourself and bring you closer to your Lord and savior Jesus Christ.<br /><br />Or something like that...<br /><br />Today's Post It Note Tuesday will honor the top five things I will never try to give up again and the top five things I wish were acceptable enough to give up.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;">On the '<span style="font-style: italic;">Never attempting to give up EVER AGAIN</span>' list:<br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwTYM5mKpb3_6tfFoYCxrxQrQWkSWud_7PBOSaRxtOp60KP5CiuL3wUa27YfT6oJTVBnbvl8wICqaOPojrN0JBm8zrMQ8pXHui3udaJAJUB-VwTj9NdHtkDauKSyTRpv-KsOnl2WYg_Ar/s1600-h/Caff.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwTYM5mKpb3_6tfFoYCxrxQrQWkSWud_7PBOSaRxtOp60KP5CiuL3wUa27YfT6oJTVBnbvl8wICqaOPojrN0JBm8zrMQ8pXHui3udaJAJUB-VwTj9NdHtkDauKSyTRpv-KsOnl2WYg_Ar/s320/Caff.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438904272362990498" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSP7zQvqhCE3cDV0GZK2AtmRe9V-hrmruwfhIDgkK8F9JuKBCUvrL7-5x_LeGhGQO7lnVekaopdnmGizYnudW891CFgaTCpUI-W2_CUvX_saTYZJredX5tjNW3_fuCzs8j37zB2YrNx80/s1600-h/Burr.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSP7zQvqhCE3cDV0GZK2AtmRe9V-hrmruwfhIDgkK8F9JuKBCUvrL7-5x_LeGhGQO7lnVekaopdnmGizYnudW891CFgaTCpUI-W2_CUvX_saTYZJredX5tjNW3_fuCzs8j37zB2YrNx80/s320/Burr.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438904717622266626" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FSvsoYCVY2DjZlLHHBHTgD_YpayoFG3cKpzJacz-7HEcNdR-US76VMYCIZyiTapSGwrlyuSOBnqzts2GehpRM0bCElLSfm0_0QB2xjBHf4T3YYfInduOtWAZm-xNLSxOlbisW9ss_qmG/s1600-h/Mea.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FSvsoYCVY2DjZlLHHBHTgD_YpayoFG3cKpzJacz-7HEcNdR-US76VMYCIZyiTapSGwrlyuSOBnqzts2GehpRM0bCElLSfm0_0QB2xjBHf4T3YYfInduOtWAZm-xNLSxOlbisW9ss_qmG/s320/Mea.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438904917099381794" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7j6UGsAsDeX2A3gbG_JiYvnpY7dHqahmWbUvyLvFR7CLnD3iyml7NeGyFaAImqFkyFnPy9oxP1NrIMe8xC1xXU10sCTlPYZEQxpGU9Jo0T4nEOn9Q0j0PSN_rVzySY6aFOGZI19NWq0Xg/s1600-h/Soc+Med.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7j6UGsAsDeX2A3gbG_JiYvnpY7dHqahmWbUvyLvFR7CLnD3iyml7NeGyFaAImqFkyFnPy9oxP1NrIMe8xC1xXU10sCTlPYZEQxpGU9Jo0T4nEOn9Q0j0PSN_rVzySY6aFOGZI19NWq0Xg/s320/Soc+Med.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438904844356033362" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOAk0WPNrZlus9fD1QJIy9ToTGXE7kzaUt2vk8l8pemTqDtU6hjQK_nw-VotGFaW4v96ATevE3JeZXU1ZB7EecpJcvl_Lkmh3T76kd3h3Ian9WKxRDpL5Je8KtyAStQWwoG5HYAkaf9xu/s1600-h/Drink.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOAk0WPNrZlus9fD1QJIy9ToTGXE7kzaUt2vk8l8pemTqDtU6hjQK_nw-VotGFaW4v96ATevE3JeZXU1ZB7EecpJcvl_Lkmh3T76kd3h3Ian9WKxRDpL5Je8KtyAStQWwoG5HYAkaf9xu/s320/Drink.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438905147010310466" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;">As for the '<span style="font-style: italic;">My mother would give me the stank eye if I gave these up</span>' list:<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6yKRmhz2E-ajs_4uFplw9GwYit_RyReun-eyTsGsA9diOBp4lg6etqeyULyxuVNIIZHYSdx6tCQBkYOZvLAqfg3q_mmJ_YfedcSt4Ud8P-SjVbVL-xOJ-PZTPWCui1nVnASZU__BxPY-/s1600-h/Winter.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6yKRmhz2E-ajs_4uFplw9GwYit_RyReun-eyTsGsA9diOBp4lg6etqeyULyxuVNIIZHYSdx6tCQBkYOZvLAqfg3q_mmJ_YfedcSt4Ud8P-SjVbVL-xOJ-PZTPWCui1nVnASZU__BxPY-/s320/Winter.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438905388076610722" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7HwVZVb4E0Z402YclG_IH7_oCy8r5AOsuS2qe58rTvoe1N1-itAC6tbxT8MXO2OIBsAlPgHr96S2FfnTndvvFiaL4POQQIqEcWpfL6Dhgb1jPmnwRdbcBh4TbalU2XK4_E9JNNrRyhVL/s1600-h/Mush.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7HwVZVb4E0Z402YclG_IH7_oCy8r5AOsuS2qe58rTvoe1N1-itAC6tbxT8MXO2OIBsAlPgHr96S2FfnTndvvFiaL4POQQIqEcWpfL6Dhgb1jPmnwRdbcBh4TbalU2XK4_E9JNNrRyhVL/s320/Mush.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438905883724814402" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiftI2qA700UD4VftlKcFKPv_If2NSbfz3cO9Z1ConpCoFsiSU2bNFezRg3IiRpwjiRrrwRIpZ1NEXekETGwaEuQIP5w3x75xGGfQcktGzR8o9yMyNbVvKqPl6M3V1agnMmXvDXmKF_CeSJ/s1600-h/kesha.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiftI2qA700UD4VftlKcFKPv_If2NSbfz3cO9Z1ConpCoFsiSU2bNFezRg3IiRpwjiRrrwRIpZ1NEXekETGwaEuQIP5w3x75xGGfQcktGzR8o9yMyNbVvKqPl6M3V1agnMmXvDXmKF_CeSJ/s320/kesha.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438906106299453090" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbegSMxLC9355GKb85X_k2g_4M3tEbyj4vMnPJQlOk2Wp0ZXu50h-8Hzr2fxQp4qjlKI2CaULrmRjS4HjTkbdnSnmXINg-926XnrhJxGQZBpwBYp4bqtoHrokARi7xzatClm-cwjty3OB/s1600-h/shower.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbegSMxLC9355GKb85X_k2g_4M3tEbyj4vMnPJQlOk2Wp0ZXu50h-8Hzr2fxQp4qjlKI2CaULrmRjS4HjTkbdnSnmXINg-926XnrhJxGQZBpwBYp4bqtoHrokARi7xzatClm-cwjty3OB/s320/shower.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438906265509855442" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9sO0JKxfrfqBV2dEYdqIByyxXhxQvTL0nlqIaz1mtiFQACm8eXNihrVSenzTWPUzwaMhKHygeMHy5WOdZ6mV0njcONSmSYIQ7ZuTrwm3Go33oRdwWsMY3HwS5t_Wm_D2FmXr-ouBUr7j/s1600-h/shave.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9sO0JKxfrfqBV2dEYdqIByyxXhxQvTL0nlqIaz1mtiFQACm8eXNihrVSenzTWPUzwaMhKHygeMHy5WOdZ6mV0njcONSmSYIQ7ZuTrwm3Go33oRdwWsMY3HwS5t_Wm_D2FmXr-ouBUr7j/s320/shave.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438906416525405778" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Happy Fat Tuesday Bitches!!</span><br /></div>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-34768358255291676852010-02-12T07:48:00.000-08:002010-02-12T10:02:27.904-08:00Why I Hate Valentine's DayThis weekend, roughly eighty seven percent of the people I know will be exchanging absurdly expensive velvet boxes of candy, annoying stuffed members of the animal kingdom, and ridiculous displays of foliage all while making me want to vomit. all. day.<br /><br />No, really. It’s not that big of a deal.<br /><br />It’s fine that the only flowers I have ever received on National Schmoopsie Poo Day were from the boyfriend who ended up dumping me as I was getting in the car to leave for college and my father when I was in my twenties.<br /><br />It doesn't even matter that I have to buy <span style="font-style: italic;">myself</span> those absurdly expensive velvet boxes of candy.<br /><br />I really don’t even care that I have had a super sexy little hot pink teddy in the back of my closet for the past five years with no one to wear it for.<br /><br />And I don’t even like jewelry, anyway.<br /><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;">Me? Bitter? Never.</span>)<br /><br />Because my hatred of Valentine's Day does not stem from always being single on February 14th. Oh no, no, no. Not this girl. No-sir-ee-bobby! <strike>I can't believe I just typed that</strike>.<br /><br />Back when I was a wee tike in grade school, if we were going to bring Valentines for someone we had to bring one for everyone in the class. We even made card receptacles out of paper bags and construction paper during class for this shenanigan of a holiday.<br /><br />I know what you are thinking. And, no, I did not get shafted on my Valentines like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=htyf5wnC96w&feature=related">Gretchen Weiners</a>. My pain and suffering runs far deeper than that.<br /><br />You see, when I was in the fourth grade I had a huge crush on a boy. Let's call him Mr. Meanie Pants. Because I'm mature like that.<br /><br />I boldly decided to ask Mr. Meanie Pants to be my Valentine. And at the tender age of nine, I had devised a very discrete and devious way of doing so without the embarrassment of the whole class knowing about my crush.<br /><br />I wrote him a note that I felt was so poetic and heartfelt I almost didn't give it to him. It read:<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vBXfG4QasHX5Ky5KtgPedlSOYIbnr_8ZMJ0r-W3y7UN61vhkTN9053ai5ITbvfY-DC28w88bH43sOcxwjPJCxLaK0cHuXCrMS43oVVQUbyN4ImhiVnVGY2nMdW6UPsMBtOiyEZu6vGWE/s1600-h/dj0ArWqYiO.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1vBXfG4QasHX5Ky5KtgPedlSOYIbnr_8ZMJ0r-W3y7UN61vhkTN9053ai5ITbvfY-DC28w88bH43sOcxwjPJCxLaK0cHuXCrMS43oVVQUbyN4ImhiVnVGY2nMdW6UPsMBtOiyEZu6vGWE/s320/dj0ArWqYiO.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437395417172961394" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Clever, huh?<br /></span></div><br />I slipped the note into his Valentine before I popped it into his scarcely decorated Valentine bag.<br /><br />Now all I had to do was wait... and I didn't have to wait long.<br /><br />Mr. Meanie pants did not circle yes. He didn't circle no. Hell, he didn't even just ignore it and pretend I never gave it to him to begin with.<br /><br />Rather, he felt it was necessary to laugh boisterously about the note. Then he read it to his band of hoodlum friends. After they got a good snort and chuckle out of it, the other twelve ten-year-olds in the class wanted to know what was so funny.<br /><br />He then announced to the entire class that he, Mr. Meanie Pants, would, in fact, <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">NEVER</span> be my Valentine. After his proclamation, he proceeded to savagely rip my note apart and throw it on the ground.<br /><br />Who has two thumbs and despises Singles Awareness Day?<br /><br />This fucking girl.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(I have just realized that the fourth grade was quite possibly the most <a href="http://shamrock-on.blogspot.com/2010/01/tmi-thursday-crapping-my-pants.html">mortifying and traumatic </a>year of my life.)</span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-5012584254741580422010-02-10T10:05:00.000-08:002010-02-10T15:43:46.093-08:00Super Bowl ShenanigansSo I hosted my first ever Super Bowl party at <span style="font-style: italic;">mi casa</span> this past Sunday. What I thought would be a fun little get together with some close friends turned into a Jeney-drank-way-more-than-she-should-have-and made-a-complete-ass-out-of-herself kind of night.<br /><br />Anyone surprised?<br /><br />No?<br /><br />Me either.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Exhibit A:</u></span><u></u><br /><br />I was one of about two and half people actually rooting for the Saints. Most of the people who attended my party were actually Vikings fans and felt a bitter hatred towards the team that thwarted poor, old man Favre from retiring* with <span style="font-style: italic;">another</span> Super Bowl ring. So everyone else was rooting for Manning and the boys in blue.<br /><br />Voice of God was one of them.<br /><br />As a result of the game not going exactly the way he wanted, Voice of God kept walking out of the apartment to roam the hallways cursing. Every time he did this I locked the door <strike>because I'm an obnoxious little shit</strike> because I thought it was funny.<br /><br />Voice of God did not agree with my sense of humor.<br /><br /><center><object height="300" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=9362512&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=9362512&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="300" width="400"></embed></object><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/9362512">Voice of God Skools Jeney</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user3139732">Jeney Anderson</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p></center><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This was after the fourth time I had locked him out. </span><br /><br />After about the eighth or ninth time I locked him out, he felt the only proper punishment was to throw me over his shoulders helicopter style and began to spin me around like I was a rag doll.<br /><br />I, being as intoxicated as I was, clutched to Voice of God with everything I had in me hoping and praying that I wouldn't hit my head on the wall/vomit/fall off him mid-spin.<br /><br />Awful, terrible, bad idea, folks.<br /><br />Once he stopped spinning and started to let me down, my Vulcan death grip on his shoulders caused all 290 lbs of him to start tipping over as well. This left him with two options. Neither of which would end well for me...<br /><br />1) Continue tipping over with my momentum and fall on top of me risking the possibility of breaking my arm, cracking my ribs, and/or snapping my neck.<br /><br />2) Just dropping me and hoping I don't land on something crucial.<br /><br />Well, kiddos. Voice of God decided to drop me six feet and four inches on to our hard, cold, poorly carpeted floor.<br /><br />Luckily, I only landed square and directly on my <span style="font-weight: bold;">noggin</span> rather than on some other more important body part like my hip or shoulder.<br /><br />I woke up Monday morning with a headache that would have crippled Sasquatch and I still can't wash my hair without wincing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Exhibit B:</u></span><u></u><br /><br />There is no long, entertaining story behind this one. I simply danced like a damn fool when the clock hit 0:00 and the Saints had a larger number in their score box. I have no idea if this behavior was caused by Coors Light or my quasi-not-really concussion.<br /><br /><center><object height="300" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=9362592&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=9362592&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="300" width="400"></embed></object><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/9362592">Dancin' Like a Fool</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user3139732">Jeney Anderson</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p></center><br /><br />The moral of this story, kids, is that one should not lock one's very large, strong, and irate roommate out of the apartment. One should especially not do this repeatedly. You'll end up ass over elbows.<br /><br />And celebrating a win like you ride the short bus when there are cameras around isn't such a good idea either.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">* SIKE! </span></span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-2908163652250597922010-02-09T10:16:00.000-08:002010-02-09T14:26:41.200-08:00Aw, hellI didn't post about my Super Bowl party shenanigans yesterday because I had a wicked headache that I wish was from a hangover but was really a minor head injury from the Voice of God throwing me on the floor.<br /><br /><strike><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvheM1vXksJDruPet-_9l7qTm2_gxsRKLteXqhOdbedQtZMjEcKlS-_vDZfO_MDel44zVNmTZn0xdjlzXwJ2Mn_zw8_7MyyrjwQVUxypWtyTYIBmt8Dkvc0puMOSaw1vbw5JO-1IN6T_XS/s1600-h/images.jpeg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 103px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvheM1vXksJDruPet-_9l7qTm2_gxsRKLteXqhOdbedQtZMjEcKlS-_vDZfO_MDel44zVNmTZn0xdjlzXwJ2Mn_zw8_7MyyrjwQVUxypWtyTYIBmt8Dkvc0puMOSaw1vbw5JO-1IN6T_XS/s320/images.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436315229435480722" border="0" /></a></strike><br /><strike>Aaaaand I know most of you were rooting for the Colts and I wasn't and I didn't want you all to hate me.</strike><br /><br />I'm not posting it today either because I spent my morning with a needle in my arm and eating cookies. (read: donating blood and trying not to pass out because they couldn't get the needle in my vein)<br /><br />I will, however, be posting about my head injury tomorrow. There is a video of me dancing around like a moron involved.Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-71345033425715096842010-02-05T07:29:00.000-08:002010-02-05T07:48:50.090-08:00I'm the World's Greatest Cracker!So <a href="http://www.livitluvit.com">LiLu</a> does this thing called "<a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/the-shiz-my-friends-say">The Shiz my Friends Say</a>" and I must admit - that shit's hysterical.<br /><br />I didn't really want to steal her thunder or infringe on any copywrites for fear that Axe Murderer will be set after me for revenge... But her's are way funnier than mine and she's prettier and a way better blogger.*<br /><br />But there are some ridiculous things that make it <strike>or simply bypass</strike> my friends' internal filters that have to be shared.<br /><br />After all, these guys are the reason I haven't gone woodchipper on anyone's asses yet.**<br /><br />***<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">While watching Iron Chef:</span><br /><br />AT: "What the hell is that? A pile of leaves?"<br /><br />Me: "Also known as a salad..."<br /><br />***<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Referring to some kind of cheese cracker:</span><br /><br />Voice of God: “These are the greatest crackers in the world… besides you two.”<br /><br />***<br /><br />Voice of God: “What color is your phone?”<br /><br />Me: “Pink.”<br /><br />Voice of God: “And AT’s is black?”<br /><br />Me: “Yep.”<br /><br />Voice of God: “So hers really is a Blackberry and yours is just a Strawberry?”<br /><br />***<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">While bringing Bear home, he kept trying to get in Voice of God’s lap in the front seat:</span><br /><br />Me: He must like you.<br /><br />Voice of God: No he’s just probably excited and thinking “Hey! I’ve never seen one like you before. You guys come in chocolate, too?”<br /><br />***<br /><br />Me: Soooo... I had a dream last night that I came to visit you and you had a really hot roommate and a pet elephant.<br /><br />Vic: I have a really hot roommate who happens to be a stuffed pet elephant. Don’t judge him… he's sensitive.<br /><br />***<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">After he threw a boiled peanut at me:</span><br /><br />Me: Pick up that peanut!<br /><br />Voice of God: Ok, come here and I'll pick you up then.<br /><br />***<br /><br />Happy Friday!!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*<span style="font-style: italic;"> Ass kissing? Never.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">**Bonus points to anyone who got that reference.</span></span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-87243311752792414342010-02-03T07:48:00.000-08:002010-02-03T08:48:37.349-08:00I'm a lot more effed up than I thought...Like most people, for as long as I can remember, I have had a lot of trouble remembering my dreams. When I was a kid, the only ones that stuck with me when I woke up were nightmares. When I was about 12, my mom got me a dreamcatcher and had it blessed by a family friend who happens to be a High Priestess in a Wiccan coven. All my nightmares and dreams went away.<br /><br />Until recently.<br /><br />And let me tell you, if dreams are a wish your heart makes... I need to be committed. This shit's fucked up, yo.<br /><br />Sometime in October I had a dream that BDubz and I were floating on a couch (<span style="font-style: italic;">Because couches float, duh?</span>) in the middle of a flood in Fargo. We had a fish tank (<span style="font-style: italic;">With fish in it... we like a challenge.</span>) and a Pug with us (<span style="font-style: italic;">Supposedly my subconscious thinks these are two things that we </span><span style="font-style: italic;">absolutely, positively, without question</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> must save in a flood</span>). We were trying to switch couches, but every time we got into the other couch, it started to sink (<span style="font-style: italic;">Jackass couch</span>).<br /><br />Then a little while later I had a dream that BDubz and Voice of God were mad at me because we didn't have any spoons in the apartment (<span style="font-style: italic;">But there was like 10,000 knives... how ironic?</span>*). To which I replied that if they didn't use all the spoons to cook, then maybe we would have spoons in the house (<span style="font-style: italic;">Apparently lack of spoons is a sensitive subject in our household...</span>).<br /><br />Another dream had Voice of God shaved all his dreads off except for a small patch in the front above his forehead. And sang lady Marmalade with three of my athletes at a benefit concert (<span style="font-style: italic;">Makes total sense, right? Right??</span>).<br /><br />Last night I had a dream that we owned two cats (<span style="font-style: italic;">Which wouldn't be weird if BDubz didn't HATE cats</span>) and my cat turned into a person at night (<span style="font-style: italic;">...Um. Yeah.</span>).<br /><br />I have no earthly idea why I have started remembering my dreams. I am even more confused <strike> and utterly disappointed</strike> with the fact that my imagination can't help me out with a dream about laying on a beach in Cabo San Lucas while Adam Lambert feeds me grapes and sings to me and Ryan Reynolds bubs lotion on my back.**<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >*I know this is backwards from the original lyrics and that it has nothing to do with real irony. Get off my back.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >**Of course my imagination would turn this into Adam throwing salami at me while Ryan decides to use his feet instead of his hands.***<br />***And we'd be in Iraq or Afghanistan in the middle of a war zone.****<br />****And Jack Bauer would be involved somehow.</span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-9184378776998208162010-02-02T07:07:00.000-08:002010-02-02T07:34:45.894-08:00Post it Note Tuesday: Big Pimpin'<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://supahmommy.blogspot.com/2009/09/post-it-note-tuesday-what-will-you-say.html" target="_blank"><img alt="" src="http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s27/dperry_2007/superstickies-413-1.png" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Hello boys and girls! This week's edition of Post it Note Tuesday is brought to you by </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Shameless Self Promotion, Inc., Blatant Blog Pimping & Co., and the letter Q! Just click on the Stick-Its for today's little golden nuggets of amazingness!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://weheartcookiedough.wordpress.com/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKJcydc-pnJSleqrbtP50sINIkOTXANnkhXX5qPBggQGIu2dRXEYPvwEdCWCcMQG5cHlw08tDgMo6shEQJT5XRRfy87SUZOMo-lVGHlPMWxO68UIs4EAeP306AFkE47JHbYbQBrV8n6Kp/s320/CookieDough.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433667261884962754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXd7PnJXvhxh_xnalWBsyFZwrXEd56195wDeN8uhYLfFbdzdCZQK1D9jxxp-6ukqt4f8WPkqC467h76LxIfJZ5LdJPf5pd26qLOGk1_ab2WunXmZs1p0IC7vSuALXN1fo4x44EgpFPzmT/s1600-h/fargo.png"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.20sb.net/profile/JennyB"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KG-Xb0c-zeuOcmG4q1FMopSwPccd1g6wrjgoKMgbzbYMA3pjejiBew5tHwgIvb8Uu-npfPgDOl5KpAOc_a_ieVDx3FuTo044UBXxN8crLcKWeBQT8YeElu7TxmL9AE76_MDGP6mcdqCu/s320/20SB.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433667512071017490" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.google.com/#hl=en&source=hp&q=population+of+Fargo%2C+ND&aq=f&aqi=g1&oq=&fp=64df356c6a3f8304"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgHixW1vQQBB0guii9CBzhLUoR1EocmZyzQwrnCQyQe8Qi6kalxucfzK1cXCxvw9LWmXLNk1FmM-Zs-G4bs5JiN3Ds-0DnaW9t_D4OWVQfRkdY7sJ-Dh-sQS5nMwv-SUGLd7cuCg_Fb4x/s320/superstickies.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433668353134129810" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.loveharder.org/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBzJxTWjIgN7fyMwGdEjHsperz8tKgU9FCkGJlFTC89SYKEE1LKif2eoLLALoHmE7Yih5R8tNUUgwHIfN834KvQ-_dmBkw6-KX9bNBdcHAfLjibD41ZV04aBr3L3y1qInrinGY4hQBWxC/s320/loveharder.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433668660551676194" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://apps.facebook.com/blognetworks/blog/just_a_lost_soul_swimmin_in_a_fish_bowl/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqUA8PElZjiorwEyihpz6tFXSCXS_0mBwNAbXlOgn4I22wWz-RAy6Wi5dPaV9UI-Cap97MhfE-GrIDjxxq-qMUYHsraG1i40ZzwrvsS8NPBU0Ze0XF1XSpKT8K18B11gCob2c37knDjYxD/s320/HJ0ToJZ74C.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433669217345268722" border="0" /></a>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-31082539748647696992010-02-01T07:13:00.000-08:002010-02-01T07:38:13.165-08:00Letters to My MorningDear Alarm Clock,<br /><br />I admire your persistence. I really do. But for the love of God I have owned you since I was in Junior High. Don't you think it's about time you break?<br /><br />The sound you make makes me violent,<br />Jeney Peney<br /><br />***<br /><br />Dear Coffee Pot,<br /><br />I love you more than words can express.<br /><br />Addicted,<br />Jeney Peney<br /><br />***<br /><br />Dear Contact Lenses,<br /><br />I would apologize for neglecting to put you in this morning, but in all honesty you're lucky I even considered it for the millisecond I did.<br /><br />I can't even keep my eyes open to write this,<br />Jeney Peney<br /><br />***<br /><br />Dear Below Freezing Temperatures,<br /><br />Not cool, yo. I'm really not a fan of walking out in 2 degree weather and thinking, "Oh, it's not bad out. I could have worn a lighter coat."<br /><br />I'm moving to Arizona,<br />Jeney Peney<br /><br />***<br /><br />Dear Truck in Front of Me with Dual Exhaust,<br /><br />I understand that emission checks are not required in NoDak, but I really hope you die a slow painful death for exuding such a foul smelling, earth killing exhaust twice as fast <strike>and into my general direction</strike>.<br /><br />I still can't breathe,<br />Jeney Peney<br /><br />***<br /><br />Dear Sirius Satellite Radio,<br /><br />I cannot thank you enough for playing <span style="font-style: italic;">MMMBop</span> on 90's on 9. At least you put a smile on my face before I get into the office.<br /><br />Don't judge me,<br />Jeney Peney<br /><br />***<br /><br />Dear Mom and Dad,<br /><br />Thank you for sending me this totally kick ass travel mug that looks like a disposable coffee cup.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3O06QKI8W0YnlkoCMl_3XKd1gpumTieE_Fly-y3HtptS8vdNwSqJ7SL5z2oPVmanAYPPRHXxOaj1xKldbPTFMTw1W_GK25gh1Ncqz8JaBIzFh5lD0n2nxogslrrUJbuRMGWvu7EOiKt06/s1600-h/IMG00042.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3O06QKI8W0YnlkoCMl_3XKd1gpumTieE_Fly-y3HtptS8vdNwSqJ7SL5z2oPVmanAYPPRHXxOaj1xKldbPTFMTw1W_GK25gh1Ncqz8JaBIzFh5lD0n2nxogslrrUJbuRMGWvu7EOiKt06/s200/IMG00042.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433296595744189538" border="0" /></a><br />I feel that much cooler for drinking out of it,<br />Jeney PeneyJeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-53803892217193927262010-01-29T07:09:00.000-08:002010-01-29T07:19:16.128-08:00The Best Moment of My LifeI recently went and signed myself up for a<a href="http://www.formspring.me/jeneypeney"> formspring.me</a> account and I have one thing to say.<br /><br />You guys are weird.<br /><br />I know I can be pretty ridiculous and I have little to no shame/dignity left, but seriously people? What the hell kind of questions are these? Sexiest piece of lingerie? My signature “moves” in bed? Absurd.<br /><br />I spent a lot of time toiling with whether or not to be serious or facetious in my answers, but one question totally and honestly had me stumped…<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“What has been the best moment of your life to date?”</span><br /><br />Holy soul searching Batman!<br /><br />Immediately about three different things had popped into my mind… The second I finished presenting and defending my senior thesis. Moving into my first apartment on my own. Realizing my bra size was a whole cup bigger in Target bras.<br /><br />But are any of those really the best moment of my life? I mean, I have had a lot of moments in my twenty something years. So what if I finished my thesis? I’m not the only one who had to do the damn thing. Moving into an apartment? Big deal; I’ve moved into three others since then. And no matter what the tag says, the girls still confirm my membership to the Itty Bitty Tittie Committee.<br /><br />So I began to dig really deep into the gray matter beneath my skull to come up with that one moment that was so mind-blowing, so magnificent, and so absolutely and completely fantastical that it trumped all others.<br /><br />Thinking of that one moment is a lot of pressure, people.<br /><br />It was over fourteen hours later, but I finally found my answer. It was hiding within the quote, "Life is not measured by breaths we take in a moment, but by moments that take our breaths away.” I know that is completely cliché and cheesy, but it is. so. true.<br /><br />There are so many moments in my life that really were so mind-blowing, so magnificent, and so absolutely and completely fantastical that they make all the awful and shit-tacular moments obsolete.<br /><br />Like the time we brought home our first puppy, Rufus, and he immediately pooped on the carpet in the living room. But he was so cute and we were so happy to have him we all just laughed.<br /><br />Or when my grandparents celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary and you could see they were still so madly in love with each other that you couldn’t help but smile with them the whole night.<br /><br />Then there was the time my brother brought home a paper heart from his second grade class that prompted “Something I will love forever is…” and he had filled in “my sister Jeney.”<br /><br />Live your life one moment at a time, because otherwise you <span style="font-weight: bold;">will</span> miss something. As Cesare Pavese said <strike>in another cliché and overused quote</strike>, “We do not remember days, we remember moments. The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.”<br /><br />Tell me, what is your best moment?Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-34881277530977097132010-01-28T08:13:00.000-08:002010-01-28T08:37:50.344-08:00(Mini)TMI Thursday : UnderpantsWell, today <span style="font-weight: bold;">is</span> TMI Thursday and to be honest, I am holding back on the story I really want to tell because I've seriously been toeing the line of appropriateness a lot lately.<br /><br />And people at work read this thing.<br /><br />So I feel the need to take a "Holy crap, did you read Jeney's blog today?" break.<br /><br />I also need to stop double spacing everything.<br /><br />Or maybe just not drink so much coffee in the morning.<br /><br />Anycaffeine,<br /><br />I feel like I would be cheating if I didn't post<span style="font-style: italic;"> somethin</span>g today.*<br /><br />So here is it.<br /><br />Are you ready for this?<br /><br />My underwear's on inside out. **<br /><br />Huzzah!<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KXFLpND4Q_g&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KXFLpND4Q_g&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object> ***<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />* Since I am <span style="font-weight: bold;">POSITIVE</span> that this post did not, in fact, quench for thirst for gross and obscene today, go read all that is <a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday">TMI Thursday glory at LiLu's pad</a>. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">** This totally made me think of <a href="http://singleinfertilefemale.blogspot.com/2010/01/can-you-guess.html">S.I.F. and her mishaps</a> from Tuesday.<br />*** I start giggling every time I watch that clip... which is hereby dedicated to Peach (and by default, <a href="http://shamrock-on.blogspot.com/2010/01/shou-tizzle-to-out-sizzle.html">Bowdisha</a>.)<br /></span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-6144258137179722842010-01-27T07:11:00.000-08:002010-01-27T07:17:59.398-08:00WinterIn honor of the four inches of slush <strike>that no one deemed necessary to plow</strike> we got over the weekend that froze into a plate of ice <strike>I am not exaggerating</strike> over the roads this week as well as the bitter below freezing temperatures <strike>that render the salt useless</strike> that decided to return to us and the blowing snow that made my commute to work absolutely terrifying on Monday <strike>and run-on sentences</strike>, I am posting a delightful little poem about winter my brother forwarded to me in a e-mail.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5bb3Mx0b8NKfCJJgkCVQb5-CVX4-djS0o7jpdNkOdYoTPoXQ98JW5y8vVkGudvN6T5KSyg6CSeKm0fwxoz1VzHgGJX_rCpLcuUI0kUh8gz567miLGl-T-vgAlo3F8ZJFGl_5KJHdMKiE/s1600-h/WinterPoem.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5bb3Mx0b8NKfCJJgkCVQb5-CVX4-djS0o7jpdNkOdYoTPoXQ98JW5y8vVkGudvN6T5KSyg6CSeKm0fwxoz1VzHgGJX_rCpLcuUI0kUh8gz567miLGl-T-vgAlo3F8ZJFGl_5KJHdMKiE/s400/WinterPoem.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431438466244643938" border="0" /></a>Happy Hump Day!<br /></div>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-17790368140756121602010-01-26T07:51:00.000-08:002010-01-26T07:58:27.271-08:00Post it Tuesday - Internet Glitches and Bitches<div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">Welcome to another Post it Note Tuesday!<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Stick it Note Tuesday:</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://supahmommy.blogspot.com/2009/09/post-it-note-tuesday-what-will-you-say.html"><img alt="" src="http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s27/dperry_2007/superstickies-18-1.png" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />****<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8fkPHlgNiV7rFFhPwR-eV_OEizRRhRzcxTJXMDr61hfstW5PD9KVLVWbYmO70AzlLGLM1UE1Cs5gM6Ja1IfaFiEldHRBKYjKNoIVDWhRqxTMFJHv6zw3ODoCFqIou4Xnm9iarZDVL8RYW/s1600-h/Emails.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8fkPHlgNiV7rFFhPwR-eV_OEizRRhRzcxTJXMDr61hfstW5PD9KVLVWbYmO70AzlLGLM1UE1Cs5gM6Ja1IfaFiEldHRBKYjKNoIVDWhRqxTMFJHv6zw3ODoCFqIou4Xnm9iarZDVL8RYW/s320/Emails.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431077433864189762" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5uJxqylaX9HayFuwC3I8q30QkoAIJ6M-G_CKGlWEecskpmObbchEPe6lFzts0elkWFYiOQa3MstPD_xIVmWM-3eUCps77D4WZFj-7g7gvd6ZXobVhI962n-Nqm2Ez889pz9MN08qDMfVT/s1600-h/YF8wCgkSrp.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5uJxqylaX9HayFuwC3I8q30QkoAIJ6M-G_CKGlWEecskpmObbchEPe6lFzts0elkWFYiOQa3MstPD_xIVmWM-3eUCps77D4WZFj-7g7gvd6ZXobVhI962n-Nqm2Ez889pz9MN08qDMfVT/s320/YF8wCgkSrp.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431077758787421538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJ68dQZBhardd5klw-YIPu02r22qL3aeqcaLn5hbeyG8AY2L6T9_RsAdd1-1E05sOf55ATwOXzSPgOsbqTzh8RJn-05lYxrO7YM_Q35Bj9cdPTbnu6cj9PgoIVf5C6zOj0Y0j1cVQ98Gg/s1600-h/facebookchat.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJ68dQZBhardd5klw-YIPu02r22qL3aeqcaLn5hbeyG8AY2L6T9_RsAdd1-1E05sOf55ATwOXzSPgOsbqTzh8RJn-05lYxrO7YM_Q35Bj9cdPTbnu6cj9PgoIVf5C6zOj0Y0j1cVQ98Gg/s320/facebookchat.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431077534382750290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqJFQuYQ05YV9uYnRCzcBgmQwwsahaaX1zyLGteUrgWrEiWR-ECN0obo-Rwg2_G0YJ4_q7Byr3O9gPZJklz2SKhLzoHC1H_D9kbizTLnHCA1UEMp2AvXdv-wDcPx-4IwlPwk1sLUnaJL_/s1600-h/snorkel.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqJFQuYQ05YV9uYnRCzcBgmQwwsahaaX1zyLGteUrgWrEiWR-ECN0obo-Rwg2_G0YJ4_q7Byr3O9gPZJklz2SKhLzoHC1H_D9kbizTLnHCA1UEMp2AvXdv-wDcPx-4IwlPwk1sLUnaJL_/s320/snorkel.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431077904743866898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><img src="file:///C:/Users/Jeney/Desktop/facebookchat.png" alt="" /><br /></div>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-28336820955371844752010-01-22T11:22:00.000-08:002010-01-22T11:27:35.665-08:00Nothing to write home about....This is what I like to call a 'doppelganger post'.<br /><br />You see... it pretends it's a real post but in reality, it's just me telling you I finally cleaned up my blog and made a new header (the black background is finally gone). So get the hell out of your reader and at least glance at the work I did.<br /><br />In all fairness, <a href="http://jeneywritingblog.blogspot.com">Nothing Rhymes with Orange</a> has a real post. <br /><br />Happy Friday!Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-12023405991847174712010-01-21T08:20:00.000-08:002010-01-21T10:26:16.420-08:00TMI Thursday : Crapping my PantsConsidering just how many of my IRL friends have started reading this blog I know I am probably going to regret posting this. But you know what? If you crazy faces chose to read, then you're getting all the obscene, inappropriate, and awful things that come with it. Just know that if you ridicule me, I <span style="font-style: italic;">will</span> find ways to seek revenge on your sorry asses. Enjoy yourselves!<br /><br /><em>Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!</em><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" alt="TMI Thursday" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />It was just like any normal day in Mrs. Demon’s* fourth grade class, really. We all took our seats that morning and diligently paid attention to our daily cursive, spelling, and arithmetic lessons.<br /><br />However, on this particular day, a woman from the high school counseling office was coming to talk to the class about this crazy thing called “self-esteem.” (Apparently my public school district felt that at the tender age of nine, we were all destined to be cast in Dr. Phil’s Sex Rehab.)<br /><br />While this normally would have been a welcome distraction in the mundane activities of the day, the woman’s visit happened to be during the exact time that our class would normally take our afternoon bathroom break… which was also the time that my body decided was its time to be “regular” (Let me tell you, I had a stellar digestive system as a child).<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Me</span><i>: “Can I please use the bathroom?”<br /><br />Ms. Everyone is Special: “I am so sorry sweetie, but I can’t let you leave the classroom. You’ll just have to wait for your teacher to come back.”</i><span style="font-style: italic;"> ::big cheesy smile::</span><br /><br />Now what I should have said was, “BITCH! I have to poop!” But I was awkward and timid and constantly afraid of getting in trouble. So I sat tight (literally).<br /><br />Three minutes later… I started fidgeting a bit.<br /><br />Seven minutes later… I started sweating.<br /><br />Twelve minutes later… my innards felt like it was being cleaved with a hacksaw.<br /><br />Finally, my body couldn’t take it any longer and for the first time in my potty trained life, I shit my pants.<br /><br />I cried the whole <strike>walk</strike>, <strike>run</strike>, sprint home.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >* I cannot remember her real name for the life of me. I must have repressed the memory...</span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-79623181411577732842010-01-20T09:36:00.000-08:002010-01-20T09:47:01.328-08:00LoveHarder<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >While I do not know <a href="http://brainyjane22.wordpress.com/">Brandy</a> personally, I do know her story. And my heart goes out to her in so many ways. I just hope I can do my part to help... and you should to.</span><br /><br /><center><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DcR9Q_1ucc0&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DcR9Q_1ucc0&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></center><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Our Plea<br /></div><br />Our friend Brandy is a brilliant writer, a wonderful teacher, and a generous friend. And she is in love with a man who has just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.<br /><br />We are raising money for the Multiple Myeloma Research Fund in his name. For the price of a cinnamon dolce latte, half-caf, hold the whip, you can be part of an effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.loveharder.org/">http://www.loveharder.org</a><br /></div><br />Every dollar brings us a dollar closer to a cure. And every donation brings a sliver of hope to a girl who needs all the hope she can get.<br /><br />Love Harder,<br />Jeney<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><b>What You Can Do</b><br /><br /></div> <b>Give.</b> Be part of a worldwide effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide. Every dollar <a href="http://www.loveharder.org/" target="_blank">helps</a>.<b><br /><br />Pass it on.</b> Forward this story to five people. Share this blog post. Become our <a href="http://facebook.loveharder.org/" target="_blank">fan</a> on Facebook.<b><br /><br />Love harder.</b> <i>Life is short, love is unbending, and no one knows what could happen next.</i> Tell someone you love them today.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Where Your Money Goes<br /></div><br />The American Institute of Philanthropy recently names The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation <span style="font-weight: bold;">one of the best organizations</span> to give to in terms of their accountability and use of resources.<br /><br />By working closely with researchers, clinicians and partners in the biotech and pharmaceutical industry, the MMRF has helped bring multiple myeloma patients four new treatments that are <b>extending lives around the globe</b>.<br /><br />The MMRF has advanced twenty Phase I and Phase II clinical trials. They need your support to advance these clinical research programs and accelerate the development of <b>better, more effective treatments</b>.<br /><br />The MMRF's Multiple Myeloma Genomics Initiative recently became <b>the first to sequence the multiple myeloma whole genome</b> in its entirety.<br /><br />A whopping 98% of your donation to the MMRF will be used immediately to support <b>high-priority multiple myeloma research</b>.<br /><br />With diminishing funding for early stage drug development and the next myeloma treatments not expected to be approved until 2011, the MMRF desperately <b>needs your help</b>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Brandy's Story </b><br /><br /></div> <i>My name is Brandy. And I have a <a href="http://brainyjane22.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">blog</a>.<br /><br /></i>And a plea.<br /><br />I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach, and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds.<br /><br />Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog-- as personal as the dude that I adore. But I need your help. And it involves my dude.<br /><br />He's a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He's the guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job.<br /><br />He's the guy who sent flowers to me at school-- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He's a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred.<br /><br />He's made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He's listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.<br /><br />I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making-- but this is life. Right now. And I'm throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you.<br /><br />This isn't a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It's just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next.<br /><br />Thank you for reading this, and if you haven't already? Please tell someone you love them today.<br /><br />I did.Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-14045180842031063052010-01-20T07:13:00.000-08:002010-01-20T07:53:52.790-08:00Pretty, Pretty Princess (...or not)When I was an undergrad, one of the courses I was enrolled in my senior year was Communications 490; Theory of Female Beauty with <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%E2%80%9D" com="">Terri Russ</a>, the author of <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%E2%80%9Dhttp://www.amazon.com/Bitchin-Bodies-young-women-dissatisfaction/dp/0980230012%E2%80%9D">Bitchin’ B</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/%E2%80%9Dhttp://www.amazon.com/Bitchin-Bodies-young-women-dissatisfaction/dp/0980230012%E2%80%9D">odies</a>.<br />This was, by far, one of the most enlightening and engrossing classes <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(wow... that makes me sound waaaay too sophisticated)</span> I ever had the pleasure of taking. Remember my <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%E2%80%9Dhttp://shamrock-on.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-just-sayin-wednesday-barbie.html">modified Barbie doll</a>? Yeah, those were the kinds of assignments we had in this class.<br /><br />Totally. bad. ass. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(ahh... that's better)</span><br /><br />The wonderfully talented and eloquent (when she wants to be at least) <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%E2%80%9D" com=""> Mandy</a> recently wrote an <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%E2%80%9Dhttp://www.examiner.com/x-25736-Detroit-Relationship-Angst-Examiner%7Ey2010m1d13-All-I-needed-to-know-about-love-I-didnt-learn-from-Disney%E2%80%9D">article for The Examiner</a> about Disney Princess movies and the unrealistic expectations the films create about love and relationships (not to mention gender roles and socially accepted behavior). Her article reminded me of my favorite assignment I had in Female Beauty – our final project.<br /><br />Professor Russ was a big fan of vague assignments (something I would later realize was the best way to do an assignment). So all she told us to do was a “project of our choice including a research paper and creative element.”<br /><br />I know. I thought that, too. What the hell am I supposed to do?<br /><br />Well, after much deliberating and many a stiff drink later, I decided to do my project on princesses and the myths that surround them. If you want to know more on the base of my study, I have actually posted the paper I wrote for the assignment over at <a href="http://jeneywritingblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/daughters-of-royalty-perfectly.html">Nothing Rhymes with Orange</a>, today. I must warm you it is an academic paper, albeit an entertaining one. (It was just about 8 pages long, so anyone who reads the whole thing gets a cookie.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vJzOxmsTxqicjVjXzJxRAXmMto7ZZi_FpT1l5en6Hx02VhHGKlv95rIXb2hs9eIxyZ_xAWDYL9RuUkfJZWnLHGUaPn-zIvQPGIlrB8-XF8nDihZyqxdWg-_9TAkg4aGElZ6ppIszNSni/s1600-h/DSC00672.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vJzOxmsTxqicjVjXzJxRAXmMto7ZZi_FpT1l5en6Hx02VhHGKlv95rIXb2hs9eIxyZ_xAWDYL9RuUkfJZWnLHGUaPn-zIvQPGIlrB8-XF8nDihZyqxdWg-_9TAkg4aGElZ6ppIszNSni/s320/DSC00672.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428846523680850450" border="0" /></a><br />As for my creative element, I modified the <span style="font-style: italic;">Pretty, Pretty Princess</span> board game to reflect what I thought were the real requirements for being a princess. Rather than collect colored pieces of plastic jewelry, players will collect items such as:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLpJWhJqv8rb8sIKWcZMwJcTToD219cuYiHtGTq3rkY_BLMGLH_f17IWNmJdHd_9oVXyU9Z2ZVnK3THA21Ny3Z-4x91qFjc7UuNghvtDro8M6yyuN4SW7Uqu-2QcGJrB3AVXqqRgrda7DM/s1600-h/DSC00674.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLpJWhJqv8rb8sIKWcZMwJcTToD219cuYiHtGTq3rkY_BLMGLH_f17IWNmJdHd_9oVXyU9Z2ZVnK3THA21Ny3Z-4x91qFjc7UuNghvtDro8M6yyuN4SW7Uqu-2QcGJrB3AVXqqRgrda7DM/s320/DSC00674.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428846756257012626" border="0" /></a><br />A teacup which you must hold with your pinky out for the remainder of the game. Being a princess means you must have impeccable etiquette and table manners at all times. No one likes a sloppy princess.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrM0cA-BG7AkIPYtKFnwQa0LCF-4IESrtqfUouK_av1DZnEAcLlAU5bD6m7sB00wwE5uDwFsM154Lh5xI0BtFw8VRvc9gRDVCDi2Ces4fCVVLpTPmflC4Mvw2v9sDG-lVVGD2K9xGbxqb/s1600-h/DSC00675.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrM0cA-BG7AkIPYtKFnwQa0LCF-4IESrtqfUouK_av1DZnEAcLlAU5bD6m7sB00wwE5uDwFsM154Lh5xI0BtFw8VRvc9gRDVCDi2Ces4fCVVLpTPmflC4Mvw2v9sDG-lVVGD2K9xGbxqb/s320/DSC00675.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428847285190102466" border="0" /></a><br />Dancing tights that must be worn over your socks. Princesses are ALWAYS invited to the prince’s balls and other public affairs. This means you must learn to dance. After all, you don’t want to be “that princess” with two left feet do you?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fEGohUOInPbOzRI6c5CvpjfZDMRgu1jrivj5JBgCNsjeRCy5dOKANN0KC7J38EY4EbiM_yaUVm1UOPdvInsyHKCTNKsaaYt7zicgr2CDuHqOCX1rfzuf_GyICtEDUXgDdzhSF0TfS4lh/s1600-h/DSC00677.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fEGohUOInPbOzRI6c5CvpjfZDMRgu1jrivj5JBgCNsjeRCy5dOKANN0KC7J38EY4EbiM_yaUVm1UOPdvInsyHKCTNKsaaYt7zicgr2CDuHqOCX1rfzuf_GyICtEDUXgDdzhSF0TfS4lh/s320/DSC00677.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428847769309664002" border="0" /></a><br />A book to balance on the top of your head for the rest of the game. Slouching is absolutely unacceptable if you wish to be a princess. Poor posture signifies poor upbringing. Do not shame your parents<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKKN3SDKY15DsNItASFHoTjvwZdtrL3C6tStT_yUcF0uklrXTOzKLNJlS9dVDICxVM12M2P61GeZBXwFvVXbmcegXDG02shP6I4FkFlIWNtTLSnQOzhCGBMEF3Eizuyr3DBAq_UyGk76zT/s1600-h/DSC00673.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKKN3SDKY15DsNItASFHoTjvwZdtrL3C6tStT_yUcF0uklrXTOzKLNJlS9dVDICxVM12M2P61GeZBXwFvVXbmcegXDG02shP6I4FkFlIWNtTLSnQOzhCGBMEF3Eizuyr3DBAq_UyGk76zT/s320/DSC00673.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428846889117895058" border="0" /></a><br />A piece of lace to tie around your mouth. When you wear this piece, you are not allowed to speak. Remember, you should not speak unless you are spoken to. Do not cause a ruckus and do not disgrace your family name.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSR5vXroIXVsDOXzZ1sFNlXzKxAoWBx02tLr-irSGYCGtN24Nwqj0hroB_QsePzhHf2oInt_LuW-8nKnj8xMmlJQNiUFaIHj54AG3kixgtniOArznJh9K38ABLujNdZlZUR6Uz2Lt2dz9e/s1600-h/DSC00679.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSR5vXroIXVsDOXzZ1sFNlXzKxAoWBx02tLr-irSGYCGtN24Nwqj0hroB_QsePzhHf2oInt_LuW-8nKnj8xMmlJQNiUFaIHj54AG3kixgtniOArznJh9K38ABLujNdZlZUR6Uz2Lt2dz9e/s320/DSC00679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428848656033999698" border="0" /></a><br />Of course one cannot be a woman in power without a man, right? So don’t forget to pick up the prince’s engagement ring. Congratulations! You snagged the poor sap!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkO1on30rAMrIukzroQsmGWlkFKcFI-j446RVj_rgooqgCnfQh4hRI9zXwCohnDaja2EFGMfcN8-XZZfqloQi4X2JCtXCc6XpRa7PgTv081rOekJz_wcm0XKX5ibQrAPpPbuaSTmMTtnzX/s1600-h/DSC00682.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkO1on30rAMrIukzroQsmGWlkFKcFI-j446RVj_rgooqgCnfQh4hRI9zXwCohnDaja2EFGMfcN8-XZZfqloQi4X2JCtXCc6XpRa7PgTv081rOekJz_wcm0XKX5ibQrAPpPbuaSTmMTtnzX/s320/DSC00682.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428848943635310962" border="0" /></a><br />However, you must beware of the Queen of Hearts. After all, no one wants to be queen. She old, haggard, and used up from being a baby machine for all those years.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPP7RiYlItFmX0Ix5AwOioja2smveyLdm8O-9AFpEjE06b1KZe6_tDv8DDPoy2Y2eKIZ80zuq3dvsBIFkMcl5CIxgqiCTzoFhAoOhqlYMMVEPb1czwTRRY0LObKiAkM1CCDv4bCh9pYE7/s1600-h/DSC00683.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPP7RiYlItFmX0Ix5AwOioja2smveyLdm8O-9AFpEjE06b1KZe6_tDv8DDPoy2Y2eKIZ80zuq3dvsBIFkMcl5CIxgqiCTzoFhAoOhqlYMMVEPb1czwTRRY0LObKiAkM1CCDv4bCh9pYE7/s320/DSC00683.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428849175812443410" border="0" /></a><br />How to win the game? You must achieve all areas of princess training (Etiquette, Culture, Posture, and Silence) plus gain the Prince’s engagement ring – but do not become the queen – and you’ve won the game! Now as you balance the book on your head, carefully hold the teacup, don your dancing tights, and show off your obnoxious multi-billion dollar ring – all without saying a word – take a look in the mirror and see at the <span style="font-style: italic;">REAL</span> Pretty, Pretty Princess you have become.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(By the way, I am only allowing my future daughter to play this version of the game. It's more fun anyway.)</span></span>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2601924772110515257.post-46530587113282803342010-01-19T07:16:00.000-08:002010-01-19T07:23:51.977-08:00Post It Note Tuesday: 24, Dumb Accents, and Clowns<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Stick it Note Tuesday:</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://supahmommy.blogspot.com/2009/09/post-it-note-tuesday-what-will-you-say.html"><img alt="" src="http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s27/dperry_2007/superstickies-18-1.png" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Welcome to another installment of Post It Note Tuesday!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6fC4dYE0F0XNgxIrzA5AXLMoEyWLPC5kyT1J7xh1tCdIer1fG9gRu4meItGshGM9JvkkpTR6wa3tQzt4KPXcGByFuX8wNw0BpBSUGuN8JreYWnF4ms2o3KhQKA9Cts67LtfdptPBjgAi/s1600-h/SalvatoreBauer.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6fC4dYE0F0XNgxIrzA5AXLMoEyWLPC5kyT1J7xh1tCdIer1fG9gRu4meItGshGM9JvkkpTR6wa3tQzt4KPXcGByFuX8wNw0BpBSUGuN8JreYWnF4ms2o3KhQKA9Cts67LtfdptPBjgAi/s320/SalvatoreBauer.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428471428256022002" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LPbzN8IcnFmNedoILXoHVO8vPfmKsGCNUS9mtxisWtCYdg6cD_I_SmaYdYUSfyw7pCvsfYaD1JwYmY-AigxlBvKjwGlolEB3lJFItYsbaTXl2heker9IJe4QSTSnaIlWtle-wY_-7qIa/s1600-h/superstickies.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LPbzN8IcnFmNedoILXoHVO8vPfmKsGCNUS9mtxisWtCYdg6cD_I_SmaYdYUSfyw7pCvsfYaD1JwYmY-AigxlBvKjwGlolEB3lJFItYsbaTXl2heker9IJe4QSTSnaIlWtle-wY_-7qIa/s320/superstickies.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428471757294227106" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRwbll5P2EceORwNmEcZ8TN-z7MVDx4_B7J87MfRfOS416hIv8zbwKvHv6EfiZC00MiWa8VQqZeN87r-56hzTrOfUJ0nPxxf5MXE9SkPgNNswoBI5ac7ygBJOhwXH20cS4Mew6MJEskMm/s1600-h/ForrestGump.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRwbll5P2EceORwNmEcZ8TN-z7MVDx4_B7J87MfRfOS416hIv8zbwKvHv6EfiZC00MiWa8VQqZeN87r-56hzTrOfUJ0nPxxf5MXE9SkPgNNswoBI5ac7ygBJOhwXH20cS4Mew6MJEskMm/s320/ForrestGump.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428471193992427282" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbbsQQlWMwHFuh-cw1JvL4qCgYxMSTS4wpC8xp8IzSrEILJbdKdLkIRJ7Ravge7cXMdb4pdgjM09eTbCM65SSDPSxSodqqerth1q9hjroa4dPPlrf8OiqyZIqhNxXWz1agzhCnNy5zhZV/s1600-h/jackbauer.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbbsQQlWMwHFuh-cw1JvL4qCgYxMSTS4wpC8xp8IzSrEILJbdKdLkIRJ7Ravge7cXMdb4pdgjM09eTbCM65SSDPSxSodqqerth1q9hjroa4dPPlrf8OiqyZIqhNxXWz1agzhCnNy5zhZV/s320/jackbauer.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428471253407636738" border="0" /></a></div>Jeney Peneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13045128513576590799noreply@blogger.com8