Sunday, September 30, 2007

I don't know much...

It's true. I do not know much if much is the measure of knowing. However, I do know very well small sections and this is why you adore me, as well you should. You should never trust those people who proclaim they know a lot or that they're experts. The latter are the worst kind of people around. They're pushers and no one likes to be pushed -- shoved maybe, but not pushed.

In the spirit of admitting I do not know much, I offer the following.

WHAT I DO NOT KNOW MUCH ABOUT by Shiny Penny

-- Who sings that song "I don't know much but I know I love you."

-- Why that song is in my head.

-- Why Myanamar can't just be called Burma since Burma is easier to say and to spell.

-- Why people bring paraphernalia to bars that can easily be tripped over.

-- Why birds suddenly appear, every time, I am near.

-- What makes people play games, e.g., Scrabble, Tetris, Ring & Run. I amend that. What makes people play games such as the aforementioned for hours.

-- Why some things are so hard to attain and others so easy, and yet the hard to get are ultimately more fascinating.

-- Why anyone plays hard to get. If you want to be gotten, get got already and stop bugging me.

-- Bugs.

This is the short list. I have no intentions of knowing much about any or all of the above. I am okay with that. Because at the end of the day, I know that I am still awesome and you still love me. And you're welcome.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Just try to look away.


Just when I thought the Japanese would never one-up the man pillow comes the transparent frog! What will those crazy Japanese think of next? It must be tough to be on the cutting edge like this time and time again. I can relate.

Anyway, as anyone will tell you, frogs are pretty great. Maybe not to touch or cuddle up with late at night but to look at from afar and behind glass cages, they are generally pretty awesome. There was a huge exhibit at the Natural Museum of History not too long ago which I unfortunately missed and am still quite angry about. (Thanks for bringing that up by the way.) This just goes to show that the world loves frogs. And who wouldn't?

Do you have any idea how many species of frog there are? Neither do I! That's just how many there are! Too many. And the colors! Don't even get me started on how colorful frogs are. Butterflies wouldn't stand a chance in a beauty pageant. That's just a little known fact in the scientific world. I know this because I have deep ties to the scientific world. They often consult me, these scientists of the scientific world. And why shouldn't they? They absolutely should and do and that's the end of that story.

Back to this transparent frog. It's a little creepy looking. Especially those milky looking eyes. Ew. Can you imagine what that milky looking eye feels like? Like cooked spaghetti I bet! The Japanese scientists "claim" they cross-bred this frog for the study of diseases.

Yeah right. Who's buying that? You know how those Japanese scientists get after a couple Sapporo. Have you seen the size of a Sapporo lately? Who can blame them for tying a few on? Sapporo is delicious by the way.

In terms of social networking, I don't see this frog getting much play. It remains transparent its entire life. That's not really a competitive advantage in the pad hopping environment. (This is my interpretation and does not reflect the interpretation of those looped Japanese scientists swilling down their Sapporo on a lonely night at the lab.) Apparently they can also create glow-in-the-dark frogs. I know. That one cannot be handled at this late hour -- it's just too intense.

I have to thank the Scrivener for the tip off to these crazy frogs and of course I thank the Japanese once again for creating everything magical in the world today.

Domo arigato.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Day One, Post Reading

I thought you might be concerned about my well-being, post doom and gloom predicted in my Tarot Card Reading. I am still present and accounted for. Thank you for your letters of concern.

However, I did notice yesterday a strong desire for destruction welling up within me. Could be all that anxiety I haven't managed. It's like a ferocious tiger inside me, this anxiety. I think I'll call it Charles. My ferocious tiger of anxiety called Charles. Has a nice ring to it.

Charles was feeling a little randy last night and forced me to drink a bunch of wine. Charles likes to party. Charles also likes to play the music loud and so Charles and I had a nice chat about what else: anxiety! It was riveting. You should have been there.

I'm kidding of course. Charles and I didn't talk at all. Charles is a ferocious tiger and tigers don't talk. He did enjoy the Beaujolais though! I thought maybe Charles and I could work up some sort of compromise wherein he would not tear me limb from limb. Jury's still out on what course of action Charles will take.

It's funny that anxiety. I don't feel particularly anxious but now that someone has told me that I have anxiety, I feel obliged to develop some anxiety. It's the polite thing to do. And when I set my mind to something, watch out.

I really hate predictions though; they're so presumptious. (God, that was a good one.) I think the Tarot Card Reader is trying to control me, albeit remotely. He may have picked up on my awesomeness and has some sort of dastardly plan for world domination and I'm his ticket to ride. (That may have been the best sentence I've ever written.)

In sum, I am not myself. Did you meet Charles? The Tarot Card Reader may have designs on my person. I am not anxious right now but if provoked, I may become anxious. Pretty awesome all around, no?

Saturday, September 22, 2007

The Reading


I had my tarot cards read last night for the first time. Fascinating! The highlights are as follows, in list form.

READING HIGHLIGHTS a list by Shiny Penny

-- I have anxiety.

-- I need therapy for my anxiety.

-- If I don't get therapy for my anxiety, I may have to be put on meds.

Let me interrupt for a minute. It only gets better from this point on.

-- I am indecisive.

-- I need to getaway and sort out my head.

-- There's a lion in my environment f'ing my shit up. This lion may want to eat me. This lion may just want to maul me and leave me for dead. This lion can't make up its mind apparently. It's unclear whether this lion is real or a figment of my very active and awesome imagination.

-- I will buy a new mattress in 2008. (No shit -- the tarot cards said this.)

-- I will go overseas with my future imaginary spouse.

-- Apparently I am seeing/or will see someone with a dangerous ex who may throw it down with me.

-- The straight world is much more uptight than the gay world. (Wow, my mind is blown.)

-- I need to bake someone cookies. (Again, I am not interpreting -- these were the exact words as transcribed by my bff.)

-- I should plan on crying a lot in the near future. (YES! Finally, something to look forward to.)

-- My gay friend will invite me over for dinner. (Again, YES! Things are looking up as I am always hungry.)

-- I learned what "whiskey dick" means. (That wasn't in the cards -- just some bonus information provided by Mr. Tarot. I learned a lot about Mr. Tarot's boyfriend.)


These are the high of the highlights. As you can tell, I'm pretty pumped about the next 6-8 months. Watch out! Here begins my reign of terror. Three cheers for me!

Thanks for loving.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Malatesta


At long last. You've been waiting so long, right? Monkeys. You waited like two days max. Well here I am, working it for you. As usual. Unpaid servant of the people. I am really great.

But actually I am not really great. I have had this pounding headache all f'ing day. It feels like there is some serious fighting happening up inside my head. Like the left brain got super pissed at the right brain and they're now brandishing knives and dancing around like the Jets and the Sharks in West Side Story. Someone's going down.

I could take some sort of medical aid to alleviate my suffering but I figured I'd power through so you could stop waiting around for my next entry and maybe do something productive with yourself. Eat a banana! Jump rope! Steal a little girl's puppy!

Yeah, headaches really suck. I'm going to lie down or something and think about eating bananas and jumping rope and stealing a little girl's puppy.

Word.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

A Meditation on Waiting

I hate waiting.

Were you waiting for that?

Yeah, that's right. I hate waiting. I hate waiting in line. I hate waiting for the phone to ring. I hate waiting for people who are late. I hate waiting on hold for customer service. I hate waiting for things to happen. I hate waiting for people to speak up. I hate waiting for the subway. I hate waiting for the bus. I hate waiting for the donuts. (I hate donuts, therefore I also hate waiting for them.) I hate waiting tables. I hate waiting for lights to change. I hate waiting for answers. I hate waiting for people to change. I hate waiting for someone to get to the point. I hate waiting for someone to make up their mind. I hate indecision of any kind.

Ha Jin, one of my favorite authors, wrote a whole book about waiting, called Waiting. I did not hate it. I hated the main character though for being so pathetic about waiting.

Good things do not happen to those who wait. I know this to be true because those people get tired of waiting and go do something else and then forget that they were waiting for anything in the first place.

I am not impatient. I just like shit to do what it's supposed to. I like people following through on what they say. I like happy endings. I also like sad endings. However I don't like waiting around for things to end.

In sum, time is precious. Waiting around is maddening. I am now mad that you are still here reading, waiting for something else.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Against All Odds


I mentioned a few posts ago how the dance was welling up inside me. It's still in there, waiting to tear some shit up. In the meantime, a song started to brew deep within the cockles of my heart. The most excellent "Against All Odds" by Phil Collins. Just look at that picture. Do you see the intensity? Phil does not fuck around.

This American Life's "Breakups" show is responsible. You should go listen to that. It's Ira Glass' fault that I've had this song running through my mind. I can still picture the video too.

"Against All Odds" has been torturing me. I heard it everywhere. I saw it in people's faces; they morph into Phil. This is disturbing. I saw a couple making out yesterday and I wanted to just go up next to them and start singing "How can you just walk away from me?" They were really going at it though. I was afraid they wouldn't hear me. "Against All Odds" should not be wasted. If only I had a mic. And those drum pants! I could bring Phil wherever, whenever.

Sweet dreams.

That was then. This is now: Phil is gone. I've destroyed him and "Against All Odds." Phil has been released from my secret chamber. I thank Winnie.

I took Phil downtown to Chinatown and fucked it up. I tore it up like a voracious wolf. A tiger! A manatee loose in New York City and taking no shit! (I sincerely apologize for the profanity but you need to understand how serious this situation was.)

1 a.m. marked the momentous release of "Against All Odds" belted out, nay screamed at top lung, free in the universe.

Godspeed Phil.

In sum, songs like the most excellent "Against All Odds" need to be destroyed, Bruce Lee style. Rock it if you got it.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Birth

There are worse things than celebrating your birthday. I submit the following:

WORSE THINGS THAN CELEBRATING YOUR BIRTHDAY a list by Shiny Penny

-- Giving birth.

-- Eating pickles.

-- Getting lost in Newark.

-- Being mauled by one of those black bears in Colorado looking for a light human snack.

-- Seeing anyone male in a speedo, nay a thong.

-- The word thong spoken aloud, with or without sound effects.

-- A day without horns.

-- A day without beards.

-- A day without me. (I'm channeling you. How awesome am I?)

-- Misunderstanding, miscommunication, misogyny, missing limbs.

This is the short list. I could go on and on. Birthdays are funny, not funny ha ha unless that's how you roll. Those of us at The Office of Me get weird about birthdays. Although normally the center of attention, we shy away from it on our actual birthday. I know everyone else is thanking their lucky stars that I was born. Of course you are! We appreciate your devotion. We will try not to get embarrassed by the outpouring of love. We are beginning to get confused by our self-referential "we." We are taking our leave now.

XOXO

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Party in your pants.

Watch this video. My dreams are coming true. Not only can I now imitate the sweet sweet sounds of the horn, with these pants I am my own ensemble.

My mind can hardly contain itself. I will take my one person show on the road. Drums and horns. What more do you need for a party? A party all the time.

Rock.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Grass.


Walks are underrated. Long ones where you start in one direction and end up much farther out of the way. Bob Marley has a great lyric: "My feet is my only carriage so I got to push on through."

Bob's deep.

I took one of those mission walks and ended up pretty far a field from my original destination. Anyway, as I was working on my bitching tan as only I can do on one of these milestone walks, I reposed for a spot, sitting in the grass, being all quiet, and started thinking about that Warren Beatty movie "Splendor in the Grass."

The title is misleading.

I thought about how excited I was to first watch this movie, not knowing what it was about but curious about the young, strapping Warren Beatty. He did not disappoint. He was both young and strapping, and apparently ready for the gun show.

If you haven't seen the movie, I won't be a ruiner but just know it doesn't end well. There is in fact no splendor in the grass. There is only heartache and pain (some sex), a whole lot of crazytown, and bugs. Well, there were bugs in my grass. I thought about those bugs when I sat down. Maybe I killed a bunch of them. Pity.

In sum, walks are awesome. They make you think. About grass and Warren Beatty (and sex), and crazy people, and how things aren't always what they seem on the outside. And how awesome I look when tanned.

Word.

Saturday, September 08, 2007

Run for your life!


There are so many great things about this picture and the story behind it. What you are seeing is the monster spider web that is kicking ass and taking names in a North Texas park. Some scientists believe this massive web is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Apparently you can hear the hum of mosquitoes caught in there. Mu-ha-ha. Some people are grossed out by this monster web. These people have no imagination and should be sacrificed to the web.

I don't think I'd appreciate walking into this monster web but I do appreciate its ginormity. Just goes to show when spiders work together, shit gets done.

I could compare this web to colonialism. I may just do that. I'm still thinking about it. I could compare this web to social networking, like an arachnoid Facebook. Maybe spiders are just looking for a date. "For a good time, come to the web. Meow."

So many possibilities. I may have to get down to Texas to witness the wicked web for myself. I will be thinking about this web for the rest of the weekend. That is all.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Time is on my side.

I will tell you a story.

I have a favorite watch. It was a gift from someone very small, who I am pretty well convinced does not have any money. The face of my favorite watch shows the clock tower in Berne, Switzerland, and yes there is a picture of a bear in the lower left-hand corner, which is the symbol of the city. I like bears. Apparently there's a black bear problem in Aspen right now. Bears are totally breaking into shit and then being shot and tagged by the police.

Anyway, my most favorite watch has been an hour slow and five minutes fast for the past year. This has caused me great anxiety but I've rolled with it because the universe is usually in my favor. I've had to do some quick math as you can imagine in order to always be on time, every time.

Yesterday, I was explaining my predicament to a co-worker and demonstrating how the thingy on the side of the watch doesn't rotate the hands. Lo and behold the thingy worked! I was beside myself. I could actually change time. I felt close to bursting.

I can see you do not share my excitement. (Don't ask how I can see it; know that I am always watching.) That's too bad for you. This was a major breakthrough as I no longer have to add an hour and subtract five minutes to know what time it is.

I feel liberated. However, now when I look at my watch, I am confused because it's actual time rather than what I've silently referred to as bear time. This is all very uninteresting. But it's a true story. And you should be thankful for the truth every once in a while.

You're welcome.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Greatest. Organization. Ever.


BEARD TEAM USA.

I've already made my feelings quite clear on beards. And yes, I knew about the World Beard and Moustache Championships for some time. I'm happy to report Beard Team USA kicked some bearded ass at the championships on September 1. You should totally visit their website and behold the magical mystery of the bearded: http://www.worldbeardchampionships.com

Apparently anyone can be a member. I am not a member. I am an admirer. But I could be a member if I would just email Phil. He might question my intentions though so I'm laying low for now. Phil also has a bitching beard and according to his blog, he is 251 years old. I don't went to screw around with this guy Phil. He means business. Beard business!

If anyone out there would like to join Beard Team USA on my behalf, I would totally dig that. I'd like to know if they send you a card or certificate or something, and maybe a grooming kit. That would be wicked!

Today I read all about the Beard and Moustache Categories. I had no idea there were so many flavors of beard. And they have crazy names and descriptions too!

Hungarian: Big and bushy, beginning from the middle of the upper lip and pulled to the side. The hairs are allowed to start growing from less than a maximum of 1.5 cm beyond the end of the upper lip. Aids are allowed.

I too was confused by the "Aids" but the Beard Team USA leaves no stone unturned. Aids include wax, hairspray, and other hair cosmetics. Aids do not include very small people hidden inside your beard. AWESOME!

What's more, you should totally check out the Gallery of Contestants and Champions. Prepare to have your mind blown into tiny tiny bits. I'm still picking up the pieces after seeing Memili Rustuoglu's Freestyle Moustache. This guy does not mess around. He is the real deal. Deal with his moustache!

I feel like screaming.

I am so exhilarated by my new favorite website. I can hardly sit still and you already know I'm morally opposed to sitting so imagine how crazytown I'm feeling.

Beards!

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Craptastic

I'd like to lodge a formal complaint about today having sucked on all accounts. AstrologyZone.com predicts destruction for The Office of me this entire month. I do not appreciate this one bit.

Apparently a solar eclipse is going to really tangle my shit up next week, and how am I to prepare for this catastrophe? AstrologyZone.com suggested I change my hair.

You know what? I don't need the flip tone. I don't think AstrologyZone.com can pick up what I'm putting down, especially when I take you downtown to Chinatown.

Let this be a warning that September may suck around here through no fault of my own. I may have to kick some Mercury ass and tell Uranus where to go. Do not get in my way. I know the fu. And I know the kung.

PAO.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Labor not.


Happy Labor (free) Day! I looked up the origin of our holiday celebrating sloth (as depicted above) and discovered it dates back to the late 1800s. (That's right -- even on Labor (free) Day, I toil for you.)

Apparently the hoi polloi didn't want to work back then either. In this instance, I mean hoi polloi as the "commoners, unwashed masses". What's funny here is I used "hoi polloi" this very same day but incorrectly. I intended it to mean hoity toity upper crusters when in fact it means the opposite. Let this be a lesson to you: even I need a day off.

I encourage you to lay about tomorrow because this is what our government wants. True, most of us can't locate North America on a map but as Miss Teen South Carolina correctly pointed out, it's because "most Americans don't own maps." Clearly, this is a travesty. I intend to address maps on another occasion.

In the meantime, enjoy the opportunity to do nothing and have nothing expected of you. Labor not. Take some pointers from the two-toed sloth and max the relax.

Word.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

P.S.

A LIST OF P.S. BY SHINY PENNY

P.S. If there is a long line waiting for the bathroom and you come to the front of the line and ask 1."Is this the queque for the bathroom?" (and you are not British) followed by 2."How would you feel if I cut in front of you?" Please don't be surprised if I respond "I will punch you in the face." because you deserve it.

P.S. If there is loud music in a small space, you are obligated to dance. If you are not dancing because you are too cool for school, I will be happy to tell you that you are a. not too cool for school and b. should leave said small space now.

P.S. According to the Film Cavern, if you cannot dance, you will be shot. I'm just reporting facts, not interpreting. There is a video depicting just this. If you laugh, some people may give you a disapproving look. I laughed anyway.

P.S. Some people like to be looked at. Some people like to look like they're being looked at. Some people like to be looked at looking. All of the above are boring.

P.S. The mental bridge to Queens has been reconstructed. Look out.

P.S.1 would have been a scary school to attend. I'm glad the kids are alright.

P.S. A fully crotcheted outfit may sound like a good idea but in practice don't be surprised if it's impractical. A technicolor fully crotcheted outfit, nay jumper, may sound like an even better idea...it is not.

P.S. You love me very much.