Penny and Polly
Multiple Somewheres, USA
30 November 2012
600 E. Court Avenue
Des Moines, IA 50309
To whom it may concern:
We respectfully submit the following as evidence supporting our request for entrance into your esteemed organization despite our lamentable lack of years per the DOBs listed on the attached supporting documentation.
Years, we contend, have been mistakenly categorized as solely quantifiable since the invention of the modern calendar. This categorization misses entirely the presence of qualified aspects associated with advanced years in those members of our society whose calendar years belie their natural inclinations toward quiet evenings; sage mutterings; and a general bemoaning of the cold, lack of appreciation amongst the current crop of whippersnappers, and how often this newfangled technology demands to be updated.
Our overarching crotchetiness and sincere need for early bird dinner discounts is just as great as that of our octogenarian peers. Hence part of our decision to fashion our online monikers from the names of timeless mythological women. We defy standard categorization!
We can hear your scoffing exclamations of “balderdash!”, but hark! A bulleted list in large print font for easy reading.
For your consideration:
Penny’s plans this Friday evening after returning home from work and the gym include heating tea, writing out her Christmas cards, and watching sappy Hallmark Holiday movies until bedtime around 9:30 pm.
Polly ran out of chamomile this week and had a fit as it was too late to go to the grocery store to replenish her supply. Not because the grocery store was closed. But because it was dark and she didn’t want to catch cold. Continue reading
I’ve determined that perhaps it would be best for my mental health to develop a non-unrequited crush and ignore Gym God for the nonce.
With this in mind, I cast my gaze around the gym and quickly settled on the nicely muscled, tastefully tattooed (I have issues) male of above average height perusing the cardio equipment in the next row.
When next I looked over he had turned on his individual TV (schmancy, I know) and the channel was tuned to… JEOPARDY!*
Then he changed the channel.
I immediately lost interest.
*No joke, ‘Alex’ and ‘Trebek’ were my second and third words ever, respectively. First word: Daddy-ae (he fed me my bottle during Jeopardy, giving me nightly nourishment in the form of both warm milk and the silver-haired fox pictured above; obviously Penny’s Hierarchy of Needs goes: food –> silver fox spouting useless random facts –> bedtime story –> lullabye –> sleep) ((Note: this is probably still true)).
Polly hung her decorative felt tree and set up her tasty German chocolate advent calendar (courtesy Tory) while Burl Ives’ mellifluous tones filled the apartment. Despite the cheer that surrounded her she was yet unsure of how to feel, so Polly’s Shoulder Angel and Devil wasted no time chiming in.
Polly’s Shoulder Devil – Bah humbug.
Polly’s Shoulder Angel – Why so glum, Shoulder Devil? It’s the most wonderful time of the year!
PSD – Your merriness, much like that venti peppermint mocha you wasted our money on yesterday, nauseates me.
PSA – We’re blogging from bed, in a snuggie, to the cheerful sounds of our Swingin’ Christmas Pandora station! What could possibly have you feeling so downright grinchy?
PSD – Oh? Really? You want a recap of all the reasons why my heart is justifiably two sizes below average this time of year? Let’s see… Well there was that time four Christmases ago when we were being cheated on. Then the time three Christmases ago when we actually found out about it. Then the time two Christmases ago when you believed in third chances… That was more or less a triple decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce.
PSA – Right, but-
PSD – And then the whole fact that scheduled gift-giving removes all sincerity from the ceremony which then becomes a financial obligation instead of an honest display of affection and love.
PSA – I told you to give Marx a rest during the holidays, Shoulder Devil!
PSD – Yuletide gaiety is the opiate of the masses. Continue reading
This? This made my day that started with a flooded office kitchen ever so much better. Thanks, Pol! (Sorry I kind of guessed my Christmas inside joke gift.) ((Ed. Note – All credit to gif master Tory!))
Once upon a normal Monday morning, Penny started awake. Confronted with the accusatory red of her clock’s digital display, she lay back and sighed as the events of the past forty-five minutes slowly came back to her. Sort of. Establishing a clear chain of events was near-to-impossible, but it certainly was not beyond Penny’s still somewhat foggy cognitive skills to deduce that her phone alarm had fallen victim to overzealous touch-screen tapping and/or swiping.
6:30 am – the sinister digital glow cut into the pre-dawn gloom, and Penny casually observed to herself two things: first, Caribou was definitely not happening this morning as, second, she was usually in her car and driving to work by now.
Unhurriedly, Penny performed her morning ablutions and was pulling on her tights when she heard Sister remark, “Oh, Penny’s still here.”
“Turned off my alarm.”
Penny continued her efficient but not-rushed preparations and was just slinging her tote over her shoulder when the pounding began. Continue reading
Emotional context: I started off my day by punching my freezer until it stopped making weird noises, almost had a heart attack upon seeing a body bag in my bathroom (the shower curtain fell), then thought long and hard about that diet I’m starting tomorrow.
Polly – Is excessive moodiness an illness worthy of taking a personal day?
Penny – When coupled with other symptoms in the DSM-IV.
Polly – I don’t usually moodswing this noticeably but I just… I just want to smash things for 15 minutes and then spend the rest of the day hiding in bed.
Penny – Vell fraulein, it sounds to me like you are encountering a perfect storm of holidays, new relationship, too much work, and period.
Polly – FRANKENPERIOD?
Penny – FRANKENPERIOD.
Polly – Well, now that we have our first B-movie screenplay title I’m feeling a little better.