Lassie, Come Home

I lost a follower of my blog today.  I'm not going to lie, I'm kind of sad.


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

What's Your Momma's Name, Child?

I went to call Mrs. Penguin and I was scrolling through my contact list but I couldn't find her.  You see, my contacts are listed by last name but I couldn't remember her last name.  My mind blanked.

I will never tell her that.

footnote:  We have the same last name.  How sad is that?


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

XXXL?

They were selling Breast Cancer Awareness shirts here at work and I ordered one for a guy that's off today.  I knew his wife would like one but I didn't know her size.  I would just guess but she's pregnant right now and that's a tiger den that I'm not going into. 

If I buy a shirt that is too small she will think she's fat and she'll start crying.  If I buy a shirt too big then she will think she looks fat and she will start crying.  Even if I get the shirt the correct size, she will look at the size and start crying.

Nope, not getting involved with that.


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Google Let Me Down

I have a few questions about international sporting events.

Why do international teams "Americanize" the names of their countries?  For example, why does any team from China have "China" written on their uniforms instead of "中华人民共和国"?  Why does Germany stand being called "Germany" instead of "Bundesrepublik Deutschland"?  Why are Japan's players' names written in our alphabet instead of their own?

Americans would lose their minds if an American team had to wear Arabic, Greek, Russian or some other lettering on their uniforms.

It's just something I've always wondered.

footnote:  I got the names of Germany and China off of Wikipedia.  Is they mean something offensive in those languages then I'm sorry.

One more footnote.  Check out the picture.  There should be more sporting events where hot chicks wear mini-skirts.  The world would be a better place.

Last footnote, I promise.  I wanted to name this post "Play Ball" in German but Google couldn't translate it.  So disappointed!


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Getting to Second Base

When someone signs a letter with "XOXO" then it means "hugs and kisses", right?  Does that mean the next time I see them in person I'm allowed to grab their boobs since we've already hugged and kissed?  That's the logical next step after making out with someone.

Makes you think, doesn't it?


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Meth Makes You Nervous

I have got to stop going to the Mexican restaurant down the street.  Nothing good ever happens when I go there.

I called in an order and I was standing in line waiting to get my food.  There was a man the size of a Greyhound bus in front of me and a girl at the counter that looked like most of her nutrients came from drinking the bong water.

The crackhead got her food, stood there looking dazed for a minute or so, then turned and walked out the door.  I look out the window and she's standing right in front of my car.

If you've been reading my posts then you know that I am very fond of my car.  I take offense when it's being eyeballed by a random crackhead.

Suddenly, I realized that I forgot to lock my car.  I pushed the button on my key fob to lock my doors but I forgot that the car's horn beeps when it locks.  The horn tooted and it must have startled the crackhead because she jumped and flung her bag of food into the air.

Let me sum up this post.  I just wanted to run out and get myself a burrito for lunch.  That's all I wanted.  Instead I ended up apologizing, buying a crackhead lunch, and stopping by the car wash to remove nacho cheese from the hood of my car.

From now on I'm eating from the vending machine.


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Those Germans Can Really Bust a Move

Speaking of road trips.

Back during the summer Mrs. Penguin, Opus Jr., and I went to Oklahoma City for a couple of days.  We saw some pretty cool stuff but there is one thing that really stood out.

We stopped to eat at a cool looking German restaurant/bakery called Ingrid's Kitchen.  It was kind of early on a Saturday afternoon but the place was packed.  While we were eating there were some people preparing a drum kit and a piano.  I thought, "Great, we get to hear some music." 

I started to look around the place and I noticed that there were several elderly people just sitting around and not eating.  About that time an elderly couple set down at the table next to us.  The gentleman asked if we were there to dance.  Huh?  Dance?  Us?

I told him that we weren't dancers and he proceeded to tell me in great lengths about how people come out every Saturday to dance at Ingrid's Kitchen.  He told me all about the type of music they place and how some people danced a west coast swing while some danced an east coast swing.  He looked so happy and excited that he kind of rubbed off on me.

Let me interject at this point to tell about the other half of this couple.  The gentleman must have been pushing 90 but the woman looked like she was in her late sixties at the latest.  The gentleman was smiling from ear to ear, the woman looked like I ran over her cat back in the old neighborhood and she was still holding a grudge.  The gentleman talked non-stop, the woman never grunted a single syllable.

By the time the music started Opus Jr. and I were all excited about seeing these people cut a rug.  We watched with excitement as an older fellow slid behind the drums, an even older fellow settled down at the piano, and a woman that could have been their grand-mother grabbed a microphone.  With a "one and a two" we were off and running.

There was a blur of grey hair as senior citizens rushed the floor like it was the mosh pit of an Anthrax concert.  Our guide joined the fray.

After the way he talked, I was really looking forward to seeing our new friend shake a leg.  A leg was pretty much all he shook.  I'm serious.  Grumpy stood in one spot while Mr. Talker wrapped his arms around her waist and moved his feet 2cm at a time.  He still had the biggest smile you've ever seen.  She still looked like she was still pissed that Alanis Morissette's song Ironic didn't have a single example of irony in it.

Opus Jr. was tugging at my arm saying, "Dad, dad!  Look, old people are dancing!"  He was having the time of his life.  To this day, if you ask him anything about Oklahoma City all he will say is, "I saw old people dance."

footnote:  Sorry Alanis Morissette fans but nothing listed in Ironic is actually irony, it's just bad luck or bad timing.
Oh yeah, the picture at the top is an actual picture of the event.


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Out on the Town

Mrs. Penguin and I took a little trip this weekend.  Nothing big, we just wanted to get out of the house for a while.  We hit up a couple of farmer's markets, a free concert in the park, some out of the way shops, an oddball restaurants or two, and a few tourist traps.  All in all it was a good weekend.

This part of the conversation gets a little "adult" so anyone that is easily offended may want to stop reading now.

Still reading?  You perv!

Is it just me or is hotel sex better than home sex?  There's just something about it, I think it's because Mrs. Penguin knows that she doesn't have to change the bed.


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

Last Call for Alcohol

Do they still make wine coolers?  That was the bomb back in the day.

When they were big, it seemed like every commercial on TV was shilling some kind of wine cooler.  Heck, even Bruce Willis was a spokesman for one.  My favorite was the old guys selling Bartles & Jaymes.

For those that missed out on the wine cooler crazy, I pity you.  That stuff was liquid panties remover.  The first bottle was nervous giggles, the second was pure Spanish fly.


Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin

You're in My Spot

WARNING

If you ever come to my house, don't place anything breakable on my couch. Over the years I have managed to sit on countless TV remotes, cats, dogs, toys, two plates of Snickerdoodle cookies, and GD2.

Sitting on GD2 wasn't completely my fault. She was only a month or so old and she was tiny. Her mother had her wrapped in a baby blanket that matched my couch so well the army has decided to use it for their next camouflage pattern.

Just remember, you have been warned.

Don't judge me,
Opus T. Penguin