<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:04:45.392-07:00</updated><category term='Johnny Cash'/><category term='Tori Amos'/><category term='body hair'/><category term='Tampa Bay Rays'/><category term='Doctor'/><category term='crafting'/><category term='Grad school'/><category term='REM'/><category term='movies'/><category term='Kevin Smith'/><category term='Alanis Morrisette'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='Idaho'/><category term='bras'/><category term='boys'/><category term='Harry Potter'/><category term='Amy Lee'/><category term='Weird Al'/><category term='Hinder'/><category term='No Doubt/Gwen Stefani'/><category term='Ingrid Michaelson'/><category term='britney spearks'/><category term='Bonnie Raitt'/><category term='Nick and Norah&apos;s Infinite Playlist'/><category term='crazy guy'/><category term='boobies'/><category term='Jeans'/><category term='Bon Jovi'/><category term='Extreme'/><category term='true crime TV'/><category term='Seether'/><category term='CSI'/><category term='Love songs'/><category term='Weight loss'/><category term='post office'/><category term='Garth Brooks'/><category term='spending'/><category term='high school'/><category term='Work'/><category term='layoffs'/><category term='dating'/><category term='The Police'/><category term='guilty pleasure'/><category term='Third Eye Blind'/><category term='Harvey Milk'/><category term='Shoes'/><category term='torture'/><category term='Uncle Kracker'/><category term='Paulo Nutini'/><category term='me'/><category term='Democratic Pary'/><category term='Happy'/><category term='World Series'/><category term='election'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Jessica Simpson'/><category term='Daniel Radcliff'/><category term='sad songs'/><category term='Def Leppard'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='Madonna'/><category term='The Girls Next Door'/><category term='newspapers'/><category term='compliments'/><category term='Larry LaRocco'/><category term='James Shields'/><category term='Cats'/><category term='Evanescense'/><category term='roommates'/><category term='Angelina Jolie'/><category term='Jersey Girl'/><category term='men'/><category term='coffee'/><category term='Heather Headley'/><category term='shirts'/><category term='Barack Obama'/><category term='writing'/><category term='Nate Silver'/><category term='intellect'/><category term='fat'/><category term='Dixie Chicks'/><category term='ruffles'/><category term='pamela anderson'/><category term='journalism'/><category term='The Reader'/><category term='Butch Walker'/><title type='text'>Blue girl, red state</title><subtitle type='html'>This blog is all about me. Me, me, me! I failed to win enough trophies as a child and now have a compulsion to seek attention. I need comments to feel fulfilled. I need to air my dirty laundry to millions of people in order to truly live life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>53</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-4349400883342120572</id><published>2009-04-04T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T15:08:32.735-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The month without spending continues</title><content type='html'>So far, it's been tougher than I thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite jeans ripped and I can't replace them. I forgot to buy Slumdog on DVD, which ticks me off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also saw the most amazing pair of shoes at Dillards, but it's all look and don't touch for the rest of month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a much happier note, I was asked for exercise advice at the gym today! I've never had somebody ask why I did a certain exercise or what muscles it workqed before, so it was really exciting for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, my knee seems to be healed, meaning I can finally after five months get back to doing cardio and working my lower half. My arms and shoulders look really good (well, as good as a round girl can look), but my legs are hideous!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-4349400883342120572?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/4349400883342120572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=4349400883342120572' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/4349400883342120572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/4349400883342120572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/04/month-without-spending-continues.html' title='The month without spending continues'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1871722419179423136</id><published>2009-03-27T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T13:41:12.541-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spending'/><title type='text'>A month without spending</title><content type='html'>Well, kinda. I read an article somewhere on the internets advocating taking a month and buying nothing except food basics. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No new clothes, no premade meals, no eating out, nothing except the absolute essentials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided to give this a try in April. I have some trips coming up, and I want to see if I can save a coupla hundred bucks for said trips. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it works, I might do it once a quarter or so in an attempt to save up money for school or to tackle that pesky credit card debt that's still around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1871722419179423136?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1871722419179423136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1871722419179423136' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1871722419179423136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1871722419179423136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/03/month-without-spending.html' title='A month without spending'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-4881077805099140328</id><published>2009-03-15T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T11:51:39.989-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Long time, no post</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I posted anything. Between state high school tournaments and the WAC basketball tourneys, I haven't felt much like spending quality time with my computer away from work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of work, D-Day is Monday, the day they announce the latest round of layoffs. Truthfully, I think I want to get laid off. I'm sick and tired of worrying about it all. I've signed up for informational classes on becoming a dental hygienist and a nurse, both careers that would allow me to pack up and move back home after Idaho pays for my job "retraining."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I continue to despise the men of Match for not even responding to say they're not interested and my roommate's court date is Monday. I'm hoping for a few days in jail, cause he deserves it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-4881077805099140328?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/4881077805099140328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=4881077805099140328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/4881077805099140328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/4881077805099140328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/03/long-time-no-post.html' title='Long time, no post'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-779069881847514904</id><published>2009-02-19T12:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T12:33:16.638-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='journalism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='newspapers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='layoffs'/><title type='text'>The sword of Damocles</title><content type='html'>Yes, I'm breaking out some ancient Greek knowledge on you today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now granted, I'm not in any sort of position of power, but that doesn't mean I don't have a sense of foreboding about the constant threat of layoffs at my shop. They're coming, more than likely by the end of the month. Like most peons at newspapers, I'm left in the dark about how many or when. Does wonders for morale, let me tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part is that the Grand Poobahs in charge don't seem to have any ideas other than cuts. No thoughts about finding new revenue streams or what to do online to bring in more money. A good number of the businesses who are pulling their ads aren't coming back. They've gone out of business or have moved their ad dollars elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We continue to drive off advertisers and readers by producing less and less content, yet charging them the same amount. I would certainly not subscribe to our paper. There's nothing that interests me in it. Nothing that targets single professionals, very little for the NHL/NASCAR/tennis fan and our coverage of the music scene is pathetic, mostly because the entertainment editor can't see the value in any type of music that isn't what he listens too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saddest part is that I have reached a point of not caring anymore. It's just a job with shitty hours and crappy pay. When a business reaches the point that people are hoping to get laid off, it's probably not long for the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-779069881847514904?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/779069881847514904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=779069881847514904' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/779069881847514904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/779069881847514904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/02/sword-of-damocles.html' title='The sword of Damocles'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-7964748704840976169</id><published>2009-02-14T01:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T01:09:20.093-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hinder'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='REM'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Extreme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Police'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uncle Kracker'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love songs'/><title type='text'>Anti-love songs</title><content type='html'>Alleged love songs that don't mean what you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hinder: Lips of an Angel. Dude's talking to his ex on the phone while his poor current girlfriend is waiting for him in bed. What a douche!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Gtnf9EqijT0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Gtnf9EqijT0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Extreme: More than Words. Guy's trying to get his girlfriend to fuck him. He's not in love, he's just horny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kt7L4X4li_k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kt7L4X4li_k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Kracker: Follow Me. Another douchy guy, this one trying to get a married woman to jump into the sack with him. What is it with these guys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vlfRi1iK92s&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vlfRi1iK92s&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Police: Every Breath You Take. It's about stalking! And this is a popular first dance song at weddings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BnejNGprm3I&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BnejNGprm3I&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;REM: This One Goes Out To the One I Love. Another popular wedding song that wouldn't be if people listened to what he's saying. "A simple prop to occupy my time" Does that sound like a song about everlasting devotion? I didn't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FKCRveFuS0A&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FKCRveFuS0A&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-7964748704840976169?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7964748704840976169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=7964748704840976169' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7964748704840976169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7964748704840976169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/02/anti-love-songs.html' title='Anti-love songs'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-8433739790150876155</id><published>2009-02-10T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T19:09:04.166-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boobies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pamela anderson'/><title type='text'>Boobs</title><content type='html'>After losing about 30 pounds since my last bra fitting, I decided Sunday it was time for another. My bras, especially the bands, didn't fit, and you're supposed to get fitted after you lose 20 pounds (or gain it), so down to Dillards I went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little (and I mean teeny, tiny) girl with the hot pink measuring tape takes me back into the dressing room and whips off her measuring tape. 34 . . . OK, I figured that. I was a 36 the last time. But then she measured my booms. . . H.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34H. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's like stripper sized, stripper with big implants sized even. Like bigger than &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pamela_Anderson"&gt;Pamela Anderson&lt;/a&gt;, who's only a 36DDD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34H.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What normal woman is that size? I felt like I should take myself down to one of the local strip clubs and see if they needed a dancer, although I don't have the tummy for it really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best of all, they only carried one bra my size at Dillards, and they're the only department store that carries them at all, which means I'm going to have to buy all my bras online now, without trying them on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This does pretty much decide though. I'm getting them cut off. I'm so over boobies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-8433739790150876155?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8433739790150876155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=8433739790150876155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8433739790150876155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8433739790150876155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/02/boobs.html' title='Boobs'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1117500182988738364</id><published>2009-02-08T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T11:58:59.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ups and downs</title><content type='html'>Up: I find the lone other liberal from Indiana who lived in Missoula and likes weird indie films.&lt;br /&gt;Down: I bought awesome hot pink shoes that don't fit me right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up: I remain employed.&lt;br /&gt;Down: They killed our 401K match and are planning more layoffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up: Hockey on TV!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Down: The Red Wings beat BBJ and the Pens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up: I have a 2K refund coming.&lt;br /&gt;Down: It's not enough to completely rework my wardrobe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up: Maggie is much more lively since her $700 of mouth work.&lt;br /&gt;Down: I still haven't paid it off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1117500182988738364?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1117500182988738364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1117500182988738364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1117500182988738364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1117500182988738364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/02/ups-and-downs.html' title='Ups and downs'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-94980097789413790</id><published>2009-02-06T15:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T15:34:01.393-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Harvey Milk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Reader'/><title type='text'>Look a new post!</title><content type='html'>I've been busy with Jill and I's fashiony blog, so this one has fallen by the wayside. Sorry, lone loyal reader :D (Hi, Kate!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is yet another story from my woeful love life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to The Flicks (the local art house theater) Monday for the very late showing of "The Reader." Art houses are weird, cause unlike the great huge multiplexes, you tend to see the same people and often strike up conversations with other moviegoers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to Monday! An older woman and I struck up a conversation about recent movies we'd seen. I mentioned that I'd seen Milk recently, and she said she could remember the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moscone-Milk_assassinations"&gt;Milk-Moscone murders&lt;/a&gt;. She asked what I thought of the movie, and I told I had mixed feelings because the secondary characters, especially activist &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cleve_Jones"&gt;Cleve Jones&lt;/a&gt;, were so poorly developed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really this has a point, I swear, bear with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she told me I should see the movie about the early days of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the States, but couldn't remember the name of it. Not Philadelphia, not Angels in America, but that other one. The third person in the theater, a guy in the back, piped up and said it was a great movie, but he couldn't remember its name either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the movie, the guy came up to me and said he'd remembered the name, "And The Band Played On." I said, "Oh yea, that's based on a book by the same guy who wrote the definitive biography of Milk." I got a weird look, to which I responded, "I read it on the back of the Milk book." The guy and I talked some more and then he asked for my number, which, given that he was tall and dark-haired and apparently gay friendly, yet straight, I happily gave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He finally called me last night, so hopefully we can actually meet up and discuss things not related to Holocaust movies, such as The Reader, or HIV/AIDS. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, maybe this really didn't have a point!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-94980097789413790?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/94980097789413790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=94980097789413790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/94980097789413790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/94980097789413790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/02/look-new-post.html' title='Look a new post!'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-5359341821605183223</id><published>2009-01-16T01:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T01:07:13.136-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='torture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doctor'/><title type='text'>The dreaded yearly</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow, er today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:50 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cold doctor's office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not amused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this should be considered a form of torture and outlawed. Maybe we can use speculums to threaten terrorists and get information. Just a thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-5359341821605183223?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/5359341821605183223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=5359341821605183223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5359341821605183223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5359341821605183223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/01/dreaded-yearly.html' title='The dreaded yearly'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-2889940447882630927</id><published>2009-01-11T00:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T01:01:24.403-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dixie Chicks'/><title type='text'>Long Way Round</title><content type='html'>As more and more people from high school add me on Facebook, I'm struck by how much we've all changed, or at least by how much I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the people I ran with are married with a baby or two or three or six. Most of them also stayed in state, some even in, as the Dixie Chicks put it, "the same zip code where their parents live."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While they were all doing that, I was out trying to see how many states I could live in, how fast I could move up the journalism ladder, how far away from all of them I could get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(For the record, I've lived in five states since then, gotten to an almost mid-major paper -- 85K on Sundays, and gotten about 2000 miles away.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at their profiles, I've realized that me now would probably not be friends with the people she was friends with in school. They're far too stable and mature. I'd be much more likely to run around with the other crowd. Somewhere along the way, I digressed from my responsible high school self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy that I thought was so cute back then . . . even with long hair, a beard and a guitar, isn't nearly as attractive as I remember. He's way too into his kids and his family and things that I just don't understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one hand, I have this strong pull to go back. It's familiar, to a degree, it's safe, even if all I wanted to do was get the fuck out at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, I know better. I'm not that person anymore. I've changed. I'm not that nerd in the corner anymore. I'm still a nerd, but I'm not longer hiding in a corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In honor of my high school days, Dixie Chicks sing Long Way Round&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UtqwL-ZPhAA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UtqwL-ZPhAA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-2889940447882630927?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2889940447882630927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=2889940447882630927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2889940447882630927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2889940447882630927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2009/01/long-way-round.html' title='Long Way Round'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-7744180532889245063</id><published>2008-12-30T19:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T18:45:53.162-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Elise's 12 Days of Christmas</title><content type='html'>Since USPS and UPS decided to stretch out how long my Christmas was this year, I thought I'd rewrite the 12 Days of Christmas to better fit what happened to me this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPd5cd17mI/AAAAAAAAACE/bq1Ugf_b9_A/s1600-h/IMG_0411.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPd5cd17mI/AAAAAAAAACE/bq1Ugf_b9_A/s320/IMG_0411.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288314366426738274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the first day of Christmas (mid-December), Jill gave to me a box full of sweet-smelling soaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPeIorwVcI/AAAAAAAAACM/yeMk5tTTiGQ/s1600-h/IMG_0418.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 158px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPeIorwVcI/AAAAAAAAACM/yeMk5tTTiGQ/s320/IMG_0418.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288314627404355010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the second day of Christmas (mid-December), my Secret Santa game to me a strange bobblehead and a Oregon State T-shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPeXaSo2zI/AAAAAAAAACU/_3OtLhMgEjE/s1600-h/IMG_0408.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 319px; height: 319px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPeXaSo2zI/AAAAAAAAACU/_3OtLhMgEjE/s320/IMG_0408.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288314881238948658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the third day of Christmas (Dec. 23), Drew gave to me a mix CD full of chick singer-songwriters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPeiVNX_tI/AAAAAAAAACc/Eb2Emb2HDXA/s1600-h/IMG_0407.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 272px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPeiVNX_tI/AAAAAAAAACc/Eb2Emb2HDXA/s320/IMG_0407.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288315068853255890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the fourth day of Christmas (Dec. 24), Milton gave to me two jazz CDs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPew6kNSGI/AAAAAAAAACk/W_oexgH54RQ/s1600-h/IMG_0417.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPew6kNSGI/AAAAAAAAACk/W_oexgH54RQ/s320/IMG_0417.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288315319399303266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the fifth day of Christmas (Dec. 25), my parents gave to me all my great-grandmother's crystal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Really, I have NO idea what to do with it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPe9EjY5vI/AAAAAAAAACs/aRbBOjcTH2E/s1600-h/IMG_0410.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 304px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPe9EjY5vI/AAAAAAAAACs/aRbBOjcTH2E/s320/IMG_0410.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288315528238655218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the sixth day of Christmas (Dec. 27), my sister gave to me a hand-painted platter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPfIn32DnI/AAAAAAAAAC0/amJwv2o_Nng/s1600-h/IMG_0406.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPfIn32DnI/AAAAAAAAAC0/amJwv2o_Nng/s320/IMG_0406.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288315726698253938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the seventh day of Christmas (Dec. 29), Susan gave to me a Twilight ring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPfUq68OBI/AAAAAAAAAC8/c0avCoEgLm8/s1600-h/IMG_0409.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPfUq68OBI/AAAAAAAAAC8/c0avCoEgLm8/s320/IMG_0409.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288315933674977298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the eighth day of Christmas (Dec. 30), Mike gave to me two pink oven mitts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPfg5D-2GI/AAAAAAAAADE/h31U7zfOEvk/s1600-h/IMG_0414.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPfg5D-2GI/AAAAAAAAADE/h31U7zfOEvk/s320/IMG_0414.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288316143629424738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the ninth day of Christmas (Dec. 31), I gave to me two awesomely cool DVDs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPfurDQp2I/AAAAAAAAADM/9Uaiyr0_z2Q/s1600-h/IMG_0416.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPfurDQp2I/AAAAAAAAADM/9Uaiyr0_z2Q/s320/IMG_0416.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288316380386469730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the tenth day of Christmas (Jan. 2), my brother gave to me a bunch of homemade smelly stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPf_QYqw1I/AAAAAAAAADU/n2SPvh4rUBE/s1600-h/IMG_0421.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 117px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPf_QYqw1I/AAAAAAAAADU/n2SPvh4rUBE/s200/IMG_0421.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288316665286280018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the eleventh day of Christmas (Jan. 2), my sister-in-law gave to me a cool, handbeaded necklace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPgVQYURVI/AAAAAAAAADc/NMY0wKsU8Ho/s1600-h/IMG_0420.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 294px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPgVQYURVI/AAAAAAAAADc/NMY0wKsU8Ho/s320/IMG_0420.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288317043241928018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the twelfth day of Christmas (Jan. 6), my derelict sister gave to me a nice warm sweater (and some fuzzy socks).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-7744180532889245063?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7744180532889245063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=7744180532889245063' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7744180532889245063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7744180532889245063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/12/elises-12-days-of-christmas.html' title='Elise&apos;s 12 Days of Christmas'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWPd5cd17mI/AAAAAAAAACE/bq1Ugf_b9_A/s72-c/IMG_0411.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-3548660189899795878</id><published>2008-12-27T23:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T23:44:10.110-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow, snow, snow</title><content type='html'>We've had 19 inches of snow this month, 19 inches in the Great Basin. You know, like the high desert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car does not like this snow. It bottoms out, pouts when I try to make it go and is generally a pissy little brat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other people on the road. . . well, they are of the opinion that if you have an SUV or 4-wheel drive, you can still go 70. Um, NO, you can't, dumbasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The state didn't even plow today, and we got like six inches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Idiots, I am surrounded by snow idiots here in Idaho. I'm moving back to Montana!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-3548660189899795878?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/3548660189899795878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=3548660189899795878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3548660189899795878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3548660189899795878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/12/snow-snow-snow.html' title='Snow, snow, snow'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-8043924515150815705</id><published>2008-12-16T23:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T23:22:40.324-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='post office'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>F the USPS!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>So it's been 12 days since I shipped my family's Christmas presents, and they still have yet to arrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three months of crafting and it's lost in some no-man's land. Of course I shipped it by parcel post, so there's no tracking number, no way to check to see what the fuck the idiots whose job it is to safely get stuff from point A to point B have done with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make it worse, my family's doing Christmas this weekend, so I don't have time to go buy presents for nine people and overnight it there in time, especially since I'm broke and don't get paid until Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I hope the USPS dies. That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-8043924515150815705?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8043924515150815705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=8043924515150815705' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8043924515150815705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8043924515150815705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/12/f-usps.html' title='F the USPS!!!!!!!'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-907726672022009156</id><published>2008-12-15T23:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T23:24:53.890-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weird Al'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Def Leppard'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ingrid Michaelson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Evanescense'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amy Lee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Third Eye Blind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='No Doubt/Gwen Stefani'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bon Jovi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alanis Morrisette'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'>The happiest songs on my iPod</title><content type='html'>Why not? I mean given that I've already done the saddest ones and all :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Die Alone -- Ingrid Michealson. OK, on the surface, I guess this one doesn't seem so happy, but given how much her lyrics seem to describe me, I find it incredibly hopeful, and that makes me happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3GmO2bPpbBs&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3GmO2bPpbBs&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) This grudge -- Alanis. Letting go of the pain of the past makes for much happier times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9_3KrVksWJ4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9_3KrVksWJ4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Pour Some Sugar on Me -- Def Lep. Just for Jerry, plus the song makes me really giggly, not as happy as a song that will appear later from the boys from Sheffield, but happy nonetheless. (For the record, I like the UK video better, so that's what y'all get!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iVxiHC9AJQw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iVxiHC9AJQw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Call Me When You're Sober -- Evanescence. No list of mine is complete without Amy Lee, plus this song is such a great FU to a certain type of man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cEoP43Pv57k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cEoP43Pv57k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Hella Good -- No Doubt. The first, but not the last appearence by the Orange County band on this list. There are few bands that made music that made me feel better or more like dancing around my apartment like a fool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fmDBvJczTLw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fmDBvJczTLw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. It's My Life -- Bon Jovi. Yea, it's a blatent ripoff of one of their earlier songs, but the lyrics are more upbeat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/g50vzZzAja0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/g50vzZzAja0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Me and My Wine -- Def Lep. A rarity in the U.S., but the vid is hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5irgYeDM2qU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5irgYeDM2qU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) The Saga Begins -- Weird Al.  The idea of taking American Pie and making it about Star Wars was sheer genius.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I can only &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GayASsb4G8k"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; to this. Embedding is banned!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Ex-Girlfriend -- No Doubt. Maybe not a happy song per se, but it is for me. Plus Gwen has pink hair, and that's hot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ff_GbnpDzwQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ff_GbnpDzwQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the happiest song on Elise's iPod?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Semi-Charmed Life -- Third Eye Blind. Is it happy? Who knows. Is it catchy? Hells yes. Do I have wonderful memories of Greg and I moshing (or something similar) to it at the Cheese in college? Hell fucking yea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/087pjPX3z_8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/087pjPX3z_8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-907726672022009156?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/907726672022009156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=907726672022009156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/907726672022009156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/907726672022009156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/12/happiest-songs-on-my-ipod.html' title='The happiest songs on my iPod'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-328610466280927649</id><published>2008-12-14T13:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T13:07:59.127-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grad school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>Grad school</title><content type='html'>GRE? Check, 1210&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Application? Check, submitted Friday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Transcripts? Check, submitted before Thanksgiving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personal statement? Check, submitted with application&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing sample? Um, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I last wrote a research paper in 2000. That was eight years and at least three, maybe four, computers ago. Yet, I need to have one to complete my supplementary material for my application to Maryland. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I did have any hard copies left, they'd be in my mother's attic -- 2500 miles away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really beginning to think that schools don't want "nontraditional" grad students. Otherwise, my lovely newsletter story about the Boise rescue mission would be sufficient!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-328610466280927649?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/328610466280927649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=328610466280927649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/328610466280927649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/328610466280927649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/12/grad-school.html' title='Grad school'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-8134044482335900944</id><published>2008-12-12T01:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T01:44:59.381-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kevin Smith'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Girls Next Door'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guilty pleasure'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='britney spearks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jersey Girl'/><title type='text'>Guilty pleasures</title><content type='html'>I insist that I'm an intellectual. I like all the standard intellectual things: red wine, subtitled movies, female singer-songwriters with "deep" lyrics, Rachel Maddow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, however, have guilty pleasaures that continue to show my not-so-intellectual side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Britney Spears: Come on, who doesn't bop their head up and down to most of her stuff. Sure she's certifiable, has a middling voice at best and is incapable of writing a song, but I'm not taking her off my iPod, regardless of what you say!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Jersey Girl: It's the Keven Smith movie Kevin Smith fans like to pretend doesn't exist. I've hidden the DVD in my bedroom where nobody can see it, but I've watched it enough that I'm on my second copy of said DVD. Ben is cute, the little girl is adorable and Liv and Carlin are amazing. Sure there's no Jay, but it's a damned cute movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) The Girls Next Door: Yes, it's about Hugh Hefner's girlfriend. Yes, I think the continued Playboyization of society is a problem. Yes, the entire show is about women using their sexuality to get ahead. Yes, two of the girls (Holly and Bridget) play dumb, despite being both educated and whip smart. Yes, its a celebration of trophy girlfriends/wives. At the same time, watching how the women use their wiles to control Hef and make their marks on the magazine gives me a lot of joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Hot Pockets and Bud Light. Mmmmm, yummie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-8134044482335900944?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8134044482335900944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=8134044482335900944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8134044482335900944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8134044482335900944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/12/guilty-pleasures.html' title='Guilty pleasures'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-3923055279742697726</id><published>2008-12-02T00:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T01:28:53.347-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tori Amos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad songs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Madonna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hinder'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Butch Walker'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amy Lee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seether'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='No Doubt/Gwen Stefani'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heather Headley'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Garth Brooks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bonnie Raitt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Johnny Cash'/><title type='text'>Saddest songs on my iPod</title><content type='html'>I saw some Yahoo music blog that rated the 25 saddest songs of all-time. Now, I can't say I agree with all their choices, but it gave me an idea. What are the 10 saddest songs on my iPod?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting with No. 10, here they are!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. "Don't Speak" by No Doubt. Massive hit my sophomore or junior year of college. We all wanted to be Gwen Stefani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/welnlg3svTw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/welnlg3svTw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. "This Used to be my Playground" by Madonna. Nothing like using a song about HIV/AIDS in the club scene in New York as the theme for a movie about The All-American Girls Baseball League, but its haunting lyrics suited the movie's ending well, esp. for those of us who had no clue about NYC clubs. Truthfully, I could fill this entire list with Madonna songs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tQsooCyjcv4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tQsooCyjcv4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. "Broken" by Seether featuring Amy Lee. Amy makes her first, but certainly not her last appearance on my list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hfOYufGFiZg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hfOYufGFiZg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. "Mix Tape" by Butch Walker. We've all been through this right? The "friend" that you really wish was a hella lot more, but you settle for friendship so they stay in your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bJU3jst3vh4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bJU3jst3vh4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. "Hurt" by Johnny Cash. Technically about heroin abuse (yet another recurring theme on this list, along with Amy Lee), but Cash's version was about so much more than that given that he recorded it close to the end of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AO9dbmJ_2zU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AO9dbmJ_2zU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. "My Immortal" by Evanescence. Amy Lee's second appearance. Sometimes a particular person just won't leave your thoughts, and you find yourself unable to move forward. You're stuck. The past is the past, but you're not nearly ready for the future yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/idd_92ajjwY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/idd_92ajjwY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. "The Dance" by Garth Brooks. Perhaps the having the experience and then losing it is better than never having it, but it still hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RsLqAb_5DS0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RsLqAb_5DS0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. "I Wish I Wasn't" by Heather Headley. A strange choice for me. No guitars, just a woman with a powerhouse voice pouring out her pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yuPetGBZ_nQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yuPetGBZ_nQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. "I can't make you love me" by Bonnie Raitt. This was so close to being the saddest song of all time on my iPod, but a three-way tie for saddest seemed really silly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wlrXIvMmG3s&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wlrXIvMmG3s&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1B. "Better than Me" by Hinder. It's not the song per se, but rather the video. It hits way too fucking close to home for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/E79XLtn-qoc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/E79XLtn-qoc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1A. "Me and a Gun" by Tori Amos. No comment needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uKzCxi2yf5s&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uKzCxi2yf5s&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, like the Big Ten, I can't count and really have 11 songs. Bite me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-3923055279742697726?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/3923055279742697726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=3923055279742697726' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3923055279742697726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3923055279742697726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/12/saddest-songs-on-my-ipod.html' title='Saddest songs on my iPod'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-5950537811092681545</id><published>2008-11-29T10:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T10:50:27.387-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><title type='text'>Roommate issues</title><content type='html'>Really, the roommate is a decent guy, least I think, but good Lord, do I want to bite his head off lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He seems to have been fired or laid off from his job, as he's barely left the house in three weeks. He wakes up, goes to the bathroom and then parks his ass on my sofa to watch TV for the rest of the day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's ruined two throw pillows because he wallows on them. They're completely flat, yet were almost brand new when he moved in four months ago. It doesn't seem like much, but it's just a small sign of a larger issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't respect my things. He puts his feet, in shoes, on my couch, my coffee table, the cats' chair. I knew it's not high quality furniture, but it's mine. I paid for most of it myself and I'd rather like to stay in a condition that's still attractive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's taken over the refrigerator. It's not a big fridge, but with only two people in the apartment it should have more than enough space. Yet I can't fit anything in the freezer and the entire bottom shelf, you know, where the tall stuff will fit, is taken up by his energy drinks in the fridge part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also tries to argue politics with me. I have a strict "No Politics" policy with people I have to live with who disagree with me. It makes things too uncomfortable, especially when the person you're living with wears a tinfoil hat and thinks Russia is now coming to get us because of Obama's election.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He talks down to me about sports. There are few things that piss me off more. I know sports better than 99 percent of the population, including Mr. I Love The Boise State Broncos. Don't try to tell me how things work. I know, and I could probably write a book on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As long as he pays his rent on time and the cats continue to like him, I'm not kicking him out, but lord it felt good to get all this shit off my chest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-5950537811092681545?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/5950537811092681545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=5950537811092681545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5950537811092681545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5950537811092681545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/11/roommate-issues.html' title='Roommate issues'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-3244147563223591993</id><published>2008-11-20T14:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T20:00:29.168-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weight loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fat'/><title type='text'>I always thought I was fat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SSXmCU66CII/AAAAAAAAAB8/YD7bYDkr1Wo/s1600-h/scan0025.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SSXmCU66CII/AAAAAAAAAB8/YD7bYDkr1Wo/s320/scan0025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270871866556942466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when I wore a size 6 in the seventh grade, I thought I was fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Because I couldn't wear a 5 or 3. Everybody else could, but there's Elise with her boobs and ass, having to wear adult women's clothes instead of juniors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It got worse as I got older. I did gain weight in high school, getting up to a size 12, and my boobs got even bigger. I was wearing a D as a ninth grader (and I should been in the eighth grade), and a DD by the time I graduated. Gross old men would hit on me, not realizing that I was 13 or 14.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In college, away from from my mother's watchful eye, I finally said fuck it, ate whatever I wanted and got really fat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, that part of my life's over, although I still must atone for my early actions with food at the scale every Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking though old photos this week, I realized that I was never fat in high school. Even when I weighed the most at my senior prom (see above), I wasn't fat, except in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listened too much to my biological father, who thinks anybody heavier than Kate Moss is gross, and the girls at school, who were straight out of the movie "Mean Girls."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-3244147563223591993?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/3244147563223591993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=3244147563223591993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3244147563223591993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3244147563223591993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-always-thought-i-was-fat.html' title='I always thought I was fat'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SSXmCU66CII/AAAAAAAAAB8/YD7bYDkr1Wo/s72-c/scan0025.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1220273856984551848</id><published>2008-11-17T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T00:27:00.196-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Crafting!</title><content type='html'>So this is like a total chick post, moreso than any of my shoe or hot boy ones have ever been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents decided last year that we should make our presents this year. I wanted to gather family recipes and put them into a book and get it printed. I failed miserably, mostly because I couldn't get anybody to send me recipes! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like any girl disappointed, I moved on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm limited in craftiness, however. I thought I could crochet or knit my brother a scarf in the ugly colors of the glorious Purdue. Not gonna happen, at least not by Christmas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I signed up for some classes at my favorite store. One was to learn how to make this awesomely cool recipe container thingie. Turns out they don't have all the stuff needed to make them in the store, so I just have the one. (Can't say who's getting it. You'll find out at Christmas!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the class, however, the teacher passed around a book of Christmas ideas, last year's Christmas ideas, at 75 percent off, so I got it for like $2. And inside, in the middle of the book was the most fantastic present for some of the men in my life. Glass pebble magnents. I have almost everything (except the magnents).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This could be the easiest Christmas giftwise, like ever!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1220273856984551848?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1220273856984551848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1220273856984551848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1220273856984551848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1220273856984551848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/11/crafting.html' title='Crafting!'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-7937142951989710930</id><published>2008-11-14T11:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T11:21:52.377-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Daniel Radcliff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Harry Potter'/><title type='text'>Calling all Harry Potter fans!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.circuit-empire.com/posters/Harry%20Potter%20and%20the%20Half-Blood%20Prince%20Posters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 519px;" src="http://www.circuit-empire.com/posters/Harry%20Potter%20and%20the%20Half-Blood%20Prince%20Posters.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's finally here! The new trailer that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since they decided to push back the release of the flick until next year after Mr. Radcliff's &lt;a href="http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/harry-potter-naked.html"&gt;little Broadway appearance&lt;/a&gt;, this will have to feed our Harry Potter jones through a sad Christmas movie season that lacks The Half-Blood Prince.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trailer will be Internet only for a week, least if I'm reading the story right. Click&lt;a href="http://mugglenet.com/app/news/full_story/1973"&gt; here&lt;/a&gt; to watch it! They've got HD and standard, flash and quicktime. Really, whatever floats your boat as far as video online goes, they've got it :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-7937142951989710930?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7937142951989710930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=7937142951989710930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7937142951989710930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7937142951989710930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/11/calling-all-harry-potter-fans.html' title='Calling all Harry Potter fans!'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1008963285873868093</id><published>2008-11-05T10:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T19:15:46.638-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barack Obama'/><title type='text'>President Obama</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2008/11/04/us/05elect-600.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 353px;" src="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2008/11/04/us/05elect-600.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nov. 4, 2008, was the most moving night of my neophyte political junkie career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A black man elected president? I never thought I'd see it in my lifetime, and certainly not with a majority of the popular vote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew he would win before the race was called for him. Once we won Ohio and the networks had him at over 190 electoral votes, I knew he was our President-elect. There were 83 West Coast electoral votes in his backpocket long before the polls closed. I even called my mother and my sister!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My reaction when they actually called the race after the polls in California and Washington closed shocked me. I cried. In the middle of giant election party, I cried. Like a little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never in a million years did I think I'd get to see this so early in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he came out with family to give his acceptance speech, I got chills up my spine and started crying again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My decision to leave newspapers so I can become more involved in grassroots political activities was confirmed as the right idea. I felt a passion over the course of the campaign that I have never felt in newspapers, and that I've come to realize I never will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obama, and to a lesser extent Larry LaRocco, have opened my eyes to what my passion really is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;______&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obama's acceptance speech, part 1. The rest of it is linked to from the first part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lM5BvdKKPms&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lM5BvdKKPms&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1008963285873868093?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1008963285873868093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1008963285873868093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1008963285873868093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1008963285873868093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/11/president-obama.html' title='President Obama'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-6337983908687216106</id><published>2008-11-03T18:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T23:18:00.995-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nate Silver'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barack Obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='election'/><title type='text'>Nate Silver, world's hottest nerd</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ndn.newsweek.com/media/86/nate-silver-prospectus-NA05-wide-horizontal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 370px;" src="http://ndn.newsweek.com/media/86/nate-silver-prospectus-NA05-wide-horizontal.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's another blog about my flavor of the day crush :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, though, I'm going for brains instead of white-trashness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/baseball/2008/11/01/2008-11-01_baseball_stats_guru_nate_silver_sees_ele.html"&gt;Nate Silver&lt;/a&gt;, who predicted the Rays would win 88 games this year and figured out a new way to look at baseball stats and predict what would happen that was better than the old way (I really don't understand all that, though, cause it's baseball, and we all know that baseball and I have a love-hate, mostly hate, relationship), predicted a &lt;a href="http://www.fivethirtyeight.com/2008/11/todays-polls-113-pm-edition.html"&gt;victory &lt;/a&gt;for Obama tonight on his site &lt;a href="http://www.fivethirtyeight.com/"&gt;fivethirtyeight.com&lt;/a&gt;, which takes polls and uses more fancy formulas and number crunching to interpret the polls and tell us what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate also pops up from time-to-time on Countdown and other MSNBC shows, providing me with the opportunity to see him kinda-sorta in person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know what you're saying, "Elise, I've looked at the top of the page, and, well, he looks more like he belongs in an engineering firm than in your bed." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this I say, you haven't seen enough of my ex-boyfriends. I like nerds, geeks, dorks, whatever you want to call them. At the end of the day, nothing is sexier than brains. Your brains stay (generally), while looks are fleeting. And Mr. Silver has brains to spare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-6337983908687216106?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/6337983908687216106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=6337983908687216106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6337983908687216106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6337983908687216106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/11/nate-silver-worlds-hottest-nerd.html' title='Nate Silver, world&apos;s hottest nerd'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-2657656948638681797</id><published>2008-11-03T15:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T18:17:49.368-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Larry LaRocco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Idaho'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Democratic Pary'/><title type='text'>Being a Democrat in Idaho</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-MDggh1mI/AAAAAAAAABM/o_O8OZCgCmU/s1600-h/1103081245%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-MDggh1mI/AAAAAAAAABM/o_O8OZCgCmU/s320/1103081245%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264580481313265250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a big rally today for the Senate candidate here in Idaho, and it pretty much summed up what it's like to be a Democrat in this great state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The College Democrats were out in full force, below, but the number of other students or even non-family members at the rally was disappointing, top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-LRQprh4I/AAAAAAAAABE/VuWtko53Nk0/s1600-h/1103081252%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 174px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-LRQprh4I/AAAAAAAAABE/VuWtko53Nk0/s320/1103081252%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264579618063222658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-MiQPwLSI/AAAAAAAAABU/HfukA0jb0YM/s1600-h/1103081239%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 166px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-MiQPwLSI/AAAAAAAAABU/HfukA0jb0YM/s200/1103081239%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264581009523879202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A state legislator, who's a professor at the U here, read her speech from a piece of paper. Good lord, I should run. At least I can give a fun and exciting speech!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-NB4UbQ-I/AAAAAAAAABc/W4bCPPiPDRQ/s1600-h/1103081244%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 136px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-NB4UbQ-I/AAAAAAAAABc/W4bCPPiPDRQ/s200/1103081244%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264581552856843234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world's worst congressional candidate spoke, and then later told me her son told her that the reason nobody knew about her was because everybody thought they were in the other district. sigh. Sorry, lady, it's because your opponent is one of the best Republican congressmen out there and strong incumbents tend to attract weak opposition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-OL53ZgCI/AAAAAAAAABk/AhY83UrY-zE/s1600-h/1103081246%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-OL53ZgCI/AAAAAAAAABk/AhY83UrY-zE/s200/1103081246%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264582824582283298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the Senate hopeful spoke. Finally, I got a real candidate, and it was beautiful. I'm so very sad that the downticket races don't have candidates of his ability, just younger and less experienced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-O49ZYy-I/AAAAAAAAABs/AfIHukQJfH8/s1600-h/1103081235%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 97px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-O49ZYy-I/AAAAAAAAABs/AfIHukQJfH8/s200/1103081235%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264583598624263138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course the best part of the rally, the cute boy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-2657656948638681797?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2657656948638681797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=2657656948638681797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2657656948638681797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2657656948638681797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/11/being-democrat-in-idaho.html' title='Being a Democrat in Idaho'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQ-MDggh1mI/AAAAAAAAABM/o_O8OZCgCmU/s72-c/1103081245%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-4350765809628443513</id><published>2008-11-02T09:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T09:37:23.154-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coffee'/><title type='text'>Coffee</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/CLASS/186-019~Coffee-Posters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 353px; height: 450px;" src="http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/CLASS/186-019~Coffee-Posters.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, my name is Elise and I have a problem, a coffee problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot function until I drink at least a pot a coffee. I sit on my couch, watch bad TV and surf the Internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without my coffee, I develop headaches, shakiness, crankiness and a general lack of desire to do anything. I also struggle to read basic words such as the, an and cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I can't get coffee at home, I'm forced to rely on a large Americano with four shots down at the coffee house. It's not even about flirting with a cute guy down there anymore. It's simply about being able to function!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part of my coffee addiction is that I can't even get the coffee I really like here. I can only get &lt;a href="http://www.coffeetraders.com/content/products.cfm?PageNum_Recordset1=4&amp;cat=COFFEES&amp;subcat=Organic"&gt;Wind Rider&lt;/a&gt; from Coffee Traders in Montana, which makes it hard when I run out and I've forgotten to order some. So I wind up drinking bleech coffee from Winco, which is OK, but just not the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-4350765809628443513?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/4350765809628443513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=4350765809628443513' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/4350765809628443513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/4350765809628443513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/11/coffee.html' title='Coffee'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-6835942823218653113</id><published>2008-10-30T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T01:14:14.128-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='World Series'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tampa Bay Rays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='James Shields'/><title type='text'>Poor Rays</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://mlb.mlb.com/images/2007/09/22/wHLc7LTZ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 235px;" src="http://mlb.mlb.com/images/2007/09/22/wHLc7LTZ.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My white-trash, future baby daddy will not be the owner of a World Series ring after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on the Rays bandwagon for one reason -- James Shields. After my buddy Jerry insisted I pick him up last year for fantasy baseball, and he pitched my baseball ignorant ass to a second place finish, I was hooked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly for Mr. Shields, his teammates choked, and let the Phillies run away with the World Series.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My man did his part, pitching the Rays to their lone win of the Series in Game 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of them . . . bah, humbug! Terrible! Bats that blasted homer after homer fell silent. The staff ace forgot how to throw a strike. And I could have handled the pitching better than the Rays manager Maddon (Price, you asshat, Price . . . use him, dammit!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's too bad I cannot be in Florida to comfort poor Mr. Shields. I'm sure he'd like nothing more than to make me the mother of his next illegitimate child :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean how can not love this guy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zkiFLHHHmLk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zkiFLHHHmLk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-6835942823218653113?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/6835942823218653113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=6835942823218653113' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6835942823218653113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6835942823218653113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/poor-rays.html' title='Poor Rays'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-2147093425684090782</id><published>2008-10-27T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T01:07:17.519-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='intellect'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crazy guy'/><title type='text'>SG seeks a wife</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.zianet.com/CoyoteBlue/wiley.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.zianet.com/CoyoteBlue/wiley.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know where to begin with this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone sent me &lt;a href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&amp;friendID=150506682"&gt;this blog&lt;/a&gt;, and really I think it speaks for itself. Who am I to comment or try to explain the tought process of someone who is clearly far superior to me in intellect?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I will say this, I've done the checklist thing to decide what guy to date and it never turns out well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: The women he mentions on his top friends as women he would marry: Kate Moss and Helena Christensen . . . um, yea. Right, and Hugh Jackman is leaving his wife for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDIT: Why did nobody tell the link was wrong? Losers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-2147093425684090782?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2147093425684090782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=2147093425684090782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2147093425684090782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2147093425684090782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/sg-seeks-wife.html' title='SG seeks a wife'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1173501210020677884</id><published>2008-10-26T01:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T01:47:03.188-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Paulo Nutini'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jessica Simpson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoes'/><title type='text'>Hey, I put some new shoes on . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;and suddenly everything is right,&lt;br /&gt;I said, hey, I put some new shoes on &lt;br /&gt;and everybody's smiling,&lt;br /&gt;it's so inviting,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- New shoes, Paulo Nutini&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQQuZFEUnsI/AAAAAAAAAA8/zRGvidqs0zk/s1600-h/green+shoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 288px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQQuZFEUnsI/AAAAAAAAAA8/zRGvidqs0zk/s320/green+shoes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261381273067495106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't intend to buy shoes, especially not irridescent emerald Jessica Simpson Mary Janes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed some winter clothes, not pretty shoes that match nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got some clothes, true, but the best purchase of my Saturday brave-the-mall shopping trip was the shoes. They match nothing I own. They'll be hard to wear with anything other than black. But they put me in a fantastically good mood today, although it might have been the really cute shoe salesman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only are the shoes pretty and able to make me feel good, they were on sale too (not to mention they possess a reasonable 1 1/2 inch heel, so mom'll be happy)! And I got sticky notes with Jessica's fake signature on them, so I can pretend to leave notes from the desk of Jessica Simpson (and yes, I realize she's vapid, but she's fun, dammit!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just because, here's the video to Mr. Nutini's song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hmbUNF1Q4R8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hmbUNF1Q4R8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1173501210020677884?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1173501210020677884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1173501210020677884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1173501210020677884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1173501210020677884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/hey-i-put-some-new-shoes-on.html' title='Hey, I put some new shoes on . . .'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SQQuZFEUnsI/AAAAAAAAAA8/zRGvidqs0zk/s72-c/green+shoes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-995070637893957388</id><published>2008-10-25T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T10:58:49.598-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='compliments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nick and Norah&apos;s Infinite Playlist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist</title><content type='html'>"If you're ignored long enough, you just go with the first guy who pays attention to you." -- Norah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you go to see a flick and somebody on screen is so much like you that she dredges up long buried feelings and memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Norah did that for me. I could see my 16-year-old self up on screen, down to the hair cut (long, straight, parted in the middle, yea, some things never change).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her insecurity about her looks, the pretty girl making fun of her for being smart and her love of music and the men who make it were all things I dealt with at that age. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I was her age, I was convinced I was ugly and no guy would ever really love me because of it -- no matter how much my HS boyfriends tried to convince me otherwise. I still struggle with how I feel about my looks. I get uncomfortable when I'm told I'm pretty or cute or in any other way physically attractive. Granted, there are a lot of reasons for this -- father issues, a sexual assault, being brought up to value intelligence in a part of the country that looks down on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In college, I did embrace being the smart girl, and I love it when I'm complimented for my brain power. In fact, I think I'm drawn to not-very-bright guys because they reinforce that I'm intelligent (not to mention that a lot of them are uber impressed by the fact I've multiple college degrees and that makes me feel good too).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All those memories came rushing back as I watched the flick, and what should have been a fun, 80s-inspired teen flick got heavy and I started crying when Norah said the ignore line. It hit a little too close to home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-995070637893957388?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/995070637893957388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=995070637893957388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/995070637893957388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/995070637893957388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/nick-and-norahs-infinite-playlist.html' title='Nick and Norah&apos;s Infinite Playlist'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1819214876132370692</id><published>2008-10-20T01:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T18:34:48.331-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='true crime TV'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CSI'/><title type='text'>Another obsession</title><content type='html'>I am obsessed with crime shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not those CSI, Law &amp; Order and Cold Case type shows, but true crime shows on A&amp;E and TruTV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can easily waste an entire day on the couch watching them, even ones that I've already seen. I especially like the ones on A&amp;E that Bill Kurtis narrates (Have you seen his commercial with Michael Phelps? It's fantastic!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate came home the other day while I was in the throes of another Bill Kurtis marathon on A&amp;E and sat down to watch with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 20 minutes in, he turns to me and says, "My ex-wife used to love these shows too. Must be a woman thing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha! I'd say he's right, but I know too many men who like them too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1819214876132370692?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1819214876132370692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1819214876132370692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1819214876132370692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1819214876132370692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/another-obsession.html' title='Another obsession'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-200672000437965714</id><published>2008-10-17T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T18:35:41.660-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shoes'/><title type='text'>The death of my boots</title><content type='html'>My fuck-me boots are dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I started to lose weight, a pair of knee-high boots with a heel (in this case about 3 1/2 inches) was a pipe dream. My calves were just too fat to find a pair that would zip up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day I tried a pair on and they zipped was one of the best days of my life, at least shoppingwise :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, the first major purchase that symbolized my weight loss is now too big. The calves of the boots are so streched out that they slipped from my knee to about mid-calf while I was wearing them last night. They are simply too uncomfortable to continue to wear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can look at this two ways. 1) Boo hoo! My boots don't fit. 2) Yee haw! My boots don't fit cause I'm even thinner and now I have an excuse to go shopping for some better ones!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna go with option two and hit the shoe stores next week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-200672000437965714?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/200672000437965714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=200672000437965714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/200672000437965714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/200672000437965714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/death-of-my-boots.html' title='The death of my boots'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-2757876011100889174</id><published>2008-10-17T01:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T01:50:21.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beer Blogging</title><content type='html'>(For the record, three beers. Not drunk, but I feel really good)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Why does Cindy McCain own the exact same sack dress in every pastel color?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Why do cats squeak?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Why do I find Keith Olbermann attractive? He's not my time. He's old, smarmy and of normal weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Why isn't Michelle Obama the one running?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The Mountain West may expand. Boise State could be who it takes. Could the MWC take the ACC's spot among BCS conferences?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. The Flyers are winless. Is it Sarah Palin's fault?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. When did West Virginia become a solid red state?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Did you know Montana ranks among the top 10 states in terms of education level? Who knew? No wonder I can't find anybody to date here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I miss Charles Schultz. He was an amazing, hockey-loving man. Without him, how do I know what Charlie Brown is doing for Halloween?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I've been obsessed with Janet Jackson's "Janet" CD. If may be the sexiest song ever and This Time is a woman's anthem. How did I miss it when it came out?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-2757876011100889174?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2757876011100889174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=2757876011100889174' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2757876011100889174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2757876011100889174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/beer-blogging.html' title='Beer Blogging'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1309001704075018996</id><published>2008-10-10T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T18:36:29.308-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='body hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>OMG, he's nekkid and hairy! (updated with photo!)</title><content type='html'>During a particularly strange period of my dating life, I went out with an extremely young (like 20) Mormon, Levi Smith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a fun time, but like most fun times it had to end, mostly because he really wanted to get married and, well, I just wasn't feeling it with him. So he ditched me and took up with ex and, allegedly, married her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't heard from him for almost two years, until about 10 weeks ago when he IMd me and asked if I'd come over and have sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I told him I had a boyfriend. He kept pressing. I told him I wasn't interested. He wasn't having it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I got an e-mail from him, an e-mail that contained naked pictures of him. I did not ask for these. I did not want to see these. He knows that completely naked pictures of guys don't do much for me (now shirtless pictures of guys in low-slung pants where you can see the "V" are a completely different story). Yet, there in my inbox were naked pictures of him, and he was hairy, really hairy, like Burt Reynolds in the 70s posing for the Cosmo centerfold hairy. I wanted to cry, puke and gouge my eyes out all at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, my IM starts flashing because he's turned on his Web cam. Again, he's naked and hairy and gross. As for me, I am forever traumatized by the sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDIT!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SPBpz5ea-9I/AAAAAAAAAA0/GKcVnoEF02c/s1600-h/burt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SPBpz5ea-9I/AAAAAAAAAA0/GKcVnoEF02c/s320/burt.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255817105464032210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea, so Levi looked like that picture of Burt, only much skinnier. (shivers!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1309001704075018996?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1309001704075018996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1309001704075018996' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1309001704075018996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1309001704075018996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/omg-hes-nekkid-and-hairy.html' title='OMG, he&apos;s nekkid and hairy! (updated with photo!)'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SPBpz5ea-9I/AAAAAAAAAA0/GKcVnoEF02c/s72-c/burt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1145547321868024508</id><published>2008-10-09T01:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T18:40:08.802-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weight loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><title type='text'>Skinnier days are ahead!</title><content type='html'>So while I was getting ready for work today, I realized I was skinny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as skinny as I've been since after my freshman year of college (it's all relative, right?). My cute, plaid, goth, Catholic schoolgirlish skirt, which has always been too tight, was loose, loose enough that if not for the fact I have a ghetto booty, it would have been puddled down around my heels instead of being remotely close to where it belonged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only that, my shirt, again it's always been tight, fit correctly around my tummy, no muffin top, no VFR (visible fat roll), no nothing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a fantastic feeling. I wanted nothing more than to head out to someplace cool in my fake, goth Catholic schoolgirlish look, but alas, I had to go to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next Monday though, next Monday, I'm wearing my new skinny look out someplace cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1145547321868024508?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1145547321868024508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1145547321868024508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1145547321868024508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1145547321868024508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/skinnier-days-are-ahead.html' title='Skinnier days are ahead!'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-7285064079181805044</id><published>2008-10-08T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T18:38:03.879-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nate Silver'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barack Obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='election'/><title type='text'>Democratic porn!</title><content type='html'>Sorry, folks, no nekkid girls here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dems aren't the type to trot out a hot chick (Hi, Gov. Palin!) to try to win votes. Might be to our detriment at times, but in times such as these, it makes us look more grounded, serious and, well, presidential :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back on topic, my favorite &lt;a href="http://www.fivethirtyeight.com/"&gt;Web site&lt;/a&gt; has Obama with an 89.2 percent chance of winning the election. Nate Silver, the adorable if slightly dorky guy who runs the site, also has Obama winning more than 345 electoral college votes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm beginning to get the same feeling I had when Clinton won the first time. It's going to be a victory for the guy most people knew nothing about when the campaigning started, the man who seems to have some sort coating that makes negative attacks (Ayers, Wright, Rezko) slide right off and make his opponent look bad, the man who's capable of exciting younglings and getting them out to vote, the man who's capable of inspiring hope in a depressed electorate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-7285064079181805044?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7285064079181805044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=7285064079181805044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7285064079181805044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7285064079181805044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/democratic-porn.html' title='Democratic porn!'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-8108856018603558589</id><published>2008-10-06T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T14:03:47.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My letter to chemistry.com</title><content type='html'>Yea, so I'm done with chemistry.com. All that's left is to get my $100 refunded. I'm not paying to have fat, gross, unemployed, still-living-at-home-with-mommy college dropouts to hit on me. I can get that for free elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I am extremely disappointed in my experience at chemistry.com. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been a paying member for about a week, and have only received one response – and it was from somebody who was so completely inappropriate (he was overweight, unemployed and still living at home with his parents in California) for me that it has become a subject of humor between my friends and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have moved more than 30 men into my “active matches,” nudged several of those after a few days, and I still have yet to receive any sort of a response from any of the men you have sent me as a match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can have inappropriate men express interest in me and good guys ignore me for free at the grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think it is unrealistic to expect some sort of response from a match who meets my basic criteria within a week’s time.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-8108856018603558589?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8108856018603558589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=8108856018603558589' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8108856018603558589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8108856018603558589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-letter-to-chemistrycom.html' title='My letter to chemistry.com'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-8062741260909331886</id><published>2008-10-04T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T15:44:29.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three weeks of PMS</title><content type='html'>So I went back-to-back with my pill so I wouldn't be on my period when I went to San Diego. I'm now not so sure it was worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, it's much more comfortable to wear a bathing suit when you're not on your period, but the other stuff just may not be worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boobs now have been sore for two weeks with a least another week to go. I'm bloated, grumpy and constantly hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also bawling at the drop of a hat. Like today, I heard that stupid "With nothing but your t-shirt on" song, and I just started crying in the middle of the store. Now granted, I've had a bit of a disappointing month on the relationship front, but NOTHING so bad that it should be causing me to cry in the middle of Target to a shitty pop song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the breakup scene in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," you know the one with the guy wandering around nekkid that's hilarious, yea, that made me bawl too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I still have another week of this shit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-8062741260909331886?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8062741260909331886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=8062741260909331886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8062741260909331886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8062741260909331886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/three-weeks-of-pms.html' title='Three weeks of PMS'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-7427213669816324920</id><published>2008-10-03T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T12:41:28.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I so need new clothes :)</title><content type='html'>The plateau is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently my little trip to San Diego was just the kick in the ass my weight loss needed, 'cause I'm down three pounds in the last week and a half. Woo hoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, this brings into clearer focus the clothing issue. I now own about 5 shirts that fit right and I'm in between sizes when it comes to jeans (16s are a bit loose and 14s are muffin-top jeans).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given the number of ruffles and the lack of empire waists this season, there simply aren't clothes that I want to own out there. None of it's flattering, and most of it just makes me continue to look fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can wear skirts to combat the pant issue, but the shirt thing is difficult. I look fantastic in empire waists, but those are so last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid fashion designers. Always changing the rules.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-7427213669816324920?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7427213669816324920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=7427213669816324920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7427213669816324920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7427213669816324920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-so-need-new-clothes.html' title='I so need new clothes :)'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-6368752703030178120</id><published>2008-09-30T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T11:55:32.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>San Diego does not mean whale's vagina</title><content type='html'>For the first time in my entire adult life, I decided to leave town for my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so I got some encouragement from the boy who not only mocked me for being as old as Jesus and Alexander the Great were when they died, but also decided we should just be friends right before my trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess I digressed a bit there, back on topic. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SOJ1YVIjVkI/AAAAAAAAAAs/qz5ZYAmKoOc/s1600-h/IMG_0339.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SOJ1YVIjVkI/AAAAAAAAAAs/qz5ZYAmKoOc/s320/IMG_0339.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251889176317744706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The San Diego zoo is amazing. Between the pandas and the koalas and the otters, I haven't gotten a bigger kick out of a zoo since I rode a camel at the Columbus Zoo when I was about 12.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night before my birthday, we caught a Padres game. Now, my disdain for America's pasttime has been documented, but I have to admit that watching Trevor Hoffman run out in the ninth to Hell's Bells sent shivers up my spine. Oh, and they had fireworks. I love fireworks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-6368752703030178120?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/6368752703030178120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=6368752703030178120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6368752703030178120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6368752703030178120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/san-diego-does-not-mean-whales-vagina.html' title='San Diego does not mean whale&apos;s vagina'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SOJ1YVIjVkI/AAAAAAAAAAs/qz5ZYAmKoOc/s72-c/IMG_0339.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-5008782218991449841</id><published>2008-09-24T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T11:43:53.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The dreaded plateau</title><content type='html'>I've hit a plateau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gained a pound total over the last month. My eating habits haven't really changed. I'm still hitting the gym three times a week. I'm growing increasingly frustrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the same time, my pants are looser and Sara at work asked me if I had lost more weight, because my face looked thinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I get back from San Diego, I intend to try Weight Watcher's plateau busting program, but I already eat only about 20 points a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did bump up the amount of weight and the number of reps I was doing at the gym earlier this month, so perhaps my body is adjusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It still makes me hostile though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-5008782218991449841?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/5008782218991449841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=5008782218991449841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5008782218991449841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5008782218991449841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/dreaded-plateau.html' title='The dreaded plateau'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-6430376678859701184</id><published>2008-09-21T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T12:34:35.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random musings from church</title><content type='html'>1) Don't they teach people to NOT bite the wafer anymore? It's supposed to respresent Jesus' body. Biting it is bad, cause it's like chewing on Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) The woman behind me had a fantastic voice, but she belonged up in the choir, not behind me. I'm now deaf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I still haven't gotten my welcoming bread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) The more I hear him speak, the more I like the guy who does the preaching. He's my kind of liberal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) I do not get people who wear jeans to church. It still strikes me as disrespectful, but I may have changed my mind today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a girl who was wearing a brown shrug, turquoise tank top, black sweat pants and florescent yellow flip flops. That was far worse than the (adorable) guy wearing nice jeans and a button-down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) My gaydar is faulty. The cute blond guy in the choir I thought was cute. . . yea, his partner was there today. Oops!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-6430376678859701184?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/6430376678859701184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=6430376678859701184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6430376678859701184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6430376678859701184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/random-musings-from-church.html' title='Random musings from church'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-7832495491673505812</id><published>2008-09-19T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T18:39:17.616-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barack Obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cats'/><title type='text'>Stan is for Obama!</title><content type='html'>I just want to plug one of my new and favoritist sites, catsforobama.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Similar to Stuff on My Cat, it features pictures of cute, adorable kitties with Obama buttons, books, bumper stickers and even wearing Obama t-shirts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are even some lolcats. In that spirit, Stan and Maggie have posed with their favorite Obama button :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z164/emanicke/IMG_0315.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z164/emanicke/IMG_0315.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z164/emanicke/IMG_0317.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z164/emanicke/IMG_0317.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-7832495491673505812?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7832495491673505812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=7832495491673505812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7832495491673505812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/7832495491673505812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/stan-is-for-obama.html' title='Stan is for Obama!'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-3351029121175541320</id><published>2008-09-18T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T11:23:39.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Layoffs</title><content type='html'>What is the appropriate response for the survivors?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saying, "It'll all work out" doesn't work. You still have a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm so sorry?" Better, but it doesn't really make either of you feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calling in favors to try to help the layoffee find a new job. Slightly better, but you still feel like it's not enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While McClatchy does layoffs in a manner I'd consider the "right" way (People are called into the publisher's office so there's not a string of people going into the EE's office, then allowed to go home for the rest of the day, paid. They then continue to work for up to two weeks before receiving their severance and cleaning out their desk), that doesn't make it any easier -- on the person laid off or on their co-workers. What are you supposed to say? How are you supposed to treat them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, at least the big wigs got to fly the private jet with its flatscreen TVs to places they could have driven to in two hours for an extra few months.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-3351029121175541320?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/3351029121175541320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=3351029121175541320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3351029121175541320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3351029121175541320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/layoffs.html' title='Layoffs'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-5666604179838717087</id><published>2008-09-17T00:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T01:00:26.127-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ruffles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shirts'/><title type='text'>ruffles, ruffles everywhere</title><content type='html'>The fashion guru who decided that grown women would look good in ruffles is a vile, evil person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All ruffles do is add volume to a woman, and when that woman has busted her ass over the course of three years to lose 70 pounds, she does not want to have added volume. She wants to look cute and skinny(er), dammit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when that woman has boobs the size the Pam Anderson's (and not because of surgery), she really doesn't want ruffles anywhere near her boobies, esp. ones along the edge of a v-neck that do nothing but draw even more attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also doesn't want little tiny ruffles down the button front. She doesn't want her boobies to look any bigger. They attract enough attention now, thank you very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to you, ruffle-loving fashion designer, I hope you go to hell and find yourself a round woman with DDD boobs stuck wearing a ruffled v-neck for all eternity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-5666604179838717087?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/5666604179838717087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=5666604179838717087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5666604179838717087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5666604179838717087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/ruffles-ruffles-everywhere.html' title='ruffles, ruffles everywhere'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-2107850097131977922</id><published>2008-09-15T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T22:36:49.237-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My new addiction</title><content type='html'>They say the first step is admitting you have a problem, so here it goes: I have a crafting problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started out so simply. I wanted to make my own Christmas cards because I couldn't find any I liked one year, so I bought some stamps, ink and funky paper and made my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it progressed. I made my own wrapping paper the next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then last year, I made food gifts for all my friends, along with cards and stationary for various occasions (birthday, moving, new job, etc.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, I discovered etsy, where I could buy crafts from other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in heaven. There are sooooo many talented women out there making awesome things that are far beyond my abilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of those talented women is Jesse Janes, who makes scrabble tile pendants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her's are fantabulous. I bought the pink bird one and several more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ny-image2.etsy.com/il_430xN.38080518.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://ny-image2.etsy.com/il_430xN.38080518.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have bought more, but my spending limit had been met. I wanted all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will probably go broke, but at least I'll have fantastic, crafty things!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;____________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To check out Jesse's awesomely cool pendants, go to http://jessejanes.etsy.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-2107850097131977922?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2107850097131977922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=2107850097131977922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2107850097131977922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2107850097131977922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-new-addiction.html' title='My new addiction'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-2894098720955176142</id><published>2008-09-13T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T14:15:15.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drama!</title><content type='html'>I was hoping for a weekend without drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No cute boy telling me he thinks we should just "be friends." No weird days off at work. No work friends giving notice and planning to move back to the other side of the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I got Hurricane Ike and an ex-boyfriend trying to worm his way back into my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family in Houston elected to ride out the storm, and I haven't been able to get in touch with them. I've left messages, but the power's out and the phone lines are overloaded. Given the part of the metro area they're in (Northwest), they should be fine, but I still worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ex? Well, we broke up for very good reasons. He abandoned me when I had surgery, attempted to sabatoge my weight loss efforts and is dumber than a box of rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he didn't get that we'd broken up. He kept calling and IMing and just generally bugging me. The final straw was a night when I got a series of IMs when I was out with friends. They started normal with Hi and things like that. They escalated in desperatness until he demanded I call him. I blocked him on IM, defacebooked him and deleted him from my phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet he still thinks I'd want to be friends? Even five months later, I don't need a stalker or even a desperate ex-boyfriend hanging around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-2894098720955176142?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2894098720955176142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=2894098720955176142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2894098720955176142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/2894098720955176142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/drama.html' title='Drama!'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-375690911449779792</id><published>2008-09-12T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T14:29:46.200-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cats'/><title type='text'>Stan's puff</title><content type='html'>My roommate gave my cat his shower puff after Stan destroyed it the other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stan, of course, thinks it is the greatest thing ever. It's completely unraveled, and he "hides" in it, acting as if we can't see him crouched down in the midst of the puff's remains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If fact, he thinks he's so well-hidden that he jumps out and grabs our legs when we walk by, before darting away to go hide in the puff again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stan carries the puff around the apartment, making a nest of it in different rooms. Sometimes, he just curls up in it and sleeps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this puff play has one result. . . Stan now smells like soap!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-375690911449779792?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/375690911449779792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=375690911449779792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/375690911449779792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/375690911449779792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/stans-puff.html' title='Stan&apos;s puff'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-1309965167257712294</id><published>2008-09-11T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T10:51:38.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A moment</title><content type='html'>I'm taking a break from my usual snarkiness today as we all observe the anniversary of 9/11.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my first year of teaching, and I was administering the wonderful and (way too) important standardized test at Glenwood Middle School (in the hood, even) in Evansville, Ind., pretty firmly in flyover country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the teaching aids came by my room for my scheduled bathroom break and informed me the first tower had been hit and told as I left the room to go down to the office because I had a phone message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my mother, telling me that my brother-in-law may have been at the Pentagon. I freaked out. My sister was about seven months pregnant and lived 10 hours away from all of us. What if she was suddenly left alone? What would she do? She didn't work full time. Nobody was in Baltimore to help her out. How would she cope?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After testing was done for the day, I flipped on the TV and let my students watch in unfold. Most of them were uninterested and complained before asking if I would turn the station to BET (Um, how about no, my little darlings.) I only had one student who seemed to care, and he got so worked up and angry I had to send him to the office for a talk with the assistant principal (who he loved) and a timeout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the end of the day, the intercom interrupted my classroom to tell me my brother-in-law was OK, and a cheer went up from my previously disinterested students. Apparently, the whole thing didn't matter to them until it affected someone they knew (I kid you not, they were more upset over Aaliyah dying than over 3K dying on 9/11).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later my sister said Mom was just overreacting and that her hubby had been at work the whole time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I reflect on that day, I've had Alan Jackson's "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)" running through my head. The line about teaching a class full of innocent children never fails to bring the tears, so I'll leave you with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvj6zdWLUuk"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvj6zdWLUuk&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-1309965167257712294?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1309965167257712294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=1309965167257712294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1309965167257712294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/1309965167257712294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/moment.html' title='A moment'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-5669796097391131661</id><published>2008-09-10T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T12:29:54.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sarah Palin's rape issue</title><content type='html'>There is one reason that I think Sarah Palin is a horrible human being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not her support and then disavowel of the "Bridge to Nowhere." It's not her attendance at a church that speaks in tongues, thinks the rapture is coming soon and tries to turn gays straight. It's not her lack of intellectual curiosity. It's not the fact she lies about her love of pork-barrel projects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, it's her lack of empathy for victims of rape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thinks abortion should be banned even in cases of rape and incest. Gov. Palin would force women who have been violated in one of the worst ways imaginable to carry the child of the man who brutalized them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She, at the very least, allowed the police chief in the city of which she was mayor to charge victims for their rape kits, which can run as much as $1,200. Rape is one of the most underreported crimes in this country, and Palin wanted to make it even harder for victims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody charges robbery victims for evidence collection at their crime scenes. Why would Palin be OK with rape victims being charged simply because their crime scene happens to be their body?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How you treat people less fortunate than you says a lot about you as a person. Sarah Palin's apparent positions on how she'd treat rape victims tell me she's a pretty shitty person deep down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-5669796097391131661?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/5669796097391131661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=5669796097391131661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5669796097391131661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/5669796097391131661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/sarah-palins-rape-issue.html' title='Sarah Palin&apos;s rape issue'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-463604781343621085</id><published>2008-09-09T14:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T14:38:29.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hell's highway is paved with good intentions</title><content type='html'>I'm going to hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now have incontravertable proof. I think the youngish priest at my church is hot, not just a little bit cute or just not an old fart, nope, hot -- curly hair, nerd glasses -- yep, hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure I broke at least three commandments on Sunday. I was coveting what is surely a married man (that's two) and maybe preferring to look at the priest instead of paying attention to what I should have been is the same as having a false idol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, definitely going to hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even went to Bible study on Monday hoping he'd be the priest leading the session. He wasn't, and the little old ladies at the session were lovely and thought it was fantastic to have a youngling among them, but I'd be breaking yet another commandment if I didn't say I was disappointed to not get the opportunity to find out if he was married or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I can find out when I go back next week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-463604781343621085?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/463604781343621085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=463604781343621085' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/463604781343621085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/463604781343621085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/hells-highway-is-paved-with-good.html' title='Hell&apos;s highway is paved with good intentions'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-3101563558619797987</id><published>2008-09-08T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T23:27:34.625-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeans'/><title type='text'>Shopping for jeans</title><content type='html'>Is there a worse feeling in the world than shopping for jeans?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if the florescent lights and mirrors weren't bad enough, the weight I've lost means I have no clue what size I wear or what styles I can pull off these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bootlegs? Ick! They make my hips look massive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skinny? Disgusting! I looked awful in them when I weighed 100 pounds back when they were in style the last time. Now, I've got more junk in my trunk and they still make me look even shorter than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wide-legged? The best so far. Course they're so long that I'll have to pay to have them altered. Petites aren't an option because I have a regular rise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of them make me hate some part of my body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm sticking with skirts until further notice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-3101563558619797987?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/3101563558619797987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=3101563558619797987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3101563558619797987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/3101563558619797987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/shopping-for-jeans.html' title='Shopping for jeans'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-8561685172625855064</id><published>2008-09-07T23:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T23:43:51.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Harry Potter naked</title><content type='html'>All I wanted was a picture of Daniel Radcliff for an avatar on a message board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want masturbation material. I didn't need to get my jollies looking at a picture of a barely legal boy leaning against a horse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, that's what I got. (The picture: &lt;a href="http://banalchew.typepad.com/Pics4Posts/danequus.jpg"&gt;http://banalchew.typepad.com/Pics4Posts/danequus.jpg&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't intentional. It was all innocent, I swear, yet I now know he's uncircumsized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things are better left unknown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm shocked, traumatized, appalled. He seemed like such a cute, innocent young man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may have to gouge my eyes out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-8561685172625855064?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8561685172625855064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=8561685172625855064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8561685172625855064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/8561685172625855064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/harry-potter-naked.html' title='Harry Potter naked'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212980769483456874.post-6875313434964984210</id><published>2008-09-06T11:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T12:08:55.211-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Angelina Jolie'/><title type='text'>The Angelina obsession</title><content type='html'>Somebody I know said recently that he thought Angelina Jolie might be the most overrated star in Hollywood. She can't act. She's funny looking. She's a husband stealer and the only reason she's considered important is because women are obsessed with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, duh, of course women are obsessed with her. She's everything a lot of us would like to be -- successful, beautiful, a good mother and, seemingly, one of the few genuinely good people in Hollywood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the contention that she can't act, early performances in George Wallace, Gia and Girl Interrupted and recent performances such as A Mighty Heart belie that, not to mention that she earns millions of dollars per flick, so directors and producers must find her to be a box office draw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And those millions of dollars per movie she earns? A huge portion goes to various charities and foundations, some that she has set up and others such as the UNHCR. She also spends a lot of time as a Goodwill Amabassador for the UNHCR visiting refugee camps and as a lobbyist for various humanitarian causes in Washington D.C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on top of that, she's involved with Brad Pitt and has six beautiful children&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who wouldn't want to be like that? She's got it all, so to speak.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5212980769483456874-6875313434964984210?l=bluegirlrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/feeds/6875313434964984210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212980769483456874&amp;postID=6875313434964984210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6875313434964984210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212980769483456874/posts/default/6875313434964984210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluegirlrs.blogspot.com/2008/09/angelina-obsession.html' title='The Angelina obsession'/><author><name>SmearedEyeliner</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07828654160892283285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GqHqS45XrkI/SWqAWf1-nqI/AAAAAAAAADk/x2EvWBuJgQQ/s1600-R/3894_bla.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
