<?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-36625174</id><updated>2011-07-19T20:49:50.430-07:00</updated><category term='Pubs'/><category term='Random'/><category term='Epicness'/><category term='Brian Adler'/><category term='Fitness and Health'/><category term='Juanna'/><category term='Guys'/><category term='Sick'/><category term='Fashionistas'/><category term='Relationships'/><category term='DWTS'/><category term='Starbucks'/><category term='Bad Days'/><category term='Daddy'/><category term='CC'/><category term='Weddings'/><category term='Music'/><category term='Miss M'/><category term='Chi'/><category term='Bro'/><category term='S'/><category term='Ipod'/><category term='Rock Band'/><category term='N'/><category term='DBness'/><category term='Rants'/><category term='EZ'/><category term='ASA'/><category term='Language'/><category term='Pyschic'/><category term='Travels'/><category term='Long Weekends'/><category term='Birthdays'/><category term='Beauty'/><category term='Work'/><category term='podcasts'/><category term='Product Review'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='Mom'/><category term='Lists'/><category term='Caolinn'/><category term='Quirkiness'/><category term='Idol'/><title type='text'>Random Observations of the Crazy People</title><subtitle type='html'>I am a twenty something living in the big bad city. This is a continued and completely random observation of my friends and other crazy people!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>68</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-4410391622272711288</id><published>2008-10-03T13:18:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T13:26:05.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-size: 24px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A Message From Bruce Allen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Bruce Allen is a prominent broadcaster. He recently made some remarks that caused a considerable uprising among average citizens. Some people fully agreed with him, proud that someone would finally take a stand and say it how it is. Others thought he should be fired immediately. The following is an email I received about the comments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; 'Nobody can go back and start a new beginnning,&lt;br /&gt; but anyone can start today and make a new ending.'&lt;br /&gt;-Unknown&lt;br /&gt;  Our National Anthem - at the 2010 Vancouver Olympic's &lt;br /&gt; Please read and forward to as many people you can think of – thank you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; WE ARE CANADIANS &lt;br /&gt; Bruce Allen is on the 2010 Vancouver Olympic Committee and new Canadians (specifically Hindi's/Indian’s) want him fired for his recent comments outlined below: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; I am sorry, but after hearing they want to sing the National Anthem in Hindi - enough is enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; Nowhere or at no other time in our Nation’s history, did they sing it in Italian, Japanese, Polish, Irish (Celtic), German, Portuguese, Greek, or any other language because of immigration.&lt;br /&gt; It was written in English, adapted into French, and should be sung word for word the way it was written.&lt;br /&gt;The news broadcasts even gave the Hindi version translation which was not even close to our&lt;br /&gt;National Anthem. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; I am not sorry if this offends anyone, this is MY COUNTRY - IF IT IS YOUR COUNTRY, SPEAK UP -- please pass this along . &lt;br /&gt; I am not against immigration -- just come through like everyone else. Get a sponsor; have a&lt;br /&gt; place to lay your head; have a job; pay your taxes, live by the rules AND LEARN THE LANGUAGE&lt;br /&gt; as all other immigrants have in the past -- and LONG LIVE CANADA!' &lt;br /&gt;It's time we all get behind Bruce Allen, and scrap this Political Correctness crap. His comments were anything but racist, but there are far too many overly sensitive 'New Canadians' that are trying to change everything we hold dear. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; ARE WE PART OF THE PROBLEM ??? Think about this: If you don't want to forward this for fear&lt;br /&gt; of offending someone, will we still be the Country of Choice and still be CANADA if we continue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; to make the changes forced on us by the people from other countries who have come to live in&lt;br /&gt; CANADA because it is the Country of Choice?????? &lt;br /&gt; Think about it!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; IMMIGRANTS, NOT CANADIAN'S, MUST ADAPT.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; It is Time for CANADA to speak up. If you agree ? Pass this along; if you don't agree ? Delete it and reap the ill wind because of your complacency!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-4410391622272711288?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4410391622272711288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=4410391622272711288' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4410391622272711288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4410391622272711288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/10/message-from-bruce-allen-bruce-allen-is.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-2600452929582535530</id><published>2008-09-25T23:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T23:32:52.657-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Language'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rants'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-size: x-large;"&gt;Text and Messenger Language&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;So Omg like I totally may have already blogged about this. But wtf is with ppl txtng with all of this random crap language and stupid emoticon kind of stuff like :P. Really ppl, really? Omg it is fn hard to have a conversation like that. An example of txts A sent me tonight. U watching. Ok, I'll give you that, I am guilty of the 'u' and 'r' txts. She continues with O Lord and :-S. To be followed (note the to be instead of 2 b), 'Seriously? Wat tha fck! El stupido.' and 'Lol! tarded + reatarded! This show's rediculas. Last was :$we'll c... Ok and she has previously sent me messages like ttfn. Which I (in my loving the english language not text speak) had absolutely no idea what it meant until I met her later. Learn how to use proper english, say your words properly (it is here not hur goddammit!) and damn well learn proper grammar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-2600452929582535530?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/2600452929582535530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=2600452929582535530' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2600452929582535530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2600452929582535530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/09/text-and-messenger-language-so-omg-like.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-397153459805822543</id><published>2008-09-12T10:49:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T10:56:14.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Fashion or Professionalism &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;I am currently enrolled in a crazy amount of school right now. One of the things that all instructors and guest speakers have emphasized is professionalism. Now we all know that sometimes fashion and professionalism do not go together and many times they can't compliment each other brilliantly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: arial;"&gt;One of the classes I have to take is Interpersonal Skills (in the business department). Our group had met the instructor last Friday during orientation. She was wearing the same thing (therefore it will be a hobby of mine to notice if she wears the same outfit every Friday). It was a pink blouse (that looked way too big or just not properly tailored in the bodice and tight tight sleeves). She tucked this into high waisted trousers in a grey pinstripe (that didn't match) but it wasn't evenly tucked and the buttons were coming open flashing views of a wrinkled, flabby 60 year old stomach. She polished this off with shoes (on pant leg over the shoe, one pretty much tucked into the shoe) that were chunkier than Doc Martens with a full round toe in a burgundy shade. No smooth leather, some sort of embroidery thingamajig. It was brilliant. Hair was messy and blond, half in her face and frizzy frizzy. Over all a 'professional' look for our business class. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-397153459805822543?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/397153459805822543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=397153459805822543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/397153459805822543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/397153459805822543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/09/fashion-or-professionalism-i-am.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-6582196641424852361</id><published>2008-09-06T13:50:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T13:55:02.158-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='podcasts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Brian Adler'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Multi-Media&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Web 2.0. A phrase I heard from &lt;a href="http://www.adlercast.com"&gt;Brian Adler&lt;/a&gt; yesterday. Brian Adler is a radio graduate who has made a huge name for himself through the internet and his production companies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;Web 2.0 is not going to go away. It is the new internet revolution of podcasts, blogs, networking and so much more. So while I am attending school for radio, all of these things will be very &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-size: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;beneficial. I would love to podcast. Do I know how? Not a clue. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Unfortunately not many of our classes focus on the web. Will I find a way? Hells yeah I will.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-6582196641424852361?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6582196641424852361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=6582196641424852361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6582196641424852361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6582196641424852361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/09/multi-media-web-2.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-2270910975651826838</id><published>2008-09-01T13:53:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T14:01:46.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;A New School Year Approaches&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Tomorrow I go back to school. Blah. No money, no time and no sleep. One of the classes that I am supposed to take this semester I took last winter through &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;correspondence&lt;/span&gt;. The Associate Dean was the instructor. He did not submit my mark. When I emailed him in June, he said he would get to it in August after his holiday. When I checked on Friday it was still incomplete. Now between this class and another I took in the winter, I would have Monday afternoon's completely free (yay!). So in my panic (of which I've already had several and the semester hasn't even started yet) I emailed him frantically. Yesterday he finally responded giving me my mark and telling me he would sign the forms to opt me out of his class. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-family: arial; font-size: 18px;"&gt;The school allows students to purchase parking for the semester online. So today I decided to make a little bit of this semester slightly easier. Except it took several failed attempts (with no little reminder that it does not accept AMEX, just a transaction failed note) to figure out that I couldn't use Amex. Already off to a good start for the semester. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-2270910975651826838?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/2270910975651826838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=2270910975651826838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2270910975651826838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2270910975651826838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/09/new-school-year-approaches-tomorrow-i.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7767885780232774394</id><published>2008-08-12T17:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T17:40:58.932-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fitness and Health'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;Online Fitness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;A's mom (we'll call her SI) runs a fitness website. After attending a fundraiser, I decided it was time to check out the website. What I didn't know is that her and a few of her employees regularily post a blog about all of the interesting and fun fitness adventures. Feel free to check out the blog, or get some fitness tips &lt;a href="http://onlinefitness.ca/blog/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7767885780232774394?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7767885780232774394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7767885780232774394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7767885780232774394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7767885780232774394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/08/online-fitness-as-mom-well-call-her-si.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-4426809489766393003</id><published>2008-08-10T14:26:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T14:32:39.393-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Daddy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;Camping With Daddy.... Good Times or Tragedy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;So this week I have to take to precious days off work to go camping with Daddy. They are precious days because I will not have a job in about three weeks therefore no money. Earlier this summer Daddy bought a camper (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; it's basically just a shell, him and Bro built everything on the inside). He is all excited to go. Me, him and Dog. Shit. Daddy and I are very much alike. Which means when together (especially if just the two of us) things either go amazingly well or blow up on us. No one really ever knows how it will turn out. Of course I'm already predicting the worse. Say hi to copious amounts of liquor, T. It should be a very interesting two days. I'm a little scared. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-4426809489766393003?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4426809489766393003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=4426809489766393003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4426809489766393003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4426809489766393003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/08/camping-with-daddy.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-3167217897396043332</id><published>2008-08-02T12:34:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T12:48:02.395-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bad Days'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DBness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Caolinn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CC'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Continuing the Blah and Bitchy Trend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, so I'm not quite as bitchy as I have been. Thank God for that. Yesterday, just before heading out for lunch with C, I had a whole load of shit dumped on me. So of course my semi-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;unbitchy&lt;/span&gt; mood was ruined.&lt;br /&gt;First call head office (in T.O) to check something for a customer. After spending countless (while also starving due to skipping dinner the night before) minutes on hold listening to an overly cheerful woman tell me "your call is very important to us". Thanks for the effing slap in the face, now pick up the phone! My usual guy doesn't answer, some other d-bag does. So I endure this, find out what I need to know, and go to call my customer back. This particular customer &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;happened&lt;/span&gt; to be located in one of those on-the-cusp (re long distance or not?) suburbs. After dialing four times (and many phone slams and curses) I finally get through. Only to be put on hold again. The DB (C and I decided that DB will now stand for Diva Bitch) who doesn't know how to take a proper message takes my message promising that my customer will call back. At this point I am late for lunch with C, and still starving. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I quickly take lunch orders, grab my giant bag (easier to bring &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;everyone's&lt;/span&gt; lunch back in) and head out. My cell beeps a new text in. It is from CC (who is notorious for not answering, not responding to texts and then wonders why she hasn't seen people). She sends "So any &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;perticular&lt;/span&gt; (sic) reason I have not heard from you in over a week." &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;, so not in the mood to deal with her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;DBness&lt;/span&gt; right now. Also very bitchy so I figured I would call her after lunch when I could hopefully discuss this text calmly. First thought (as always when I get this type of text from her) is it works both ways sweetie, you can pick up the phone just as easily as I can. Then I did a quick run down of my week in my head. Realized that the last time I spoke to CC (granted it was through &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt;) was Monday, and prior to that (although I was still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; her) I was not in the bloody country. Called her multiple times throughout the day. She didn't answer which only succeeded in pissing me off more. She finally texts me about how crazy work was and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;yadda&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;yadda&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;C'est&lt;/span&gt; La Vie. Time to go call her. Wish me luck!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-3167217897396043332?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3167217897396043332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=3167217897396043332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3167217897396043332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3167217897396043332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/08/continuing-blah-and-bitchy-trend-ok-so.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-9068094551073194545</id><published>2008-07-31T19:42:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T19:56:15.666-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bad Days'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='N'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;So Blah and Bitchy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I am feeling so blah and bitchy (if you didn't figure that out from the title). I went camping with C and R last weekend. The people behind us seemed to love 5:30 am, every morning. So I have not slept later than 6:30 since I don't even know. I set my alarm for work Monday morning and was so tired that I didn't turn it on. Oops. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Since it has been cold and raining here, I figured that after work today I had three options. My requirement was to be a no human contact night. Hard to do when you live with three other people and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bro's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt; who is at the house quite a bit. Blissfully no one was home when I got here. Since we don't have a pool or a hot tub (and no human contact was a requirement) I scratched my first two options. The third was a plain straight up bath. Upstairs I go. I run the bath, throw some peppermint oil and lavender bubble bath in, and go put on my Duffy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cd&lt;/span&gt; and grab a book. All good things. I climb into the bath and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; feel &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;immensely&lt;/span&gt; relieved and relaxed. That feeling lasted five minutes when I realized that the tub was really not filling up too well. Turns out that the drain doesn't actually plug. So there went that idea. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Every couple of months I have an exceptionally bitchy time. Normally I keep my snide comments to myself (or post them) and turn on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;iPod&lt;/span&gt; to keep myself from speaking. Today I succeeded in doing one of the most bitchy things to A that I have ever done. Without speaking. She has a habit (while at work) of putting people on hold (after one ring) when I am about to answer the phone. So she does close to the same thing today and instead of me calmly waiting for her to put the phone down, I reach up and grab it right off of her hear and start talking to the customer. If looks could kill, I'm certain A would have fried me on the spot. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Highlights of the day were the long flirting texts with N and J. N's was the best. I now have him picturing me in some interesting outfits. Which he will of course pick out since he his spending his long weekend Sunday taking A, Chi, and I (all dressed in our little skirts) to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Dennys&lt;/span&gt; (classy like) for breakfast and then shopping. Poor N, he'll be ready to kill us by the end of the day. If only the bitchiness would die before then. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-9068094551073194545?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/9068094551073194545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=9068094551073194545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/9068094551073194545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/9068094551073194545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/07/so-blah-and-bitchy-i-am-feeling-so-blah.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-8715116187210539080</id><published>2008-07-14T22:41:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T23:01:32.837-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Relationships'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Men: Can't Live With Em, Can't Live Without Em!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So myself and a couple of my sisters have recently had some men troubles. A probably (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt;) had more than Chi or I have. Mine is the classic example of guys not doing anything. I flat out say "I'm single, let's go out." during a conversation. We flirt constantly, he was going to ask for my number but I wasn't there. So I asked for his phone and put my number in it. This is all far more forward than I normally am (see Old Fashioned Quirks). He still has not called or done anything (besides saying that we should go out and several hours worth of flirting). It is at the point where even my boss said today "Fuck, just go jump him in the parking lot. I'm Goddamn sick of watching you two dance around each other." He asks if I have plans for tonight I say no and move closer. Nothing is happening! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Grrrr&lt;/span&gt;. Driving me nuts! How much more obvious could I be? Any tips?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;When I told Chi all of this earlier tonight, she asked when I began dating her boyfriend. This was the main reason for their "break" last week. He had a five day long business trip so she asked if he would call her. His words, "Well that's pretty expensive." And of course that took him about five minutes to get out. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, AH, let me give you some advice. When your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt; asks if you are going to call her, "that's expensive." is pretty much the worst possible thing you could have said. Even a simple "no" would be slightly more advisable. My whole point with this is that he should know her well enough to know that his response would really hurt her. Chi is the girl who wants her bf to call her when he goes away, wants the romance. S and I decided that we would be like, yeah that's true, text me then. But that's us, we aren't really as, uh, (sorry Chi) clingy as Chi is. A but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;c'est&lt;/span&gt; la vie. They are together and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;apartment&lt;/span&gt; hunting yet again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Now A and N. That was the biggest relationship issue this week. A and N have been together for nearly ten years (high school sweethearts) and have been living together for about four or five years. They had decided to get married this year. When N got a new car (and a couple other toys) and A had no ring or anything else she became doubtful of the relationship. On top of that she felt as though she had lost that connection with N. So she did a lot of stupid things (sorry A, I understand why you didn't tell me all of this to begin with). Like using a guy at work to make N jealous. She put two of their condoms in her purse when she was supposed to go out with dude from work. So Monday they talk, they both cry, she feels better, he is physically sick. Tuesday she tells him about her attempts of jealousy. He accepts this, tells her that he knew, that's why he didn't do anything about it. And then N dropped the bomb that he was going to buy her a ring and had even talked to his mom about it a couple days before. Wednesday N tells her that they are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, but that there is one piece of the puzzle missing. Ah the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;condoms&lt;/span&gt;. So A freaks, drags them out of her purse and shows him that both are still there and that she would never consider cheating, she forgot, and didn't think he noticed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So everything is back as it should be. If only W and I could get on track here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-8715116187210539080?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8715116187210539080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=8715116187210539080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8715116187210539080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8715116187210539080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/07/men-cant-live-with-em-cant-live-without.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-2761351214308514083</id><published>2008-07-06T13:46:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T13:58:42.864-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quirkiness'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Old Fashioned Quirks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;I have a number of what most of my friends and family calls my old fashion quirks. My cell phone is a phone/address book. Therefore a carry a beautiful pale green leather notebook and a pen in my purse. I don't use any computer systems for an actual address book. I have one. I purchased it about two years ago. It is grey and full of beautiful black and white photos of Paris. I actually print off documents and have two major filing systems (and 3 large filing containers) throughout my office. I still love my VCR (who needs &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;TIVO&lt;/span&gt;?). I still have (and have printed) photographs around my house (including several scrapbooks and go old fashioned photo albums). I still have my old 35mm SLR camera. I love film. I still have (and use &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;regularly&lt;/span&gt;) my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;CD&lt;/span&gt; player (in the bedroom, living room, car and pretty much everywhere). On that note I love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Cd's&lt;/span&gt;. I still make them (using &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;iTunes&lt;/span&gt;), and buy the actual disc from stores such as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;HMV&lt;/span&gt;. I prefer reading the newspaper (shock actual paper) every morning compared to scanning news websites. I can't stand audio books. Come on people pick up a book and read it, chances are (if it's a good story) you will love it! Even when books become scanning a computer screen I will still have, own, and purchase books (even hardcover). What &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;OFQ's&lt;/span&gt; do you have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-2761351214308514083?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/2761351214308514083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=2761351214308514083' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2761351214308514083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2761351214308514083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/07/old-fashioned-quirks-i-have-number-of.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-3167030579978360540</id><published>2008-07-03T20:29:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T20:50:06.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;Entertainment &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Weekly's&lt;/span&gt; New Classics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Entertainment Weekly came out with a "New Classics" list. This is the top 100 movies of the last 25 years. The ones I have seen are in bold. Some may have some commentary attached&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;Pulp Fiction&lt;/strong&gt; (1994) ** Seriously loved this movie, one of my favourite movies ever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;2. The Lord of the Rings trilogy (2001-03) Can't say as I've seen more than half of the first one. I didn't even make it through that... why go see the rest?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;Titanic&lt;/strong&gt; (1997) Seen it, cried. Nothing else to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;4. Blue Velvet (1986)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;Toy Story&lt;/strong&gt; (1995)** Not one of my favourites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;6. &lt;strong&gt;Saving Private Ryan&lt;/strong&gt; (1998)** Amazing movie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;7. Hannah and Her Sisters (1986)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;8. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;9. &lt;strong&gt;Die Hard&lt;/strong&gt; (1988)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;10. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Moulin&lt;/span&gt; Rouge&lt;/strong&gt; (2001)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;11. This Is Spinal Tap (1984)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;12. The Matrix (1999)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;13. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;GoodFellas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (1990)** Another favourite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;14. Crumb (1995)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;15. Edward &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Scissorhands&lt;/span&gt; (1990)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;16. Boogie Nights (1997)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;17. Jerry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Maguire&lt;/span&gt; (1996) "Show me the money!" Enough said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;18. Do the Right Thing (1989)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;19. Casino &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Royale&lt;/span&gt; (2006)** Can't believe I haven't seen this yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;20. &lt;strong&gt;The Lion King&lt;/strong&gt; (1994) Hands down one of the best Disney movies ever. Ever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;21. Schindler's List (1993)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;22. Rushmore (1998)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;23. &lt;strong&gt;Memento&lt;/strong&gt; (2001) Had to watch this in media... split over three classes.... way too confusing that way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;24. A Room With a View (1986)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;25. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Shrek&lt;/span&gt; (2001)** Only seen part of it... to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;familiar&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;26. Hoop Dreams (1994)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;27. Aliens (1986)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;28. Wings of Desire (1988)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;29. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Bourne&lt;/span&gt; Supremacy (2004)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;30. &lt;strong&gt;When Harry Met Sally&lt;/strong&gt;... (1989)** Freaking loved this movie but then I'm a sucker for most romantic comedies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;31. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Brokeback&lt;/span&gt; Mountain (2005) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;32. &lt;strong&gt;Fight Club&lt;/strong&gt; (1999)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;33. The Breakfast Club (1985)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;34. &lt;strong&gt;Fargo&lt;/strong&gt; (1996)** &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;35. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Incredibles&lt;/span&gt; (2004)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;36. &lt;strong&gt;Spider-Man 2&lt;/strong&gt; (2004) The first was better not a big fan of comic book movies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;37. &lt;strong&gt;Pretty Woman&lt;/strong&gt; (1990) Also one of my favourite movies see comment attached to When Harry Met Sally&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;38. &lt;strong&gt;Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind&lt;/strong&gt; (2004) Oh my god! So damn long. So boring. CC and I slept and talked and did what ever we could... all while sitting in a movie theatre we had paid to be at&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;39. &lt;strong&gt;The Sixth Sense&lt;/strong&gt; (1999)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;40. &lt;strong&gt;Speed&lt;/strong&gt; (1994)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;41. Dazed and Confused (1993)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;42. &lt;strong&gt;Clueless&lt;/strong&gt; (1995) A S and I movie if there ever was one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;43. Gladiator (2000)** Could not do it. I lasted five minutes before I put on Sex and the City&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;44. The Player (1992)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;45. Rain Man (1988)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;46. Children of Men (2006) Read the book, it was good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;47. &lt;strong&gt;Men in Black&lt;/strong&gt; (1997)** I actually think I have this on VHS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;48. &lt;strong&gt;Scarface&lt;/strong&gt; (1983)** Loved every minute of it... why is it only at 48?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;49. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;50. &lt;strong&gt;The Piano&lt;/strong&gt; (1993) Oh God so long so boring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;51. There Will Be Blood (2007)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;52. The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad (1988)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;53. &lt;strong&gt;The Truman Show&lt;/strong&gt; (1998)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;54. Fatal Attraction (1987)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;55. &lt;strong&gt;Risky Business&lt;/strong&gt; (1983) Back when I actually liked Tom Cruise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;56. The Lives of Others (2006)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;57. &lt;strong&gt;There’s Something About Mary&lt;/strong&gt; (1998) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Hilarious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;58. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ghostbusters&lt;/span&gt; (1984)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;59. L.A. Confidential (1997)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;60. &lt;strong&gt;Scream &lt;/strong&gt;(1996) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;61. Beverly Hills Cop (1984)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;62. sex, lies and videotape (1989) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;63. Big (1988)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;64. No Country For Old Men (2007)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;65. &lt;strong&gt;Dirty Dancing&lt;/strong&gt; (1987) Great movie.... cause I had the time of my life....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;66. Natural Born Killers (1994)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;67. Donnie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Brasco&lt;/span&gt; (1997)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;68. Witness (1985)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;69. All About My Mother (1999)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;70. Broadcast News (1987)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;71. Unforgiven (1992)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;72. Thelma &amp;amp; Louise (1991)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;73. Office Space (1999)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;74. Drugstore Cowboy (1989)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;75. Out of Africa (1985)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;76. The Departed (2006)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;77. Sid and Nancy (1986)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;78. &lt;strong&gt;Terminator 2: Judgment Day&lt;/strong&gt; (1991)** Didn't actually like any of the Terminator movies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;79. Waiting for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Guffman&lt;/span&gt; (1996)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;80. Michael Clayton (2007) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;81. &lt;strong&gt;Moonstruck&lt;/strong&gt; (1987)** I actually loved Cher in this movie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;82. &lt;strong&gt;Lost in Translation&lt;/strong&gt; (2003) Oh my God. Freaking hated this movie. Not only was it boring but really was there a point to losing that two and a half hours (or whatever)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;83. Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn (1987)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;84. &lt;strong&gt;Sideways&lt;/strong&gt; (2004) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; this was better than I thought it would be. You go Sandra Oh for hitting him with the helmet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;85. &lt;strong&gt;The 40 Year-Old Virgin&lt;/strong&gt; (2005)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;86. Y Tu &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Mamá&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;También&lt;/span&gt; (2002)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;87. Swingers (1996)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;88. &lt;strong&gt;Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery&lt;/strong&gt; (1997)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;89. Breaking the Waves (1996)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;90. Napoleon Dynamite (2004) I still can't believe I haven't seen this either&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;91. Back to the Future (1985)**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;92. Menace II Society (1993)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;93. Ed Wood (1994)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;94. Full Metal Jacket (1987)*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;95. In the Mood for Love (2001)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;96. Far From Heaven (2002)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;97. Glory (1989)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;98. &lt;strong&gt;The Talented Mr. Ripley&lt;/strong&gt; (1999) Jude Law I love you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;99. &lt;strong&gt;The Blair Witch Project&lt;/strong&gt; (1999) How is this on here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;100. &lt;strong&gt;South Park: Bigger Longer &amp;amp; Uncut&lt;/strong&gt; (1999) See Blair Witch comment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-3167030579978360540?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3167030579978360540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=3167030579978360540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3167030579978360540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3167030579978360540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/07/entertainment-weeklys-new-classics.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-511959139413361831</id><published>2008-06-26T20:41:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T20:47:57.225-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Doing the Me Me Me Thing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is your cell phone? On the VCR (yes I know I'm old school)&lt;br /&gt;Your significant other? Non existant&lt;br /&gt;Hair color? Auburn&lt;br /&gt;Your mother? Downstairs pulling an A&lt;br /&gt;Your father? Don't know, Ma was yelling for him a couple minutes ago&lt;br /&gt;Your favorite thing? Chilling on the patio with good drinks, good food and family or friends&lt;br /&gt;Your dream last night? Don't remember&lt;br /&gt;Your favorite drink? Coffee... I wouldn't call it a favourite, I can't survive without it&lt;br /&gt;Your dream/goal? independence&lt;br /&gt;Room you’re in? my office/ sitting room (I know that sounds snobby but I seriously don't know what else to call this room)&lt;br /&gt;Your hobby? What is a hobby? A what?&lt;br /&gt;Your fear? Failure&lt;br /&gt;Where do you want to be in 6 years? Well on my way to a career and a family&lt;br /&gt;Where were you last night? Tennis courts, McDs, Starbucks&lt;br /&gt;What you’re not? Calm&lt;br /&gt;Muffins? Straight up blueberry&lt;br /&gt;Where you grew up? In the B.&lt;br /&gt;The last thing you did? Cleaned up after the dog&lt;br /&gt;What are you wearing? Yoga pants and a tank&lt;br /&gt;Your tv? Old school (ok not the giant in the wood frame style, but it's deffinatly no flat screen)&lt;br /&gt;Your pets? cute&lt;br /&gt;Your computer? About to die any second&lt;br /&gt;Your life? Getting going&lt;br /&gt;Your mood? Meh...&lt;br /&gt;Missing someone? Not really at the moment&lt;br /&gt;Your car? Mazda 3&lt;br /&gt;Something you’re not wearing? socks&lt;br /&gt;Favorite store? Hmm, Sephora&lt;br /&gt;Your summer? Making as much money as possible before I become a broke student&lt;br /&gt;Like someone? Yeah&lt;br /&gt;Favorite color? black&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time you laughed? About an hour ago&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time you cried? Hmm&lt;br /&gt;Who will do this? Maybe Cat Scratch&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-511959139413361831?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/511959139413361831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=511959139413361831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/511959139413361831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/511959139413361831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/06/doing-me-me-me-thing-where-is-your-cell.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-575245100541657686</id><published>2008-06-18T22:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T23:00:19.118-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Off To the Movies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Ok pulled this from &lt;a href="http://www.cynicalbstd.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cynical Bastard&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;1. One movie that made you laugh: The Sweetest Thing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;2. One movie that made you cry: PS I Love You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;3. One movie you loved when you were a child: The Lion King&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;4. One movie you've seen more than once: Juno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;5. One movie you loved, but were embarrassed to admit it: Big Daddy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;6. One movie you hated: No Reservations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;7. One movie that scared you: The Ring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;8. One movie that bored you: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;9. One movie that made you happy: Pretty well any sports movies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;10. One movie that made you miserable: Hmm don't think I've ever been miserable after watching a movie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;11. One movie you thought would be great, but it wasn’t: Gone With the Wind (it was just way too damn long)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;12. One movie you weren't brave enough to see: Anaconda (I freaking hate snakes)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;13. One movie character you've fallen in love with: Jonathan Rhys Myers in August Rush&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;14. The last movie you saw: Transporter 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;15. The next movie you hope to see: Mamma Mia (this maybe the answer to that embarassed to admit question)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-575245100541657686?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/575245100541657686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=575245100541657686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/575245100541657686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/575245100541657686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/06/off-to-movies-ok-pulled-this-from.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-1072142562492447817</id><published>2008-06-15T13:22:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T13:31:46.108-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Daddy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SFV8IN5X3oI/AAAAAAAAABo/bjah8nboqNU/s1600-h/DSC00243.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212208624362315394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SFV8IN5X3oI/AAAAAAAAABo/bjah8nboqNU/s320/DSC00243.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#009900;"&gt;Happy Father's Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;Happy Father's Day to all. Thankfully, I am no longer sick and can enjoy the little bit of time I have with my father today. He has to work later this afternoon so we are having our little celebratory lunch in a little bit. My father has been one of the greatest joys and fustrations of my life (don't worry, he would say the very same about me). We are too much alike for our own goods. So essentially when we get along we get along amazingly. When we don't, well lets just say the neighbourhood knows and it's not pretty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-1072142562492447817?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/1072142562492447817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=1072142562492447817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1072142562492447817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1072142562492447817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/06/happy-fathers-day-happy-fathers-day-to.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SFV8IN5X3oI/AAAAAAAAABo/bjah8nboqNU/s72-c/DSC00243.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-1997294584858933941</id><published>2008-06-09T19:35:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T20:02:38.368-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Epicness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='S'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='EZ'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Another Epic Weekend... Country Club Brunch, Castle Fun Park, Sex and the City, and one Very Clean Kitchen!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Another weekend of epic proportions! Saturday saw an extremely sick A, so I volunteered to go to work for her. When I showed up, A, our boss, and a picker were there. Since Saturday's are typically dead, I headed home. When Ma got home (we had previously planned to go to some farm markets) we decided to go grocery shopping (oh thank you! finally). After putting away the groceries some form of a bug must of hit me because I emptied, tossed and scrubbed the fridge, freezer, and all cupboards that contain any form of food. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;After this (and of course the dinner that I made and cleaned up) I headed up to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;AS's&lt;/span&gt; for the Nine Inch Nails experience. CC, Miss M, and I made (and drank) several &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;daiquiris&lt;/span&gt;, pasta, and chocolate cake. AS and D showed up followed by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;EZ&lt;/span&gt;, Chi, and Chi's bf, AH. Just the cooking and baking alone was an experience in a beautiful but useless (no utensils, mixing bowl, non stick spray etc... all kitchen essentials according to me) kitchen. After one exceptionally &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt; call (my ex-bosses fiance looking for some hookah supplies... in my defence (yes I know it is not a good defence) people should all have different names!), we headed down to the steam room. After a little bit, AS piped in the Ghosts &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cd&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, ridiculously &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;trippy&lt;/span&gt;... I seriously thought I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;trapezing&lt;/span&gt; through a jungle. Throw in some steam and several people in a small room without being able to see... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt;! Hands just come at you, all you can hear is people tripping over the music and no one really knew where they were. So freaking intense! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SE3q_YnQgbI/AAAAAAAAABQ/EOx8-8DmJ-U/s1600-h/DSC01374.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210078718597300658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SE3q_YnQgbI/AAAAAAAAABQ/EOx8-8DmJ-U/s320/DSC01374.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cue Sunday morning/ afternoon. Off to brunch at the country club. I wish I could go by this pic and say that S was playing the piano (she can actually play and did volunteer but all I really wanted was the pic).&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Brunch was amazing! But then I always love it. Crepes, bacon, french toast, waffles, and of course all the lunch objects. I really always stick to the breakfast foods because how often do we have breakfast foods out? And I love breakfast!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Apres&lt;/span&gt; brunch, Castle Fun Park! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SE3sVRPrfnI/AAAAAAAAABY/2oPIl891FL0/s1600-h/DSC01389.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210080194088107634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SE3sVRPrfnI/AAAAAAAAABY/2oPIl891FL0/s320/DSC01389.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Karting&lt;/span&gt;, arcade games, mini golf, batting cages and so much more. And oh so many kids on a Sunday! And not in a good way. Hangover headache, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt; bitchiness and loud, screaming children. Oh dear God! Why why why? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; it wasn't too bad. But thank, thank, thankfully, I had to leave to pick up Ma! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; a 45 minute drive to get Ma but I got to leave.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;By 7:00, Ma, Aunt K and I are set with our seats to see Sex and the City. I haven't eaten since about 1:30 and I am dying (it's a 2.5 hour long movie people!). Great movie. Bad lines. Who would have thought a theatre would be so so busy on a Sunday night. It was. And I nearly punched two girls standing behind me in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;uber&lt;/span&gt; slow concession line. Apparently theatres don't believe in opening actually food stands on Sundays. Loud, rude, obnoxious, and constantly moving which inevitably lead to stepping on me, shoves and the guy in front of me (whose back I was nearly on top of thanks to these two) about ready to kill them. It was a good night though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SE3t6TXbFMI/AAAAAAAAABg/VH9ZOipg7Uk/s1600-h/DSC01417.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210081929824244930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SE3t6TXbFMI/AAAAAAAAABg/VH9ZOipg7Uk/s320/DSC01417.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I had to include this because when Chi passed me on the freeway she claims I look like a diva driving with my glasses on. Granted it was cloudy. But clouds are bright when you have a brutal headache that you  believe may seem like the start of a migraine. Diva like? Yes or no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-1997294584858933941?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/1997294584858933941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=1997294584858933941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1997294584858933941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1997294584858933941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/06/another-epic-weekend.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SE3q_YnQgbI/AAAAAAAAABQ/EOx8-8DmJ-U/s72-c/DSC01374.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-2973941126976542573</id><published>2008-06-05T21:22:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T21:28:40.106-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rants'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Single? Keep Reading. In a Relationship? Keep Reading&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Why is it that friend's who are in a relationship continually feel the need to set up their single friends? A, CC, and Chi constantly try to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;match make&lt;/span&gt;. A has even taken it to the point that she tries to set people up with Chi because she doesn't like Chi's bf. She is also trying to set up a guy that we work with. Thank God that means she had diverted her attention from me for the time being. I just don't get why people (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;particularly&lt;/span&gt; women) who are in relationships &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;continually&lt;/span&gt; have to set up their single friends. My mom even tried to get Bro to set me up with one of his friend's brothers at dinner the other night. I have been through many set ups (as you can tell none had stellar results). People give up. And please, please stop giving me the excuse "well I just want you to be as happy as bf and I." Well I would be a hell of a lot happier if you all would just back the eff off. When I find someone I find someone, until then (unless I say otherwise) just assume that I (and all other singletons out there) are perfectly happy on our own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-2973941126976542573?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/2973941126976542573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=2973941126976542573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2973941126976542573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2973941126976542573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/06/single-keep-reading.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7095568715183002211</id><published>2008-06-05T20:50:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T20:54:39.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;One Word&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Not as easy as you might think. Now copy or forward, change theanswers to suit you and pass it on. It's really hard to only use oneword answers.You can only type one word. Send it to people including the personthat sent it to you.&lt;br /&gt;1. Where is your cell phone? Charger&lt;br /&gt;2. Where is your significant other? Single&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#00cccc;"&gt;3. Your hair? brown&lt;br /&gt;4. Your mother? Car&lt;br /&gt;5. Your father? Downstairs&lt;br /&gt;6. Your favorite thing? Coffee&lt;br /&gt;7. Your dream last night? nope&lt;br /&gt;8. Your dream/goal? Career&lt;br /&gt;9. The room you're in? office&lt;br /&gt;10. Your hobby? Reading&lt;br /&gt;11. Your fear? Leaving&lt;br /&gt;12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Broadcasting&lt;br /&gt;13. Where were you last night? Waves&lt;br /&gt;14. What you're not? angry&lt;br /&gt;15. One of your wish list items? House&lt;br /&gt;16. Where you grew up? Mystery&lt;br /&gt;17. The last thing you did? email&lt;br /&gt;18. What are you wearing? Sweatsuit&lt;br /&gt;19 Your TV? On&lt;br /&gt;20. Your Pet? Dog&lt;br /&gt;21 Your computer? ON&lt;br /&gt;22 Your mood? Tired&lt;br /&gt;23 Missing someone? yes&lt;br /&gt;24 Your car? wonderful&lt;br /&gt;25 Something you're not wearing? Socks&lt;br /&gt;26 Favorite store? Safeway&lt;br /&gt;27 Your summer? Hot&lt;br /&gt;28 Love someone? Yeah&lt;br /&gt;29 Your favorite colors? black&lt;br /&gt;30 When is the last time you laughed? Tonight&lt;br /&gt;31 Last time you cried? Dunno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7095568715183002211?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7095568715183002211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7095568715183002211' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7095568715183002211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7095568715183002211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/06/one-word-not-as-easy-as-you-might-think.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-1191619378374694339</id><published>2008-06-01T12:51:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T13:02:56.795-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rock Band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CC'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SEL-JMzZo1I/AAAAAAAAABI/OIjhXwM7brY/s1600-h/DSC01367.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207003553202807634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SEL-JMzZo1I/AAAAAAAAABI/OIjhXwM7brY/s320/DSC01367.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Girl's Night Out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Saturday night, A, CC and I headed out for a girls night. After A met Ma and I at the restaurant we headed back to my place because I still needed to get ready. Because we had some time before CC got there, A and I headed downstairs for some (always good times) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Rockband&lt;/span&gt; with Bro and his friends. Bro lost the mic somewhere &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;but that didn't deter us. PR and I were playing guitar and belting out songs. A was right beside be belting (kind of strange for her she's not big on the singing in front of people thing). When CC got there we headed down to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hennessey&lt;/span&gt; for some excellent martinis and tapas. Of course after the tapas I had to have my lemon tart (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mmmm&lt;/span&gt;). By the time the third round came, AC (a guy A and I work with) and a couple of his friend's showed up. His one friend got in an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt; with CC that Miranda is the cougar in Sex in the City when we all know Samantha is the cougar. Then he some how thought (and ran with this) that I write for a local newspaper. Love to but no. As much as I do love the paper he thought I wrote for, if I was going to write for a newspaper it would be a better paper. Because I drove, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;switched&lt;/span&gt; to water part way through. So when I got home I headed back down to Bro and his friend's and continued to build on the buzz. Good night all in all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-1191619378374694339?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/1191619378374694339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=1191619378374694339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1191619378374694339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1191619378374694339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/06/girls-night-out-saturday-night-cc-and-i.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SEL-JMzZo1I/AAAAAAAAABI/OIjhXwM7brY/s72-c/DSC01367.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-140904668648260814</id><published>2008-05-31T17:52:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T17:58:07.554-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ipod'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Fun Little Game With iPod&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Thanks to Restaurant Gal for this one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;How does the world see me? Emotional Rescue, the Rolling Stones&lt;br /&gt;Will I have a happy life? The Red, Chevelle&lt;br /&gt;Do people secretly lust after me? Angel, Aerosmith&lt;br /&gt;How can I make myself happy? Let it Die, Foo Fighters&lt;br /&gt;What should I do with my life? Sweet Child O' Mine, Guns N Roses&lt;br /&gt;Will I ever have children? The Simple Life, Carolyn Dawn Johnson&lt;br /&gt;What is some good advice for me? In Another Life, Ashlee Simpson (sorry apparently it's Wentz now according to People)&lt;br /&gt;How will I be remembered? Sunday Morning, No Doubt&lt;br /&gt;What is my signature dance song? Away From the Sun, Three Doors Down&lt;br /&gt;What do I think my current theme song is? Sweet Dreams, LaBouche&lt;br /&gt;What song will play at my funeral? Whiskey Lullaby, Brad Paisley and Alison Kraus (hmmm not sure whether I like the idea of that at my funeral)&lt;br /&gt;What type of men do I like? Minority, Green Day&lt;br /&gt;What is my day going to be like? If I Die Tomorrow, Motley Crue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Hmmm very strange, not sure I like this. Keep in mind this was a straight up shuffle, I didn't edit the songs to fit the questions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-140904668648260814?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/140904668648260814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=140904668648260814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/140904668648260814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/140904668648260814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/fun-little-game-with-ipod-thanks-to.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7921924704645384279</id><published>2008-05-25T21:17:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T22:06:18.015-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sick'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ASA'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;A Dramatic Weekend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Bro was sick this weekend. Started Friday and is still continuing. He was so out of it that he offered me twenty bucks to go get his girlfriend, ASA, from a neighboring suburb. No problem, I tell him I'm going for drinks with some friends then I'll go get her and bring her back to our place. Rather unfortunate for me as the next place for me to hit was a pub about five minutes from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ASA's&lt;/span&gt; but being a nice sister I agree. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;About ten minutes after I get to the first meeting place, ASA calls me freaking out. She tells me she is just going to take the bus to my place because (and I misunderstood this due to her accent), Bro has a fever of 107. She says she's going to take him to the hospital. How she was planning I'm not quite sure. So I call my mom (while my rational thought is kicking in to the thought that he would have been far far more out of it and not be able to tell me anything if his fever was really 107) telling her to go see him. She tells me his fever is actually 102.7 and that she gave him Advil to bring it down. So I head back in to finish my drink and pay my bill. Call ASA to tell her I'm on my way. Call Bro, who at this point sounds far far more with it than the hour before. He tells me he's fine. My response, "Well tell &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; that!". I pick up ASA and try to convince her all the way home that he's fine. So I drop her off and leave. When I get back later, I go out for a smoke with ASA. She's still freaked but at least not to the point of hospital. She says they're going to the doctor tomorrow. So the next day comes and apparently the walk-in clinic diagnosed an ulcer. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Umm&lt;/span&gt;, not a doctor but seeing several problems with this. First of all tests need to be done to confirm the presence of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;helicobactor&lt;/span&gt; pylori bacteria is present. Second of all ulcers generally don't cause fevers and aches and pains. The kid has a flu for the love of God! So tonight ASA comes over and yells at him (a small part of me loves when she yells at him simply due to the accent) that he will eat what she feeds him and drink what she gives him. Dude just ate and threw up dinner and his lunch before that. Oh I hear them leaving. It was a damn interesting fight. He's a bitch to argue with to begin with, don't try it when he's sick. You might as well be beating your head against a brick wall!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7921924704645384279?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7921924704645384279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7921924704645384279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7921924704645384279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7921924704645384279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/dramatic-weekend-bro-was-sick-this.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7267601620629061988</id><published>2008-05-22T17:44:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T17:49:37.918-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Idol'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDYTkszZo0I/AAAAAAAAABA/ttpWZRQ_lMQ/s1600-h/Donna-Summer-Seacrest_l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203367940696154946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDYTkszZo0I/AAAAAAAAABA/ttpWZRQ_lMQ/s320/Donna-Summer-Seacrest_l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;American Idol Finale&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; it is no secret how much I love Idol. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; I missed the finale last night and had to tape (yes I do really mean on VHS) it. I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;perusing&lt;/span&gt; my blog selection and half watching the performances when the Donna Summer Disaster came on. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; honey, I like you for an eighties vibe. That's where the love stops. Give it up. Oh dear God! The one thing I liked about this whole performance was Donna and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Seyesha&lt;/span&gt; performing "Last Dance". Wonderful. My fave &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;DS&lt;/span&gt; song. Could have lived (and did by fast &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;forwarding&lt;/span&gt;) without the rest of it. Congrats to David Cook, love you! And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, Jimmy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Kimmel&lt;/span&gt; is pretty funny. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7267601620629061988?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7267601620629061988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7267601620629061988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7267601620629061988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7267601620629061988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/american-idol-finale-ok-it-is-no-secret.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDYTkszZo0I/AAAAAAAAABA/ttpWZRQ_lMQ/s72-c/Donna-Summer-Seacrest_l.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-2711213588514768942</id><published>2008-05-21T22:25:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T22:47:00.547-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Caolinn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weddings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rants'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;One Epic Day... And Generally Not in a Good Way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So much is changing at the moment. And not in my life, just most of my friends and family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I have likely two weddings (of very close friends) to attend this summer. One set (A and N) I could not be happier about. The other set, C and R, I was happy about when R told me he was proposing. That all changed in February. He was taking a weekend trip to go see his dying mother (left on a Wed). For months before this he had been having an online affair with a woman he works with. He left the email account up on their computer when he left to see his mom. So of course after work C goes to check her own email and that's what she finds. By Friday I'm thinking that it's weird that she has left work early two days running. So I call and get the "I'm fine." line and muffled tears. So (and this has come back to bite me in the arse) I bully my way into her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apartment&lt;/span&gt; (with pizza and alcohol) thinking that she's dying. Of course I managed to imagine all kinds of horrible diseases and deaths and had myself all worked up that she was dying by the time I got there. She (through tears) told me the whole story. I don't know if R knows that I know or not but needless to say things have not been the same between him and I since. I still want to physically cause him harm for making her so miserable (take note any of my sister's boyfriend's who are contemplating cheating). I am still so angry about it. And she made me swear not to say anything. So for months I have not had an outlet for all of this anger. I had to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;house sit&lt;/span&gt; for them and I would get so mad just seeing his stuff. I'm really not sure how to sit through their wedding and smile and say congratulations. I'm really not good at saying things like that when I don't mean them. I want to know why she told me (even though logically I know it's because I pushed my way in and asked). She didn't tell her mom or her daughter because she doesn't want them to look at him differently. I am (as much as I try to hide it) and extremely emotional person. I don't hide them well. I want to tell her daughter, because I know she would agree with me, but C would be so hurt, pissed off etc. I really have no idea what to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Also I learned tonight (after witnessing and extreme freak out on Chi's part) that Chi and her bf of two months are moving in together. Not like him moving into her place but actually getting a place of their own. Oh dear God, I foresee nothing but bad things from this. Part of me is slightly biased because he so so so creepily reminds me of one of my exes. His voice and mannerisms are so similar that I can't even handle it. I also think that is kind of funny since Chi could hated this particular ex of mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Now due to all of this stuff about R and C's wedding (I finally let it all lose on A today at work) I came home in a pisser of a mood. My poor dad. He was nice enough to have dinner ready when I got home, but when he cooks he has stuff everywhere. And he doesn't put anything away. Several hours later (just before I'm about to leave) he is sitting outside on the phone with my uncle and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;asks&lt;/span&gt; me to put the dishes in the dishwasher. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; the compost is still on the counter and open where it has been for at least four hours. He has rinsed and dumped the dishes all over both sinks and the counter. Not to mention tried and failed to load the dishwasher earlier. How in the effing hell is it possible to make more of a mess attempting to clean up the mess? I don't get it. I called A to rant who apparently had the very same bitching session to N right before I called. We decided that no woman can ever understand it- it's a guy thing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Oh and I also totally wasn't paying attention and let the gas go until I noticed stuff dripping on my foot. Gas all over the side of my car. Everywhere so know I must immediatly (re tomorrow after work)  wash my car. Grr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-2711213588514768942?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/2711213588514768942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=2711213588514768942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2711213588514768942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2711213588514768942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/one-epic-day.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-6036642664158934500</id><published>2008-05-20T20:34:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T20:41:02.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDOZf2lCqqI/AAAAAAAAAA4/XPI6309HcXo/s1600-h/DSC00244.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202670767048927906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDOZf2lCqqI/AAAAAAAAAA4/XPI6309HcXo/s320/DSC00244.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Weekdays... Sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Let it be known that I hate weekdays. Aside from the obvious facts of having to get up and go to work (with no internet might I add), because I have to get up so early I have absolutely no social life. Most people are either doing the same thing that I am, or off work at 9:30 so by the time they decide what to do and actually get there I'm like yeah I have to go home and go to bed. It's even worse with my dad starting this new job where he works nights because my mom doesn't like to be left alone. So what am I doing tonight, watching Idol (go David Cook!) followed up by Dancing With the Stars (Kristi and Mark). Sigh. This is my life. I guess I could take the dog out but without Dad's hat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-6036642664158934500?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6036642664158934500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=6036642664158934500' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6036642664158934500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6036642664158934500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/weekdays.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDOZf2lCqqI/AAAAAAAAAA4/XPI6309HcXo/s72-c/DSC00244.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-8814361627794934907</id><published>2008-05-19T17:19:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T17:25:55.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Time For Another&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;1) What was I doing 10 years ago? Just finishing grade 8. As my Mom says I was still normal then, not quite through the transition to horrendous teen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;2) 5 things on my to-do list for today? Clean my bathroom; clean my car; grocery shopping; drink lots of coffee; sleep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;3) Snacks I enjoy? Sugary goodness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;4) Things I would do if I was a Billionaire? Donate some money, travel, volunteer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;5) 3 of my many bad habits1. I cuss way to fucking much, smoking; watch too much &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;6) 5 places I have lived. Haven't lived in five places&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;7) Jobs I have had... pizza place, department store, auto supplier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;8) People I want to know more about. No one, I know enough about too many people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-8814361627794934907?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8814361627794934907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=8814361627794934907' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8814361627794934907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8814361627794934907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/time-for-another-1-what-was-i-doing-10.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-5732691704647010822</id><published>2008-05-18T13:44:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T14:11:52.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Epic Long Weekends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Oh the epic long weekends! Friday was the Earls weekly dinner. This week it was at our house. Pops and Ed were a little tipsy, me I was just wondering how the eff I am related to these people. I know it's a horrible thing to say but really. That's ok, I'm sure Pops wonders that as he said that Bro and I are normal kids, normal disappointments. I told him I'm resigned to the fact that I am a disappointment, therefore I don't have to actually try for anything anymore. Meh whatjagonnado?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Saturday was supposed to be&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDCYyGlCqpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Q3FYRY-yY6Q/s1600-h/DSC00512.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201825556139780754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDCYyGlCqpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Q3FYRY-yY6Q/s320/DSC00512.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; the epic hike and barbecue. Oh was it ever epic. I was supposed to pick up A at 9:45, then meet CC and AS at 10. A calls me to say that some how N (who won't even walk a block to Denny's) is coming. Great means I don't have to drive. Then CC calls me (10 minutes before we're supposed to meet) to say that AS is still in the shower. So as promised, I text Chi to say we will be late. Then Chi calls CC who now figures that I have bitched to Chi. OMG, and this is all before we have even left. So we finally get there, and Chi, her new bf, N, A and I all meet. CC and AS who were following N, went their own way. SF, and M got lost then found CC and AS. CC got pissed (we all ended up on different sides of the mountain) and hung up on Chi so Chi stormed off. Great. So off we go on our hike (straight up and ridiculous). So long, so hot and tired when we got back to the cars. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Finally down to the barbecue. We all went to our own places to shower and sleep and junk before the barbecue. Oh thank God. I actually made it to the top of the stairs and decided that the shower was too far away so I collapsed at the top of the stairs. Ok must continue on to go buy the burgers and stuff for the barbecue. Do some quick firefighting (clean up from the CC/Chi call earlier) and ego-stroking. Ok good everyone still coming. Ok off to the store. Twenty minutes later back home and feeling like I haven't even showered. That's how bloody hot it was. Don't get me wrong, I love the heat. Oh the epicness! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;From the barbecue we headed down to QE park to enjoy a couple hookahs. Hmmm interesting. Could have done without the hookah (takes to long for what you're getting from it) and the park. Really could have walked to several parks in the area or just stayed on the patio at my place. Oh well it was epic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;After all this epicness I think I need to spend today at home. Must clean up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-5732691704647010822?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/5732691704647010822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=5732691704647010822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/5732691704647010822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/5732691704647010822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/epic-long-weekends-oh-epic-long.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SDCYyGlCqpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/Q3FYRY-yY6Q/s72-c/DSC00512.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7822596468739783492</id><published>2008-05-11T22:23:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T22:29:13.716-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Mother's Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Since it is Mother's Day I guess I should do a shout out to the woman who birthed me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Dear Mom,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Thank you for bringing me into this world. Thanks for the calm and peaceful three days off my life, and then the sheer hell (since both of us were miserable by the time 2 came along). Thank you for your undying love (try as I may have to push it away in my teens) and the constant understandings (even when I made you cry). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;My mom laughed with me, at me, around me, or just whenever. She fought with me when I needed to fight, she pushed me when I needed a push. She drove me anywhere I needed to go and gave me her keys when I was older. She drove for an hour at two in the morning to pick me up, and then drove me back the next day to get my car. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;No one could be a better Mom, so I love you Mom! Happy Mother's Day &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7822596468739783492?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7822596468739783492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7822596468739783492' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7822596468739783492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7822596468739783492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/mothers-day-since-it-is-mothers-day-i.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-4627202573096030718</id><published>2008-05-10T17:19:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T17:30:57.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SCY8JLlPjcI/AAAAAAAAAAo/_We22qdYmus/s1600-h/DSC01336.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198908948271304130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SCY8JLlPjcI/AAAAAAAAAAo/_We22qdYmus/s320/DSC01336.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Fundraising for Olympic Athletes... Mike Leigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I went to a fundraiser for a local Olympic athlete today. Mike Leigh (read his blog &lt;a href="http://www.mikeleighsailing.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;) is going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bejing&lt;/span&gt; this summer as a laser sailor. For about an hour I watched kids and adults alike donating money to Mike's dream and challenging him to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;WI&lt;/span&gt;. When it was my turn I gave up on the hour of bowling I watched and made him play baseball with me. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; Mike won the game (1-0) but it was a great game. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Mike is an avid sailor, very passionate about his sport. He explained the differences between different types of sailing to me (I had no idea there was so many), and told me all about his travels and competitions. Of course the second I found out he had a blog I latched right onto him. Check the above, or the link on the side to read about Mike's adventures in sailing and travels. Good luck with your future endeavors Mike. We're all behind you for Beijing and beyond!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;For more information about Mike's Olympic journey and other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;HBC&lt;/span&gt; fundraising &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;initiatives&lt;/span&gt; please click &lt;a href="http://www.hbcrunforcanada.ca/2008/splash.php"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, or visit your local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;HBC&lt;/span&gt; store. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-4627202573096030718?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4627202573096030718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=4627202573096030718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4627202573096030718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4627202573096030718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/fundraising-for-olympic-athletes.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SCY8JLlPjcI/AAAAAAAAAAo/_We22qdYmus/s72-c/DSC01336.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7778785743929016777</id><published>2008-05-08T18:42:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T18:48:58.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;When it Rains it Freaking Pours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I have gone a lovely couple weekends with no plans or fly by the seat of your pants weekends. Which were both wonderful because I really really needed the low &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;keyness&lt;/span&gt;. So did lovely Mama because Daddy is now on four nights and she didn't want to spend Saturday night by herself. Great all around. This weekend not so much, I have inventory tomorrow night... skipping that (and the beautiful OT &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pay cheque&lt;/span&gt;) to go to my uncle's Mother's Day &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;barbecue&lt;/span&gt;. Which has to be on Fri since Daddy is working Saturday and Sunday night. Great, tell boss not staying cheque. Oh also buy boss lunch and a 6-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pack&lt;/span&gt; tomorrow for his birthday. Right must remember this. Saturday is work, Kayla's birthday and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;EZ&lt;/span&gt; plans since we haven't seen each other in over a week. Also another birthday and a couple other friend's that I haven't seen in ages. Oh how sleeping, eating and showering (totally joking I will always make time to shower) are becoming fond memories. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7778785743929016777?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7778785743929016777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7778785743929016777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7778785743929016777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7778785743929016777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/when-it-rains-it-freaking-pours-i-have.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-8773184720615656768</id><published>2008-05-04T13:50:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T14:00:27.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4jwFzPoFI/AAAAAAAAAAU/aPsXWlVhJiM/s1600-h/DSC01298.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196630329129934930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4jwFzPoFI/AAAAAAAAAAU/aPsXWlVhJiM/s320/DSC01298.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Our Epic Fiesta Adventure &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Ok I'm pretty sure we called it fiesta with the intention of something close. Really didn't really do it. Well M and I sure enjoyed several of our wonderfully made Jose margaritas! And the tacos... oh Old El Paso how we love thee. SF pretty well paced M and I only he was on to the gin and tonic combo. By the time CC and AS got there M and I were well well on our way to tequila induced drunkenness. AS decides that we are all full out committing to hookah. Hmmm I was thinking (especially when the tequila effects were gone) of heading home but sure lets go. We have to go to AS's to pick up the hookah (about 20 minutes east) and then downtown to get supplies. Since CC is the only sober one she's a driving. So SF, M and I all cram into the back seat and somehow started talking about Neil Diamond and how M and her mom are going to his concert. Lol we started singing Sweet Caroline and could only remember all of five words. CC and AS decided we were too drunk to get out of the car (hey we were just singing and having a rather jovial time) so we sang some more. Just about everything was to the tune of Sweet Caroline until we hit Feliz Navidad. That's right... you did read that right. Our epic adventure continued (sadly without tequila) until about 3 in the morning and included watching Aladdin. Yeah Aladdin. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-8773184720615656768?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8773184720615656768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=8773184720615656768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8773184720615656768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8773184720615656768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/our-epic-fiesta-adventure-ok-im-pretty.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4jwFzPoFI/AAAAAAAAAAU/aPsXWlVhJiM/s72-c/DSC01298.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-4430799923515731160</id><published>2008-05-03T13:29:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T13:51:29.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SBzQQVzPoEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/witONarzgkA/s1600-h/May+3+163.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196257049227272258" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SBzQQVzPoEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/witONarzgkA/s320/May+3+163.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Random Photo Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;The other night was such a beautiful night that I decided we had to take advantage and do a photo night. We decided on a park nearby my house (which allowed me to take the dog too since he hadn't been out in awhile). We spent about an hour at the park taking all kinds of amazing photos. After all of our batteries died we took the dog through the forest quickly. The forest comes out to a sidewalk on a slightly busy road. We stood around talking for awhile and watched a woman (whom we didn't know lived right beside the park) drive by and give us a "look". After the "look" we decided to head back to my place. Since &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;EZ&lt;/span&gt;, CHI, and H (Chi's bf) drove and I had the dog, I started to walk back. As I did a firetruck (yummy) drove by. I yelled to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;EZ&lt;/span&gt; who yelled to the passing firemen! They honked and played it up. The woman who we all figured was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;disapproving&lt;/span&gt; laughed and commented to me about getting cheap thrills. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Lol&lt;/span&gt; surprise surprise! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-4430799923515731160?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4430799923515731160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=4430799923515731160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4430799923515731160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4430799923515731160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/05/random-photo-night-other-night-was-such.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SBzQQVzPoEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/witONarzgkA/s72-c/May+3+163.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-3653569017051297005</id><published>2008-04-30T17:48:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T17:53:48.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Full Acceptance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;As &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;human's&lt;/span&gt; the one thing that we all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;unconsciously&lt;/span&gt; crave is acceptance. This craving for acceptance was not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;unconscious&lt;/span&gt; but a full out I-need-this form of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;acceptance&lt;/span&gt;. After a six year (associate to manager) stint in retail, a high school diploma, and a college diploma I decided that I needed to move on. And I did, I hightailed an application to the most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;prestigious&lt;/span&gt; broadcasting school in all of Western Canada. I had my interview (the final stage of the application progress yesterday). After it I felt slightly nervous but figured I did pretty good. After work today I checked my application status and saw two simple words that made the stresses of the day &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;disappear&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;strong&gt;full acceptance&lt;/strong&gt;! So happy. AS has already (in his congrats text) made sure that any &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;podcast&lt;/span&gt; would be produced by him. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt; me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-3653569017051297005?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3653569017051297005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=3653569017051297005' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3653569017051297005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3653569017051297005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/full-acceptance-as-humans-one-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-8113959118212261037</id><published>2008-04-29T17:46:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T17:53:29.469-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Beauty'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Gosta&lt;/span&gt; Get the Hair Did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; must admit I'm not much of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;girly&lt;/span&gt; girl. I work in a warehouse full of guys. I work in jeans, sweatshirt, no make up and hair in a messy bun. Five or six days a week. It doesn't bother me in the least. In fact I love it. Today I had to dress up though since I had an interview and had to leave early. Sigh, so much lost sleep, even though I did my make up in the car when the power went out. After that I called A to see if they were busy and wanted me to come back for the last hour. Since she said take the afternoon off (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt;!), I took her advice. I went and got my hair done. Not at the last place I went to (a shame because the shampoo comes with an orgasmic scalp massage that is like 15 minutes long). And its totally reasonable with a cut, shampoo and style being under $50. They were booked solid (the price I pay for being an impulse client I guess). So I headed up to a salon near my old high school. I hadn't been in there in years and they have changed owners again. To my utter amazement the same woman was working there. I think she just comes with the building now. She gave me a decent shampoo. Then a young woman cut... and cut and cut. But not too much (shocked). Then she styled. For under $40 I had an amazing experience, friendly staff and now have a fabulous cut. All for skipping an afternoon of work... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-8113959118212261037?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8113959118212261037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=8113959118212261037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8113959118212261037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8113959118212261037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/gosta-get-hair-did-ok-must-admit-im-not.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-5031392980511741318</id><published>2008-04-21T20:13:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T20:21:13.507-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DWTS'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;Dancing With the Stars: Who Should Win It&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I'm writing this as I'm watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DWTS&lt;/span&gt;. Obviously unless something completely drastic happens it should &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; be Kristi and Mark. Their rumba last week was amazing. Shannon and Derek are doing the rumba right now and are looking  beautiful to Cindy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Lauper's&lt;/span&gt; "True Colours". Top four for them. Jason and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Edyta&lt;/span&gt; should obviously be second. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; maybe top three for Shannon and Derek because after that I really can't stand anyone else. Marisa is almost as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;annoying&lt;/span&gt; as Marie Osmond last season. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; we were assaulted by Marie for the majority of the season last time around. Marley is damn good for a deaf woman but I give her a couple more weeks. Cheryl Burke is a good dancer, it's unfortunate that her and Christian can't seem to find the chemistry to fully make it. Mario is disappointing me. He started out so good and has just dropped the last couple weeks. Not to mention that Katrina has to be the dumbest woman on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; today. Stayed tuned into Random Observations for updates and of course tomorrow night's results show.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-5031392980511741318?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/5031392980511741318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=5031392980511741318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/5031392980511741318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/5031392980511741318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/dancing-with-stars-who-should-win-it-im.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-2876730070879504700</id><published>2008-04-20T23:32:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T23:52:17.036-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ASA'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;Name Changes... Seeming To Be a Necessity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Hmm I think I need a name change here. It seems that ASA well she's not so anti-social. I know this now because she talked and talked and talked to me for about 4 to 4.5 hours last night. Constant! Then Bro wanted her to go to a party with him. Well ASA didn't know anyone and wanted me to go. By this point I was already snuggled deep into pjs, bed, and an old (but a fave) &lt;a href="http://noraroberts.com/"&gt;Nora Roberts&lt;/a&gt; book. Hmm I'm gonna say no. As ASA is using my straightener (alright so she used it to curl my hair... and make me look freakishly like a doll), my brush, my hairspray (I think I need to buy more.... I swear the last quarter of the can ended up in our hair and my bathroom last night), and my make up. How I don't know considering she wanted to cover a zit and I am about a zillion shades whiter than she is. Anyways my whole point is that I need a new name for her. Any suggestions? Something to ponder in the coming days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-2876730070879504700?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/2876730070879504700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=2876730070879504700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2876730070879504700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2876730070879504700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/name-changes.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-501532879133385813</id><published>2008-04-19T08:09:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T08:36:33.932-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rants'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Human's&lt;/span&gt; and Their Ridiculousness... a New Observation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;For this post I am not observing some random person whom I don't even know as per usual. This observation is on two women (with a little bit of family thrown in), one of whom I know very well, the other I just met last night. Now for a little background info... W1 and I used to work with and so I know her and her family quite well. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; we hadn't seen each other in quite some time. W2 is W1's new friend (and apparently even more crazy than she is!). W2's daughter is friend's with W1's kids and was staying the night. So I wasn't quite sure why I found both of them in the apartment when I got there. Handily enough W1's new apartment is not even a block from A's so I parked at A's and did the whole wind down (watched Nip/Tuck for the 1st time because all other channels were screwing up... fabulous show by the way). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Right before I got to W1's, she had received a phone call. So the first thing she tells me is how excited she is but can't tell me why. Right there I was going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ummm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;wtf&lt;/span&gt; just tell me. Into the living room and her hubby (we'll just call him hubby) is on the couch exhausted and fed up. He says hello to me and looks at W1 "Just tell her! Enough of this!" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; so hubby not in a good mood. That's fine with me... I'm having a feeling that W1 and W2 are going to drive me nuts and hubby's bad mood will balance it out. It did happen that way... until he went to bed and left me alone with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;crazy's&lt;/span&gt;. Right of the hop W2 starts asking me where I work, what I do and all sorts of shit like that. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; way too much for just meeting someone, back the @&amp;amp;^% off! Upon my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;revelation&lt;/span&gt; that I am going back to school in the fall, W2 spent 40 minutes trying to convince me to go on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;EI&lt;/span&gt; in September. First of all lady, I'm quitting. They generally don't give you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;EI&lt;/span&gt; when you quit. Second of all, this whole conversation &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;proves&lt;/span&gt; to me that you are a drain on the system and expects others to be as well. The system is in place for emergency use (like being laid off and not expecting it, maternity leave etc). And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; not a good first impression you crazy waste of space. Oh good to get that out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So W1's big news was that this company that she used to work for (she has since quit the conglomerate that we worked at together as well) called and offered a commercial. Sweet nice good for you. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; my issue with this is that it is a weight loss company and she claims she has kept the weight off. Uh no, dear you haven't. And bitching that you ate three pieces of pizza while the rest of us had two, living down the street from (so routinely going to) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;McDonalds&lt;/span&gt;, and the binge eating late at night when everyone is asleep are not the practices that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;company&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;taught&lt;/span&gt; you, you can't advertise that #^$*!. Apparently she was heartbroken because W2 had more of a reaction than hubby did. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt;. Then she went into how even W2 notices that hubby spoke to me more, and I get more out of him than she does. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt; do we have to start this shit again. I did nothing. I don't effing play games with people, I am myself. That's it! You on the other hand play constant mind games, you get pissed off at him for something he did in your dream FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! And you wonder why someone who doesn't play games and just simply talks to him can get more out of him! Bloody hell! Maybe I am being unfair and a little harsh. I do feel sorry for her because hubby can push pretty hard and back people into corners. But then again I feel sorry for him to. It is a relationship that wouldn't have lasted if they didn't have kids. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Side note on that. W1 used to always tell me to go into her room and climb into bed with hubby. OK, no that crosses too many lines. So when I called a couple weeks ago, hubby played that up, huskily telling me that his wife wasn't home. So I played along with it and we laughed about it. So did she. Well apparently she was pissed at both of us for that. I am in my mid-twenties. I left high school style drama a long time ago. W1, honey you are forty-six, start bloody acting it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; so this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;happened&lt;/span&gt; to turn into more of a rant than an observation. I needed to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-501532879133385813?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/501532879133385813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=501532879133385813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/501532879133385813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/501532879133385813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/humans-and-their-ridiculousness.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7702441952619322788</id><published>2008-04-18T18:07:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T18:17:16.544-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Product Review'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;So Inspired Now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So for being completely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;uninspired&lt;/span&gt; earlier this week, I have a million posts running around in my head at the moment. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; I have several essays due as well so I really should be only writing those. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;C'est&lt;/span&gt; la vie! I think the fact that the migraine has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;disappeared&lt;/span&gt; and JG started calling me Hot Tamale and telling me that he would be my sex slave may possibly have something to do with it. Anyways, here is a beauty product review&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.schickquattro.com/sq_home_flash.cfm"&gt;Schick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Quattro&lt;/span&gt; For Women&lt;/a&gt;... bloody amazing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I was using an old razor blade on my Venus Breeze (highly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;unrecommended&lt;/span&gt;... the razor its self) so I met &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;EZ&lt;/span&gt; at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;LD&lt;/span&gt;(not because I needed her there to help me pick a razor... I met her there and remembered I needed new razor blades). &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; it is absolutely ridiculous that refill blades are more expensive than a new razor. Realizing this (and how much I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;despise&lt;/span&gt; the Venus Breeze) I bought the Schick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Quattro&lt;/span&gt;. Used it for the first time about an hour ago. Best shave I've ever had. The four blades cleanly (and very smoothly) removed unwanted hairs and the flexible head fit the contours of my legs like a dream. The best part (aside from the close shave of four blades... loving it) was the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;noticeably&lt;/span&gt; absent goo that the Breeze consistently left all over me and the shower. That was seriously gross. Now everyone go by the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Quattro&lt;/span&gt;, you'll be sorry if you don't *so will your man*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7702441952619322788?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7702441952619322788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7702441952619322788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7702441952619322788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7702441952619322788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/so-inspired-now-so-for-being-completely.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7558195876035946183</id><published>2008-04-15T19:21:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T19:29:55.766-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;Lack of Inspiration... Stand By Posts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I don't know what is wrong with me but I have absolutely no inspiration. I really have no idea what to write about. It could be the fact that I have a killer headache that has been brewing since Sunday (and no amount of 400mg &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Advils&lt;/span&gt; are doing anything), or the fact that I have eight essays due well now. But no one other than the dean actually wants to see what I know about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;CRTC&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;BBM&lt;/span&gt;. Bonus to anyone who actually knows what the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;CRTC&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;BBM&lt;/span&gt; are. Serious props to you... those are industry standards. So here it comes, my bored-at-work so just started writing posts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Quest to Podcast&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;future&lt;/span&gt; on-air radio personality, am on a quest to branch out to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;podcasting&lt;/span&gt;. I know I don't even have any pictures posted but go big or go home right. Of course I need to figure out how to actually create a podcast and then how to incorporate it into the blog, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Sigh, the essays must continue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7558195876035946183?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7558195876035946183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7558195876035946183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7558195876035946183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7558195876035946183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/lack-of-inspiration.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-8746607578666691567</id><published>2008-04-13T17:59:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T18:07:56.606-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travels'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;Home Sweet Home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Finally home! Ok I shouldn't say finally when we were only gone for 4 days. My morning started at 5:40 (far too early for any sane person to be awake) and went downhill rapidly. Ma was in such a rush that I left my cell charger at the hotel. Fabulous. No smoke before plane (no comes and goes at airports which meant I had to wait for hours and 3 airports before I could finally have a smoke at 1:30!). No coffee yet either. Lovely US security decided that with my lip gloss, cell phone and possibly the not-awake-no-coffee-no-smoke snarky comment I made about blowing up the plane with my lip gloss, I apparently was a security risk. FABULOUS MAKE MY DAY BETTER I DARE YOU. By the time the woman (who's mood was just as good as mine) started scanning me the beeps sounded near the waist on my jeans. She asked me like 4 times if I had a belt on (WTF would I lie) and then made me lift my top and fold down my jeans so that she could check me over. I had one had (cuz your arms are out... palm up... heaven forbid your palms face down) hand in a fist and on the tip of my tongue was an offer to strip naked in front of everyone in order to prove there was nothing there. So now I am tired, pissed off (I was fine until I started writing this then in peeved me again) and attempting to do the mountains of laundry (because apparently I am the only one who knows how!). GRR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-8746607578666691567?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8746607578666691567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=8746607578666691567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8746607578666691567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8746607578666691567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/home-sweet-home-finally-home-ok-i.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-4544171119607794071</id><published>2008-04-11T09:52:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T10:22:12.735-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miss M'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ASA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='EZ'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travels'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Greetings From Sunny San Diego!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Yes my fine and fellow readers, I have escaped the cold miserable rain of Metro to head south! I'm currently drinking a lukewarm cup of Wolfgang Puck coffee (considering it is Wolfgang Puck I was expecting considerably more. I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; rather disappointed), in the Jimmy Carter presidential suite at the &lt;a href="http://www.omnihotels.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Omni&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;alternately&lt;/span&gt; looking at a beautiful view of the Harbour and Babe Ruth's original contract. The best feature (after having Craig Long, the sales manager take us on a tour) is the bridge that goes over 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; (I think) St right into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Petco&lt;/span&gt; Park (where the &lt;a href="http://sandiego.padres.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=sd"&gt;Padres&lt;/a&gt; play). So disappointed that there was no game on. If I walk to the very end of the hall on our floor I can see the entire infield and everything. The only downside is the fact that you can't really smoke here (ah joining the realms of a smoke free world... difficult for someone like me). You can, however, smoke on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;bridge way&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Petco&lt;/span&gt; Park. That was fine during the day but late last night and early this morning. Ah I smoked on my terrace (sorry Craig). &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; I can't find a rock station in San Diego so I have settled on country. I do have a nice rock medley on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ipod&lt;/span&gt; but I can't get the bloody dock to work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Ma and I decided to head to the mall last night for some quick food court dinner and shopping. She wanted to take a cab but there is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;LRT&lt;/span&gt; station right beside our hotel so I suggested we take the train. The train was like stepping into the seventies. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Lol&lt;/span&gt;. We had to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;switch&lt;/span&gt; trains twice (so we rode all three lines at least part way). While shopping Ma found this strange jacket/top/necklace all in one combo thing. It was really weird but we figured it might look better on. So with armloads full we trooped into the fitting room. The result- my Randy Jackson impersonation. "Yo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Dawg&lt;/span&gt;! It was just alright for me man!" This had all of the loud obnoxious people staring at me and Ma and I cracking up. There was some crazy woman that followed us on to the train and continued to follow all the way to our stop. By the time we were a couple stops away I was really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;creeped&lt;/span&gt; out by her. Ma loudly proclaims that the next stop is ours as I'm hissing at her to shut up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;On to other news (from home), ASA not so anti-social, she's actually very nice. I think the guys and I just shell-shocked her that first night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;A is not leaving! Dingus offered both of us raises and it was enough to get her to stay! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Poor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;EZ&lt;/span&gt; bought a new car about three weeks ago. She calls me on Tuesday asking if I have the number for a friend's ex-fiance who happens to be a tow truck driver. N knows the people who sold her the car (at a used car lot ~shudders~) so Wednesday he goes storming in there giving them shit and telling them that they better take care of her and fix it up. Ah N we love that you know all sorts of people in the auto industry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Miss M had a birthday (well actually today but we had a party for her last weekend). It was very pink (again ~shudders~) too much for me. But it went well. We had a giant dinner (courtesy of CC and Mama L), champagne toasts and Chi made us play pin the butterfly on the Pooh poster or something of the sort. So Happy Birthday Miss M! We love you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Seeings how I'm in SD that means &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;plenty&lt;/span&gt; of ridiculous habits to observe. Must get to work!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-4544171119607794071?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4544171119607794071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=4544171119607794071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4544171119607794071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4544171119607794071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/04/greetings-from-sunny-san-diego-yes-my.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7571303042757026189</id><published>2008-03-29T15:20:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T15:32:50.604-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pyschic'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Messages From Beyond&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So A and I did go to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;psychic&lt;/span&gt; last night. The creepiest part was one of them totally reminded us of M. To the point where we wanted to call to make sure she was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. My message was kind of cryptic at first. She said that I have knots inside twined like rope only not as tight. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; not quite sure about this. Contradictions maybe? Then afterwards she mention dancing. Ha 8 years of ballet here. Yeah that's sounding right. She told me that I need to keep dancing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;She went very in depth with A. She kept talking to her about following people and to figure out what A wants to do and do it. A figured there was 5 people she followed; N; her mom; her dad; N's mom; N's Dad. So we left and talked about it well having a smoke. She said she knows that she needs to stop following parents and in-laws. She will never stop following N. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Aww&lt;/span&gt;. No one's supposed to know this bit but since it's pretty well an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;anonymous&lt;/span&gt; blog, I'll say it here. Congrats A and N, getting married this year! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ahh&lt;/span&gt; that's why N took that second job. So happy :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7571303042757026189?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7571303042757026189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7571303042757026189' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7571303042757026189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7571303042757026189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/messages-from-beyond-so-and-i-did-go-to.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-1517101832822507127</id><published>2008-03-28T18:03:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T18:12:50.627-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pyschic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Multi-Tasking... Can't Live With It Can't Live Without It&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Why it has been an eventful day. As mentioned the other day, A quit at work :(. In addition Stinky Guy (isn't that the bloody &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;understatment&lt;/span&gt; of the year) threw a fit and walked out today. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Lol&lt;/span&gt; no skin of any of our backs. Mainly because besides being Stinky Guy he was also Rat. And no one likes rats. So as of April 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; we are down to myself in the office, Drunk/ Manager in the office and picking, Old Guy doing returns and stock, and last but not least Crazy Little Mexican in shipping. Oh Jesus. Talk about having to multi-task.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;As I write this I'm remembering that laundry has to come out in 10 minutes, to run down the hall to check the water I am boiling for pasta and get ready to go out. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Argh&lt;/span&gt;. Have to pick A up in less than an hour. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;A and I are going to see a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;psychic&lt;/span&gt; tonight. Well it is a Spiritualist Church and the set is called Messages From Beyond. It's kind of cool, the first time I went I thought it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;wishy&lt;/span&gt; washy. However the last time I went (brought A for the 1st time) it was spot effing on. Ha as a side benefit she made A cry. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; wasn't funny at all but looking back just a little. Update on our Messages From Beyond to Follow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-1517101832822507127?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/1517101832822507127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=1517101832822507127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1517101832822507127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1517101832822507127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/multi-tasking.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-6707373492969683622</id><published>2008-03-28T18:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T18:01:41.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flickr</title><content type='html'>This is a test post from &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/r/testpost"&gt;&lt;img alt="flickr" src="http://www.flickr.com/images/flickr_logo_blog.gif" width="41" height="18" border="0" align="absmiddle" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, a fancy photo sharing thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-6707373492969683622?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6707373492969683622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=6707373492969683622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6707373492969683622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6707373492969683622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/flickr.html' title='Flickr'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-5308130477411841394</id><published>2008-03-23T16:00:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T16:12:58.337-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rock Band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ASA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birthdays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Long Weekends'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Long Weekends Continued... Seawall, Birthday and of Course More Rockband&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Seawall was good. Long. Hyper-extended my left knee. It was a painful weekend. Still can't really straighten it so I do this weird looking hop/ limp thing when I walk. Ah c'est la vie. Figured that there would be lots to see. Ha the biggest was the blow out CC and Chi had in the middle of the street. J was waiting for a "bitch please". My personal fave was CC (a preschool teacher and gymnastics coach) saying to Chi, "Chi why are you angry?" In that perfect you-are-being-unreasonable-calm-your-ass-down. I don't think I've ever seen Chi so angry at that point (I thought she was going to hit her). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Next day was my birthday... oh so exciting. My bathroom is now clean, my sheets are washed and I can now see my desk and floor. Yeah. Met the players for dinner then off to the comedy club. It was funny but unfortunatly I had seen the headliner before and well the act didn't change. Apres comedy we went back to my place for (haha more comedy) drunk Rockband. Lol, my brother and gf Anna came home around 3. We were of course hammered by this point as were they. Anna decided (in her usual anti-social way to head to bed). My bro bonded with the other brothers (smoking the hookah baby) while us girls kept rocking. The cap of the night right at the end of the night (4 am) was bro and I drunkly singing Dani California. Yeah. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Now we are off too pick up Anti-social Anna to head to family dinner. Lol poor ASA. My grandma and aunts (well and most of my uncles) will tear her apart. Ah she's Russian she should know how to hold her own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-5308130477411841394?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/5308130477411841394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=5308130477411841394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/5308130477411841394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/5308130477411841394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/long-weekends-continued.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-3358971212938254875</id><published>2008-03-21T11:50:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T11:56:13.834-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chi'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;Long Weekend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Ah the long weekend is finally upon us. With this comes my birthday which can only mean a depressing post coming up, and of course randomly drunk observations from the party tomorrow night. May possibly have some interesting fashionsita posts again as apparently I have decided to put of cleaning (yet again) to go drag my ass around the seawall. Hmmm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Yesterday one of the drivers invited A and I to an open mic night at a local coffee shop. It was pretty good. A and I decided we liked the 2nd girl so much that if we had the power we would have offered her a recording contract right then and there. The cap of the night had to be A, Chi and I sitting at our little table singing along and then being asked if we wanted to go up on stage to sing. Sure love to, believe me you don't want me to though. The words tone-deaf are ringing in my ears right now. More to come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-3358971212938254875?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3358971212938254875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=3358971212938254875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3358971212938254875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3358971212938254875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/long-weekend-ah-long-weekend-is-finally.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-6183017570471865026</id><published>2008-03-19T22:16:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:54:58.520-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fashionistas'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Fashion Observation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Ok what is with the obsession with leggings? The concept of leggings is good- what they look like is a whole other story. Unless you look like Nicole Richie chances are that you look completely ridiculous. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;If only I had my camera when I went to get coffee this afternoon. A woman in front of me had on this puffy jacket that looked like it was supposed to be a cross between leather and some casual puffy style. Instead it looked like a waxy (with a bit of a sheen) plastic coating on her cafe au lait coloured coat. Now remembering that I all I could see was the back of her at this point, I noticed the chesnut coloured cable knit sweater that came down over her suede (or likely faux suede) light brown skirt. Below this she was wearing black leggings (would've been alright with a black shit not a chesnut cable sweater!) with (wait for it!) black socks. But not just socks, oh no, she had the old school scrunchy kind of socks. Oh and it gets worse, black runners. Not casual, chic sneakers like &lt;a href="http://store.puma.com/pumaUSStore/home.asp?source=performics&amp;amp;cookie%5Ftest=1"&gt;Pumas&lt;/a&gt; but old lady style runners. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;From the back she had a cute (if you're 30) short spiking Joan Jettish hair. The unfortunate part was that it was sort of spikie not actually spiked (or styled) and that it was the red that is obviously died because it fried her hair and couldn't quite cover the jet black that Asian people are known for. When she turned around (much to my amazement) she was about 45 and polished off this amazing &lt;a href="http://gofugyourself.typepad.com/"&gt;Fugly&lt;/a&gt; look with a chunky black scarf.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Oh camera where art thou for life's fashion blunders?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-6183017570471865026?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6183017570471865026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=6183017570471865026' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6183017570471865026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6183017570471865026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/fashion-observation-ok-what-is-with.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-8709628732663817370</id><published>2008-03-17T22:56:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:55:33.023-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;An Obsession With Lists... Aaah But It's An Observational List&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Ok so I appear to have an obsession with lists lately. I flip flopped back and forth over what to make this list. I orginally wanted to do pet peeves but then I decided that maybe to negative. So maybe the love list. No too happy for my current life. So since so so many Metro drivers have been irritating the hell out of me lately here is my (admittedly long) list of Metro driving... bad habits. Keep in mind they are in no particular order. I really have no way off knowing which will iritate me more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;1. Turn signals. Use them. All I'm going to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;2. When you are in a parking lot, park, don't be the d-bag that must pull over in the middle of the main lane through the parking lot. To summarize it is called a parking lot for a reason. You should try it some time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;3. On that note, pay attention to what is behind you when backing out of your impossibly small parking spot in your even more ridiculously small car. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;4. Don't cut into the turning lane part way through the lane. Go right from the start. This is how accidents happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;5. When you are turning you do not need to take up the entire effing lane! (ok so this may be slightly more of an iritant that some other habits). You do not either sit in the middle of the lane or pull to the right when turning left effectively preventing anyone from passing you while you wait for an opening the size of France to come to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;6. When you pass a large white sign that says 70 Km/H that means you must drive at least 70! 50 doesn't cut it. If you can't do 70 get out of the way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;7. The left lane is the passing lane, not the la la la I'm going to drive 50 in a 70 zone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;8. Stop the moving roadblocks. See number 7 for rules on the left lane. If two of you are driving 50 Km/H then you should be one behind the other not effing beside each other&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;9. The merging lane is exactly that. The reason they are long is so that you can build up your speed, NOT SLAM ON YOUR BRAKES beacuse the cars that are doing 110 on the freeway are scaring you. DON'T DRIVE ON THE FREEWAY THEN! YOU ARE GOING TO GET ME KILLED. At the same time, the merging lanes are long, drive to the end of the lane (seemingly a foreign concept in Metro) and then merge with traffic on the freeway. Life would be a lot simpler when people do this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;10. Green means go. Not stop, not sit here and think about whatever else. GO! And while we are discussing colours red means stop. Not the light isn't changing I'm going. Relax it will change (usually fairly quickly).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;11. Don't cut me off/ turn in front of me and drive slow. WTF is the matter with people to do that. If you have that much of a lack of depth perception you shouldn't be driving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;12. Although I speed, I will drive the 30 Km/H in school zones. Stop tailgating me! For that matter take your life (not mine) in your hands and pass me if it pisses you off that much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;If we can all follow simple rules like this, all of our (and I will be much happier should this ever happen) insurance rates will not be as high and there will be less accidents. Seems like a pretty clear choice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Must add Update (since they can't comment I will)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I emailed this list as well. A couple responses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Rass said effing brilliant and that she couldn't have said it better herself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Chi added a full out rant of her own expanding on several of the options above&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-8709628732663817370?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8709628732663817370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=8709628732663817370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8709628732663817370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8709628732663817370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/obsession-with-lists.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-1340084506962871677</id><published>2008-03-17T17:18:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:56:01.107-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bad Days'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rants'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#009900;"&gt;Luck O' The Irish.... Apparently it's Not With This Irish Girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;In honour of St Pat's day I decided to do this post in green.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;Computers crashed at work today. At least I sure worked my ass off for the donut A and N picked up for me at lunch. Freaking ran for part checks. Please don't call tomorrow people. We are short staffed and still without a modem. Have some mercy on us please.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;Chi sells insurance for a living. Naturally she is my first call should I need any info. Apparently (still at a 30% discount this year) I am now at a 75% surcharge. That's right 75% on top of the $2000 I already pay per year. WTF and HTF did this happen. Apparently a previous claim under my parents plate almost 7 years ago (I was driving) has now come back to haunt me. Our insurance provider (we have the joy of living in a province where it is a government "non-profit" corporation) supposedly has a loop where after 4 years of continuous coverage you drop back down to your discount. Just over 4 years ago I was involved in an accident (which I maintain was not my fault). Unfortunatly after all legal ways of disputing this it was still deemed my fault. That's fine... I paid my insurance even when I didn't have a car, I paid my surcharges every year. Now they're telling me that it is still effecting me. I don't believe that I will be driving this summer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;I do appologize for the rant, observations will continue later on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-1340084506962871677?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/1340084506962871677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=1340084506962871677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1340084506962871677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1340084506962871677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/luck-o-irish.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-4965310018833114716</id><published>2008-03-16T15:57:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:56:39.262-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rock Band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pubs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt;My Every Continuing Observations of Crazies!! My Friends Included&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;First off, Happy St Patricks Day to all... Slainte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Seeing how it is the weekend before St Pats, A and I decided to get everyone together and head to a semi-local Irish pub. A and I (N had to work) headed out areound 5:50ish since neither of us wanted to eat standing up. I had told everyone to meet us there at 6:30. By 6:40 A and I are well through our first pint and our appy is just arriving (we decided screw those who can't be on time). CC and M show up at this point. A and I are still at our little table for 2 since no one else has left yet. Our waitress comes by to tell us that the customers in the other room are leaving shortly and to go talk to them for the table. Unfortuanatly (and several harsh words and close to a brawl with some fat ugly biotches) we didn't get the table. Sigh we got stuck at a little table directly under the tv and at the top of the stairs with not enough chairs for all. AS ended up sitting with CC, SF and EZ were on stools nearly a foot above the table. By 9:30 AS was bitching that he was hot and where's the bill, where are we going blah blah blah. Normally I get along fine with AS but this diva (he's a pretty pretty boy too... takes longer than I do to get ready) was driving me nuts. A and I had figured we'd party at the pub till around 1 and then head home. Btw AS if you are that hot take off your damn coat and sit on your own freaking chair! Anways night ended at my place with AS, EZ, CC and I playing Rock Band. Best part was after they left when my bro's friends came back and the boys and I created a killer band.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-4965310018833114716?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4965310018833114716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=4965310018833114716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4965310018833114716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4965310018833114716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-every-continuing-observations-of.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-3866962303686492045</id><published>2008-03-12T17:40:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:57:01.760-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Starbucks'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt;And the Sickness Continues... the Lost Art of Common Sense&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;If I ever discover who I got this cold from I will kill them. Seriously, well once I have the energy to kill them that is. I have been consistenly dying since Sunday. Monday morning I went to work for 4 hours. Co-workers and customers alike told me that I looked like and sounded like a zombie. How delightful!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;The last straw that made me go home was the call from one of my customers who I consistently flirt with said "You sound pathetic when you're sick! Go home!" That was it, I left without a backwards glance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;The last couple of days have been slightly better (again with the crazies and stupidness though). For example I went to &lt;a href="http://www.starbucks.ca/en-ca/"&gt;Starbucks &lt;/a&gt;for coffee on my lunch break. Not wanting to be a total db to the environment I bring my handy little &lt;a href="http://www.starbucks.ca/en-ca/"&gt;Starbucks&lt;/a&gt; travel mug. Naturally the girl working askes me if I want room for cream. My answer, "no but please leave enough room so that I don't spill it.". OK I will now digress into a little lesson in common sense. What happens when you have a form of liquid in an enclosed space and then you put something solid in it? The liquid rises to accomodate whatever you put in it. Great now that we all know that, I can point out that the &lt;a href="http://www.starbucks.ca/en-ca/"&gt;Starbucks&lt;/a&gt; girl apparently doesn't know this as she filled it nearly to the top so when I put the lid on it freaking overflowed everywhere! Common sense is a lost art.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-3866962303686492045?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3866962303686492045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=3866962303686492045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3866962303686492045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3866962303686492045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/and-sickness-continues.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-3387226819011592209</id><published>2008-03-09T13:49:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:57:42.867-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rock Band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;The World as I Know It... Or Well the Weekend of Sickness, Rockband and Improv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Friday Morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Woke up this morning feeling as though I swallowed a fist full (ok several) of glass. Minimal voice action. Fabulous, I answer phones for a living. That's ok though. Get to work to hear the why did you come in blah blah blah spiel. Then a customer bought me a bottle of Benilyn cuz he didn't want to listen to me hack everytime he called or came in. Aww very sweet. A just rolled her eyes and told me not to come in tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;After work Duts and I headed for our halfway between bdays mani and pedi. Very nice indeed. Although I have to admit that it really creeped me out that they used the same spongy toe divider things that they had used on the woman next to me when I had come it. Eeew! Thank God I paid the extra to have a french so they didn't both with the divider things. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Go to work in the morning anyways. Again get the why are you here you're sick spiel. After I work I went home and guzzled a full pot of coffee and proceeded to read the entire new JD Robb book in one afternoon. Fabulous book. A perfectly mushy moment for romantics too. During the course of this afternoon my brother and his friends come home with Rockband and a PS3. So fabulous. Musical talent apparently doesn't run in our family. As I was listening to my brother belt out Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead or Alive I realized that he is worse than I am and I'm freaking tone deaf. Yes yes a very interesting afternoon indeed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Later in the evening CC and I decided to go to an improv show. We chose Improv Extreme that is supposedly uncensored. So CC, AS, and Chi show up at my house (and of course have a laugh at the Rockband gong show that can be heard loud and clear to anyone in the vicinity of my house). We all pile in to my car (let me tell you 5 people in a Mazda 3 very squishy), grab EZ and head down to the theatre. Upon our arrival (around 45min before show time) I call S to see if her and J are actually coming and where they are. S tells me they are but they have to drop off J's friend (in a suburb about 1 hour away). Ah sorry S not going to make it, maybe next time. The Improv show actually not extreme at all... the only difference between Extreme and the early show is that in addition to S*** and A**, they can now say F*** and B****. BFD! The highlight of the show was someone in the audience yelling out "Do a scene about mullets!". So the actors did an unflattering take on mullets. Best part... about 10 seats down from AS was a guy with a mullet.... clearly unimpressed. Effing hilarious! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-3387226819011592209?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/3387226819011592209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=3387226819011592209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3387226819011592209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/3387226819011592209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/world-as-i-know-it.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7646268809067384041</id><published>2008-03-04T18:57:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:58:02.389-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt;Ok A Little About Me... Yeah I got it From Someone Else&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;1. What is your occupation? Order desk at an auto parts supplier &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;.2. What color are your socks right now? Black&lt;br /&gt;3. What are you listening to right now? The hum of the computer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;4. What was the last thing that you ate? Fries... mmm greasy salty goodness... gonna mix real well with ballet in oh 20 min should prob get going&lt;br /&gt;5. Can you drive a stick shift? No&lt;br /&gt;6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Why does this q always pop up? I would be black&lt;br /&gt;7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Uhh... memorably guy at a store (J). J and I joke around (I sell his store parts) and just call each other when we're bored (re slow day)&lt;br /&gt;8. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Never met her&lt;br /&gt;9. Favorite drink? Coffee... and J I love tequila, or rum whichever we're having&lt;br /&gt;10. What is your favorite sport to watch? Hockey&lt;br /&gt;11. Have you ever dyed your hair? Many many years ago I had a natural colour&lt;br /&gt;12. Pets? an old ass retriever but he's still my baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;13. Favorite food?Pizza&lt;br /&gt;14. Last movie you watched? Labrynth&lt;br /&gt;15. Favorite Day of the year? Birthday (ah still young enough... I have a feeling that won't last much longer&lt;br /&gt;16. What do you do to vent anger? Yell and throw things or kick or hit&lt;br /&gt;17. What was your favorite toy as a child?Barbies&lt;br /&gt;18. What is your favorite, fall or spring?Spring means my bday and almost summer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;19. Hugs or kisses?Bunches o’ both, together, mixed up and crazy.&lt;br /&gt;20. What kind of pie?Cherry or peach (ooh or both I shall have to bake a cherry peach pie... mmmm)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Living arrangements? Me, parents ( I know depressing), bro and a dog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;25. When was the last time you cried? Last week&lt;br /&gt;26. What is on the floor of your closet?Shoes and more shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. Favorite smell?Coffee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;30. What inspires you? Depends on what I need inspiration for&lt;br /&gt;31. What are you afraid of? Heights and snakes&lt;br /&gt;32. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Ooh any depends on my mood&lt;br /&gt;33. Favorite car?67 mustang&lt;br /&gt;34. Favorite cat breed? Uh&lt;br /&gt;35. Number of keys on your key ring? 3&lt;br /&gt;36. How many years at your current job?couple months&lt;br /&gt;37. Favorite day of the week?Friday&lt;br /&gt;38. How many provinces have you lived in? Just the one&lt;br /&gt;39. How many countries have you been to? 5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7646268809067384041?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7646268809067384041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7646268809067384041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7646268809067384041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7646268809067384041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/ok-little-about-me.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-1155982656205955020</id><published>2008-03-03T17:40:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:58:22.392-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Juanna'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;Rather Mundane Monday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Yes yes today was the mundane Monday. However M didn't show up to work so at least there was stuff to do. And by this I mean an extra line to answer. Even then really not overly busy. Some entertaining little tidbits though&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;A's brother in law (J) has been uh I guess dating is the word (really just having sex on the pretense of dating) this nasty girl in his building. The other night as he was leaving A's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apartment&lt;/span&gt; she let him know flat out what she thought. Including (and this I quote) a line of "If you even think about making that dirty, ugly slut my sister in law I will strangle you with my bare hands!" And cynical &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;opinionated&lt;/span&gt; A is back ladies and gentlemen! Oh how we have missed your bluntness!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-1155982656205955020?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/1155982656205955020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=1155982656205955020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1155982656205955020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/1155982656205955020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/rather-mundane-monday-yes-yes-today-was.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7028586183724014661</id><published>2008-03-02T15:53:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T15:56:29.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Update on Plans&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Brilliant success.... no more debates over which plan to chose (regardless of the fact that I was well on my way into plan c). Chi has texted me saying she will pick  me up at 4:30 and go for a walk at the Lake. Yay! In the meantime I shall finish up this episode of Greys and then slide into a guility pleasure known as America's Best Dance Crew (I know I know) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7028586183724014661?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7028586183724014661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7028586183724014661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7028586183724014661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7028586183724014661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/update-on-plans-brilliant-success.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-460225783676289673</id><published>2008-03-02T15:22:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T15:32:35.954-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;OK So Pretty Sure I'm the Crazy One Today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Plan a was to have a full out vegging day well into the night. All sisters, lots of chick flicks and food. So when CC told me she had to watch the dogs (yeah I know), I moved on the plan b... a hike, some lunch and maybe some shopping with Chi. When Chi at 1:30 sounded just as hungover and not awake as when I spoke to her at noon I had no choice but to move on to plan c. Plan c is how I spent most of yesterday as well. Blogs, Greys and an attempt to find food. Seriously I have lived on coffee and Lindt chocolate for the past 2 days (ok I will admit to the odd bit of leftover &lt;a href="http://www.antonspastabar.com/welcome.htm"&gt;Antons &lt;/a&gt;pasta). Now the big debate, do I walk to Safeway and get more coffee and some food, do I call someone and go out to eat or do I just forge my way through the 2nd season of Greys (ah McDreamy... him and Addy in the elevator I know its old). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Still on the sore teeth and gums. First dentist appointment on Friday to get veneers. Urgh... 2 hours of drilling and scraping and needles. For what? The temps look like there is food stuck in my teeth (seriously if one more person tells me they look better I will punch them), the hurt like a mother (eating a drinking is damn near impossible). I now have to wait 2 weeks for the real ones to come in from the lab (thanks to the dental conference next week so my dentist will not be in the office). Wtf?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-460225783676289673?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/460225783676289673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=460225783676289673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/460225783676289673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/460225783676289673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/ok-so-pretty-sure-im-crazy-one-today.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7295980018954822481</id><published>2008-03-02T13:08:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T13:18:26.594-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Long Time Gone... and Congrats to Nadine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Ok so a very long time gone from the blog. As I have parused the links I realized that many of my blogging companions have given up on their blogs also. While checking Jolie's blog I saw that her book was published! Congratulations Nadine! &lt;em&gt;Beauty Confidential &lt;/em&gt;is &lt;a href="http://www.harpercollins.com/books/9780061128639/BeautyConfidential/index.aspx"&gt;available here&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;In other Random news, new job= many new crazy people to write about! Yay! We have also moved, added to the family and desperatly need/want a new computer! In the midst of all of this I am attempting to drink a pot of cofffee (yes everyone that love has not gone away), trying not to think about the cigarette I still desperatly want, and trying to convince a very hungover C to go for hike (btw hiking is a great way to see random random crazy people). More to come shortly (and also an updated link list since most have discontinued their blogs)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7295980018954822481?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7295980018954822481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7295980018954822481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7295980018954822481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7295980018954822481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2008/03/long-time-gone.html' title=''/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-6967487439186270103</id><published>2007-04-12T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T13:28:33.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friend's With Management... So Friends With Myself Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;As the title implies I have now converted to the dark side and become a manager. Well kind of. I only have one department and several little random things where as the rest of the team has multiple areas. Oh well. C and K are still managers too so slightly less awkward. New Assistant Manger, J. J is my 'mentor'. I hate to use that word but according to the company that is it. She is supposed to teach me everything that I could ever possibly need to know. As a side note, J is diabetic and started telling me about all of the mini donuts she is going to have because there is a carnival outside. I just looked at her and used her words to me about smoking. "Health or death, you pick." Dumbass... I like her but seriously, dumbass!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-6967487439186270103?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6967487439186270103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=6967487439186270103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6967487439186270103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6967487439186270103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2007/04/friends-with-management-so-friends-with.html' title='Friend&apos;s With Management... So Friends With Myself Now'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-4870729121688505108</id><published>2007-01-11T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T19:54:38.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friend's With Management Continued</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Hi all! No I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth. Sick again though. Ear infections and no medical this time though. Oops. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;L and I came up with this great idea to expand both of our businesses. She runs a skin care and make up workshop every couple of months in an island town that she used to work in in. They have a 'coming out' party and a fashion show. Where I come in is providing some of the clothing for the show. So I write the proposal and give it to my store manager last Friday. From there he gave it to my direct boss, C. He called me and told me to go ahead (with several reservations mind you). C didn't talk to me at all really until last night when she pulled me into the office and completely attacked me. She didn't even leave it to the issue at hand but dredged up every other little and big thing that happened in the last 6 months. I know that I did wrong with the proposal (which she also indirectly called me stupid and accused me of getting my brother to write for me) but she had no right to bring up everything else in the last several months. She flat out attacked me and fully expected me to answer to everything on the spot. Fuck that!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-4870729121688505108?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4870729121688505108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=4870729121688505108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4870729121688505108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4870729121688505108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2007/01/friends-with-management-continued.html' title='Friend&apos;s With Management Continued'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-5657942155833220654</id><published>2006-12-16T18:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T18:18:17.152-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So Sick</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Sorry everyone, been so sick for the last little while. Every fibre of my being has been infected with this nasty virus that involved everything from fevers and delusions and death dreams that continued from one day to the next. It was just totally nasty. We have had no power at work the last two days but are still expected to be there so I called in sick yesterday and today. Granted I have felt much better over those two days and probably should have worked. But it was so nice to spend yesterday cuddled up to L's younger son while it stormed outside. Spending time with kids can really open your eyes to the rest of the world. You get the ability to see both sides of something just a little bit clearer. And they are so sweet when you are sick. A little hand with a voice saying "it's ok,just sleep", and your hearts just melt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-5657942155833220654?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/5657942155833220654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=5657942155833220654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/5657942155833220654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/5657942155833220654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/12/so-sick.html' title='So Sick'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-6022299902568815814</id><published>2006-11-15T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T11:45:32.018-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends With Managment... Is It Possible?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Is it possible to be friends with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;management&lt;/span&gt; at work? Case in point, my direct boss, C. We got to be really good friends and then got in this huge fight over a visit from our then project manager. Nothing has been the same since. Last night we had our Holiday Girl Time Gala, a private after hours event for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;preferred&lt;/span&gt; customers. After that the new cosmetics manager, whom worked in ladies wear when I started, K invited me for drinks with her. So off the two of us go for drinks. At this point I realized that although K and I knew each other well at work, she is a very different person outside of work. I like her both ways. Me I am who I am, regardless of where I am. K pointed out that become good friends with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;management&lt;/span&gt; is a mistake (K what the hell were we doing last night then?), and that I do way too much. After 2 double &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bellini's&lt;/span&gt; she made me sign a 'legally binding contract' to not baby sit or house sit for my friends any more. They are my friends and will understand when I say no. Made me sign it then added a post script that I will only do baby sit or house sit for my very best friend, K. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Lol&lt;/span&gt;, K that was awesome, and we should &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; do that more often!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-6022299902568815814?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/6022299902568815814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=6022299902568815814' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6022299902568815814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/6022299902568815814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/11/friends-with-managment-is-it-possible.html' title='Friends With Managment... Is It Possible?'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-4320565764297354197</id><published>2006-11-12T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T23:48:15.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Platinum and Pink</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So I'm outside on my last coffee break today and I look over a notice the couple sitting next to me. The guy was just your average 40-something guy. The woman on the other hand had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;platinum&lt;/span&gt; blond hair with jet black eyebrows (not to mention the roots), fully done make up and to top it off, bright pink lipstick. What is it with society's blond obsession? Inseret "Dirty Laundry" lyrics here. That look has to be the most overdone, fake look ever. Not to mention the fact that it is the basis of dumb blond looks. So two questions; are guys really attracted to this extremely fake and high maintance look; and are women really that insecure that they have to go from being themselves, to being the kind of phony, to the complete fake? Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I despise them, several of my own friends are like that in a way. Some do it really well (L) some not so much (T). In this case, L is the inbetween cuz she softens it to a honey tone, and you can hardly tell the difference when her roots grow a bit, T on the other hand has the complete package of platinum and pink. Will our obsession ever end, or will we simply sucumb to the era of the bubble headed bleached blond?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-4320565764297354197?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/4320565764297354197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=4320565764297354197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4320565764297354197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/4320565764297354197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/11/platinum-and-pink.html' title='Platinum and Pink'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-8547125868321840307</id><published>2006-11-07T22:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T22:26:08.349-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work Life vs Personal Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So I met two of my sister's at work many years ago. Since then we have all grown and (well most of us) have matured. Both of them moved on to other jobs that were specifically related to their fields. I stayed and moved up in the company. It is not my field of choice, however it is a deffinite back up option. I know that if I want to move up further I can. So for the last couple of years, all four of us have had completely separate and distinct work lives. Obviously there has been some overlap, but for the most part they are separate. When my sister C left, she had nothing but negative things to say about the company. Well she now claims that her current job is not paying enough so she took on a couple days at my company. As a side note, it is fairly well known that C and I have not been getting along all that well lately either. I saw her there today (we were both working) and I was astounded at the anger that I felt. Because we all have pretty well the same group of friend's, this company was my territory. I found it totally annoying to hear her for the last hour of my shift. I see her often enough as it is, just fucking let me do my job without hearing her damn voice too!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-8547125868321840307?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/8547125868321840307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=8547125868321840307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8547125868321840307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/8547125868321840307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/11/work-life-vs-personal-life.html' title='Work Life vs Personal Life'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-993059549250009546</id><published>2006-11-07T00:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T00:44:20.225-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotional Purging</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Had dinner at L's tonight. Her hubby C is sick, the boys are tired and tempermental, I'm worn right out and have a huge assignment due Wednesday morning which I have barely started. I had already decided that I was leaving around 7:30ish. By that point C is going to bed, M is nearly in tears because he is so frustrated with his homework, CM is in tears because I wouldn't give him ice cream, L is trying to sort of M's homework and I am ready to tear my hair out. Then I get such a loving (please do note that there should be sarcasm in here) text from my sister, CC. So I go outside to fight with her. It was ridiculous. By the time everyone gets settled it is closer to 9:30, so L and I started talking. Well we dredged up everything. From her mom, my mom, health issues, insecurities. When I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING.Things that I would never tell anyone. She was in tears, I was in tears and all at different times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;A couple weeks ago, she wrote me a very sweet letter and told me to face myself and accept the gifts that I have. Everytime I look at the letter I wonder what gifts she is talking about. I never see myself this way, I'm more the, this person pissed me off, how could (s)he do that to so and so, I'm gonna kick there ass type of person. So I asked her about it. She made me sit there staring into a mirror well she started describing my gifts. We made it through the physical before we got on a far more emotional topic and both started crying yet again. On a my &lt;a href="http://life-trials.blogspot.com/"&gt;other blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://life-trials.blogspot.com/"&gt; &lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I had another post called emotional purging. This is what sprouted all of these letters, plus get a little wine in L and I and the emotions start to fly. Probably part of why C always decides to head to bed early.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-993059549250009546?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/993059549250009546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=993059549250009546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/993059549250009546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/993059549250009546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/11/emotional-purging.html' title='Emotional Purging'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7281949502791348793</id><published>2006-11-07T00:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T00:28:27.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update on Marriage</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So M didn't propose to CC. She was pissed. So of course then she comes to me going why the fuck did you tell him to buy me a ring? What were you thinking? On the plus side it is a beautiful ring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7281949502791348793?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7281949502791348793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7281949502791348793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7281949502791348793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7281949502791348793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/11/update-on-marriage.html' title='Update on Marriage'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-9002980048054932801</id><published>2006-10-31T23:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T23:09:44.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So my sister, CC's boyfriend stopped in to see me at work today. We chatted for a bit, then I had to go. So he stops me as I'm leaving to say that he is going to by CC jewellery and wants to know if I have any suggestions. So I tell him that she wants a ring (they have been together about 6 months, but about 2 years ago they had been together for years before that) because she misses having a 'promise ring'. Next weekend they are going away to a fancy ski resort. He came to find me later to show me a beautiful diamond solitare set in white gold. He says he is going to give it to her when they are at the resort. Of course my mushy heart is thinking oh my God he is going to propose this weekend. Awwww. So cute. Updates to follow next week. Unfortunatly I can't tell any of my other sisters so I'm stuck here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-9002980048054932801?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/9002980048054932801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=9002980048054932801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/9002980048054932801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/9002980048054932801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/10/marriage.html' title='Marriage'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-7300912337901225852</id><published>2006-10-29T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T19:01:56.742-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is She or Isn't She... That Tis the Question</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So one of my sisters, E, has been wondering if our friend L is cheating on her hubby. I say no, but I still wonder (unfortunatly for L so does her hubby). My sister comes to&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;visit me at work today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I work in fashion, L works at a cosmetics counter in the same store. E and I talk for a bit then she says she is going to go say hi to L. When my shift is over, E and I head outside for a smoke. She proceeds to tell me about this guy who looks very similar to L's hubby (but different enough that she knew it wasn't) came over to the counter. Him and L hug and she kind of 'subtly' moves E along. This has totally piques E's curiousity. Hence why she mentioned it to me. If anyone would get to the bottom of it I would. Between flat out asking L, to subtle questions, or as a last resort asking L's friend W. Hehe, sneaky, but asking W won't work because W is having an affair and isn't a fan of L and I spending time together. REAAAAALLLLY want to know. Thanks E for perking up my interest too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-7300912337901225852?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/7300912337901225852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=7300912337901225852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7300912337901225852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/7300912337901225852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/10/is-she-or-isnt-she-that-tis-question.html' title='Is She or Isn&apos;t She... That Tis the Question'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-2665804600094946132</id><published>2006-10-27T19:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T19:18:09.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ignorance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So I'm leaving work today, and I see a woman, A, from another department out having a smoke. Being the consistent smoker that I am, I join her. The headline in todays paper was about a young teacher who was pregnant and murdered (hi, Scott Pederson flashbacks, anyone). This young woman was East Indian. A is German and the other woman was just plain caucasian. Both of them are going on about how ridiculous the East Indian culture is to women and how of course the husband or the brother in law killed her etc. Now, don't get me wrong I fully believe that her husband killed her, but that is based simply on previous cases and slight descriptions from the papers. If that was how A and this random woman proceeded with this conversation, fine. But no, just about everything is a stereotype about the culture, not to mention A's rambling about the law and what the police need. She claims that they need to break the family and get a confession. Sorry hun, but I'm a third year crim student, unless there is evidence to support the confession, it aint gonna do a whole hell of a lot. Argh, I was so damn angry from this conversation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-2665804600094946132?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/2665804600094946132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=2665804600094946132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2665804600094946132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/2665804600094946132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/10/ignorance.html' title='Ignorance'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36625174.post-116184633425765891</id><published>2006-10-25T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T00:43:22.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;As the title states, this is a new blog for me. My previous (and still existing blog) can be found &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://life-trials.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;. I let one of my friends know about my formerly anonymous blog so I had to create a new one. I will still update both on a regular basis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Today's observation will be on XBF. Met XBF at the pub tonight. Been awhile since we've talked so I figured why not eh. After an hour I had heard the same stories for the billionith time and he kept giving me the same old puppy dog look. I remembered why I broke up with him. Every once in awhile I will wonder if I should have stayed with him. So I'll call him up, we'll go out and I will remember exactly why we are 'just friends'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;*Update* I have already gotten another text from him saying that he wants to hang out again. I will get about 6 of these this week and a couple next week until I actually decide to see him again. This is a major reason why we broke up in the first place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36625174-116184633425765891?l=tindacity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/feeds/116184633425765891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36625174&amp;postID=116184633425765891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/116184633425765891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36625174/posts/default/116184633425765891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tindacity.blogspot.com/2006/10/new-blog.html' title='New Blog'/><author><name>T</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11340195119283247313</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_08STYNSOoz8/SB4k31zPoHI/AAAAAAAAAAg/ALkJlaHH3SY/S220/DSC01287.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
