<?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-8514017</id><updated>2011-07-28T15:30:13.905-04:00</updated><category term='missed my blog'/><category term='been too long'/><category term='oops'/><category term='Update'/><category term='shows'/><category term='yoga'/><category term='school'/><category term='missed you'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>People are stupid</title><subtitle type='html'>The behind the bar alley where I get to verbally vomit&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imood.com/users/_J_"&gt;&lt;img src="http://moods.imood.com/display/uname=_J_/fg=ffffff/trans=1/imood.gif" alt="The current mood of _J_ at www.imood.com" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>564</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1946953516201623674</id><published>2011-05-08T14:46:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T16:17:49.312-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Best May Eve and May Day EVER!!!!!  (Still high from the experience..)</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have desired to write this post since last weekend, but no words were coming to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend was May Eve and May Day.  Beltane Energy was running high for those of us here.  The entire MayFest is foggy in my memory.  I can remember points of interest here and there.  I have not been able to remember in any kind of linear fashion in order to write about it.  Those may be my own restrictions that are hindering me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know the myth attached to Faerie Rings?  It used to be quite common.  People used to avoid Faerie Rings like we avoid puddles.  Maybe more so...  If you step into Faerie, either on purpose or accidentally, your World changes.  Your senses are delighted, and you are in a different World with a different way of keeping Time.  One night in Faerie equals 100 years in our World.  Step in, feel good, party like you've never partied before, step out, and all your friends are dead and the World has moved on without you.  Ah, the danger of Faerie...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend felt like being in Faerie...  There was Love, Passion, Fun, Song and Dance, an Openness that's very unusual for a crowd to share and More...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had decided it would be okay if, upon waking, I found the World had moved on.  My friends were in Faerie with me, so how could it possibly be a bad thing?  It couldn't.  If we decided we didn't want to be in the World, we could have stepped back into Faerie for another one hundred years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what else to say...  If Faerie beckoned me again, I would go..  (and in less than two weeks I'll be heading to Ireland - Land of the Fae.  We'll see what happens then...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;" &gt;Dance of the Wild Faeries &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;Gary Stadler And Windy Rule&lt;br /&gt;Posted November 5th, 2009 at 3:16PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wandered alone to the forest one night&lt;br /&gt;Led by a music strange to hear&lt;br /&gt;And followed the glow of a shimming light&lt;br /&gt;That seemed to grow distant as I grew near&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woods were alive with the fragrance of spring&lt;br /&gt;But winter was everywhere clear to see&lt;br /&gt;The moon shone bright and a bat on the wing&lt;br /&gt;Beckoned me closer and said to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A clearing close In the forest you'll find&lt;br /&gt;A fabulous banquet, a fairy ball&lt;br /&gt;If you close your eyes and you open your mind&lt;br /&gt;The veil disappears and you'll see it all"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come and play as the wild fairies play&lt;br /&gt;In a magical circle, a fairy ring&lt;br /&gt;You won't want to leave and forever you'll stay&lt;br /&gt;Where the vision is bright as spring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come and dance the wild fairy dance&lt;br /&gt;Spin in a circle as fast as light&lt;br /&gt;Once you begin you are caught in a trance&lt;br /&gt;And the world can grow old in a single night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I closed my eyes to the shimmering light&lt;br /&gt;All memory faded and I could see&lt;br /&gt;That a mushroom circle of red and white&lt;br /&gt;And myriad fairies surrounded me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond all space and beyond all time&lt;br /&gt;On gossamer wings did the fairies fly&lt;br /&gt;With a joy unknown to a music sublime&lt;br /&gt;The fairies danced, and there danced I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come and play as the wild fairies play&lt;br /&gt;In a magical circle, a fairy ring&lt;br /&gt;You won't want to leave and forever you'll stay&lt;br /&gt;Where the vision is bright as spring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come and dance the wild fairy dance&lt;br /&gt;Spin in a circle as fast as light&lt;br /&gt;Once you begin you are caught in a trance&lt;br /&gt;And the world can grow old in a single night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Those who seek us surely find us&lt;br /&gt;See the trail we leave behind us&lt;br /&gt;Some bewildered, some enlightened&lt;br /&gt;Some are brave, some are frightened&lt;br /&gt;Are we kind or are we vicious?&lt;br /&gt;Nectar poison or delicious?&lt;br /&gt;That, my sweet, you will discover&lt;br /&gt;Fairy foe, or fairy lover"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come and play as the wild fairies play&lt;br /&gt;In a magical circle, a fairy ring&lt;br /&gt;You won't want to leave and forever you'll stay&lt;br /&gt;Where the vision is bright as spring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come and dance the wild fairy dance&lt;br /&gt;Spin in a circle as fast as light&lt;br /&gt;Once you begin you are caught in a trance&lt;br /&gt;And the world can grow old in a single night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wandered alone to the forest one night&lt;br /&gt;Led by a music strange to hear&lt;br /&gt;If you happen to pass when the moon is bright&lt;br /&gt;And the veils are thin you will find me here...&lt;br /&gt;If the veils are thin you will find me here&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a YouTube link to hear the song.  Most of the time when I hear it, it's Little Diva singing it slower, with a lilting Faerie-like voice that makes me want to run into the woods and get lost....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JlTCXpHl_Q"&gt;Wild Faeries Dance&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lyrics on YouTube are slightly different towards the end than the ones I've posted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1946953516201623674?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1946953516201623674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1946953516201623674&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1946953516201623674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1946953516201623674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/05/best-may-eve-and-may-day-ever-still.html' title='Best May Eve and May Day EVER!!!!!  (Still high from the experience..)'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4132143852123976116</id><published>2011-04-26T10:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T11:49:41.765-04:00</updated><title type='text'>10 years ago today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We hopped in the car and moved to the Great State of Tennessee.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10 years ago today, L drove a giant Uhaul 22 1/2 hours, straight through from Minnesota, and we arrived at my mom's house at 3:30am on the 27th.  When we woke up, on the 27th, we headed over to our temporary trailer - temporary, because we were planning on moving to Knoxville as soon as possible to be closer to L's job.  It was an awful place to live in the 2000's, but in the 70's, when it was new, it was a 'high end' trailer.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10 years ago today, we began our Southern learning, starting with the redneck family living across the dirt road from us.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10 years ago today, our lives completely changed, and we were on our new path as a family and as individuals.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10 years ago today, we started on a brand new adventure, and we are still wondering where it will take us.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10 years ago today feels like yesterday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4132143852123976116?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4132143852123976116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4132143852123976116&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4132143852123976116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4132143852123976116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/04/10-years-ago-today.html' title='10 years ago today...'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4362015395919566200</id><published>2011-04-14T18:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T02:24:50.251-04:00</updated><title type='text'>IRELAND!!!!!! or Why fight the Awesome?</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to Ireland in May!!!!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine, K, has been requested to design and build a Meditation Garden for the 17th incarnation of a Tibetan artist.  He's part of the Dalai Lama's inner circle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lives in Ireland with his Irish fairy-like wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will be on the coast in Southwest Ireland.  It's beautiful there, I'm told.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There are so many unknowns for this trip.  We know we'll be staying on his acreage, but accommodations are unknown.  We'll figure out how we'll need to adjust once we are there.  Hippie road trip!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are going to party in Dublin for the first few days, before we start working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K has come up with a million ideas for designs so far.  That's also an unknown.  I have no idea exactly what we'll be creating.  It will be beautiful.  That's a certainty.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I am a picky eater, and I'm not exactly fond of blood as an ingredient (like for black pudding).  It's unknown what I will be able or willing to eat.  Although, they do have potatoes, cheese, and bread, so I will have sustenance.  I also hope to gain weight while I am there.  There is no Mt. Dew (my favorite), so I will have to figure out something else.  I plan to try Nash's Red Lemonade.  I get to explore the food realm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did get an International Driving Permit, which totally cracks me up.  I've never been outside the good ol' U S of A before, so driving on the wrong side of the road should be interesting.  If I can manage it...  It sounds like we'll be renting an Aston Martin to drive while there.  It's either that or a BMW.  No, seriously...  Those are the two choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course - the unknown unknowns - like international travel.  I have no idea what that will entail.  I can only hope to not look like a stupid 'Mercan (2 syllables).  There will be other unknown unknowns that I have no inkling of so far...  (That's what makes them "unknown" *laugh*.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this time, the two cultures, Irish and Tibetan, are also pretty big unknowns.  I will be researching that before packing.  I do not wish to offend through ignorance. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This is how I described it in an email to someone earlier this month:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Ireland is this whirlwind I am currently caught up in...  Totally great!!!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Our friend K met the Dalai Lama's best friend, who is the 17th incarnation of a certain Tibetan artist.  He has acreage in Ireland, where he currently lives (can't remember the exact reason, but it's also interesting).  He wants K to make him a Meditation Garden, which will be no small thing.  Lots of different features, different areas, different...  Well, we won't know exactly until we get there.  She asked me along to help her create the Meditation Garden.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So, basically, we're gonna go hang with the Dalai Lama's posse (who hangs out with Princes - Prince Charles, for example), in Ireland, to create a thing of beauty on his acreage, with cliffs overlooking the ocean, for nearly three weeks.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;How does this even happen???  We don't know, either, but why fight the Awesome?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'M GOING TO IRELAND IN MAY!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4362015395919566200?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4362015395919566200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4362015395919566200&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4362015395919566200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4362015395919566200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/04/ireland-or-why-fight-awesome.html' title='IRELAND!!!!!! or Why fight the Awesome?'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-8967598562391070745</id><published>2011-04-04T18:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T18:57:38.917-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mercury RX in Aries: Pyromancy</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://austincoppock.com/2011/03/mercury-retrograde-in-aries-pyromancy/"&gt;Mercury RX in Aries: Pyromancy | The Astrology of Austin Coppock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MERCURY RX IN ARIES: PYROMANCY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31 MARCH 2011&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury goes retrograde in Aries on March 30th. The swift planet will walk backward until April 22nd, treating us to the usual slew of miscommunications, dropped calls, broken phones and scheduling changes. However, this particular Mercury retrograde presides over a rare pile up of planets in Aries, with a minimum 5 planets present in the excitable sign from April 1st to May 10th. With a disproportionate amount of energy in fiery Aries, there is a strong pull towards headfirst plunges, reckless charges, needless conflicts and inflated egos.  Many will make thoughtless, short term decisions that have long term consequences.   Nonetheless, unprecedented self-empowerment and independence is also in the air.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Calcinating the Tower&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This conflagration is fed by Mercury retrograde’s strange wind. The fire eats the fallen Towers, licking old bricks, separating the spirit from static concretions.  The raw energy being generated is immensely creative,  but the process of breaking down the gross into the subtle must first be completed. Mercury retrograde’s shifting winds fan this fire, blowing the coals hot. Our minds ride this scorching wind, casting our perceptions into the chaotic patterns of swirling flame.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Reading Fire&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we are led to practice the ancient art of pyromancy- reading the future in the work of flames. We see the futures we’ll be capable of creating once the energy has been liberated. Not only that, but visions of the people we could become within those futures. Potential dances before us here, easily confused with the present. But the amount of energy we’ll have to create these futures is dependent on how much is liberated from the persistent Towers we defend. Let the flames feed on these worn out patterns. Let Mercury’s retrograde guide you through the possibilities being unleashed, but don’t seize upon any future until all have had their chance to parade before you. Trying to hurry this process is as useless as trying to delay it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Phoenix Blueprint&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the Mercury’s long haul, April 22nd, the messenger will station direct opposite Saturn in Libra.  As we draw closer to this about-face, the winds will begin to blow our minds away from visions and toward concrete plans.  Here we’ll see the consequences of rash actions manifest, and the re-crystalization of  liberated energies beginning to emerge in the world of form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A Mundane Note&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While individuals exhibit the capacity for thoughtful and even enlightened decision-making, the same is rarely true of nations.  This April’s configurations spotlight instabilities worldwide, but particularly in Asia and the Middle East.  Expect some saber-rattling and a riot or two.  China’s chart is especially challenged by the bulk of planets in Aries, with internal tensions threatening to boil over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;HOROSCOPES&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Aries: The Ram&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde sees you rethinking yourself  as big new energies work their way through your psyche. You’ll find yourself revising your self concept in order to accommodate the growth unlocked by Jupiter in Aries and the cracks opened by Uranus’ recent ingress into Aries. But its not all about realizing how much more awesome you are than you thought. With Mercury’s direct station coming opposite Saturn, there’s another test entailed here. You’ve got to accept the limitations imposed on who you by your relationship to others.  Living in a world with other people means not doing everything you feel like doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Taurus: The Bull&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde sees you discovering personal power you didn’t believe you had. Kept on the outside of the structure of your ego, this Mercury retrograde sees hidden power walking crooked pathways into your waking life. While becoming aware of power you didn’t know you had sounds like a good thing, it’s an awkward process, as much of this power will emerge in an immature and half conscious manner. Be very careful about the impact of your actions on other people during this period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Gemini: The Twins&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries sees you reconsidering where you stand in the social world. Your web of connections is charged, and likely the site of much action over the next couple weeks. You can expect a series of miscommunications and missed connections. Also consider the tone of your communications, as it will be very easy to generate conflicts with others during this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cancer: The Crab&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries will see you revising your professional position. Take the time to rethink your approach to your career in the context of recent growth and even more recent revelations. Due to Uranus’  ingress into Aries, there is a tendency to become distracted by new ideas and novel professional directions. Note them, but you’ll regret spending too much time chasing future selves in a time that demands so much attention to the present. You are also likely going to need to spend a fair amount of time working the kinks out of your living situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Leo: The Lion&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries sees you reconsidering your long term goals in light of recent revelations. Novel thoughts and shattering insights into where you COULD go are likely to distract you as you engage in the planning process. By all means note the futures dancing before you, but also note the steps between here and there. Mercury’s eventual opposition to Saturn in Libra promises that it will be the short term plans that will either enable or prevent you from being capable of reaching for the far flung futures that have begun to bloom in your mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Virgo: The Virgin&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries sees you thinking about teaming up with other people, or retreating from similar engagements. As you consider who to team up with and who to disconnect from, it is important that you consider the limitations of your own resources. Do not let all of your attention be occupied by others, as refilling your own resources is the secret key to excelling during this period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Libra: The Scales&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries this April marks an important series of conversations with people in your life. Your relationships are undergoing a strong mutation period. This volatile span of time represents a “changing of the guard” as far as who occupies what role in your personal life. Because of the incendiary nature of the next month, it is doubly important that you not fall prey to the typical Mercury retrograde tendency toward unclear communications. The challenge is to be honest without being abrasive. By the end of Mercury’s retrograde, it will become clear how all of this plays into Saturn’s process of breaking down and rebuilding your life structure along more coherent, balanced lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Scorpio: The Scorpion&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries places a focus on your habits. You’ll be pushed to reconsider your routines, being pushed to take both good and bad habits to an extreme over the next month. Although taking good habits to an extreme may sound like a good thing, it isn’t.  It simply insures that you won’t be able to maintain them. The secret key to this period is to find a balance of virtue and vice that you can live with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sagittarius: The Archer&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries sees you reconsidering what to do with the energy at your disposal. Recent growth and even more recent revelations see you with a lot of energy and even more choices in hand. The question is which of these things can contribute meaningfully to your ideal life. This period contains within it a strong tendency to waste the liberated energy you have.  At the same time, you have to be very careful not to commit to anything too swiftly. Spend a little time in the between space, considering what could be before committing to a single course of action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Capricorn: The Goat&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries sees you considering your literal living situation and assessing the state of your emotional foundations. Your choices about where to live and how are in direct relationship to the demands of your professional direction. The question lying beneath this is an ongoing, if confusing, process of personal empowerment. Let your living space reflect the radical personal empowerment you need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Aquarius: The Water Bearer&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries sees you overwhelmed with little chores and short term goals. While there is a tendency to get caught up in the immediate chaos, it is important that you don’t take your eye off the prize of your long term goals.  As you wade through the maze of what-needs-to-be-done, remember the direction you’re heading, even if you can’t quite see the finish line from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Pisces: The Fishes&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercury’s retrograde through Aries sees you reconsidering the resources at your disposal.  There’s plenty of opportunity as well as a number of revelations about how to fill your personal coffers right now, but you’ve also got to fulfill your obligations to others.  Find the balance between a focus on your personal resources and commitments to team projects.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-8967598562391070745?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://austincoppock.com/2011/03/mercury-retrograde-in-aries-pyromancy/' title='Mercury RX in Aries: Pyromancy'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/8967598562391070745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=8967598562391070745&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8967598562391070745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8967598562391070745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/04/mercury-rx-in-aries-pyromancy.html' title='Mercury RX in Aries: Pyromancy'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-9174581698570018206</id><published>2011-04-04T12:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T12:15:03.876-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Grooveshark (or Blog This!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My absolute favorite place to make online playlists...  ...for now, anyway..  It used to be Finetune way back before they changed everything..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Grooveshark (or 'Grvshrk' as I have it on my Bookmarks Bar) is so unbelievably easy to create or destroy playlists, and the songs on them.  You can even X out songs you don't want to hear that day, but it does not remove them from the list - unless you delete it there, as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/"&gt;Grooveshark - Listen to Free Music Online - Internet Radio - Free MP3 Streaming&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly, this post is because I am testing out the "Blog This! (by Google) button I have added...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-9174581698570018206?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/' title='Grooveshark (or Blog This!)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/9174581698570018206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=9174581698570018206&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/9174581698570018206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/9174581698570018206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/04/grooveshark-or-blog-this.html' title='Grooveshark (or Blog This!)'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3012075387989863457</id><published>2011-04-04T11:39:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T12:03:52.047-04:00</updated><title type='text'>There are some things I miss...</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://winorthwoodsobservatory.smugmug.com/Nature/Astrophotography/16098654_8WSea#1238122736_XChPu-A-LB"&gt;Astrophotography - WiNorthwoodsObservatory&amp;#39;s Photos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a movie taken April 2nd in Wisconsin of the Deep Sky Auroras..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://winorthwoodsobservatory.smugmug.com/Nature/Astrophotography/16098654_8WSea#1237728252_hnJ7o-O-LB"&gt;Astrophotography - WiNorthwoodsObservatory&amp;#39;s Photos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a picture taken the same night...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pjT2Nep3xXA/TZnqHs8aH6I/AAAAAAAAABg/zfTVYBhuSjs/s1600/WI%2BNorthern%2BLights%2B4-2-2011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pjT2Nep3xXA/TZnqHs8aH6I/AAAAAAAAABg/zfTVYBhuSjs/s320/WI%2BNorthern%2BLights%2B4-2-2011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591757830401695650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gorgeous!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living in Tennessee now, I don't have the chance to see the Northern Lights like I did in Minnesota...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3012075387989863457?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://winorthwoodsobservatory.smugmug.com/Nature/Astrophotography/16098654_8WSea#1238122736_XChPu-A-LB' title='There are some things I miss...'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3012075387989863457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3012075387989863457&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3012075387989863457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3012075387989863457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/04/astrophotography-winorthwoodsobservator.html' title='There are some things I miss...'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pjT2Nep3xXA/TZnqHs8aH6I/AAAAAAAAABg/zfTVYBhuSjs/s72-c/WI%2BNorthern%2BLights%2B4-2-2011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7649142708424196550</id><published>2011-04-03T14:10:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T14:28:50.840-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ditch Witch (x2) In FairyTale Land</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, not the brand name..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this unnatural love of digging.  I love having a shovel in my hand, seeing the progress as I go...  What is so unnatural about this, you may ask?  I DO NOT have a love for manual labor.  I prefer to delegate (unless I'm the only one that can do it correctly).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sound arrogant and lazy, I know..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not exactly that, though.  It is merely a question of motivation.  For instance, I have absolutely no desire to gather brush, chop wood, or anything at all to do with firewood, except enjoy the fire and aerate it after it is burning, but there &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; someone here who LOVES anything wood.  He will even chop wood in the dark with a flashlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand.  Give me a shovel.  I'll be there all day and into the night, if possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I get dressed and brush my teeth, I'm outta here to go work on a natural spring with another Witch, and make it more beautiful than it already is.  We are allowing it to breathe, to flow...  TO BE, once again.  It used to be the spring they drank out of when they first bought the place back in the 80's...  Before that, a local moonshiner (now dead) had one of his stills in this spring...  I have felt drawn to this spot, just like the woman with whom I'm working on this project..  (Who?  Whom?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait!!  I've been waiting all week to go diggin'!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7649142708424196550?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7649142708424196550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7649142708424196550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7649142708424196550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7649142708424196550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/04/ditch-witch-x2-in-fairytale-land.html' title='Ditch Witch (x2) In FairyTale Land'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5920450305019719508</id><published>2011-03-26T16:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T11:59:15.827-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I want this on my front door</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's another one I received in an email with the Subject line "the truth".&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Women are Angels.&lt;br /&gt;    And when someone breaks our wings,&lt;br /&gt;we simply continue to fly..... on a broomstick.&lt;br /&gt;                We’re flexible like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5920450305019719508?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5920450305019719508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5920450305019719508&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5920450305019719508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5920450305019719508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-want-this-on-my-front-door.html' title='I want this on my front door'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3122278429717257210</id><published>2011-03-26T14:45:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T14:31:33.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Statements that resonate with me</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order for you to insult me, I would have to value your opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't attempt to drag everyone you come in contact with under the bus with you, just because you were stupid enough to play in traffic!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Especially this one:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Don't make your problem MY problem, because you won't like how I handle it.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Just because you think before you speak does not necessarily mean you have something intelligent to say!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I could just slap the stupid out of people, but I know the only outcome would be a sore hand...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I wish I could do this one:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When life gives you crap, stick it in a bag, light it on fire, and leave it on the porch of the person who caused it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The human gene pool needs chlorine!  (old, but still true)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3122278429717257210?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3122278429717257210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3122278429717257210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3122278429717257210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3122278429717257210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/03/statements-that-resonate-with-me.html' title='Statements that resonate with me'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3707971266248157712</id><published>2011-03-21T12:57:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T12:01:00.997-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Conclusions?  Interpretations?  Comments??</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are copies of two emails.  The first one I wrote, and the second is the response I received.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three very good men got thrown off a neighbor's property, and one of the reasons screamed at my husband (to take back to me one assumes) was that if his "serious bitch" of a wife ever wrote another "fucking email" like that again, blah, blah blah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below would be the "fucking email" referenced... ...and the response...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Draw your own conclusions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Sent: Thursday, March 25, 2010 3:50 PM&lt;br /&gt;Subject: &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;A very loving 'heads up'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I feel compelled to write to you both.  I have heard at least two stories from people that were unknowingly dosed during last weekend's Festival.  In both situations, the person offering 'just a drink' didn't specify what they were sharing.  In one case, after a couple swigs of rum, the victim saw faces melting and women with full beards.  In another, from the tiniest sip of wine, she couldn't speak coherently for 30 hours afterwards.  I heard, not verified, that there was a laced orange soda going around, as well.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I know it wasn't either of you, and I wasn't sure if you were even aware it had happened.  Hence, my feeling compelled to write...  From all accounts I have heard, it was the same culprits in each instance.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I realize the simple answer is to not drink what is offered to you.  That is not the best answer for me, personally.  One of the beautiful things about any festival I have been to is the connection, the group mind, the love, and the sharing.  If I have to have my guard up for reasons of personal safety and well-being, it is not a place I desire to be.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I love you guys.  You have a beautiful vibe.  If it was only me I had to look out for, I might feel differently.  I cannot be on the lookout for my family at all times, however.  It would be very bad if something like that happened to either L---- or A-----.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I really don't know what to do, beyond informing both of you of this activity, and keeping my family safe.  Obviously, not the most ideal solution...  I want to show my support for your endeavors.  How do I do that when a very real element of fear has entered the scene for me and mine?  If you have other, better ideas, I would love to know what they are.  I think this situation needs to be resolved, for safety reasons, if nothing else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you both.  I felt I had to say something.  I would hate for either of you to be blindsided later.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;May the Goddess Bless You,&lt;br /&gt;~J~&lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;RE: A very loving 'heads up'&lt;/span&gt; Thursday, March 25, 2010 3:46 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I assure you we know nothing of this.  I doubt it is true.  Thanks for your concerns.  We certainly don’t want unfounded slanderous rumors like that floating around, in print or orally, so thanks for letting us know.  Please erase this email.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Signed]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3707971266248157712?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3707971266248157712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3707971266248157712&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3707971266248157712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3707971266248157712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2011/03/conclusions-interpretations-comments.html' title='Conclusions?  Interpretations?  Comments??'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-6490160239046083878</id><published>2008-11-24T11:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T13:38:20.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My blog is always here for me...</title><content type='html'>I think I need to start blogging again.  So much shit has happened, and there have been so many times when I felt I didn't have anyone to turn to.  I forgot what a friend and what a stress relief my blog was.  I can say anything here.  I forgot I have always had this to turn to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been evaluating who my real friends are.  My foundation has been crashing down around me, and this is my chance to rebuild.  I get to choose.  I get to decide what I want to build the rest of my life and choices on.  It's really a fantastic opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong.  It sucks SO BAD, but that's how all great things begin, right?  Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have realized who has always been there for me, and I am keeping them close.  Sticking them right in my foundation, as it were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have become stagnant on my spiritual/magickal/whatever-you-call-it path.  I need to get going on that.  Wait.  I have become stagnant in one aspect of my path.  There are other aspects that have grown leaps and bounds...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am facing difficulties I once pronounced I would never deal with.  See?  Never say never.  TRUST ME ON THAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have constantly been making pro/con lists to make decisions about my life and the people in it.  It's all about worth...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So- to the people I don't see all the time (or ever): Dollface, Cyli, Cricket - Still love you guys!!!!  No worries there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have wanted to go off on so many people of late.  That's not really my style, but Holy Shitballs!  I've been so tempted to give in to it...  And, if I'm going to be honest (and I'm blogging, so duh), I have lost my cool more times in the last 6 months than in the last 10 years.  It's been fascinating to watch, but exhausting to experience...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have never been my favorite creatures.  Well, obviously...  Look at what my blog is named...  They have become even more distasteful to me recently.  All the stupid ass, childish, behind-the-scenes, I-can't-believe-I-ever-called-you-friend crap has made me want to isolate myself.  I LIKE me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't there a song like that?  "I want you to be less like you and more like me" or something close to that...  That's pretty much how I feel.  Like I'm one of the few adults in a sea of very old children...  Doesn't anyone care about growing up, personal responsibility, improving themselves and their lives, getting rid of hang-ups, facing insecurities and fears, - just becoming an all-around improved person?  Doesn't anyone want to achieve anything greater than plain existence?  Being born is not an achievement, hate to break it to you...  Freakin' humans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what else amazes me?  People are so willing to throw me away before a careful examination.  So stupid...  Why would anyone want to remove a person of value and worth from their life?  Is it some way to avoid looking at their own self?  I hope not.  That's TOO textbook, too easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, People Are Stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freakin' sheeple...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is this one chick that I used to be 'friends' with.  I mean, not really, cuz she is incapable of being a real friend.  But those things aren't always obvious at first...  Anyway - she was my first 'losing my cool' that almost scared me.  In 10 years of coming out to where I currently live, I have never shouted at anyone.  I did get into a shouting match with this bitch though.  On the phone.  In front of company.  My mother would be horrified (maybe).  Now a shouting match is not impossible to come back from, but when I discovered she felt bad about shouting and NOT what she said while shouting, I decided she was definitely on the Con list.  Effectively, she didn't feel bad about the heinous things she said to me - just the volume they were said at.  What da hell?  That's just stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided, if she wants me in her life, she can come to me and try to fix it.  Not that she ever does something like that, but I don't need her.  The ball is in her run-down court.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the opposite extreme, and just as surprising, there have been shining gems of people that I have become aware of.  It's amazing, refreshing, awesome (in the true sense of the word)...  I feel blessed in that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the shitheads just had to become more obvious so I would see the ones that weren't...  Who knows...  Life is a mystery (and I love that!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I'm out.  I must take Little Diva to Sylvan (another change) soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-6490160239046083878?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/6490160239046083878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=6490160239046083878&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6490160239046083878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6490160239046083878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-blog-is-always-here-for-me.html' title='My blog is always here for me...'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-295343323725610943</id><published>2008-06-11T16:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T17:19:13.633-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Forever changed</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most amazing, life-changing, beautiful event happened.  I finally was able to go to my city, New Orleans, for the very first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been dreaming about this for as long as I can remember - maybe longer than that.  To go to a place you have never been, but feels so familiar is a wondrous thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am forever changed from being there.  I sobbed the night before and morning of departure.  I could still call the tears up at a moment's notice.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided I want to live there.  I would have to have dual-residence.  I cannot leave my Fairy Realm world permanently.  I need to be able to go to either place, at any time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The energy of that place is so incredible.  I didn't eat for two days, because I was so full feeding on the place.  I will never live down the lack of food I had in one of the 'Food Capitols of the World".  No problem.  I am willing to go down there and not eat anytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The friend I was there with did the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.  It was very much a 'window into the soul' moment.  There were street people everywhere, and we gave out so many dollars during our stay.  Most of them are probably living on the street due to Katrina.  One night, my friend buys a foot-long from a hot dog street vendor.  We get stopped after walking away from the cart by another homeless guy that is talking so incredibly fast and not making any sense.  We stand there trying to understand, but failing miserably.  Then my friend did something that crossed all language barriers -  He offered the other end of his hot dog to this guy and asked if he wanted a bite.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was stunned.  Not at the generosity, or the fact that he offered food to the guy, but at the way he did it.  He continued to offer bites, from one end, while eating from the other end.  No parts thrown away or ripped off and given to the guy - just sharing a dog with a fellow man.  I never would have thought to do that.  Offer my food - sure.  Eat off the same dog, never.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That simple gesture told me so much about him.  It was just part of his nature, so he didn't see the amazement in it.  I found out gestures like that are common for him.  I wonder what that is like - to be so openly generous, to care about others -even strangers- to that degree, to be that compassionate?  I understand all of these traits, but to that depth?  Wow.  That is saintly behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you were wondering, homeless guy also received a dollar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that is just one of the many New Orleans stories I have - from waking up my friend who wanted to sleep on the street to me stepping out in front of a car completely oblivious to the frozen coffee to our 'Japanese tourist' day to Coop's Place to the kid that caught my hat...  It goes on and on.  I threw myself into the place 100%, and it is now a part of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N'arlins, I will be back!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-295343323725610943?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/295343323725610943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=295343323725610943&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/295343323725610943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/295343323725610943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/06/forever-changed.html' title='Forever changed'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7533619642300435323</id><published>2008-05-02T15:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T15:20:05.995-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Motivational Poster</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QN0JpLsENdk/SBtpJ2HBU7I/AAAAAAAAAAs/SYicCorPGUg/s1600-h/Motivational+Poster.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QN0JpLsENdk/SBtpJ2HBU7I/AAAAAAAAAAs/SYicCorPGUg/s400/Motivational+Poster.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195862212966699954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7533619642300435323?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7533619642300435323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7533619642300435323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7533619642300435323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7533619642300435323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/05/motivational-poster.html' title='Motivational Poster'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QN0JpLsENdk/SBtpJ2HBU7I/AAAAAAAAAAs/SYicCorPGUg/s72-c/Motivational+Poster.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-868262651316061380</id><published>2008-04-24T11:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T13:01:23.155-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Diva is becoming a teen.  Oh shit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Diva's birthday is tomorrow.  Her 13th birthday.  This is her very last day of 12 - no 'teen' after her age, no 2 or 3 at the beginning of her age.  I guess this is her last day of childhood (technically).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's sad.  Of course, Diva isn't sad about it.  She's going to be 13, by god!!!  I never thought this day would come.  I prayed this day would get here.  Well, she's been talking about her birthday, and what she wants to do on her birthday for the last eight months.  She was 12 for 4 months, and then started planning her 13th.  God, did that bug me!!!  Not so much the planning, but definitely how often she brought it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we are heading into one of the tourist towns near here on Saturday to celebrate.  There will be go karts, and putt-putt (mini golf), and Fuddruckers, oh my!  We'll do cake when we get back.  We need time to let the burgers settle before indulging in sugar overload.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, we are taking her shopping for bedroom stuff.  We want to get her a desk and a full length mirror - maybe a rug too.  The only problem is we don't have ideas for smaller things.  We were going to buy her a 'gift certificate' from one of our friends to trim her hair, maybe style it.  *laugh*  When I asked, she decided she could just give Diva that as a gift.  That's one less from us.  It's okay though.  It's the perfect gift from her.  I'm going to ask another friend about a manicure/cosmetics type of thing, which would be the perfect gift from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so excited for her.  She has all these people planning on being there.  We even have friends coming in from out of state.  Amazing!  I have always been worried about the turn-out for her birthday, but not this year!  I feel such love for our friends.  There aren't a lot of kids, so I'm referring to the adults that are making sure they are there for her.  How cool is that!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I mentioned I love where I live?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-868262651316061380?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/868262651316061380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=868262651316061380&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/868262651316061380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/868262651316061380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/04/diva-is-becoming-teen-oh-shit.html' title='Diva is becoming a teen.  Oh shit.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4184483049881249396</id><published>2008-04-22T14:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T14:55:38.970-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wise quote</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.&lt;br /&gt;-Mahatma Gandhi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4184483049881249396?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4184483049881249396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4184483049881249396&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4184483049881249396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4184483049881249396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/04/wise-quote.html' title='Wise quote'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5347492584678946307</id><published>2008-04-20T17:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T17:37:03.658-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This was in my inbox, and it's beautiful in a very real way</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mean Moms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday when my children are old enough to&lt;br /&gt;understand the logic that motivates a parent, &lt;br /&gt;I will tell them, as my Mean Mom told me: &lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to ask where you were going,&lt;br /&gt;with whom, and what time you would be home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to be silent and let you&lt;br /&gt;discover that your new best friend was a creep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to stand over you for&lt;br /&gt;two hours while you cleaned your room,&lt;br /&gt;a job that should have taken 15 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to let you see anger, &lt;br /&gt;disappointment, and tears in my eyes. Children &lt;br /&gt;must learn that their parents aren't perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough to let you assume the&lt;br /&gt;responsibility for your actions even when the &lt;br /&gt;penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most of all, I loved you enough to say &lt;br /&gt;NO when I knew you would hate me for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those were the most difficult battles of all. &lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I won them, because in the end you won, too. &lt;br /&gt;And someday when your children are old enough to&lt;br /&gt;understand the logic that motivates parents,&lt;br /&gt;you will tell them. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Was your Mom mean?   &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;I know mine was. &lt;br /&gt;We had the meanest mother in the whole world!&lt;br /&gt;While other kids ate candy for breakfast,&lt;br /&gt;we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, &lt;br /&gt;we had to eat sandwiches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was&lt;br /&gt;different from what other kids had, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. &lt;br /&gt;You'd think we were convicts in a prison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had to know who our friends were&lt;br /&gt;and what we were doing with them.&lt;br /&gt;She insisted that if we said we &lt;br /&gt;would be gone for an hour, we would&lt;br /&gt;be gone for an hour or less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were ashamed to admit it, &lt;br /&gt;but she had the nerve to break &lt;br /&gt;the Child Labor Laws by making us work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, &lt;br /&gt;learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, &lt;br /&gt;empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think she would lie awake at night &lt;br /&gt;thinking of more things for us to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always insisted on us telling the truth,&lt;br /&gt;the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.&lt;br /&gt;By the time we were teenagers, &lt;br /&gt;she could read our minds and had&lt;br /&gt;eyes in the back of her head.&lt;br /&gt;Then, life was really tough!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother wouldn't let our friends&lt;br /&gt;just honk the horn when they&lt;br /&gt;drove up they had to come up to&lt;br /&gt;the door so she could meet them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While everyone else could date&lt;br /&gt;when they were 12 or 13,  we&lt;br /&gt;had to wait until we were 16. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of our mother we missed out&lt;br /&gt;on lots of things other kids experienced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of us have ever been caught&lt;br /&gt;shoplifting, vandalizing other's &lt;br /&gt;property or ever arrested for any&lt;br /&gt;crime.   It was all her fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we have left home, we are all&lt;br /&gt;educated, honest adults.  We are doing our best&lt;br /&gt;to be mean parents just like Mom was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that is what's wrong with the world today. &lt;br /&gt;It just doesn't have enough mean moms!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5347492584678946307?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5347492584678946307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5347492584678946307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5347492584678946307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5347492584678946307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/04/this-was-in-my-inbox-and-its-beautiful.html' title='This was in my inbox, and it&apos;s beautiful in a very real way'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1783356745190569300</id><published>2008-04-14T17:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T17:31:27.109-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Anyone know how this can be done?</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do any of you ever wish you could see how life would be if you weren't around?  You know, a classic theme for Xmas movies or whatever.  The whole 'I wish I was never born!' crap that some fairy, spirit, whatever shows how life would be so much worse without the pitiful person's existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want that.  I'm not saying I regret being born.  Far from it.  I'm not even feeling like I haven't touched people's lives.  I just want an accurate assessment.  The overall view, if you will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anybody else ever want that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1783356745190569300?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1783356745190569300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1783356745190569300&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1783356745190569300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1783356745190569300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/04/anyone-know-how-this-can-be-done.html' title='Anyone know how this can be done?'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4471916627153175523</id><published>2008-04-03T17:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T21:55:30.826-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Back on flatland</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay - not as emo anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back on track.  This is what it is like playing chess with an adult.  Thank god I love a challenge!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine brought over a very cool study aid.  It was the thoughtfulness of it that touched me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone else gained major points in my parenting book by asking a question in the perfect way.  It was very appropriate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another friend's truck was finally sold.  It's been on Craig's List for a while.  Yay extra income!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L's new schedule still takes some getting used to.  Today was his Friday.  He's off for three days - again.  Every week.  I am still not used to this.  It's pretty freakin' great!  It is a much more relaxed environment around here on the weekends.  I believe that will help our family life.  That and the fact that I have actually been leaving the house more often...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been one of the most lazy, rainy, crazy, topsy-turvy, inactive, eventful type of day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4471916627153175523?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4471916627153175523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4471916627153175523&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4471916627153175523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4471916627153175523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/04/back-on-flatland.html' title='Back on flatland'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-6181611488290116480</id><published>2008-04-03T15:38:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T15:56:06.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Conflicted</title><content type='html'>What are you supposed to do when you are required to give up parts of yourself to make someone else happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my automatic response is, "Fuck that!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if you promised something earlier, and in order to fulfill that promise you need to become less than what you are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is where I am conflicted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I make a decision or promise (really the same thing), it sticks.  I follow through on what I said.  Maybe I just give people too much credit.  I assume that my promise would be enough - without conditions.  No, wait.  Not without conditions.  There are always conditions.  However, if the condition you require destroys the person you care about, it is not one that should exist.  I understand conditions.  I can't claim to love unconditionally.  I have high standards.  I want respect.  I want my happiness to be considered.  I want who I am to be part of the original equation.  I also apply these things to the other person.  I don't require anyone to do anything I wouldn't do.  I have high expectations of myself and others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I feel let down.  I feel like I am about to lose something important.  It's a very 'what's the point' attitude.  I can feel myself sinking into depression - even if it is temporary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.  I have been on such a roller coaster lately.  My blog is turning emo.  Sorry, guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been 'feeling' more lately than I have since I was a crazy mixed-up teen.  So - very out of control, basically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this thing will turn out one way or the other.  I don't like either choice.  One way will effect me personally, and the other will effect anyone in the vicinity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I break my promise, or do I change myself completely?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-6181611488290116480?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/6181611488290116480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=6181611488290116480&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6181611488290116480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6181611488290116480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/04/conflicted.html' title='Conflicted'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3293662513663842335</id><published>2008-04-01T18:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T18:56:33.028-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a short fuse these days</title><content type='html'>I had an amazing last couple of days.  Amazing as in - is this really happening?  I must be dreaming...  Something is going on.  Before you get your hopes up, it was not a good amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life, the last two days, have been like a series of dominoes falling on one another.  There wasn't any one thing.  It was one tiny thing after another - and overlapping each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I am going to lose it today.  All I have wanted to do ~all day~ was chill the fuck out.  I was pissed at my dogs, husband, and kid before my first cup of coffee.  All I wanted to do was take the time to recover from that.  No such luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had moments of calmness, but it was false calmness.  The moments didn't last.  One of the times I was calm, I received a phone call that set me off again.  Damn dominoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking for some sort of retreat-monastery-military camp that takes families of women who are fed the fuck up.  Just for a break.  A long ass break to get back in touch with me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's unbelievable that two bad frustrating days make me feel postal.  Just two.  That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's good to know your limits.  It's also good to know when your limits will be tested.  I think I need to prep a little better for the limits test.  If these last two days are any indication, I'm going to go insane - if I don't flow with things better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3293662513663842335?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3293662513663842335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3293662513663842335&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3293662513663842335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3293662513663842335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-have-short-fuse-these-days.html' title='I have a short fuse these days'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-148956580354349965</id><published>2008-03-27T14:52:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T15:07:25.537-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"I feel good na na na na na na..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My someone is no longer disappointing.  I have a tiny bit of 'wait and see' going on, but that's normal for me.  I'm trying to fight that.  It's unhealthy... I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we are back on track.  I feel so much lighter today.  I am smiling.  I feel warm.  Life is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what!  No really, guess...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you guessed yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll give you a clue - Something is faster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was that a good enough clue?  Did you figure it out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another clue - Going on MySpace doesn't piss me off anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that just gave it away, didn't it?&lt;br /&gt;[Tangent:  Cyli, if you have a myspace, let me know.  I'd love to add you.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay - back to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should just tell you.  You probably know anyway.  Well, I believe only smart people read what I have to write (Yes, I'm delusional.), so I'm sure you know by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have DSL!!!!!!  No more freakin', goddamned slower than slow, can't be in the youtube world, is it even loading? dial up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Yay!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rock!  My laptop rocks!  Everything freakin' rocks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how are all of you?  (Trying not to be self-absorbed...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-148956580354349965?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/148956580354349965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=148956580354349965&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/148956580354349965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/148956580354349965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-feel-good-na-na-na-na-na-na.html' title='&quot;I feel good na na na na na na...&quot;'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5333223629031008719</id><published>2008-03-26T16:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T16:46:45.603-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Road to recovery, I think.</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my disappointing someone and I are on the road to recovery.  We have talked.  Things seem to be back on track - almost.  My fear of getting hurt again is impeding how I normally bounce back.  I should just jump back in with both feet, but I feel like this tiny fragile little girl.  Tiny fragile little girls shouldn't jump anywhere.  I'm guessing it has more to do with psychology than actual facts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want anyone I care about to ever hurt me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so difficult not to lash out and make the pain mutual.  All I wanted was to make this someone feel as bad as I did.  I still hurt.  Damn it.  I hate weakness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't tell me feelings (or whatever) aren't a weakness.  Like I want to hear that.  The fact is, I let myself be vulnerable.  I really don't have anyone but myself to blame.  If I am going to show weakness, I should expect to be hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is, I did expect it to happen at some point.  I just assumed it would be accidental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am afraid.  That's what it comes down to.  Fear.  I am chock full of it right now.  All the 'what ifs' are circling my brain/heart like vultures waiting for something to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should just fucking accept it.  It's what I signed up for, right?  I knew all this shit would happen going into it, didn't I?  I knew it would be difficult and wonderful and painful.  AND I knew all of it would be intense.  I need to stop whining.  Lie in my made bed and all that rot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am 10 feet tall and bullet-proof.  At least, that's the mindset I need to get into.  Deep breaths... and go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Hey, it's actually helping!  I may be successfully repressing it!!!)  (For now - I'll feel it later when I have time to explore it.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5333223629031008719?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5333223629031008719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5333223629031008719&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5333223629031008719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5333223629031008719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/road-to-recovery-i-think.html' title='Road to recovery, I think.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-685357834636334277</id><published>2008-03-25T01:45:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T02:07:58.688-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Check.</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone canceled plans on me tonight.  I was really looking forward to our plans.  Canceled at the last minute, too.  After making my feelings about it clear early on in the day, I'm surprised it still happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this person is playing games with me.  Maybe that's all they know how to do.  Maybe I don't give a shit.  I play games with the best of them, and I am making a huge effort not to this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened myself up, and look what happened.  I knew better, too.  Well, I'll know from now on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think &lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt; was relieved when it wasn't him or the Diva that pissed me off so much.  Poor guy.  He comes home from work, asks me how I'm doing, and I reply, "I'm pissed off."  I was shaking, I was so... There isn't a word for it.  At least, I can't think of the proper term right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a phone call.  A phone call that upset me - to the point of showing I was upset.  SO not me.  I hear a threat at the end of the conversation - which I didn't even realize was a threat till hours later.  That shows how threatened I was.  I hang up and finish my cigarette.  As soon as I step inside -don't even take my coat off-, I start composing the mean and evil email I was given permission to write.  Just as I was getting started, &lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt; walked in.  See?  Poor guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were done with supper, &lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt; and I stepped outside so I could talk.  Yeah, talk.  That's what I did.  As long as ranting, raving, plotting revenge I'll never act out, feeling hateful and hurt, and generally acting pissed falls under the category of talking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later &lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt; told me how relieved he was.  He also thought I was tame in my treatment of this disappointing someone.  &lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt; has actually seen me fully ON.  It has been directed toward him before.  Dudes, he knows.  Tonight he said when I'm fully pissed off (and showing it), all I am missing is pair of demon's wings.  That cracked my ass up!  I could picture it so clearly.  &lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt; is fully aware, as am I, that my disappointing someone is not ready for that yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need to figure out my next move in the Chess Game of Life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-685357834636334277?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/685357834636334277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=685357834636334277&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/685357834636334277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/685357834636334277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/check.html' title='Check.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-6227352056827870009</id><published>2008-03-22T12:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T12:53:30.762-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Great quote that I am applying right now</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you can't get out of something, get into it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-6227352056827870009?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/6227352056827870009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=6227352056827870009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6227352056827870009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6227352056827870009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/great-quote-that-i-am-applying-right.html' title='Great quote that I am applying right now'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-105639546647247785</id><published>2008-03-21T17:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T18:02:18.905-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Par- tay!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am excited.  Stomach clenching flipping type of excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a big party tonight.  Well, all weekend.  If it is anything like the one last night, it's going to kick ass.  I can't get ready fast enough.  I've been feeling rushed all day.  Of course I have.  I have to shower.  That's enough to screw up my day.  I wish I knew why...  You'd think after all these years, I'd have a system to speed up the shower taking process.  I have a system for everything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mood/atmosphere last night was incredible.  I didn't want to go home.  Although, we left at the right time.  Whoa, crazy chick.  Y'all should have seen her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only was she disruptive during what was supposed to be the sacred part of the evening - disruptive, but memorable -, she continued to climb the scale of crazy.  If you are crazy enough that everyone notices AND no one wants to take care of your oblivious ass, you've got a problem.  Unfortunately, no one could tell her to sit down, go away, tone it down, or to dial it down ten notches.  She would have no idea what you had said.  In fact, as a bunch of us were huddled around her (she was cold and we were her coats, I guess), me and this other girl were both debating who got to escape and run far far away.  We decided, when two other people showed up, that we were both out.  I don't do crazy.  If you can't handle yourself, I'm not about to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had to be directed around a sleeping child so she wouldn't step on him.  There was a wall of people to keep her from falling in the pond.  I was so tempted to let her fall in.  It was cold, and I decided to be nice.  She was kissing random guys.  I don't think she knew they were different people.  When she was directed to her choice of many empty chairs, she chose to sit on the one lap that occupied a chair.  A lap that belonged to another guy she didn't know.  He looked freaked when she started to let the crazy out.  *laugh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was SO time to leave.  I was not about to get stuck babysitting.  I did that as a teenager.  I'm over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I can't wait to see what tonight brings.  Plus, lots of cool people will be there.  Maybe I'll even get lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, right.  As if I'd say yes...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-105639546647247785?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/105639546647247785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=105639546647247785&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/105639546647247785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/105639546647247785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/par-tay.html' title='Par- tay!!!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7251305091354100969</id><published>2008-03-20T18:52:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T13:46:37.258-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cold hearted bitch?</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a friend.  Let's call him Winston.  We have been missing each other a lot lately.  I got used to being able to talk to him.  We have had time constraints.  Damn time.  There are so many things I've wanted to tell Winston, but I haven't had the chance.  I think I've forgotten half of the shit by now.  That makes me sad.  Who knows?  I may remember over time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winston's job is taking him elsewhere.  Talk about time constraints.  Like no time at all.  It's gonna be all email.  Don't get me wrong.  I love email.  Phone is usually good for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want it all.  I like to have it all.  Less than all is not what I'm after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to be sad.  I am already pre-sad.  I teared up a couple times this morning.  That was a surprise!  You'd think I was a girl or something.  Or that this person actually means something to me.  How'd that happen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have realized that I am willing to go to great lengths for someone I care deeply for.  In my current place in life, I believed I didn't give a shit, and it was my turn.  Someone needed to go to great lengths for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I still have some warm blood left in this cold heart.  With this realization, I know I can still get hurt.  I don't know how I feel about that.  I know I don't feel dead anymore.  I have been so grounded for so long.  It feels good to have some life back.  I know &lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt; was worried about me.  There were so many factors that contributed to my walking death.  I wasn't worried about getting hurt, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm willing to pay the price to feel alive again.  Whatever that may be.  I'm sick of death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The above sentences scare the shit out of me.  I'm tempted to delete it.  But I won't.  Running away is not my style.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7251305091354100969?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7251305091354100969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7251305091354100969&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7251305091354100969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7251305091354100969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/cold-hearted-bitch.html' title='Cold hearted bitch?'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-993299347557898385</id><published>2008-03-20T11:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T18:39:18.017-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn feelings</title><content type='html'>I have this secret.  A very secret sort of secret.  If I tell you, I'll have to kill you type of secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, in order to keep this secret, I stood out in the freaking rain (with some shelter) for an hour and a half.  Now, I have no sense of time, so I didn't know it was 1hr and a 1/2 until later.  But I knew it was longer than I wanted.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could have stilled the emotions, I would have been able to lessen that time.  Alas, I was feeling all kinds of shit.  Why the hell do we have this full range of emotions anyway?  It just clutters up the thought process.  Anyway, I got pissed off enough to figure out a plan.  I hate when I have to get pissed to get smart.  My plan totally worked, of course.  Why wouldn't it?  I'm that good.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, sort of.  I did stand outside longer than I wanted...  Damn feelings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-993299347557898385?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/993299347557898385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=993299347557898385&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/993299347557898385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/993299347557898385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/damn-feelings.html' title='Damn feelings'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3778116424389448478</id><published>2008-03-19T11:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T12:15:45.619-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Acid trip with a hella hangover</title><content type='html'>I got in a fight with one of my friends the other night.  Well, I'm not sure you'd call it a fight.  I don't know what to call it.  It was draining.  It was emotional.  It was a chess game.  I had physical and emotional reactions to it.  It hurt.  It was weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, we are in the middle of it.  Not getting anywhere due to absolute stubbornness and justifiable righteousness.  But then, crackhead that I am, decide now is the time to tell a story I've been holding onto.  We laugh our asses off, and then go right back into whatever it's called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An acid trip.  That's how I describe it.  It was so unreal, surreal, dream-like, etc. that it felt like an acid trip.  When I got up from bed (both times), I had the most killer hangover of my life.  All from this damn fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's basically how it played out.&lt;br /&gt;He wanted something.  He didn't communicate that.  He expected (hoped) me to be on the same page.  What he didn't know, I was on the same page, but could not follow through.  I jumped through some hoops, thought it might be over, but I was wrong.  It had just gotten started.  I walked into the acid trip.  It was unbelievable and went against my logical way of thinking.  I wasn't dealing with logic though.  I was dealing with a shrewd emotional negotiator.  Chess game, see?  I had to think about everything I said or did, had to think eight moves ahead, etc.  I was so hurt, which, of course, pissed me off.  Being pissed off is more comfortable than feeling hurt.  I couldn't react to how I was feeling though.  It was the strangest sensation.  First of all, he's not ready to see me in full battle armor.  He couldn't handle it yet.  Once he knows me a little better, catches all the subtleties I have...  Then I'll take him fully on.  It ended (that night) with him feeling better as he went off to sleep, and me still stewing the next day.  Dudes, I was steaming, ready to bar fight, told a friend I felt like I could take him (There's no way I could), you get the point.  10 feet tall, bullet-proof, and ready to prove just how bullet-proof I was.  Of course, again, I couldn't completely show it.  I did get to say some of the things that were in my head.  Things about getting hurt and not gonna let myself be used for some cheap thrill.  Not an exact quote.  I did not tell him about the few times I felt like crying (but didn't) during the acid trip.  He doesn't know me well enough to know tears are not a weapon in my world.  I wasn't about to live with &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; wrong assumption.  I had enough to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did make up, and things seem to be back to normal.  I am still feeling bruised and wary.  I hate that.  I am the chick that has full control of anything "me".  Feelings, actions, whatever.  I was to the point of telling myself it was time to open up, be completely vulnerable, take a bigger risk.  Now I'm scared.  I don't like that someone other than &lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt; can hurt me like that.  It's very once bitten, twice shy.  I feel weak, and I HATE that.  Damn it, I'm not a weak person.  What the fuck?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what happened.  Instead of remaining guarded that whole damn time, I let him in.  I knew what he was like.  I knew the risk I was taking.  I should just suck it up and jump in.  Forget how hurt I was.  Erase the current bruising.  Stop being skittish.  Pretend that nothing happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, I should do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also know I'll get over it.  I have to.  This is me we are talking about.  I will not be defeated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3778116424389448478?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3778116424389448478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3778116424389448478&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3778116424389448478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3778116424389448478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/acid-trip-with-hella-hangover.html' title='Acid trip with a hella hangover'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-2414617313223445623</id><published>2008-03-19T11:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T11:19:55.573-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Urban Dictionary - fauxtograph</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;Urban Word of the Day&lt;br /&gt;www.urbandictionary.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February 21, 2008: fauxtograph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fauxtograph is a practical joke in which the video setting of a digital camera &lt;br /&gt;is used to trick the target into posing for a really long time for what isn't a &lt;br /&gt;picture at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Say 'cheese'!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(person poses)&lt;br /&gt;(pause)&lt;br /&gt;(pause)&lt;br /&gt;(pause)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're taking a fauxtograph aren't you?  You asshole."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-2414617313223445623?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/2414617313223445623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=2414617313223445623&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/2414617313223445623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/2414617313223445623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/urban-dictionary-fauxtograph.html' title='Urban Dictionary - fauxtograph'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-6726912993089831579</id><published>2008-03-11T15:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T15:37:30.174-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Have fun!</title><content type='html'>Did I like nut another to it send dummy a like this reading time sweet your took you since.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-6726912993089831579?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/6726912993089831579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=6726912993089831579&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6726912993089831579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6726912993089831579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/have-fun.html' title='Have fun!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-837178214013527688</id><published>2008-03-11T15:34:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T15:39:46.696-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Clue</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read above post backwards.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-837178214013527688?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/837178214013527688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=837178214013527688&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/837178214013527688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/837178214013527688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/clue.html' title='Clue'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3620050667731249212</id><published>2008-03-11T15:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T15:33:34.881-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Got this in my email and loved it!</title><content type='html'>How To install a wireless security system: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go to a second-hand store, buy a pair of men's used work boots, a really big pair. Put them outside your front door on top of a copy of Guns and Ammo magazine. Put a dog dish beside it. A really big dish. Leave a note on your front door that says something like "Bubba, big Mike and I have gone to get more ammunition - back in 1/2 an hr. Don't disturb the Pitbulls, they've just been wormed and haven't eaten in four days."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3620050667731249212?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3620050667731249212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3620050667731249212&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3620050667731249212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3620050667731249212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/got-this-in-my-email-and-loved-it.html' title='Got this in my email and loved it!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1205532849373295993</id><published>2008-03-07T12:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T12:44:50.691-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lots of testing this week for lots of people</title><content type='html'>It's been a crazy week, but not for me.  There's been sickness and hurt backs - sometimes one right after the other.  I have been so nurturing this week, I am ready to gag.  I think I can only do this for a little longer before going out of my mind nuts.  Don't get me wrong.  There have been some really nice parts that I wouldn't take back for the world.  But, good god - this has got to end soon.  Mostly because I can feel my personal meter running out, and I don't want it to happen before it's over.  That would be bad, very very bad.  No one needs to see that particular inner-bitch.  I need to keep her under wraps...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the other inner-bitches I'm okay with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... Not all of them.  Some of them I like, and others need to be reigned in.  But hey, don't we all have something like that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1205532849373295993?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1205532849373295993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1205532849373295993&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1205532849373295993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1205532849373295993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/lots-of-testing-this-week-for-lots-of.html' title='Lots of testing this week for lots of people'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5534960846785416211</id><published>2008-03-04T11:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T11:39:55.615-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess what!!!!</title><content type='html'>I finally - after nine years, lots of tape, an ass ton of super glue, even fingernail glue when the super glue wouldn't work anymore - got new glasses!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right.  I can take my new glasses off AND close them.  They are not taped straight.  Plus, oh my god, I have nose guards!!!  My nose can finally begin to heal the almost permanent scratches.  Oh!  They are not held together by glue, so I don't have to constantly be aware of everything near my face.  It's horrible to be thinking about hateful glasses when someone tries to hug or kiss you.  Not anymore!!  The absolutely wonderful, I'm still high on life thing?  I have a pair of prescription sunglasses, and damn, I look cool!  This night person almost wishes it was daylight all the time now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost.  I may adjust to wearing sunglasses at night like all those other dorks...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5534960846785416211?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5534960846785416211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5534960846785416211&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5534960846785416211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5534960846785416211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/03/guess-what.html' title='Guess what!!!!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5000620184468334467</id><published>2008-02-27T21:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T22:01:35.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still in VA</title><content type='html'>We are still here and working on the house. I'm not sure exactly how much longer. Today I heard there was a possibility of going home Sat. morning. Originally, we thought we would go home last Wednesday. Didn't happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We busted ass today. I was wiped out mentally and physically by 4pm, but worked until 6:30pm. I started f**king up at 4pm. I spilled paint, got paint in my tools, dipped my damp rag in the paint, and I could no longer remember how to do the cutting in. Dudes, that blows. I was trying so hard. If it would have been up to me, I would have quit when I stopped being productive. Alas, it was not. We had to cram a bunch in today, because of previous short work days. Not my favorite activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been able to continue developing friendships while being here though. As a matter of fact, I have a new "little brother". He's like four months younger than me, and we fight like siblings. We have all sort of become a family unit. 3 older, 3 younger... We all play our roles well. But, of course, when we are not functioning as a group, we have different roles. I have really been paying attention to all my relationships. I have really noticed how each one is unique. Now, I'm sure I knew that intellectually, but that does not mean I really understood. I've also noticed I can get along with just about anyone in any situation, regardless of personal feelings. I'm not saying I try and make nice with the toxic waste. I'm just saying I could. I'm that awesome. ("I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anchyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to remember everything I ever wanted to look up when I had access to high speed, but I can't remember hardly anything. Any suggestions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5000620184468334467?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5000620184468334467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5000620184468334467&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5000620184468334467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5000620184468334467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/still-in-va.html' title='Still in VA'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1662037318019640147</id><published>2008-02-24T18:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T18:40:00.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in Virginia</title><content type='html'>We've been in Virginia since last Thursday night.  It's been great!  We've moved furniture, spackled, painted, pressure washed... We've been busy!  We have a good crew this time too.  Actually, we have almost the same crew.  We took one person out and added a different one.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's something cool - Every single one of us (except one)is the baby of our family.  The one that isn't is an only child, so, in my mind, that still counts.  What are the odds of 5 out of 6 people being the baby?  We all work so well together.  I wonder if that's why...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1662037318019640147?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1662037318019640147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1662037318019640147&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1662037318019640147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1662037318019640147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/back-in-virginia.html' title='Back in Virginia'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-44156710333209814</id><published>2008-02-18T12:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T12:25:59.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Last one of the day - I swear!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.the-n.com/games/quiz/2868"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.the-n.com/media/quiz/badges/kissing_style/sensitive.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;   You're a sensitive kisser.  &lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;  You don't want to scare people away by being more or less aggressive than they're used to, so you adapt your kisses to match any situation. If you sense that the person you're kissing wants more tongue pressure or more hair-stroking, you'll eagerly comply. You appreciate when the people you kiss tell you exactly what they like, because then it's easier for you to make them happy. Your only kissing requirement? Lots of privacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is sooooo true!  I really do appreciate when I'm told what the other person likes.  It makes it so much easier on me - less thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, the privacy thing was dead-on accurate.  I don't want anyone aware of what I'm doing.  Well, what I'm currently doing... I have plenty of stories I'm willing to share, but they are from the past.  Past = Safe (most of the time).  I guess I feel selfish about an experience as it happens, but later - when I have evaluated and re-evaluated the situation, got everything out of it I possibly can, and it doesn't make me look really bad - I might share it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.... What do &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; like?  I can keep a secret...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-44156710333209814?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/44156710333209814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=44156710333209814&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/44156710333209814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/44156710333209814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/last-one-of-day-i-swear.html' title='Last one of the day - I swear!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3223702649236572126</id><published>2008-02-18T11:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T12:01:38.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Found this on Cricket's site ("dagnabbit already" in sidebar)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.the-n.com/games/quiz/3321"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.the-n.com/media/quiz/badges/timeofday_quiz/1159.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are 11:59 a.m.  &lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;  You are late-sleepy relaxation, the half-awake moment when you realize it's morning, but you don't have to get up, because there's no place you have to be. You are that cozy spot under the covers where everything feels temporarily perfect, even if you know you'll eventually have to wiggle out and start the day. Maybe you're the artistic type, who doesn't function well on a normal schedule. Sleep's important to you, and you like the freedom of sleeping as late as you want (especially since that is closely related to the freedom to stay up as late as you want). You like to roll out of bed, put on some comfy clothes, and get a laid back start to the day. If not everything on your list gets accomplished, no worries. Your only priority is having no priorities – you just want to take things at a slow, mellow pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14% of the people who took this quiz got the same evaluation.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cricket, we are in the same 14%!!  Feel free to copy/paste the rest of the info, if you want.  Always knew we were a perfect match!  (Don't tell J...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3223702649236572126?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3223702649236572126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3223702649236572126&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3223702649236572126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3223702649236572126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/found-this-on-crickets-site-dagnabbit.html' title='Found this on Cricket&apos;s site (&quot;dagnabbit already&quot; in sidebar)'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5255261594968610687</id><published>2008-02-18T11:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T11:24:34.300-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day Card *some Mush Alert*</title><content type='html'>My husband broke the rules of Anti-Valentine's Day and brought home a card for me.  He has this way of picking the perfect card.  I've accused him of having an insider at Hallmark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If any of you know our story, you'll see how perfectly this follows it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~The card~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I was-&lt;br /&gt;one minute getting to know you,&lt;br /&gt;enjoying you and wondering&lt;br /&gt;where it would all lead...&lt;br /&gt;and the next,&lt;br /&gt;thinking about you all the time,&lt;br /&gt;knowing that I never, ever&lt;br /&gt;wanted to be without you!&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's the way life is.&lt;br /&gt;You're going along&lt;br /&gt;doing your everyday things,&lt;br /&gt;and out of the blue, life gives you&lt;br /&gt;this wonderful present,&lt;br /&gt;a present you had no idea&lt;br /&gt;how much you wanted.&lt;br /&gt;That's what you are&lt;br /&gt;to me, you know,&lt;br /&gt;a precious gift...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling in love with you&lt;br /&gt;was something I hadn't expected,&lt;br /&gt;but being in love with you&lt;br /&gt;is something I couldn't stop,&lt;br /&gt;even if I tried.&lt;br /&gt;What I'm trying to say is - &lt;br /&gt;You're "it" for me, now and forever.&lt;br /&gt;                Linda Lee Elrod&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that great?  To top it off, the very next day I was bitchy as hell (laptop problems).  He comes home with another card just to cheer me up.  Sometimes I forget... how great he is, how well he knows me, how lucky I am, and how much he truly loves me, unlike others that came before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5255261594968610687?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5255261594968610687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5255261594968610687&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5255261594968610687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5255261594968610687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/valentines-day-card-some-mush-alert.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day Card *some Mush Alert*'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5309272186778612721</id><published>2008-02-15T13:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T11:37:31.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anti-Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had an Anti-Valentine's Day potluck/party last night. It was for all the people that either don't care about Valentine's Day (like us) or don't have a partner to screw up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was pretty great. A couple friends made Un-valentine hearts with sayings like, "I loathe you", "Heartless Bitch", "Pure Evil", "Be my Beergoggle Valentine", and "Black Shriveled Raisin Heart". On the back were instructions of what we were supposed to do if we picked that heart. There were some crazy ones! Well, crazy for the people that drew them... We ended up pinning the hearts to our clothes, and wore them proudly - like badges of honor. I drew two extra - just to wear them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167988693581695490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QN0JpLsENdk/R7hiVewsCgI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Jkb7CxKRGdk/s400/Balcony+-+Moon+030+-+Copy.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was also told by someone (prominant dumbass) that I was harmless. He then amended it to 'mostly harmless'. (~Who can tell me what that is from?~) What he doesn't realize is, I have been holding back the entire time he has known me. I'm sure the older generation would call this growing up. I disagree. I am just more selective with my behaviors. Plus, my daughter is ALWAYS around. I have to censor quite a bit because of that. It kinda sucks. I used to give off the vibe of being "trouble", and now I'm harmless? Fuck. I really need my life back. I've even been called a prude recently - more than once. Yeah, that's me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is, the people that could back me up, won't. Thank god. They don't need to talk about that type of stuff unless I say it's okay. And I won't say it is. I value my privacy. I suppose the only one that could say anything would be L (husband), but I like to keep that private too. No one needs to know about that shit either. Damn it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Belated Anti-Valentine's Day!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will upload the pic of my hearts later. I still need to get it off my camera.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5309272186778612721?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5309272186778612721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5309272186778612721&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5309272186778612721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5309272186778612721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/anti-valentines-day.html' title='Anti-Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QN0JpLsENdk/R7hiVewsCgI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Jkb7CxKRGdk/s72-c/Balcony+-+Moon+030+-+Copy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-6347407675603173134</id><published>2008-02-15T12:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T13:02:00.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>*SCREAM*</title><content type='html'>My laptop is fucked.  I'm not sure what is wrong with it.  I am probably going to have someone else work on it - for the first time ever.  Even with our old desktop pc, I always fixed it.  Granted, I have techie friends that helped back then.  This time around, the only accessible-today techie will mess it up.  I'm going to have to pay for it.  Damn it.  At least, the person I'm planning to pay, I trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need the wireless to work before next Wednesday night.  I am probably going to Virginia again to work.  I really really need to bring my laptop with me.  I can't be gone for almost a week without it.  What would I load my pictures into?  What about all the info I've been studying?  I really need this fixed.  Like now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am completely freaking out!  Fuck, fuck fuck!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-6347407675603173134?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/6347407675603173134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=6347407675603173134&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6347407675603173134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6347407675603173134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/scream.html' title='*SCREAM*'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5794997560554178316</id><published>2008-02-13T23:17:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T10:53:52.615-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some I advice I insist you live by.  I have so decreed it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is short.  Break the rules.  Forgive quickly.  Kiss slowly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love truly.  Laugh uncontrollably.  Pray without ceasing, and never regret anything that made you smile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5794997560554178316?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5794997560554178316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5794997560554178316&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5794997560554178316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5794997560554178316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/some-i-advice-i-insist-you-live-by-i.html' title='Some I advice I insist you live by.  I have so decreed it.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5502155409284155174</id><published>2008-02-12T09:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T22:23:48.461-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Today - B.C.</title><content type='html'>I made the decision that I was not going to do anything yesterday. I accomplished what I set out to do. My house is now a mess, my hair looks like a rat's nest (which only got worse when I passed out on the couch), and I don't have a lot of time today to do anything about any of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are taking my truck out to get a couple loads of future compost. I need coffee. I can't even begin to think which clothes I'll be okay wearing while shoveling shit. I know I have some...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to the shower after we're done. No point to doing it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My prominent dumbass is getting better. The sad thing is, it is only temporary. Patterns don't lie. Oh well, if this is what I have to do, I'll do it. It's either this or kill somebody. While killing someone would be immensely satisfying at the time, working on our relationship is probably the better option. But dammit!, I didn't want a second husband - never have! We have decided many times not to ever get re-married. Neither one of us want to do the work involved. It's exhausting. And yet, here I am. What lesson could I possibly learn from a repeat? How to avoid it? How to change it more efficiently? How to deal with it without feeling murderous? What the hell is the Universe trying to tell me????? Maybe it is just a test to see if I can hang on to my identity when it would be easier to just step into the background. Well, if that's it, I should be okay... maybe. I like me. I like to feel like me. I don't like to sacrifice myself just so other persons can &lt;strong&gt;be&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. That's not fair, plus it's my turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow - I should not try to post before coffee... Going to get some now, and brush my hair &amp;amp; teeth... Maybe straighten up if I have time. Coffee most definitely first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5502155409284155174?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5502155409284155174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5502155409284155174&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5502155409284155174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5502155409284155174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/today-bc.html' title='Today - B.C.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3880888105603547841</id><published>2008-02-11T16:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T17:13:23.088-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Best weekend ever</title><content type='html'>We arrived home safe and sound last night. Well, safe anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been taking this day to just chill and remember moments, no - events, of this past weekend. There are so many! I had no idea we packed in so much weirdness, and awe-inspiring oblivion, plus so much more. It got to the part of the evening when my husband and I were able to catch each other up on what had happened over our separate weekends. I thought there would be a few stories, and that was it. But, oh no - there are so many!!! I haven't even recalled all of them yet. This may take a few days...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our crew had the "what's wrong with making everyone wait for me?" moments over and over and over... There was the "half-naked wake up call - &lt;em&gt;plus&lt;/em&gt; public exposure" memorable image, the "foreman - in name only", and even the "I have had so little sleep, I've crossed over to insanity" event.  Too funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We packed so much in!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my weekend co-workers stopped by today for coffee. He pointed out how rare it was to do what we did. Every bump in the road - and there were a ton of them- each person had the sentiment of "It's cool. Let's go on from here." Bump. "It's cool. Let's go on from here." It wasn't a previously agreed upon way to do things. We all just flowed with what was going on, and making it work. That's cool. It's a good feeling when you know you work well with someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had hard core sleep dep issues by Saturday night. I only had a few hours a night (2 &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1/2&lt;/span&gt; - 3) starting Wednesday night, but Friday night I only had 1 &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1/2&lt;/span&gt; hours. I was sleep dep on crack. EVERYTHING was funny. It became contagious. Our crew laughed a lot over the weekend. I feel so uplifted and relaxed. I think every single one of us that&lt;em&gt; was&lt;/em&gt; there, &lt;em&gt;needed&lt;/em&gt; to be there for one reason or another.  They don't say, "Laughter is the best medicine" for no reason. Plus, we were able to work out issues that would have been more difficult on home turf. It had a "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" kind of feel to it. It gave us more freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several relationships I previously had with people changed for the better. I think we were all open and willing to listen to our hearts. (I'm gagging as I'm writing this sappy crap. I'll get better, I promise.) I really got to know one person for the &lt;em&gt;first&lt;/em&gt; time - even though we are neighbors and in each other's social circles. With another, I think we had a breakthrough with how we communicate, and how to improve it. It was emotionally draining, and there were tears -- but it was so worth it to feel we are on our way to understanding each other. My third and favorite change was getting time to remember and renew a friendship. It's tricky getting to know each other again, but not bad tricky. Actually, kind of fun. No - totally fun. I also proved to the group, as a whole, that I wasn't as lazy and unreliable as they all believed I was. That was cool. I knew an opportunity would present itself one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of these positive changes are a lot to take in. I'm enjoying every second of it though. A job well done, friendships strenghthened, and new kick-ass neighbors. What sounds better than that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3880888105603547841?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3880888105603547841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3880888105603547841&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3880888105603547841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3880888105603547841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/best-weekend-ever.html' title='Best weekend ever'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7779218218614068334</id><published>2008-02-08T23:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T00:49:03.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm no longer a virgin!</title><content type='html'>&lt;br/&gt;Yes, folks, you heard me correctly.  I had my cherry popped.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Would you like to hear about it?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When it began, I felt a little dizzy.  Dizziness led to all-over body chills.  I had this roaring in my ears - sound wave after sound wave crashed into me.  I was in awe.  I had never experienced anything like it before.  I thought I had seen/felt something similar before, but I was wrong.  There is nothing like it.  I can't wait to experience it again.  I felt the massive power behind it all.  It was like being next to the Gods.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Today, for the very first time, I saw the ocean.  The Atlantic Ocean from Nags Head.  Wow oh wow oh wow.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The dizziness was the anticipation building and opening up the senses.  Chills were from the very strong wind that was constantly blowing.  The waves crashing on the beach was the roaring I heard.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Have any of you ever been to Lake Superior?  It is one of the Great Lakes.  If you stand on the shore, you can't see the other side.  I never had a huge drive to see the ocean, cuz I figured it would look pretty much the same.  Boy, was I wrong!!!  It is nothing like Lake Superior - except for the fact that you can't see the opposite shore.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QN0JpLsENdk/R605uuwsCeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VkMKrwMfTRw/s400/NiaDischargeDay+107.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164847822652836322" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Dudes, it was so amazing.  I have shells, sand, and driftwood from today.  I know that is so cheesy, but I wanted a physical memory of this first time experience.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Now I just have to go to a strip bar and a casino.  I haven't been to either place.  I seem so sheltered when I list stuff like that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;This little mini vacation has been excellent so far.  We head to North Carolina tomorrow morning to finish loading the truck.  We made excellent time today.  Tomorrow will be easier - just lift and load.  After we get everything that we are moving, we are staying in a hotel.  Fabulous!  The mini vacation continues!  Plus, did I ever mention I'm getting paid to enjoy myself?  I am such a whore.  (And I'm okay with that.)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;For astrology believers:  Ever been with two Librans trying to decide on something?  It's entertaining!  I am half of this pair.  We made all kinds of decisions that don't have any actual relevance.  We got stuck trying to decide which ring tone to use for our alarm.  I asked the other two people with us - hoping for a tie breaker.  No such luck.  We just made a bigger tie, and there was no one else to ask.  A decision did get made   ...eventually.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On our drive to the ocean and back, excellent feel-good conversations were had by all.  We did get a little silly (I blame sleep dep.), a little creative ( I believe that was the ocean), and a lot happy (I credit that to the company.).  We seemed like a very cohesive foursome.  Actually, I feel that way about our entire crew this weekend - at least those that I consider part of the crew.  If you pretend to work, or make more work for the rest of us, you don't count in my world.  My world is the only one that matters, right?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Goodnight y'all (says the chick that hails from a land-locked state).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7779218218614068334?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7779218218614068334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7779218218614068334&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7779218218614068334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7779218218614068334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-no-longer-virgin.html' title='I&apos;m no longer a virgin!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QN0JpLsENdk/R605uuwsCeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VkMKrwMfTRw/s72-c/NiaDischargeDay+107.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1618798221922427838</id><published>2008-02-07T22:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T22:46:42.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>6 ~too early~ 30 AM</title><content type='html'>My phone rang at 6:30am this morning.  6 fucking 30 A. goddamn M.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was somebody dead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dying? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maimed, bleeding or hurt in some way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything on fire?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer to these (and all other questions you would ask at 6:30am) is no.  A big resounding NO.  No?  What the hell???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just another dumbass I have collected - the prominent dumbass currently - to say he was going to be late.  What?!?!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't even driving.  What did he expect me to do?  Make people wait for his unhappy ass?  Yeah, I have the power.  Watch me stop this train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if that wasn't enough, he called again an hour later.  I have no idea what he wanted that time.  I hung up.  The only thing he was able to say was "Hello".  It felt great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it to Virginia perfectly fine.  Only one missed turn (and we didn't end up in Texas, dollface) and two stops in 8 1/2 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One last thing:  Where can I get earplugs?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1618798221922427838?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1618798221922427838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1618798221922427838&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1618798221922427838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1618798221922427838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/6-too-early-30-am.html' title='6 ~too early~ 30 AM'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7306823077900607222</id><published>2008-02-06T14:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T14:11:01.278-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm outta here!</title><content type='html'>I am leaving the house tomorrow to go to Virginia, North Carolina, and then back here on Saturday. I'm helping friends move out here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you catch that? I'm leaving the house... without the family... on my own... No one but myself to answer to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a reasonable facsimile of heaven!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this will be refreshing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It better be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7306823077900607222?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7306823077900607222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7306823077900607222&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7306823077900607222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7306823077900607222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-outta-here.html' title='I&apos;m outta here!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4923029461378300156</id><published>2008-02-06T10:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T10:44:58.937-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Urban Word of the Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;disneyfication&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The act of taming the world to make it all safe, clean, and completely similar to a theme park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To remove the sharp edges and darkness that is life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example: &lt;em&gt;NYC suffered from disneyfication under Rudy, and now is as boring as any small town, USA.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4923029461378300156?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4923029461378300156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4923029461378300156&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4923029461378300156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4923029461378300156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/urban-word-of-day.html' title='Urban Word of the Day'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3678593385357502427</id><published>2008-02-03T22:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T00:44:42.334-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We did what????</title><content type='html'>The world must have ended.  Hell froze over, or maybe pigs are flying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a Super Bowl party.  Let me say that again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a Super Bowl party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, it was last-minute.  We didn't have anything else to do.  One of our friends wanted to watch it.  Why not have a party?  Most of the people I hang with don't watch football.  It seemed like a great idea to have a party for something we couldn't give a flying rat's ass about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called everyone in the vicinity, and only a few people didn't show up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea what happened during the game.  I only paid attention during the commercials.  Those were great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was up with no cheerleaders during halftime?  I didn't want to see Tom Petty.  I couldn't find a place to escape for the entire performance.  And thanks to the DVR, I had the extreme pleasure of watching it &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;twice&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.  Twice.  I get a headache just thinking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had the usual aspects of a Super Bowl party.  We had people cheering both teams.  We had snacks.  We even had the "I've had too much to drink" person.  Which, of course, led to the person that went after the drunk person - in the rain.  What more could a football lover like me ask for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what.  Because we recorded it instead of watching it live, the ending didn't get recorded.  Sweet!  I have no idea what the final score is, but I do know who won - the team I picked with all of my football expertise.  I used a very scientific method.  I like New York.  The city, the state... I don't even know where the Patriots are from.  Wait, was it Boston?  I have no idea.  The Giants are from New York, and that's all I needed to know.  Team picked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does it always seem like the Super Bowl teams have the same colors?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, folks, I'm tired.  I am off to some relaxed state.  Couch good, sleep better...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3678593385357502427?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3678593385357502427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3678593385357502427&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3678593385357502427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3678593385357502427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/we-did-what.html' title='We did what????'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3161165774893082867</id><published>2008-02-03T22:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T22:05:12.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Bowl Sunday</title><content type='html'>Today someone mentioned the Super Bowl.  My kid -my 12 year old kid- asked, "What's a super bowl?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, she asked how the bowling was going.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing something right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3161165774893082867?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3161165774893082867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3161165774893082867&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3161165774893082867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3161165774893082867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/super-bowl-sunday.html' title='Super Bowl Sunday'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7081901598707299650</id><published>2008-02-01T13:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T13:36:48.952-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming out better for it</title><content type='html'>I am proud of myself.  I had a challenge with temptation last night.  I really really wanted to, but I did not give in.  Sucked during the moment, but today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel happy and peaceful and content.  All of that would have been tainted (overcome) by guilt and shame.  Instead, I can focus on the good things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in an amazing mood today.  Yay me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7081901598707299650?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7081901598707299650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7081901598707299650&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7081901598707299650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7081901598707299650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/coming-out-better-for-it.html' title='Coming out better for it'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4501698654776840306</id><published>2008-02-01T12:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T12:41:19.335-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Evil women should be rewarded</title><content type='html'>A woman went to her doctor. The doctor, after an examination, sighed and said, "I have some bad news. You have cancer, and you'd best put your affairs in order." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman was shocked, but managed to compose herself and walk into the waiting room where her daughter had been waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well daughter, we women celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don't go so well. In this case, things aren't well. I have cancer. Let's head to the club and have a martini." After 3 or 4 martinis, the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more martinis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were eventually approached by some of the woman's old friends, who were curious as to what the two were celebrating. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman told her friends they were drinking to her impending end. "I've been diagnosed with AIDS." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The friends were aghast and gave the woman their condolences. After the friends left, the woman's daughter leaned over and whispered, "Momma, I thought you said you were dying of cancer, and you just told your friends you were dying of AIDS." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman said, "I don't want any of those bitches sleeping with your father after I'm gone."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, women, we are evil....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4501698654776840306?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4501698654776840306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4501698654776840306&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4501698654776840306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4501698654776840306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/evil-women-should-be-rewarded.html' title='Evil women should be rewarded'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7122335092712695512</id><published>2008-02-01T04:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T04:50:08.911-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Inspections - Free Advertising</title><content type='html'>If anyone out there needs a home inspector, I can personally vouch for this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.volunteerinspections.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Volunteer Inspections&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7122335092712695512?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7122335092712695512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7122335092712695512&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7122335092712695512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7122335092712695512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/02/home-inspections-free-advertising.html' title='Home Inspections - Free Advertising'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1174741692353605267</id><published>2008-01-31T15:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T15:29:28.362-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ya know what bugs me?</title><content type='html'>When you wait a looooooooooong ass time for something, and then, when it happens, you get in your head, think too much, and basically screw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do that a lot.  Think too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has saved me on more occasions than it has screwed me, but still...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1174741692353605267?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1174741692353605267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1174741692353605267&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1174741692353605267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1174741692353605267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/ya-know-what-bugs-me.html' title='Ya know what bugs me?'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-8431139711954508878</id><published>2008-01-31T15:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T15:26:16.427-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow.</title><content type='html'>Really.  That's about it.  Wow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-8431139711954508878?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/8431139711954508878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=8431139711954508878&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8431139711954508878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8431139711954508878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/wow.html' title='Wow.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4925899806856597109</id><published>2008-01-30T11:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T12:16:53.372-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Urban Dictionary - Electile Dysfunction</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Electile+Dysfunction&amp;defid=2799264" target="_blank"&gt;Electile Dysfunction&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The inability to become aroused over any of the choices for President put forth by either party during an election year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is anyone appealing to you in this years presidential race?"&lt;br /&gt;"Naa... No one excites me. I think I'm suffering from Electile Dysfunction."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4925899806856597109?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4925899806856597109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4925899806856597109&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4925899806856597109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4925899806856597109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/urban-dictionary-electile-dysfunction.html' title='Urban Dictionary - Electile Dysfunction'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-8039013599758634972</id><published>2008-01-25T23:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T00:01:18.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh yeah, I almost forgot...</title><content type='html'>I think I burned my face on my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-8039013599758634972?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/8039013599758634972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=8039013599758634972&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8039013599758634972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8039013599758634972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/oh-yeah-i-almost-forgot.html' title='Oh yeah, I almost forgot...'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-2136623342716152680</id><published>2008-01-25T18:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T19:13:03.158-05:00</updated><title type='text'>N'arlins - Here I come!!</title><content type='html'>We have decided I need some sort of vacation.  Some time to get away w/o the fam, w/o all the friends...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been decided that I get to go to New Orleans.  Partly because I really really want to, and partly because no one dares to tell me I can't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dealing with Diva 24/7 in all her tween-ness, plus having to take care of a bunch of adults that I shouldn't have to.  Mostly, cuz the majority (if not all) of them are older than me!  You can't tell...  Freakin' adult children, and me fresh out of maternal instinct!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've been on the edge of going postal, as you all know.  Who in their right mind would deny me a break?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only hang-up is trying to find someone to go with me.  Ya know... that I actually want to spend time with.  It also has to be a guy.  I don't care if that sounds sexist.  I need some protection in that city.  I may be crazy, but not stupid.  There are two I have in mind.  One never pisses me off cuz he is so easy going, plus he's a little crazy too.  The other one has been there so many times, he could show me all the cool places professional tour guides might not mention.  He would also know the stuff I'd want to see...  If all three of us went, that'd be just fine too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking March/early April.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe I finally get to see the city that has been almost an obsession for me!!  I have wanted to go there as long as I can remember.  I wish I would have made it there before Katrina hit.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is one regret I can't do anything about.  I have tried to make sure I don't have any regrets when I die.  I guess I'll have at least one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are other places I want to go.  I think that is why I feel trapped.  I can't just pick up and leave.  I feel like I am running out of time.  What disaster is going to wipe out New York or Las Vegas?  Are the Redwoods going to fall into the ocean?  I need to just get up and go, but that is one need that won't be fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn.  This was supposed to be a happy post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm goin' to N'arlins!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-2136623342716152680?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/2136623342716152680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=2136623342716152680&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/2136623342716152680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/2136623342716152680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/narlins-here-i-come.html' title='N&apos;arlins - Here I come!!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7103708092225371377</id><published>2008-01-25T18:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T18:50:56.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I fell on my ass</title><content type='html'>Yep.  That's right.  On my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gets better.  I was roller skating at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only fell once, but it was hard enough to make my ass go numb.  Very weird skating with a numb ass.  I don't recommend it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this isn't that strange.  It is highly unusual for me though.  I just don't fall.  I never noticed it until the Husband (L) said something.  We were walking the dogs - over a year ago - and I fell.  He thought that was the first time I fell in the entire time he had known me (which was 12 yrs. at the time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately though, the ground and I are coming in contact with one another quite a bit.  Like in the last month or two.  I am SO sick of it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell off the bottom of my stairs a couple weeks ago.  I live here!  I know the stairs - up, down, backwards, forwards, sideways, inside, and out.  But I just missed a step or my foot slipped... I don't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the other thing!  I can usually remember details of shit I did.  That way I can go back and analyze it.  How else will I learn from my mistakes?  But with this falling thing, I can't remember the details.  On skates, I know it was a bunch of converging factors all at once, but I can't remember what they were.  What the hell is wrong with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any shrinks/doctors/hypnotists in the house?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now L is gone for the entire weekend, and I have to walk the dogs.  I am terrified I will get re-injured.  My tailbone is still slowing me down.  I do not want to fall on it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That also meant no nookie before he left.  There wasn't any possible way without hurting me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a tough chick, but this falling thing is f**king my world up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7103708092225371377?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7103708092225371377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7103708092225371377&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7103708092225371377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7103708092225371377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-fell-on-my-ass.html' title='I fell on my ass'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1720251495258697427</id><published>2008-01-15T14:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T16:37:49.732-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My life finally has meaning</title><content type='html'>I became an editor at &lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com" target="_blank"&gt;Urban Dictionary&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1720251495258697427?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1720251495258697427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1720251495258697427&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1720251495258697427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1720251495258697427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-life-finally-has-meaning.html' title='My life finally has meaning'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5736606723526872097</id><published>2008-01-15T12:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T17:02:38.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Urban Dictionary</title><content type='html'>I have fallen in love with the &lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com" target="_blank"&gt;Urban Dictionary&lt;/a&gt;. So much so, that I have signed up for daily definitions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's two of them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DILLIGAF&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does It Look Like I Give A Fuck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example sentence:&lt;br /&gt;You hurt your leg, well DILLIGAF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sooooooo using that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;reality distortion field&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;reality-distortion field n. An expression used to describe the persuasive ability of managers like Steve Jobs (the term originated at Apple Computer in the 1980's to describe his peculiar charisma). Those close to these managers become passionately committed to possibly insane projects, without regard to the practicality of their implementation or competitive forces in the marketplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A reality distortion field. In Steve's presence, reality is malleable. He can convince anyone of practically anything. It wears off when he's not around, but it makes it hard to have realistic schedules."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dudes, I know someone like that. I think I may aspire to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5736606723526872097?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5736606723526872097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5736606723526872097&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5736606723526872097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5736606723526872097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/urban-dictionary.html' title='Urban Dictionary'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-939360143701976862</id><published>2008-01-15T09:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T10:02:39.074-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blast From The Past</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;I was reading the beginning of my blog last night. I realized I have regular phases of being sick of stupid people. I can handle it for awhile, but then it all starts getting to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote these back in Dec 2004...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So, a few guidelines:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~If I don't tell you something on my own, I don't want you to know. Don't ask.&lt;br /&gt;~If I feel strongly enough about something, you'll know. Don't push me to 'spill' before I'm ready.&lt;br /&gt;~There's a reason I don't mention names on here. Respecting privacy... If you don't know who I'm talking about, don't ask. If it is about you, I'll talk when I'm ready.&lt;br /&gt;~In person, don't assume because I don't talk about something that I don't know it. And don't judge me by the people around me. People are stupid. (Look at title of blog)&lt;br /&gt;~Here's a pet peeve: Don't assume that because I have an open marriage, I want to have sex with anybody/everybody. I don't. Most of the time, sex isn't worth it. It's usually a waste of getting naked.&lt;br /&gt;~If you talk yourself up to me, I'll think less of you. Understated is best.&lt;br /&gt;~I'm searching for honest, open, relaxed, mature adults to hang with. If you don't fit that criteria, don't expect me to stick around. It's not my job to take care of you. That's your job. Be responsible.&lt;br /&gt;~Don't lie to me. Especially if you are doing it badly. You'll lose major points.&lt;br /&gt;~If I am feeling anti-social, don't try and 'fix' me. I'll do that.&lt;br /&gt;~If you are my friend (or want to be), we are equals. Don't patronize me. Remember, I know shit that you don't. I have also experienced life for a few years. Give me some credit.&lt;br /&gt;~I look at things as lessons to be learned, not as stuff getting in my way.&lt;br /&gt;~If you have a negative attitude, I won't want to be around you. Period.&lt;br /&gt;~If you insist you are right when there is no way you could know, I'll think you're an idiot. A pompous ass. A moron. And not worth my time.&lt;br /&gt;~In general, people suck. You have to be pretty damn special to rise above that. Good luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think they could still apply...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-939360143701976862?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/939360143701976862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=939360143701976862&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/939360143701976862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/939360143701976862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/blast-from-past.html' title='Blast From The Past'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4910317530703458033</id><published>2008-01-13T22:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T15:59:10.544-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some night!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.sloganizer.net/en/" target="_blank" title="Sloganizer - the slogan generator"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.sloganizer.net/en/style4,-wel-J-wel-.png" border="0" alt="generated by sloganizer.net" title="This slogan was generated by sloganizer.net"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, I had this amazing, otherworldly, fantabulous experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me set the stage. One thing many of you don't know about me is I live in a Fairy Tale place. Dragons are real, fairies like to play, and magick works. My house actually sits in a fairy hot spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Most of you think I'm crazy at this point. If you don't, continue reading.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Tuesday, the winds started to blow. There was something different about them. I could not stay away. I went outside over and over again. They were both warm and cold. In fact, the temperature went way up. Fabulous. I would have been happy with that, and I was. It started raining. Pouring, actually. We really need any moisture falling out of the sky. We had a really bad drought this past summer. Since the drought, I feel happy when it rains. Winds, rain... Later, there was lightning, but only twice - and it was one right after the other. This lightning was special. It was &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;colored&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; lightning! The first one changed from pink to blue to green. The second was pink and blue. And total silence followed. No thunder, just two bursts of colored lightning that reminded me of the Northern Lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have any of you read the stories about someone stepping into a fairy ring, and emerging 100 years later (or something like that)? Do you remember how the Fairy Realm was described? Happy and giddy, joyful, a little fuzzy and foggy around the edges...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is what happened next. It felt like we shifted into the Fairy Realm. My husband and I were sitting on our balcony, and we both felt the difference. We enjoyed being giddy and foggy around our edges. I even felt this strong urge to say, "All the little creatures have come out to play.", and I did. It felt like I &lt;strong&gt;had&lt;/strong&gt; to say it. Kinda spooky, but a spooky I can live with. This was the first 'high on life' night I referred to a few posts ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also heard voices on the wind, and other unrecognizable noises. Scary, beautiful, fabulous!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was addicted. I didn't want to go to sleep... or wake up... or whatever. I didn't want it to stop. I stayed awake. I continued to go outside as often as I could. I fell asleep eventually, but not by choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next night when I was describing it to a few friends, I got 'high' again. The next day (Thurs.) was the 'crash'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of our friends saw the colored lightning, too. He may have been the only one. It was late when it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never experienced that before. Now I understand the stories. Now I know how 100 years could pass without notice. I could have spent 100 years in that place... maybe. Big commitment and all. BUT if you would have asked me while I was in the throes of it, oh hell yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love where I live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4910317530703458033?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4910317530703458033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4910317530703458033&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4910317530703458033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4910317530703458033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/some-night.html' title='Some night!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1369411685271654019</id><published>2008-01-13T15:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T16:09:28.374-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel smart again</title><content type='html'>I've had new developments in the works, and I am so excited about them. Well, new information to be learned. Developments will come after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a 'feel like my old self' day. I'm excited to learn something, my brain is constantly having 'A-ha!' moments, and I just know it is going to continue. Here's hoping I don't get overloaded by my own thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. If I do, I'll just take a break, and then jump back in!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone know if it is possible to develop dyslexia?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1369411685271654019?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1369411685271654019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1369411685271654019&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1369411685271654019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1369411685271654019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-feel-smart-again.html' title='I feel smart again'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3479065759654149990</id><published>2008-01-11T16:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T16:33:06.709-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There's hope for me yet!</title><content type='html'>I talked to a friend/mentor, and I see a solution on the horizon.  Just knowing that I'll be able to get it under control has made me feel so much better.  Part of what was making me crazy was the lack of control.  I didn't know what, why, for how long,etc....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still am lacking in vital information, but just knowing it is out there has given me the ability to breathe again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*deep breath*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3479065759654149990?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3479065759654149990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3479065759654149990&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3479065759654149990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3479065759654149990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/theres-hope-for-me-yet.html' title='There&apos;s hope for me yet!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-8078726872707679712</id><published>2008-01-11T12:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T21:29:46.047-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I typed my real name in, but changed it to ~J~ for the post</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;What ~J~ Means&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatsyournameshiddenmeaningquiz/name.gif" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are fair, honest, and logical. You are a natural leader, and people respect you.&lt;br /&gt;You never give up, and you will succeed... even if it takes you a hundred tries.&lt;br /&gt;You are rational enough to see every part of a problem. You are great at giving other people advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone.&lt;br /&gt;You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together.&lt;br /&gt;At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people.&lt;br /&gt;You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tend to be pretty tightly wound. It's easy to get you excited... which can be a good or bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;You have a lot of enthusiasm, but it fades rather quickly. You don't stick with any one thing for very long.&lt;br /&gt;You have the drive to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. Your biggest problem is making sure you finish the projects you start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are loving, compassionate, and ruled by your feelings.&lt;br /&gt;You are able to be a foundation for other people... but you still know how to have fun.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes your emotions weigh you down, but you generally feel free from them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel. You're always up to something.&lt;br /&gt;You have a ton of energy, and most people can't handle you. You're very intense.&lt;br /&gt;You definitely are a handful, and you're likely to get in trouble. But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyournameshiddenmeaningquiz/"&gt;What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-8078726872707679712?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/8078726872707679712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=8078726872707679712&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8078726872707679712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8078726872707679712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-typed-my-real-name-in-but-changed-it.html' title='I typed my real name in, but changed it to ~J~ for the post'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-149720882311180029</id><published>2008-01-11T12:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T12:11:44.841-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cool Nerd!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.nerdtests.com/nt2ref.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.nerdtests.com/images/badge/nt2/e618d9acfd9107c7.jpg" alt="NerdTests.com says I'm a Cool Nerd.  What are you?  Click here!"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-149720882311180029?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/149720882311180029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=149720882311180029&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/149720882311180029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/149720882311180029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/cool-nerd.html' title='Cool Nerd!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-8311194213824646241</id><published>2008-01-11T09:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T15:53:31.013-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No straight jacket needed today...  yet</title><content type='html'>So I am feeling less crazy today. I might have just a tiny bit of patience and tolerance back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up to find Diva in her room, playing video games, and eating chips and dip. This was at 9am. Here's what is supposed to happen. Her alarm goes off at 8am. She has until 9am to have breakfast, etc. My alarm goes off at 9am, and school begins. That has not been happening lately. She has been trying to get away with whatever she can in the morning. Now she is grounded from all video games and snacks. Punishment fitting the crime is my motto of the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel sorry for the husband. He has been bearing the brunt of all of my craziness. He never knows when I am going to snap. For that matter, neither do I. We could be laughing, and he could just hint at the wrong thing to say, and I do a 180. He actually has done really well. Probably cuz he knows this is not like me, and it is just a storm to ride out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need a new meteorologist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you guys!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-8311194213824646241?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/8311194213824646241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=8311194213824646241&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8311194213824646241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8311194213824646241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/no-straight-jacket-needed-yet-today.html' title='No straight jacket needed today...  yet'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-8807017817671272318</id><published>2008-01-10T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T18:44:44.597-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some relief</title><content type='html'>I have finally heard from my friend(?).  I feel a little bit better - in that area at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the population can f**k off and die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-8807017817671272318?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/8807017817671272318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=8807017817671272318&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8807017817671272318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8807017817671272318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/some-relief.html' title='Some relief'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-8394983979010389356</id><published>2008-01-10T16:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T16:53:20.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Trapped</title><content type='html'>I want to run away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this great guy/couple down in Alabama that has a lot of acreage. It's a beautiful place. He wants people to come down and homestead there. I have fantasies about doing exactly that. Picking up, leaving, starting my life over... What a delicious thought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is because Little Diva has now entered her tweens, and I wish there was a fast forward button...&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is because the husband can really be a 'guy' at times, and I don't need that sh*t...&lt;br /&gt;Maybe because one of our friends has quickly developed into one of life's challenges for me, and I have had rage boiling under the surface for awhile now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want some 'me' time. Not just a night out either. Since I am *supposed* to deal with everyone's shit, and stay calm-cool-collected, I want everyone to pamper my ass. For days, weeks, months... whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also experiencing these strange extreme mood changes. I can go from feeling good to seriously pissed in a nano-second, and then back to good again. It's a constant flip-flop. What is that? Bi-polar.. Manic-depression? I don't know what it sounds like, but I know it is not that. If I could work through whatever the hell this is, I'd go back to normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only good thing about being pissed off all the time is the inner body warmth during these cold months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really do want to punch somebody... anybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I feel used, abused, taken advantage of, and generally f**ked over. I am really mad at a friend of mine. Well, I think he's a friend. Who the f**k knows. You would think he would consider me a friend -- I am that awesome. He would be a real dumbass to not take my sincere offer of friendship. I will not stand out in the cold forever. Dumbass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday and the night before, I was higher than I thought I could be. That's not true - I don't have a cap for how high on life I could be. Anyway, I was floating so high, my feet were not even close to the ground - for hours. It was so fabulous. I felt normal once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a theory that today is just a crash from that fabulous feeling. Is it possible to have the endorphin/serotonin/something crash without drugs? Is it possible to have crashes all the time? Is it possible to stay in a crash?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really just want people to leave me alone. Except those I choose to deal with... The list is not very long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-8394983979010389356?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/8394983979010389356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=8394983979010389356&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8394983979010389356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8394983979010389356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/trapped.html' title='Trapped'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7745856416211774412</id><published>2008-01-10T11:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T11:32:57.174-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Venting</title><content type='html'>So, at first I was pretty excited.  Part of me still is...  but now I am starting to feel used.  I'm good enough to dish it out, try and prove my loyalty, and all that shit -- but not good enough for any real information???  F**k off.  If you don't believe I'm a friend, you are a dumbass.  Who else would have made that many sacrifices?  Who else would have considered your best interests?  You keep holding me at arm's length, and I am done.  We are not playing by *only* your rules anymore.  If you can actually question my loyalty, then I can question yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I kidding?  You are loyal only to yourself.  All of us are just here for.. what??  Your pawns?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the f**k ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7745856416211774412?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7745856416211774412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7745856416211774412&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7745856416211774412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7745856416211774412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2008/01/venting.html' title='Venting'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1314604173545389138</id><published>2007-12-28T13:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T14:20:17.449-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='missed you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='missed my blog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oops'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='been too long'/><title type='text'>I'm back (at the moment)</title><content type='html'>So wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've missed this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've missed all of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need to stop smoking that crack...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Yes, that was a joke.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my plan:  I don't know how well I'll stick to it, but...  I figure one post per season to catch all of you up.  One post for the last year is WAY too much to hope for.  I figure I'll start with the Summer post. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1314604173545389138?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1314604173545389138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1314604173545389138&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1314604173545389138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1314604173545389138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-back-at-moment.html' title='I&apos;m back (at the moment)'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4358364479978902453</id><published>2007-12-28T13:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T13:48:44.348-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A joke I've hung on to</title><content type='html'>2:11 PM 9/4/2007&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A crusty old man walks into the local First Baptist Church and says to the secretary, "I would like to join this damn church."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The astonished woman replies, "I beg your pardon, sir. I must have misunderstood you. What did you say?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Listen up, damn it. I said I want to join this damn church!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm very sorry sir, but that kind of language is not tolerated in this church."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The secretary leaves her desk and goes into the pastor's study to inform him of her situation. The pastor agrees that the secretary does not have to listen to that foul language. They both return to her office and the pastor asks the old geezer, "Sir, what seems to be the problem here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is no damn problem," the man says. "I just won $200 million bucks in the damn lottery and I want to join this damn church to get rid of some of this damn money."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see," said the pastor. "And is this bitch giving you a hard time?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4358364479978902453?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4358364479978902453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4358364479978902453&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4358364479978902453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4358364479978902453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/12/joke-ive-hung-on-to.html' title='A joke I&apos;ve hung on to'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4805843557617740359</id><published>2007-05-29T11:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T11:37:25.258-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yoga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Update'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shows'/><title type='text'>I am going to relax today.</title><content type='html'>Whoo! What a busy week! Between trying to get my printer to work to running someplace every day... Very busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to figure out what Diva's summer lesson plans will be. I thought about skipping math and focusing on science. Still undecided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw Spiderman 3 a couple/few weeks ago. I loved it. I'm also not an avid comic book reader. Venom was cool, but I'm really glad I got to see Sandman on the big screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Tuesday -my out in the woods yoga day- I didn't do yoga. I did crunches instead. We have got to do yoga tonight. I desperately need it. No yoga for 2 weeks now. I really don't want to do it alone. I'm afraid that my partner is gonna poop out on me. Left to my own devices, I'll stop doing it. I know this about myself. I won't like having to stay self-motivated to be alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the Heroes season finale? Totally rocked! It cleared up so many loose ends, didn't leave you hanging as much as previous chapters, AND they did a preview of Volume 2!!! All in all, it was very satisfying. I have many theories, ideas, and speculation about Volume 2. I love a show that leaves me buzzing after watching it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends from Atlanta were here over the weekend. Love love love when they are in town! Very cool people. They &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WILL&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; have something very positive happen to them within the next two weeks. We have two separate dreams that we have merged to help each other out. Both beautiful dreams, both are going to happen. That's all there is to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4805843557617740359?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4805843557617740359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4805843557617740359&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4805843557617740359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4805843557617740359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-am-going-to-relax-today.html' title='I am going to relax today.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-262058610098104487</id><published>2007-05-18T16:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T16:47:17.597-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So...</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was ready to get my kid on drugs AND send her to boarding school. Not one or the other. I was ready to ship her ass out, and let someone else deal. I was done. Luckily, the man stepped in. He took charge, and I'm willing to give it another shot today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going into any details. Little Diva doesn't deserve that. Suffice it to say, I was DONE. I had a total meltdown. I pretty much figured nothing has ever worked, and nothing ever will. I felt helpless. I didn't have any options left - at least that is how I felt. I was ready to hand her off to whoever would be willing to take her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did tell her I was willing to let her go to public school again if she really wants to. I also told her that if I find out she does even one inappropriate thing with a boy, I will yank her out so fast she won't know what hit her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am aware how awful this sounds. Judge if you want. I just lost it. I think this 24-7 thing with no possibility for parole (babysitter) is a lot to handle. No 'adult only' time to go out or whatever. The Diva is always there doing her drama queen thing. Always. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have a girls night out, but the timing is off. We are tightening the belts around here until our trip to MN in July. No extra spending allowed, eat cheap crap food, put every cent toward vacation spending money, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two opportunities for overnight road trips before MN. I need to figure it out before I go crazy and take everyone down with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-262058610098104487?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/262058610098104487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=262058610098104487&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/262058610098104487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/262058610098104487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/05/so.html' title='So...'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-5999127894238115350</id><published>2007-05-16T01:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T01:30:36.421-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I want</title><content type='html'>I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sick of hearing "I want" without the "I" part of the equation putting in an effort.  Quit telling me if you aren't willing to work for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-5999127894238115350?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/5999127894238115350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=5999127894238115350&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5999127894238115350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/5999127894238115350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-want.html' title='I want'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-6937999893536901926</id><published>2007-05-15T16:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T16:49:17.965-04:00</updated><title type='text'>*sigh*</title><content type='html'>Dial-up downloading takes forever.  Just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-6937999893536901926?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/6937999893536901926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=6937999893536901926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6937999893536901926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/6937999893536901926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/05/sigh.html' title='*sigh*'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-739476443214394338</id><published>2007-05-15T11:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T12:01:36.572-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey Cricket!!</title><content type='html'>So glad you have a &lt;a href="http://blogobeauty.blogspot.com" target="_blank"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; again!!!    Have you posted yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the Queen of Hermitdom here is one to talk!  *laugh*  I haven't kept up with anyone or anything - as you well know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting better, I swear!! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be researching IMs today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-739476443214394338?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/739476443214394338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=739476443214394338&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/739476443214394338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/739476443214394338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/05/hey-cricket.html' title='Hey Cricket!!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-4667408376108487998</id><published>2007-05-14T19:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T19:26:16.302-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Links -n- stuff</title><content type='html'>will be back shortly.  The blog needed an upgrade and some spring cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-4667408376108487998?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/4667408376108487998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=4667408376108487998&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4667408376108487998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/4667408376108487998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/05/links-n-stuff.html' title='Links -n- stuff'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7867035808652975572</id><published>2007-05-14T18:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T18:28:40.210-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Online now</title><content type='html'>I got the laptop online.  I'm hooked up, people.  My next step is to get my IMs up and running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7867035808652975572?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7867035808652975572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7867035808652975572&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7867035808652975572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7867035808652975572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/05/online-now.html' title='Online now'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3119074906330969042</id><published>2007-05-14T18:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T18:08:23.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So happy!</title><content type='html'>We finally bought a laptop!!!! I am so over-the-top excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting in my bed, drinking coffee, typing this to post later. How freakin' cool is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know. Took me long enough, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also really wanted to have a laptop before our trip to MN this summer. Mostly cuz we are driving up, and we want something to do in the car. We have already installed The Sims. I'll get a few expansion packs to install from a friend of ours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided this is the solution to my lack of blogging. It's sitting down at the big PC, firing it up (since I'm not on it every day), etc.. With the laptop, I can type my entries in notepad, and copy/paste them online later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite things (so far) about the laptop are the Gadgets. I don't know enough yet to know if it is a strictly Vista thing, or if it is pretty common with Windows... I have no idea. I do know that I have a cool sidebar with an analog clock, a calendar, post-it pad (my favorite!), a CPU meter, a slideshow, and a picture puzzle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The graphics rock. We wanted Intel, but settled for AMD instead. We wanted 2G of RAM, but settled for 1G. We have 160G memory, though. Pretty cool, eh? It also has a webcam and mic already built in. So excited!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't even hooked it up to the internet yet. I can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also bought a carrying case for it. That wasn't in the original plan, but we were saving a lot by settling for less than what we wanted. I love my new laptop case!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be looking at skins for my laptop. Shiny black is pretty and all, but I want something that screams me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also got an inverter for the car. Apparently an inverter (which gives you a place to plug something in) is cheaper that a car adapter for a laptop. This also means Little Diva might be able to play her PS2 on the trip to MN. Her portable DVD player has hook-ups for stuff like that. Diva has been saving her money for a long time and was able to buy the DVD player yesterday when we bought the laptop. That was a great purchase for her. She brought a movie with us, and watched it on the way home. So quiet, no trouble whatsoever, and the best part... She didn't feel car sick!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to get a splitter for the cig lighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta ta for now! Y'all will be seeing a lot more of me, I promise! (Threaten?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3119074906330969042?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3119074906330969042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3119074906330969042&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3119074906330969042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3119074906330969042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/05/so-happy.html' title='So happy!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-3665295187708231864</id><published>2007-04-29T16:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T17:03:24.026-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Addition to really late update</title><content type='html'>I've also started doing Yoga on a regular basis.  A friend and I get together outside, and I am usually high from the experience for the rest of the night.  If I don't get my Yoga, I'm like a junkie w/o a connection.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We usually do the poses that kick our asses.  I think it is interesting that we do exactly the same routine, but we have different reactions in different muscle groups.  I usually feel it from one tricep, up and across my shoulders, down the other tricep.  She usually feels it in her ass, neck, or back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've noticed my clothes fitting better.  I feel sexier than I have for awhile.  It's a good thing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm...  The urge is hitting me to do some Yoga....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-3665295187708231864?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/3665295187708231864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=3665295187708231864&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3665295187708231864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/3665295187708231864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/04/addition-to-really-late-update.html' title='Addition to really late update'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-8410568914552325680</id><published>2007-04-29T15:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T15:58:58.938-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Really late update</title><content type='html'>So I totally suck with this whole online/check email/update blog thing.  Sweaty donkey balls type of suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have been so freaking busy lately.  So busy that if we were in Hollywood, we would be checking ourselves into a hospital with exhaustion.  It is very rare to have one entire day when we don't have to go anywhere.  Today happens to be one of those days, but only because we are blowing off an activity.  When the thought of doing something really cool makes you want to curl up in bed and temporarily die, it's time to play hooky (hookey?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Diva and I have been to Minnesota.  My brother had double bypass heart surgery.  He's a horse though.  He's gonna be just fine.  His doctor wants him to ride bicycle in the Iron Man competition summer of '08.  You can do either 30, 60, or 100 miles.  If he gets back to the way he was, 60 miles would be no problem.  I can see him going for the 100.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that wasn't all that happened because of that trip.  I had to make contact with my dad again.  I haven't spoken to him in over 10 years.  I'm barely interested in how he's doing.  But I am an opportunist at times.  This was one of those times.  Dad sent word through my sister that he would be willing to pay for my plane ticket so I could be there for Mookey's surgery.  (Mookey is obviously an alias for my brother.)  Dad owes me, so I took him up on his offer, and he flew me and Little Diva up.  Now I am just trying to figure out how long I am obligated to talk to him.  How much time equals $900?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went all out for Little Diva's birthday.  My baby is 12 years old.  Weird, a little creepy, and sooooooooooo much closer to 18 (Yay!).  We took her to Wacky Bear and Dollywood (2 different days), plus she had a birthday potluck and a birthday game night.  I am so glad it's over until next year.  Exhausting just remembering it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We now have Guitar Hero II here.  We are all addicted.  I'm not sure which is more addicting: GH II or Need For Speed (especially Most Wanted).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gotten better at house work since moving here.  I think my mother would be proud.  I know I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't read a book in a very long time.  I miss reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will probably be getting a laptop soon.  I think that will make it easier for me to keep this place updated.  Any advice on buying a laptop, and/or what I should look for would be appreciated.  I want plenty of memory, and a good battery life.  Help!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-8410568914552325680?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/8410568914552325680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=8410568914552325680&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8410568914552325680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/8410568914552325680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/04/really-late-update.html' title='Really late update'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-7800321776861418938</id><published>2007-04-29T15:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T16:18:29.351-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stolen from Bill Nye the Science Guy:</title><content type='html'>Long distance phone call to an old racist buddy: $2&lt;br /&gt;Refreshments for a White Power meeting: $10&lt;br /&gt;Explaining to a racist that all people have the same genes and that our external appearance which is used to classify us into races represents only .01% of our genes: Priceless&lt;br /&gt;Telling a racist that we all come from Africa: Really Great&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-7800321776861418938?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/7800321776861418938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=7800321776861418938&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7800321776861418938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/7800321776861418938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/04/stolen-from-bill-nye-science-guy.html' title='Stolen from Bill Nye the Science Guy:'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-1609716280584004812</id><published>2007-04-29T15:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T16:21:59.736-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sung to the tune of the Oscar Meyer theme :</title><content type='html'>I wish I were a three legged doggy,&lt;br /&gt;For that is what I'd truly love to be.&lt;br /&gt;For if I was a three legged doggy,&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't have to lift my leg to pee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-1609716280584004812?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/1609716280584004812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=1609716280584004812&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1609716280584004812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/1609716280584004812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/04/sung-to-tune-of-oscar-meyer-theme.html' title='Sung to the tune of the Oscar Meyer theme :'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-116915872060716679</id><published>2007-01-18T15:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T17:18:40.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Did you know you could get therapy online???  Read on...</title><content type='html'>I thought y'all might like to know:  I did print up the business cards that were suggested in the comments section of the previous post.  Not card 3 or 4 though.  Too much work for a jackass.  I also didn't have business card paper.  &lt;br /&gt;It was a refreshing move, however.  I felt like I was doing something, and it was GOOD.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Cyli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-116915872060716679?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/116915872060716679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=116915872060716679&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116915872060716679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116915872060716679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/01/did-you-know-you-could-get-therapy.html' title='Did you know you could get therapy online???  Read on...'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-116855139440399971</id><published>2007-01-11T15:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T16:36:34.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back of the head...  Kick!!!</title><content type='html'>I have never claimed to be tolerant of neighbors.  I am pretty tolerant with people I choose to have in my life.  If they have to make allowances for me, I have to return that favor gladly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But neighbors???  All bets are off.&lt;br /&gt;We have a new neighbor.  Not just any neighbor though.  One we have known for quite a while.  We aren't close or anything, but we met the dude years ago.  We have run into him at the same places we have been.&lt;br /&gt;He used to be this really sweet nice guy.  Someone you would want around, hard-worker, etc.  An all-around good guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently he was gang raped by a bunch of wild dogs or something else to radically change his personality.&lt;br /&gt;Now he is a massive control-freak, manipulative, chauvinistic, aggressively obnoxious, jackass.  It is to the point that when he walks into the same area I am (yard, house, etc), I have violent tendencies.  I mean, I wanna take the little fucker down.  Put him in a world of hurt.  Or just use my double-edged wit and deflate his ego like a popped balloon.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all came down to one fateful evening.  I was tolerant.  I was patient.  I was making allowances.  I was being polite and civil and all that jazz.  Then he seemed to think he donated either sperm or egg in the creation of my child.  Emphasis on &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;There were eight or more of us hanging out - some getting ready to play HeroScape, some just hanging.  It was looking like a fun evening ahead for all involved.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Now those of you that have stuck with this blog through all my hermit-dom know that Little Diva is a strong-willed independent creature.  She's a freakin' handful.  We, as her parents, know what she is like.  We know what to expect, and we know we will have to get on her about one thing or another, without fail.  WE will have to.  (Didja catch that? Oh good, I knew you  wouldn't let me down.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Jackass was there that evening.  As a matter of fact, you couldn't possibly miss his existence that night.  Anytime, Every time WE had to discipline her, stop her, etc,  guess who jumped in -from across the room, no less- talked loudly to her, over US.&lt;br /&gt;Picture getting in trouble as a kid.  Your parents busted you, they are taking care of it, and then someone else decides to discipline you, ignoring that your parents are already on top of the situation.  How would your parents feel if someone stepped onto their turf uninvited??  &lt;br /&gt;I know how I felt the first time it happened.  Back of his head: Kick.  I restrained myself, focused on my kid, got the message to her, etc.  I had every right to ignore him.  &lt;br /&gt;This didn't just happen once though.  He could be sitting quietly, not doing a thing, but if he saw us saying anything "parental" to Little Diva, he would jump out of his seat, and get into the middle of it.  Who does that?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is not part of the village that is raising her.  Not even the village jumps in like that.  If we are around, we take care of it.  Period.  She has many adults around that love her and care for her, but Jackass isn't either one of those.  He just sucks fungus-covered sloth balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband wants to be the one to take care of it.  We have decided to wait until he does it again (and he will!), but the waiting is killing me.  I've got the whole protective-mother-don't-fuck-with-me vibe going on, and something needs to be resolved soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night he was around her, but amazingly enough, she behaved herself.  He did try to manipulate her into letting him take her place in a game she was in - a game she had begged to play - and she would have let him too, (cuz she is a &lt;em&gt;nice &lt;/em&gt;handful) but Daddy stepped in and told her, "No, you can't stop playing.".  *laugh*  Who tells a kid that??  Too funny.  But that Jackass trying to manipulate a little kid out of a game pissed Daddy off (and me too once I heard about it).  Jackass didn't ask if he could take over for any of the adults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had one of those things that gyms have (don't know what they're called) that you can kick.  Maybe it's just a punching bag's dual purpose.  All I know is I want to beat the snot outta someone or something, and I have no options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-116855139440399971?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/116855139440399971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=116855139440399971&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116855139440399971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116855139440399971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/01/back-of-head-kick.html' title='Back of the head...  Kick!!!'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-116854699530267228</id><published>2007-01-11T15:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T15:23:15.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More cheese, please.</title><content type='html'>I'm bored, and I have too much to do.  Ever been there?  I guess another word for it is overwhelmed.&lt;br /&gt;I have unpacking and cleaning to do (top of my list), plus other crap that I will avoid mentioning.  If I start listing everything, I'll get even more stressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know the solution.  All of you out there rolling your eyes at my lameness: You preacher; me choir.  I know I have to just get up and do something.  Of course, I won't finish such a huge project by the time I go to bed, so it will just sit there, taunting me, torturing me, until I lose my mind for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a whiner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-116854699530267228?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/116854699530267228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=116854699530267228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116854699530267228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116854699530267228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/01/more-cheese-please.html' title='More cheese, please.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-116831523909512043</id><published>2007-01-08T22:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T23:00:39.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>De-lurking</title><content type='html'>Howdy folks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got wind it was National De-lurking Week, so I thought I'd come out of my cave and de-lurk my own blog.  I actually left a comment on another person's blog.  Can you believe it??  My head is still spinning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You ever feel like you don't have time to sit down at the computer?  I do ever since I moved.  Does this mean I'm more active?  And that must be good, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There.  I've officially de-lurked. &lt;br /&gt;(This one is for you, &lt;a href="http://whynotright.wordpress.com/" target_blank&gt;Cyli&lt;/a&gt;!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-116831523909512043?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/116831523909512043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=116831523909512043&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116831523909512043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116831523909512043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2007/01/de-lurking.html' title='De-lurking'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-116612458024893233</id><published>2006-12-14T14:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T14:29:40.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In honor of a hero</title><content type='html'>I have just found out that a friend is no longer with us.  Or at least I think that is what I found out.  I know I cried like I had known him my whole life, but in reality, we have never physically met.&lt;br /&gt;He was a damn fine man, and a damn fine partner to his wife - another good friend of mine.&lt;br /&gt;I will honor his memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-116612458024893233?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/116612458024893233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=116612458024893233&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116612458024893233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116612458024893233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/12/in-honor-of-hero.html' title='In honor of a hero'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-116612394202291630</id><published>2006-12-14T14:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T14:19:02.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello out there  Hello... Hello... Hello...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.sloganizer.net/en/" target="_blank" title="Sloganizer - the slogan generator"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.sloganizer.net/en/style4,-wel-J-wel-.png" border="0" alt="generated by sloganizer.net" title="This slogan was generated by sloganizer.net"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="fullpost"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haven't blogged in awhile.&lt;br /&gt;Let's see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to MN to sort through my mother's things with my brother and sister.  It was the first time the three of us have ever done anything together w/o our families.  It was fantastic.  We all feel closer to each other than ever before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that wigged me out:  My brother informed me he discovered my MySpace page.  He also told both me and my sister and a mutual friend that I had 'swinger' listed as Relationship Status.  I about died.  I didn't see it coming.  I figured he was going to say something about me being pagan or something.  I am still in the broom closet, so I was panicking.  I couldn't even remember what 'Orientation' meant.  I played the swinger thing very cool.  My sister even asked me if I was "scoping" right now.  In a VFW?????  In my hometown?????????????  HELL NO.  She proceeds to tell me I should cuz I looked hot.  When I asked her if she was encouraging me, she ran away.  Obviously she doesn't approve of the open lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there a way to hide some of the pictures that are uploaded to MySpace?  I don't want to delete them, just remove them from the public's eye.  More specifically, my brother's eye.  HELP!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got back from my trip, we started packing.  That's right, ladies and gentlemen, we moved again.  This move was a lot easier.  We were able to take several loads out before the big moving day.  I'm actually typing this on Notepad, because I'm waiting for a phone line.  Well, a phone jack.  I'm actually craving the internet again.  Maybe it's the view from my window.  Nothing but tall tall trees as far as the eye can see.  So much better than a blank wall.  I don't feel so crowded now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house is beautiful.  I can sit in every room and just look around.  Our friend that built this house is a fine craftsman.  The upstairs walls are all angles.  Little Diva has her bed in a loft.  What kid wouldn't want a cool room like that??  I have a balcony off of my room that looks out at all those tall tall trees.  This place feels like coming home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of the move, I've barely been online.  I would dial up every few days or more to check my email - mostly to keep it from getting too full.  I only replied to my brother and sister.  No worries.  I'll write back to everyone else, I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All for now.  Have to unpack some more stuff.  Ugh.  Coffee first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-116612394202291630?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/116612394202291630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=116612394202291630&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116612394202291630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/116612394202291630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/12/hello-out-there-hello-hello-hello.html' title='Hello out there  Hello... Hello... Hello...'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115886843211844669</id><published>2006-09-21T15:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T15:53:52.206-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"On"</title><content type='html'>Okay, so this would be one of my "on" days.&lt;br /&gt;I actually blew the dust off my Yahoo and had an IM convo today.  I'm still reeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about sex again.  I know I didn't say I wasn't, but I'm sure you are smart enough to put it together.  The thought of sex was such a yawner, it would either put me to sleep or put me in a really bad mood.  Don't misunderstand this.  The man knows what he is doing.  I have just been such a Grade A Bitch lately that, of course, I didn't want to get off and improve my mood.  It's a theory.  I'll try to keep you updated.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I need angry sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a busy two days ahead of me.  I can't tell you anything or I'd be forced to kill you, and I really like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next weekend is a Women's Night Out overnight bash.  I can't wait!!!  Now if only I could drink...  A night w/o the husband/kid combo.  It feels like a fantasy coming true.  Is it really possible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have thought about visiting my friends.  I'm not sure what the etiquette is though.  Can you call up a friend you haven't spoken to in months and ask if they want to get together?  And if you do get that lucky, do you tell them what's been going on in your head the last few months, or just breeze past it like it was nothing?&lt;br /&gt;But then there's the trouble with the, "Oh, you should have called me." responses.  Not they don't mean it when they say it, but everyone gets sick of a whiner.  More friendships have been lost that way, and I wanted to be sure I still had friends to go back to when I was funk-less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115886843211844669?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115886843211844669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115886843211844669&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115886843211844669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115886843211844669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/09/on.html' title='&quot;On&quot;'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115869556622265377</id><published>2006-09-19T15:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T15:52:46.286-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Facing a fear</title><content type='html'>I'm in a funk.  A funk I am trying to understand.  There are moments, days even, when I feel like my old self.  I have hope that I am finally emerging.  I start to look forward to all the things I used to look forward to...  But then, something will happen, sometimes just a thought, that sends me spiraling back down again.&lt;br /&gt;I'm teetering between wanting to see my friends and thinking I wouldn't be very good company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I just need to get laid.  Repeatedly and forcefully.  I'd like to come away from it checking for injuries.  That would definitely perk my spirits up.  &lt;br /&gt;I have fantasies of being slammed up against walls, floors, and/or random surfaces (which is too noisy when there is a kid in the house).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been very intolerant.  It's what I want, when I want it, or watch out.  Maybe I just need to be put in my place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't want to be disappointed anymore.  I keep hearing promises that I know won't be kept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a friend that is possibly looking at a prison sentence.  I don't believe my friend will stay alive for very long in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My world, my sanctuary, is getting ripped apart at the seams.  When/If that happens, where will I turn?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my blog, but I am &lt;strong&gt;terrified&lt;/strong&gt; to post this.  How sad is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being online feels too connected to the world.  I've realized it's not so much leaving the house that I don't like.  It's letting anyone in to see what is really going on inside me that is terrifying.  I'm supposed to be the one that is so together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a lame thing to say.  Nevermind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, need to get laid.  Repeatedly and forcefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115869556622265377?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115869556622265377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115869556622265377&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115869556622265377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115869556622265377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/09/facing-fear.html' title='Facing a fear'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115619568286310883</id><published>2006-08-21T16:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T17:28:03.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Play it again, Sam</title><content type='html'>Has anyone out there heard of "Finian's Rainbow"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's an old musical with Fred Astaire in it.  I grew up with it, but have only met two other people that knew what it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115619568286310883?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115619568286310883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115619568286310883&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115619568286310883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115619568286310883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/08/play-it-again-sam.html' title='Play it again, Sam'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115619371062608641</id><published>2006-08-21T14:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T16:55:10.700-04:00</updated><title type='text'>On the road to... recovery???</title><content type='html'>I have figured out part of my problem.  I keep trying to leave my cave, but every time I do, stupid people happen.  Usually I don't get very far.  Sometimes only as far as this neighborhood.  I really need out of this area.  It makes it really hard to be my happy-go-lucky self when I have fantasies of torture.  &lt;br /&gt;Torturing other people, I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well...  To be perfectly honest, I have some of the other kind of torture fantasies too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115619371062608641?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115619371062608641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115619371062608641&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115619371062608641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115619371062608641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/08/on-road-to-recovery.html' title='On the road to... recovery???'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115558436429406836</id><published>2006-08-14T15:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T15:39:24.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Greyhound</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Prohibited Items for Checked Baggage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acids, ammunition, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;animals&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;(Why would you bring an animal to be checked under the bus? "Ma'am, I have to take Spot - He ate my homework."),&lt;/em&gt; combustible liquids, compressed gases, &lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;CORPSES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt; &lt;em&gt;(Are you shitting me??? They had to actually say it???),&lt;/em&gt; cremated remains, explosives, firearms of all types, fireworks, flammable liquids, furniture, hazardous materials (poisons, radioactive materials, etc.), &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;materials with a disagreeable odor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;(Disagreeable to who?),&lt;/em&gt; matches, merchandise for resale, protruding articles, or any unsecured articles including those in plastic or paper bags are prohibited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Electronic equipment (television, stereos, etc.), film (flammable), and perishable items (food) may be sent using Greyhound PackageXpress with appropriate packing. Items such as money and prescription medication may not be checked as baggage and are to be carried in the customer's possession.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115558436429406836?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115558436429406836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115558436429406836&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115558436429406836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115558436429406836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/08/greyhound_14.html' title='Greyhound'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115524935144188703</id><published>2006-08-10T18:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T18:35:51.553-04:00</updated><title type='text'>MIA</title><content type='html'>Quickly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still in hermit mode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about my blog almost everyday, but I haven't been motivated enough to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be going to MN to go through my mother's things with my brother and sister.  I'm really excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have finally "discovered" eBay.  We all have mp3 players now.  I love my new toy!  I can't wait to upgrade!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been finding out a lot of my family history.  It's been great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, dahlings, that's all for now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115524935144188703?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115524935144188703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115524935144188703&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115524935144188703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115524935144188703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/08/mia.html' title='MIA'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115282693566998803</id><published>2006-07-13T17:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T17:42:15.783-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More dumbasses I have not had the pleasure of kicking in the balls</title><content type='html'>I just watched Ku Klux Klan: A Secret History on A&amp;E.&lt;br /&gt;I was so ignorant. Sure I knew there have been crazy hooded racists for a long time. Yes, I knew they targeted black people, and had a reign of terror.   I've never understood the mindset of these people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that the founders did not set out to be violent dumbasses? Nope, it was six college age dudes (not in college) that decided to form a club or a fraternity. They made up silly names for the officers and initiates. They further decided on weird costumes and secret identities. They would ride through the little Tennessee town in these costumes, and, of course, all kinds of men wanted to be part of this new club. After they had been riding through the night, claiming to be ghosts, trying to frighten newly freed slaves, they thought they could get away with a bit more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know the Klan was wiped out? Yep, Federal government kept cracking down on these SOBs until no one wanted to be a member.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course there was a revival. Sixteen guys got together and decided to get it going again. By then, however, they discovered hatred for black people wasn't enough to bolster membership. They added Catholics and Jews. They spun it to seem a patriotic thing to join. Since there was a lot of dissatisfaction in America in the 1920's, people were eager to sign up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time the Klan was revived, violent acts increased. I know, duh. What was amazing to me was that it took until 1977 (see Edit) for anyone to get convicted, and then it was a 15 year old crime. This creep finally got convicted for bombing a church in Birmingham which killed four girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trials for all Klan crimes (that actually made it to a jury) had all white male juries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided Bill Baxley is one of my heroes. He was a law student when the girls were killed, and he vowed to someday do something about it. When he became Attorney General, he reopened the case. That's not what elevated him to hero status though. He received a threatening letter from the Klan, and his reply was,&lt;br /&gt;"My response to your letter of February 19, 1976 is - kiss my ass.&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Bill Baxley&lt;br /&gt;Attorney General"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How cool is that? A politician formally responding like that is fantastic. Not only is he swearing, and speaking like you or I would, but he's in effect saying, "yeah, whatever, you puny dumbasses". Gotta love the balls of that man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, the Klan had lost a great deal of it's numbers. They searched for new issues to have hissy fits about. They found affirmative action, reverse discrimination, and forced busing. It didn't do them much good. They would hold their little protests, but they were met with angry and violent citizens. They no longer held the public sway. They needed to do something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter David Duke. He didn't wear robes or slur the black people. He talked to the press, and boy could he spin. "We're not anti-black, just pro-white." He also mentioned that there were thousands of organizations working for the interests of blacks and other minorities, and they were just working for the interests and culture and ideals of the white people. He almost made the Klan seem warm and fuzzy. That would explain the surge of new members... again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, The Southern Poverty Law Center created Klan Watch. It doesn't seem like much, but there was a fantastic result... after a tragedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In March 1981, several klansmen wigged the fuck out when a trial of a black man accused of killing a white cop resulted in a mistrial. One of the higher ups (A&amp;E described him as a titan) said that if a black man could get away with murdering a white man, then we should be able to kill a black man. (I had to blink at this. Hadn't they already killed a whole bunch of black people over the years? One white cop gets killed, and this means hunting season is open??? Whatever.) Two klansmen, 17 and 26, decided to go hunting that night. They found, kidnapped, killed, and hung a man up in Mobile for everyone to see. A good ol' fashioned lynching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These two crackheads went to trial. I totally expected them to be set free. It had happened so many times before, right? Well, not this time!!! One of them confessed, and they were both convicted of murder. Not manslaughter or some other pussy charge, but murder. It didn't end there. The mother of the lynched man filed a civil lawsuit against the United Klans of America. The trial only lasted four days, and the jury only deliberated for four hours. The verdict? Seven million dollars against the UKA. It destroyed them. All they really had was a 7000 sq ft. national headquarters building, and 10 acres of land. The mother of the murdered black man now had the deed handed to her by a southern jury. Yee haw!! That's fantastic!&lt;br /&gt;(See, I told you Klan Watch was a good thing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Klansman finally realized that pursuing terror might cause them to lose their money, home, or life. The violent acts became sporadic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1997 , one of the killers of the black man mentioned above was executed. He was the first klansman to be killed for a klan act. Raise your glasses and toast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their members at one time exceeded 3 million, but have dwindled to around 5,000 in the present day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I may seem overly excited when the scales are still unbalanced, but I welcome change - especially change for the better. I feel like we sane people have been at war with the crazies forever, and we are finally gaining ground, morale is lifted, and hope is restored. I can only imagine what it was like in the 1950's when the Klan had free reign. My heart literally seizes up in fear imagining life back then. I am so proud of the people that took a stand - even when it meant their life was in danger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is our responsibility as the sane ones to teach our children to be sane. The Klan members fill their little ones' heads full of worthless crap, and we need to fight back by filling our children's' heads with the truth. What is the truth? Racism is some crazy ass idea that has no business remaining in our modern day. Also, we should teach our children not to enable racists. If you see one, call him out, and don't associate with him anymore. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How's that for a soapbox history lesson?&lt;br /&gt;*stepping down*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***Edit:  Sorry.  The first klansmen to go to jail was in 1965.  Three of them were sentenced to 10 years each for violating the civil rights of others.  In '67, 18 klansmen went to trial, and their Imperial Wizard along with 6 others, were found guilty.  Wizard dude got the maximum sentence of 10 years.  Go FBI!!!&lt;br /&gt;In 1967, a report was released saying  The Klan was un-American, which was a previous selling point. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115282693566998803?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115282693566998803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115282693566998803&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115282693566998803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115282693566998803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/07/more-dumbasses-i-have-not-had-pleasure.html' title='More dumbasses I have not had the pleasure of kicking in the balls'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115273704881770896</id><published>2006-07-12T16:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T16:55:36.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No idea who wrote this, but it's soooo true.</title><content type='html'>"My mother was a fanatic about public restrooms.  When I was a little girl, she'd take me into the stall, show me how to wad up toilet paper and wipe the seat.  Then she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat.  Finally, she'd instruct, "Never, NEVER sit on a public toilet seat.  Then she'd demonstrate "The Stance," which consisted of balancing over the toilet in a sitting position without&lt;br /&gt;actually letting any of your flesh make contact with the toilet seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a long time ago.  Now, in my "mature" years, "The Stance" is&lt;br /&gt;excruciatingly difficult to maintain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place.  Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors.  Every stall is occupied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.  You get in to find the door won't latch.  It doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty.  You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there were one, but there isn't - so you carefully but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake.  You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.  In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!"  Your thighs shake more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse.  That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible.  It is still smaller than your thumbnail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work.  The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet.  "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.  Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain, her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a firehose that somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.  At that point, you give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat.  You're exhausted.  You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.  You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women, still waiting.  You are no longer able to smile&lt;br /&gt;politely to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe.  ( Where was that when you NEEDED it??)  You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's restroom.  Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.  .  .This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restroom (rest???  you've got to be kidding!!).  It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long.  It also answers their other commonly asked question about why women go to the restroom in pairs.  It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115273704881770896?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115273704881770896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115273704881770896&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115273704881770896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115273704881770896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/07/no-idea-who-wrote-this-but-its-soooo.html' title='No idea who wrote this, but it&apos;s soooo true.'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8514017.post-115048173194878659</id><published>2006-06-16T14:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T14:46:15.183-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Kotex,</title><content type='html'>I recently noticed that the peel-off strip of my panty liner had a bunch&lt;br /&gt;of "Kotex Tips for Life" on it. Annoying advice such as:&lt;br /&gt;-Staying active during your period can relieve cramps.&lt;br /&gt;-Avoiding caffeine may help reduce cramps and headaches.&lt;br /&gt;-Drink 6-8 glasses of water a day to keep you hydrated and feeling&lt;br /&gt;fresh.&lt;br /&gt;-Try Kotex blah, blah, blah other products&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously the person behind this was someone who has never possessed a&lt;br /&gt;functioning set of ovaries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go ahead and tell a menstruating woman TO HER FACE that drinking 6-8&lt;br /&gt;glasses of water will help keep her feeling fresh. See what happens and&lt;br /&gt;report back. I'll wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While you're at it, dump out the coffee at work and remove the chocolate&lt;br /&gt;from the vending machine. I guaran-damn-tee that the first responders&lt;br /&gt;will be females who just ovulated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look... females don't need or want tips for living on feminine hygiene&lt;br /&gt;products. Younger girls are already hearing "helpful" crap like that&lt;br /&gt;from their elderly relatives. Veteran females have already concocted&lt;br /&gt;their own recipes for survival, many of which contain alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Printing out advice while sneaking in ads for the brand THAT WAS ALREADY PURCHASED is just plain annoying, not to mention rude and enough to send a girl running to the Always brand. Mostly we'd like to forget that we even need these products. It's not a fun time, but DO NOT try to cheer us up by adding smiley faces or bunnies or flowery cutesy crap to your products or the packaging. Put it in a plain brown wrapper so we can throw it in our carts discreetly and have it blend in among the wine and beer!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing more annoying than having a blinding pink package&lt;br /&gt;announcing your uterine state to everyone in the store. The ultimate&lt;br /&gt;goal of your product should be functional invisibility at every stage,&lt;br /&gt;including at the point of purchase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So take your tips for living and shove them right up your - - - . (Try&lt;br /&gt;drinking six to eight glasses of water to make you feel fresher while&lt;br /&gt;you're doing it!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ovarily Yours,&lt;br /&gt;Miss PMS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Funny email I just had to share!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Do not expand~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8514017-115048173194878659?l=stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/feeds/115048173194878659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8514017&amp;postID=115048173194878659&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115048173194878659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8514017/posts/default/115048173194878659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupid-people-are-haunting-me.blogspot.com/2006/06/dear-kotex.html' title='Dear Kotex,'/><author><name>~J~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12563364707166920648</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
