<?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-11064559</id><updated>2012-01-22T09:18:35.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BlahBlah</title><subtitle type='html'>Destroy the spineless
Show me it's real
Wasting their last chance
To come away
Just break the silence
'cause I'm drifting away
Away from you
~Muse, New Born</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-115560728865572032</id><published>2006-08-14T18:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T19:01:28.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have a P.R.O.B.L.E.M.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Ahem. Ahem. Hello?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Hi, my name is Emily, and I have 26 skirts. I know that this is a problem, and that's why I'm here...to talk about it. This is SA, right? Skirts Anonymous?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;So, like I said my name is Emily. I'm 24 and I love to buy clothes. I guess, especially skirts as evidenced by my latest skirt count. I was a little baffled that I actually own that many. It just kinda happened. I don't know. I mean, who own 26 skirts? But, I'm determined that it'll stop here...for now. I'll be honest, I'm not going to completely stop buying those cute articles of clothing, but I am going to start to limit myself greatly. I've admitted I have a problem, that should suffice...right??&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I know what you are thinking. You're sitting there thinking that I'm one psycho girl and why don't I have that many shoes? I know! Maybe that'll be my next vice. Maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Well, I'm glad that I came, and got this out. Y'all have been wonderful to listen to me. I'm glad that I can come to a place and meet people with the same problem. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Thanks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;Oh! And by the way, does anyone know where JA is? Jeans Anonymous??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-115560728865572032?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/115560728865572032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=115560728865572032' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/115560728865572032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/115560728865572032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-have-problem.html' title='I Have a P.R.O.B.L.E.M.'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-113659190067781318</id><published>2006-01-06T15:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T15:58:20.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'>amber</title><content type='html'>amber is awesome. let me tell you all why.  i wish i was just like her.  if i was a boy i'd ask her out all the time. let me tell all you boys why you should take amber on a date. she'll be nice. she won't make you spend tons of money because that's not really her thing. she's normal. she won't cry if you make a joke..and she'll probably be able to burp as loud as you do. so, if anyone wishes to take her out, please let me know and i will contact her. oh yeah, she also likes to floss her teeth so that is definately a plus.  yes, she is my hero. there is no way that amber is writing this blog right now. it's me, emily. i swear.  now,  on to a better subject.. Me! My name is Embaly.  I like to do whatever amber tells me to do.  I live for her. if i had the choice of winning one million dollars and free sonic drinks for the rest of my life, or hanging out for the afternoon with ambie, i'd so take ambie.  well, i guess that's all for now. i'm not exactly feeling creative at the moment. maybe i should call amber and she'll inspire me to be cooler than i already am. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/1600/47b6df22b3127cce9854815ddd9d00000037108AZsXLJi5ctb.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/320/47b6df22b3127cce9854815ddd9d00000037108AZsXLJi5ctb.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-113659190067781318?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/113659190067781318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=113659190067781318' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/113659190067781318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/113659190067781318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2006/01/amber.html' title='amber'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-113477991877402731</id><published>2005-12-16T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T16:38:38.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth Be Told</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Holy crap I'm blogging!   So I have taken a wonderfully long furlough from the blogging world.  It was great.  So many things happened whilst I was away that there just isn't enough room for it!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;But really, I just got tired of it, so I decided not to do it...so that's about it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Yeah, my life is still remakable boring.  Well, except my photography stuff, that's cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Ok, ok.  Truth be told, I just had absolutely nothing witty to say...still don't.  So, I'm going to go to a hayride and bonfire and freeze my butt off and get sicker.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;k, bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-113477991877402731?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/113477991877402731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=113477991877402731' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/113477991877402731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/113477991877402731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/12/truth-be-told.html' title='Truth Be Told'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112672914719382863</id><published>2005-09-14T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-14T13:19:07.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;I love the funny little moments when you connect with a complete stranger.  I'm sorta touched on this before, but this was REALLY funny.  I was walking  down the hall.  Now, to get to my A&amp;P lab, you have to walk past the choir room place.  Well, I'm going on my merry way and all of a sudden I hear a very high soprano operatic screech!  I was like what the freak!  I started laughing, then felt really stupid b/c I was waling by myself in a hallway that's practically empty, and I'm crackin' up.  Well, I hear that noise again and try not to laugh or look, so I stare straight ahead.  Comnig towards me it this guy.  He was like startled when the choir person screeched again.  then he looked me in the eyes and we both started to laugh.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;It was a good moment.  I love when stuff like that happens.  when you connect about funny stuff...it's great.  AND!  I felt like less of an idiot b/c I wasn't the only one who was laughing and thought that the noise coming from the choir room sounded like some poor massive bird being stabbed within an inch of it's life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Good times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112672914719382863?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112672914719382863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112672914719382863' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112672914719382863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112672914719382863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/09/little-moments.html' title='Little Moments'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112569119844729813</id><published>2005-09-02T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-02T12:59:58.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Angela's Brand New Pet!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/1600/angela"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/400/angela%27spet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112569119844729813?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112569119844729813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112569119844729813' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112569119844729813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112569119844729813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/09/angelas-brand-new-pet.html' title='Angela&apos;s Brand New Pet!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112489816047090484</id><published>2005-08-24T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T10:34:16.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Below is a tale of tall proportions, so please....be careful whilst reading!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112489816047090484?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112489816047090484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112489816047090484' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112489816047090484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112489816047090484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/08/interesting.html' title='Interesting'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112489614346222053</id><published>2005-08-24T07:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T10:44:58.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Life In Stick Figures, According to Amber</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;This is a little run down of my life. Everything on here may be fictional , so please read with discretion. How did this start, you might ask? Well, I owe it all to YahooMessenger and the freakin' doodle thing...and of course, I owe most of it to Haaamber Meeechelle. I am who I am....or will be who I will be because of her artistic talent and creativity. So thanks, Amber!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The story begings with a little courtship between a boy and...me. :) We meet. We click. We start to date. He's cute in a cartoon sorta way, but you know me around cute boys, even cartoonesque boys (please refer to "I Don't Want To Be A Salt Shaker Anymore").&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/1600/mylifeinsticks21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 432px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="286" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/400/mylifeinsticks21.jpg" width="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;First there is a kiss by this boy with a big chin and small glasses. I'm so happy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Then we date some more and have fun and really get to know each other. Life is so great right now. But I feel like we need to move up or move on, but the darn boy won't ask me to marry him! Blast him! But I REALLY like him, so I'm definitely going to stick around...if only he'd ask me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Then one day, whilst we are out and about he pulls out this gigantic ring...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/1600/mylifeinsticks1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/400/mylifeinsticks1.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;and he asks me to marry him! YES! But, he's kneeling on the ground. So, after I completely lose it laughing because of how cheesey kneeling is, I totally accept him. And we live happily ever after.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE END!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112489614346222053?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112489614346222053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112489614346222053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/08/my-life-in-stick-figures-according-to.html' title='My Life In Stick Figures, According to Amber'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112447855019109705</id><published>2005-08-19T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T12:09:10.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rock On Justin!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/1600/rockonjustin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/400/rockonjustin.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112447855019109705?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112447855019109705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112447855019109705' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112447855019109705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112447855019109705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/08/rock-on-justin.html' title='Rock On Justin!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112440823899601487</id><published>2005-08-18T16:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T16:37:19.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oh crap!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/1600/the%20new%20mt%20rushmore.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/400/the%20new%20mt%20rushmore.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is the new Mt. Rushmore!&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/11064559-112440823899601487?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112440823899601487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112440823899601487' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112440823899601487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112440823899601487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/08/oh-crap.html' title='oh crap!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112414672413211079</id><published>2005-08-15T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-15T15:58:44.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/1600/spenceedddietaylor%20116.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/320/spenceedddietaylor%20116.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112414672413211079?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112414672413211079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112414672413211079' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112414672413211079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112414672413211079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112355490390590337</id><published>2005-08-08T19:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T16:30:45.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Riding In Cars With Boys</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;I have a little story to share....well, a couple little stories to share. Some of my favorite memories are when I'm riding in the car with boys. But! Let me clarify. These memories that I'm talking about are when I'm riding in the car with boys and they are singing at the top of their lungs. I love it! I love it so much that I HEART it! First it was Justin. haha Man, I love this memory. Justin, Amber, Anjuli, Alison, and I were all going to a concert in Austin, and Justin was driving. Portisehead was blaring on the stereo and everyone was singing along. Wow. When the line "...I want to beeeee, a woman. I just want to be a woman..." from the song "Glory Box" came on...well, just let me tell you that when Justin sings that particular line in the Portisehead voice, it's definitely something to make you laugh until you cry.&lt;br /&gt;And then after the concert, a Tori Amos concert, we were listening to System Of A Down at top volume with the windows down. And when the the song said "die", again, Justin sang it at the top of his lungs whilst looking out the window at the people walking to their car. Needless to say, this entire night was hilarious!&lt;br /&gt;Well, along comes another friend. I've known him for half of my life, and to this day, I'm still surprised sometimes at how close you can get to a person.  He's pretty quiet, pretty shy. But wait! Put Dashboard Confessional on and he's a madman with a "microphone". haha It was great. He has a remote for his stereo in his car that served as his mic and he turned the music up and proceeded to sing Dashboard to me. haha He sounded like the lead singer, which made it more funny for some reason. But man, was he singing. He was jammin' so hard to "Screaming Infidelities" that the veins in his head were popping out. It was great! He has made my week. Which is funny, because it happened on Monday and this week has pretty much sucked, so I've been thinking about this time and I smile and laugh, so it has made this week bearable at least.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Ahhh, yes, the ever pleasurable pastime of riding in cars with boys. As long as there is some good music, I'm in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112355490390590337?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112355490390590337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112355490390590337' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112355490390590337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112355490390590337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/08/riding-in-cars-with-boys.html' title='Riding In Cars With Boys'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112319969717021308</id><published>2005-08-04T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T08:17:44.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If I were a Crayon, I'd be a Red one!  And then, I'd Doodle!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Well, the thing is that I wish that I was a fish, just swimming in the water. Doin' what I want and not the things I otter.&lt;br /&gt;Not sure why that song popped in my head. But, there it is, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Today was lovely. I love my job. I love being able to joke around with the peeps that I work with. I love being around cool doctors that joke around and have HUGE egoes. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;I saw a friend from high school today. I hadn't seen her since before I went to England almost 3 years ago...whoa! It's been that long?!?! Anyways, it was really good to see her and talk to her and see how she was doing. Love her to death. However, I was never more aware of my place in my life at this particular moment. Wow. I live with my parents. I'm not done with school. I'm single. It's kinda weird. Then I realized that I am happy with where I am because I know it's where I'm supposed to be. I lived freakin' 5 years in limbo, minus the 3 1/2 months I was in England. It sucked except for England...and the cool people that I met along the way. But it's all good now.&lt;br /&gt;Ummmm...I really have absolutely NOTHING to say. I am tired and I really wanna take me a nap. However, I don't think that I can. Dang.&lt;br /&gt;By the way! Matt!!! Everyone LOVES the message on my phone!! Thanks! :)&lt;br /&gt;k, bye!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112319969717021308?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112319969717021308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112319969717021308' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112319969717021308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112319969717021308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/08/if-i-were-crayon-id-be-red-one-and.html' title='If I were a Crayon, I&apos;d be a Red one!  And then, I&apos;d Doodle!!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112248061401505628</id><published>2005-07-27T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T11:13:08.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Tired Of Looking At People Looking Stupid</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;That's kinda harsh, but hear me out. Here's the thing. I hate fake baking. I hate it. I think it's ugly and it turns your skin orange...HOWEVER! The only thing like that, that I hate more is the lotion the that makes your skin tan. I think it's nasty. It's gross and it makes you look more like and Oompa Loompa than a taning bed. And! I think it's really funny when people don't put it on evenly. Oh, my gosh! I mean, it's a lotion that "tans" your skin. It's turning your skin a completely different, most of the time unnatural, color. Don't you think that you should take some time and be gentle in putting it on? Watch what you are doing? But, if you want to look like a little splotchie orange person, by all means, rub that lotion on like you are salting a piece of meat. But, the best part is people's feet when they use this lotion. HAHA I mean, really! It's really funny that some people just don't care and it's obvious that they have the fake tanning stuff on. Isn't the point to have a "natural" looking tan? Then why on earth would you let your feel look splotchie and orange and totally uneven? Like you have some weird skin disease? (For those people that have weird skin diseases, I'm sorry....I'm not making fun of you, just the people that purposly want to look like they have skin problems) Not quite sure I'm understanding it. Yes, I am biased. Sorry. I can't help it. But, on some people (NOT ALL) the "tan" lotion just looks awful and it's weird that people don't see it. they don't notice that they look more like a splotchie Oompa Loompa than a beautifully tan person. It's like wearing a horribly tacky outfit. Or a larger girl wearing really short and tight shorts. Why would you do it? Do you look in the mirror and think, "Why yes! I look amazing. No one is going to make fun of me, 'cause I'm H.O.T.!" Same thing...almost.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;Hmmmm...just some things to think about. Not quite sure where this could have come from, just that it popped in my head and I had to make sure that all my friends are kinda warned. haha Ok, I'm really just making fun of people that use fake tanning lotion, but it's all good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112248061401505628?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112248061401505628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112248061401505628' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112248061401505628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112248061401505628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/07/im-tired-of-looking-at-people-looking.html' title='I&apos;m Tired Of Looking At People Looking Stupid'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112129151490347310</id><published>2005-07-13T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T15:00:10.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>F The World And Plastic Spoons</title><content type='html'>Okay, so maybe I don't REALLY mean that.  I just heard a couple days ago about how badly one of my best friends was treated by a certain boy.  I must say that I had a lot of bad things to say about the whole situation...and I still think those bad things.  Why can't good girls, get good boys?  Why do retarded boys try to be what they are...why can't they just be, instead of pretend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this said friend is one of the nicest people I know.  She is sweet and awesome and has the some of the sharpest wit this side of the atlantic.  And not only is she pretty, but she makes everyone....even people that are iffy...feel at home and welcome.  I think that my pal deserves some happiness and needs to experience what it is to be respected by a boy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amber is cool because she doesn't care who you are or what you do for a living.  She's not a snob.  She's very forgiving...sometimes TOO forgiving.  And, she's just rocks! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Amber, I tip my hat...and my glass to you!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love ya!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112129151490347310?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112129151490347310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112129151490347310' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112129151490347310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112129151490347310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/07/f-world-and-plastic-spoons.html' title='F The World And Plastic Spoons'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-112122379899407816</id><published>2005-07-12T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-12T20:05:34.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/1600/FH000007_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3223/882/400/FH000007_edited.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is at Lake Waco this past spring when the water level was way high...the day Amber became a tree hugger!  haha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-112122379899407816?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/112122379899407816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=112122379899407816' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112122379899407816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/112122379899407816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/07/this-is-at-lake-waco-this-past-spring.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111896969066278519</id><published>2005-06-16T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-16T17:54:50.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;I'm posting!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111896969066278519?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111896969066278519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111896969066278519' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111896969066278519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111896969066278519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/06/im-posting.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111629085894589598</id><published>2005-05-16T17:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T17:47:38.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Still Go To George's And Drink My Beer.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Okay, folks. I saw perhaps one of the stupidest things ever!!! I was driving along and listening to the radio and I saw this guy on a motorcycle. I hate motorcycles in the first place, but this guy was the epitome of retard. He was riding on his crotch rocket and was trying to change lanes. What did he do? he was about to put his foot to the pavement, to help him keep his balance whilst he changes lanes. Now, this might not sound soooo bad, but just wait 'till I tell you where I was. I was driving on the freeway! I was going 70 mph and this joker passed me like I was standing still. THEN, he tried to do the switching of the lanes bit in front of me. I was listening to George's Bar and talking to this idiot...like he could here me...telling him that if he fell of his stupid bike, or freakin' road-burned his foot, I was not going to stop and help him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Yep! Just another idiot that needs an "I Am Stupid" sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;I feel like crap and I look even worse. It sucks being sick, but I had to tell this stupid story to all the people who care and don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;k, bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111629085894589598?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111629085894589598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111629085894589598' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111629085894589598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111629085894589598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-still-go-to-georges-and-drink-my.html' title='I Still Go To George&apos;s And Drink My Beer.'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111523892433179706</id><published>2005-05-04T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T13:35:24.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Want To Be A Salt Shaker Anymore!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Amber, please forgive me for repeating.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Today I went to the Corner Bakery for lunch.  This isn't so unusual, because I love the Corner Bakery and eat there when I don't go out with my mom for lunch.  Like today, for instance.  :)  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;I ordered my club panini with no tomatoes and ate it slowly whilst I talked on the phone with Alison and text messaged a friend. It was great.  There I was enjoying lunch and I saw that I should probabaly head back to campus so I can check my email and get to my review in time.  So I packed up my backpack and refilled my drink and headed for the door.  Road-block!  There was this huge guy standing in front of the door trying to put his backpack on, while unintentionally blocking the door for those who wanted to leave...like me.  I stood there for a second and felt someone looking at me.  I turned to my right and looked straight in the eye of a stranger.  He was really good looking.  It was weird.  You know how you just connect with someone?  Maybe not romatically or emotionally, but just connect.  It was like that.  It felt like 5 minutes had passed, but really it was only like 2 second.  It was weird!  He was really cute.  He had dark blonde, curly hair that was a little long, and blue/green eyes.  He was tall and verra verra cute.  :)  So, what did I do?  I looked at him b/c he was looking at me, then I smiled and walked out of the door that was now vacant of large men.  Did I say hello?  Did I ask how he was?  No, like the salt shaker that I am, I looked at him and walked away.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Damn!&lt;br /&gt;I hate salt!  I hate everything about it!  I don't want to be a salt anymore.  Why can't I just be an arrow?  Arrows go and get their targets.  They wouldn't smile and walk away...they would go get him and kiss him...except I don't want to kiss him, just say hi.  I want to be an arrow instead.  Damn that salt.  Salt ruins everything.  Food, your heart, your life, your chances of ever meeting tall cute boys that have pretty eyes and awesome hair and nice smiles.&lt;br /&gt;damn!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;I hate being a salt shaker!  I need to do something about my saltyness.  I don't like it.  I don't like the qualities in me that make me a salt shaker.  If fact, I hate it.  Whoever thought Wendy's would have this kind of impact on me?  (does this sound familiar Amber? haha)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Anyways.  Now that that is out of my system...again.  I feel much better.  I can honestly say that I'm pretty sure that I'm going to be a salt shaker for a long time...I guess I'll have to deal.  Oh well.  Blast you Wendy's!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111523892433179706?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111523892433179706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111523892433179706' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111523892433179706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111523892433179706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-dont-want-to-be-salt-shaker-anymore.html' title='I Don&apos;t Want To Be A Salt Shaker Anymore!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111484250358114021</id><published>2005-04-29T23:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-29T23:28:23.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/emandam1.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/320/emandam1.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like this picture of me and Amber!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111484250358114021?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111484250358114021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111484250358114021' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111484250358114021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111484250358114021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-like-this-picture-of-me-and-amber.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111463693154661939</id><published>2005-04-27T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T14:25:12.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Orestes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/320/Orestes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture of Orestes &lt;a href="http://www.hello.com/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" alt="Posted by Hello" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif" align="absMiddle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111463693154661939?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111463693154661939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111463693154661939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111463693154661939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111463693154661939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/picture-of-orestes.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111463606417717798</id><published>2005-04-27T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T14:28:11.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's All Good Now!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ORESTES &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(ohr-es'-teez)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;Alison and I were driving along and she asked me who or what is Orestes, and how in the world to you say it. Well, this is what we found out:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Orestes was the son of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pantheon.org/articles/a/agamemnon.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Agamemnon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pantheon.org/articles/c/clytemnestra.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Clytemnestra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt; and the brother of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pantheon.org/articles/e/electra2.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Electra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;. When his father returned from the Trojan War, he was murdered by Clytemnestra and her lover, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pantheon.org/articles/a/aegisthus.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Aegisthus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;. Orestes, who was quite young at the time, went into exile and swore to get revenge. After he reached adulthood, he returned home secretly and, plotting with his sister Electra, contrived the murder of both Aegisthus and Clytemnestra. As a consequence of his deed, Orestes was tormented by the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pantheon.org/articles/e/erinyes.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Erinyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;, or Furies, who followed him everywhere he went. The Erinyes only stopped hounding him when he sought judgement for his crime at the Aeropagus in Athens, and was acquitted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;Now it all makes so much more sense! I mean, the lyrics to the song are kinda strange...all this talk about killing, and you are wondering why you want to sever the umbilical cord and kill your momma. Well! Now it's all clear. Read the lyrics!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;"Metaphor for a missing moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Pull me into your perfect circle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;One womb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;One shape&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;One resolve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Liberate this will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;To release us all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Gotta cut away, clear away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Snip away and sever this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Umbilical residue that's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Keeping me from killing you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;And from pulling you down with me in here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;I can almost hear you scream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Give me One more medicated peaceful moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;One more medicated peaceful moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;And I don't wanna feel this overwhelming hostility&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;I don't wanna feel this overwhelming hostility&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Gotta cut away &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Clear away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Snip away and sever this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Umbilical residue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Gotta cut away &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ffff66;"&gt;Clear away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;Snip away and sever this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;Umbilical residue that's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;Keeping me from killing you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;Keeping me from killing you" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff66;"&gt;~Orestes By A Perfect Circle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;See! I told you it makes sense now. I love the song and don't think there was ever a time when I didn't like it. But! I did, like Alison, always wonder what in the heck Maynard is singing about (which is the usual state of things)...and now we know. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;k, bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111463606417717798?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111463606417717798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111463606417717798' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111463606417717798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111463606417717798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/its-all-good-now.html' title='It&apos;s All Good Now!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111420864599268415</id><published>2005-04-22T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-22T15:27:43.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'M IN LOVE!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Wow! I am so freakin' in love, it's ridiculous! This is the kind of thing that only comes along once in a blue moon...if that. His name is Matt. Yes, Matt. Matt Nathanson. This is the guy that really made the Tori concert worth it.  Don't get me wrong, she did and excellent job and she sang beautifully, but this guy blew me out of the water.  I know he's been around for a while and some of you are surely thinking that I'm a little behind in times, but that was the first time I heard him.  Seriously, buying his cd was THE best $13 I have ever spent!  I got his cd today in the mail, and I'm ready to write whoever I have to write to tell them how much I LOVE this cd. It's so good! The music, the lyrics...all of it. Go out and get it, listen to it, love it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;k, bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111420864599268415?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111420864599268415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111420864599268415' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111420864599268415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111420864599268415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/im-in-love.html' title='I&apos;M IN LOVE!!!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111385953068968570</id><published>2005-04-18T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-18T14:36:33.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baseball Players Are H.O.T</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;I had so much fun this weekend! I mean, what could be better? I went to two baseball games, a Tori Amos concert (and she sang Merman!), I took some pictures, hung out with my close buddies...it was awesome. Now, don't be depressed and think, "Wow, Emily had such a great weekend, and mine really sucked!"  ;) Well, not all of the weekend was rosy. I mean, some idiot kids egged my car and Amber's car, and I wasn't feeling that great on Saturday. But, yeah, you'd be right, it was still a GREAT weekend!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;It was really fun to go to the baseball games with Alison, Ally and then on Sunday, with Amber.  It was funny because on Saturday I had made a comment about having ESP...well, I wasn't joking, was I Amber?  For those who know me, know I LOVE baseball.  I l0ve it so much that I HEART it.  And one of my most favorite players is Michael Young.  It was really funny because at the game on Sunday, it was one of Michael Young's turn to bat and I turned to Amber and told her that he needs to go ahead and hit a home run for me.  Well, the first pitch was thrown and Michael went to swing and blasted that ball right over the wall and hit a home run for me.  :)  I don't know what was funnier that fact that it actually happened right at that moment, or Amber's face as she was astonished and laughing.  haha  It was awesome!  Also!  I got a foul ball at the Friday game!  Well, with the help of my friend Ally.  The ball was hit, and a guy in the upper deck tried to catch it and totally missed, then it fell and hit Ally's knee, then it hit my foot, where it finally landed.  hahaha  The guy in front of me was obnoxious, but who cares, I got the freakin' ball!  :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Well, I will now go so your eyes can rest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;K, bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111385953068968570?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111385953068968570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111385953068968570' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111385953068968570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111385953068968570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/baseball-players-are-hot.html' title='Baseball Players Are H.O.T'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111377967829430955</id><published>2005-04-17T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-17T16:14:38.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/bouncingwater.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/320/bouncingwater.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bouncing Water...I did that!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111377967829430955?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111377967829430955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111377967829430955' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111377967829430955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111377967829430955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/bouncing-water.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111309414996108157</id><published>2005-04-09T17:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T17:49:09.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/someChristmas%282004%29%2C%20Houston%28Jan.2005%29%20032.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/320/someChristmas%282004%29%2C%20Houston%28Jan.2005%29%20032.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is me and my nephew, Spencer.  Isn't he cute!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111309414996108157?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111309414996108157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111309414996108157' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111309414996108157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111309414996108157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/this-is-me-and-my-nephew-spencer.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111309450977391814</id><published>2005-04-09T17:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T17:55:09.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The World Goes 'Round With Butterflies and Hurricanes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Have I said, yet, how much I hate speech? I dislike it with a passion y'all wouldn't believe! We had a test on Friday. How did I do? Probably bad. Did I study? Nope. I made a study sheet the night before and didn't look at it until Friday afternoon. Took my test and went home. I drove 20 minutes, to take a test for 30 minutes, then drove another 20 minutes. It was a little irritating...just a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chopped my hair off today. Yep! I cut it off, and now it feels so much healthier than it did. I love it! The girl that cut my hair did the best job I have ever seen on ANYONE! Seriously. And! It only took like 15 minutes...if that. It's awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;k, bye &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111309450977391814?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111309450977391814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111309450977391814' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111309450977391814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111309450977391814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/world-goes-round-with-butterflies-and.html' title='The World Goes &apos;Round With Butterflies and Hurricanes'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111274476878933479</id><published>2005-04-05T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-05T16:46:08.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/state%20puff.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/320/state%20puff.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine and Amber's State Puff Marshmellow Man!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111274476878933479?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111274476878933479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111274476878933479' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111274476878933479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111274476878933479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/mine-and-ambers-state-puff-marshmellow.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111263686234506026</id><published>2005-04-04T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-04T10:47:42.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chew on This...</title><content type='html'>I was reading the Downtown Dallas newspaper called the Quick.  It was interesting.  Of course, they have things in there about the Pope and a few comments on his staunch views on things like homosexuality and abortion.  Well.  There is this one quote in there and it really made me think.  It said, “The [Catholic] church is going to have to adapt to survive. A lot of us feel that the Catholic Church is a little bit behind the times."  This is said by a 22 yr old in Wisconsin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now!  Here's my question.  What's the point of religion, of being a part of a religion if it adapts.  How can you believe in something that changes constantly just because that is the popular belief in the world?  Where in the world are your convictions?  That's what I want to know.  It's cool because how many times have you heard that someone likes the LDS Church because of our conviction and lack of apology for what we believe in?  So many times!  That's why the Church is awesome! (Among other things)  But it's true!  There is no apology for believing that same sex marriage is wrong.  There is no apology for believing that sex before marriage isn't right.  Nor should there be any apology.  Can you imagine the Prophet or the Pope for that matter, get up and tell the congregation that he would like to take back what he said about homosexual marriages...that being a part of a homosexual marriage is ok?  No!  Of course you can't.  Can you imagine Christ saying that he was sorry that evil really is good, and it's okay to take part of things immoral.  No way!  If we bent to the popular way of things today, then we wouldn't be able to set ourselves apart.  Religion would cease to exist because everyone would be worldly and not hold anything sacred...like marriage between a man and a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go Mormons...and go Pope!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as a side note, I saw this girl eating a egg and cheese grilled sandwich.  On this sandwich she put salt and pepper and jelly...all together.  Is that odd and gross to anyone but me?  Because I about lost my lunch when I saw her put grape jelly on her sandwich. Ick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111263686234506026?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111263686234506026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111263686234506026' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111263686234506026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111263686234506026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/04/chew-on-this.html' title='Chew on This...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111232518770533486</id><published>2005-03-31T18:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-31T19:13:07.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Better Than Ductape!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Yes, yes...I am back. Who finished their speech 5 minutes before class? That would be me! Who got a 94 on a crap speech? That would be me! How, you might ask? I HAVE NO FREAKIN' CLUE! Maybe it was because my slide show was pretty decent. Maybe it was because my teacher is a weirdo and easy grader. Maybe it was because my entire class, as a whole, is a joke. Maybe it is because my teacher was high on the large amounts of caffeine she ingests every day. I don't know! I just know that I am extremely thankful. It very well could have been a F...Actually, in my opinion, it should have been...or at the very highest a C, but I'll definitely take the A! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;I've been sorta addicted to those Sweet and Salty Granola bars. Man are they good. They are just enough sweet and salty that you don't need a candy bar...or bag of chips....afterwards. They are good. I want to be like a sweet and salty granola bar. just the right balance of sweetness...which I definitely don't have...along with the salty...which I may have too much of. Oh, damn. I just said I want to be like a granola bar. This isn't good. I need some compliments, I guess. So! Go ahead...compliment me! hahaha I am stupid...and just kidding about the whole compliment thing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Compliments are very awkward for me. I don't think I've ever been able to really accept a compliment. It's retarded, and I'm not sure why it is, but I get really uncomfortable. I guess I just hate it when people look too closely. Hell, I don't know! I'm just talking. I can do that on occasion...when I really put my mind to it, or I'm tired, or on medication... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;I loved today. It was a good day at work, and a beautiful day outside. I bonded with friends, and read a good book. Not much else to do, except cuddle with a cute boy. I guess it won't be a perfect day, but it's a darn good one, at least. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Well, I must go now. See you later!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111232518770533486?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111232518770533486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111232518770533486' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111232518770533486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111232518770533486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/03/im-better-than-ductape.html' title='I&apos;m Better Than Ductape!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111204676418600384</id><published>2005-03-28T13:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T14:12:25.406-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Sun</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;I watched a caterpillar for 30 minutes today. Wow. The train ride just gets better and better. At least it was a bug and not a crazy person...I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have to write a speech on Evolution. I don't want to talk on Evolution. things evolve, yes. But, "Evolution" is retarded! I mean, people didn't come from monkeys. We were created in Heavenly Father's image, right? Was He a monkey? No!! Goodness. And to top it off, it's a persuasive speech. I'm supposed to persuade people to believe that we all came from monkeys and that you shouldn't believe what your church people tell you because they are all full of crap. Hmmm...I think that I'll have a hard time convincing everyone that they evolved from a monkey. Call me crazy, but I think I just might.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Maynard. Now, when I say love...I mean HEART him! It's a beautiful day today. What was the first thing I thought of whilst I was exiting the train? Well, I'm glad you asked. It was, "I really want to listen to the Hollow." So, I got to my car, rolled down the windows and blared the Hollow. It's fabulous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am tired and am going to be an old woman and take a nap. Yeah for sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;k, bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111204676418600384?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111204676418600384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111204676418600384' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111204676418600384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111204676418600384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/03/pretty-sun.html' title='Pretty Sun'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111161453443763474</id><published>2005-03-23T13:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-23T13:53:03.516-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WRONG SIDE OF UGLY</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;I know, I know everyone has been waiting for me to write...Well, wait no more! I feel like crap, and look worse, but I'm not caring at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amber, thanks for talking to me today whilst I was on the train. She saved me, I think, from being pounded by a barrage of crazies at the train stop. Nope, no crazies in my business today. Although, I must say that one shouldn't wear a see-through, yellow, spaghetti-strap tank top without wearing a bra...especially if one has a big bosom...but, was someone wearing that? Yes. Was I totally disgusted? Hell yes! Was a guy getting her phone number? Yes. That's just sick. Boys, I just don't understand you. What in the world is wrong with you guys? Why? Why would you do that? No crazies today, just disgustingly dressed people. It &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; really gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love talking nonsense to Amber because she always seems to understand. Hmmm...I'll have to ponder that a bit more. But, it is true nonetheless. I can talk about nothing for about 20 minutes and it still seems as if I've spent my time in worthwhile conversation. Of course, any conversation with Amber is worthwhile. :) hahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must run. I am late for a hot date&lt;em&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;hahaha&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Now we all know that is one huge, big fat lie! I'm not late for anything, especially not a hot date...or a regularly good-looking date...or an ordinary date...but I really don't have much to say about anything. So, I'm going to hang up now. K, bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111161453443763474?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111161453443763474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111161453443763474' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111161453443763474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111161453443763474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/03/wrong-side-of-ugly.html' title='WRONG SIDE OF UGLY'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111095261939432898</id><published>2005-03-15T21:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-15T22:04:43.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here's Your Sign</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;You know, I just don't like stupid people. I mean, I love people...just not the stupid ones. I agree with Bill Engvall that all of the stupid people should wear signs that say, "I'm stupid." Then, perhaps I might have a little more patience with them...then again, maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was this woman who came in the Dr's office today. Now, the doctor that I was working with is a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;SHOULDER&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; doctor, and this woman made this appointment on her own, to come see the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;SHOULDER&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; doctor. She was put back in a room, and was given a little halter thing that we ask the women to put on, so that the &lt;strong&gt;shoulder&lt;/strong&gt; doctor can look at your &lt;strong&gt;shoulder&lt;/strong&gt;. This woman was like, "What's this?" and when it was explained what it was she should do with the halter thing, she said, "Does he really need to see my shoulder?" Then my co-worker told her that that was the reason she came in, so that the doctor could look at her shoulder. Then as my co-worker was walking away, the patient said, "Yeah, I suppose I should put on the halter thing, so the doctor can see my shoulder."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, here's the deal. Really. How are you going to come to a shoulder specialist and think, "Oh, maybe he won't want to look at my shoulder...even though it &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;is&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; my shoulder that hurts...and it &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; my shoulder that is really bothering me...maybe the doctor can some how diagnose me without ever having to see my shoulder...hmmm...maybe...." I mean, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! I swear, at like 4pm, the crazy bus let out all of it's passengers in front of the clinic where I work. And of course, it's at the end of the day when we all have to deal with these people. Arh! But, it really is a lot of fun. If I didn't deal with crazy people on day-to-day bases, I'd have absolutely nothing to write about on my blog. It doesn't seem to matter, whether I'm at school or work, I seem to have a crazy/stupid person story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But!! No crazy train stories today. I know, I know...it's just not right! I haven't been to school in like 2 weeks and this is my Spring Break! Except, I'm working. But it's money, and interesting, so it's all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, today has been a really, really, ridiculously long day, and I'm tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G'nite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111095261939432898?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111095261939432898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111095261939432898' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111095261939432898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111095261939432898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/03/heres-your-sign.html' title='Here&apos;s Your Sign'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-111064440726690978</id><published>2005-03-12T08:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T08:21:45.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When all is said and done, America will understand that Michael Moore smells like Pancakes."  ~Glenn Beck</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;I love Glenn Beck! He's the funniest talk radio person out there. Here's my tribute to him, and a thanks, to the friends the helped me come to know him. So here's to you Glenn. And thanks, Amber and Angela!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-111064440726690978?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/111064440726690978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=111064440726690978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111064440726690978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/111064440726690978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/03/when-all-is-said-and-done-america-will.html' title='When all is said and done, America will understand that Michael Moore smells like Pancakes.&quot;  ~Glenn Beck'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-110997266892650650</id><published>2005-03-04T13:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T13:57:38.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Plight of Quasimodo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ffcc33;"&gt;You know, I feel really sorry for Quasimodo. I wouldn't want to be a hunchback...nor would I want to be named Quasimodo. So, I'll stick with Emily for a name, and drink milk so I don't get hunchback.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ffcc33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ffcc33;"&gt;But, like Quasimodo, I too have frustrating people in my life. My speech teacher for example. Ok, here's the deal. I don't like when teachers are running really late and ask the class to wait there for them. If we have to be on time, don't you think they should be? My speech teacher was stuck in traffic. Dallas has really bad traffic on Friday, but today was exceptionally bad beacuse of an 18 wheeler losing a back axel. They shut down the entire highway. I would think that if you have a class to teach, and you are already 10 minutes late and about 15 minutes from the school, you wouldn't ask your class to wait. But she did!  Can you imagine? ARG! We waited for 40 minutes, until another teacher came in and told us that &lt;em&gt;our&lt;/em&gt; teacher said that we could leave. Did I really put on makeup for this? What a wasted day. I mean, in the first place, speech shouldn't be an hour long class...you can learn everything you need to know in about half that time. Also! It shouldn't be a whole semester long...it should be a minimester, or a month-mester-thing. It's ridiculous to have to spend an entire 4 months on stuff that we all already know! And! It's also really sad when I'd rather go to my biology class than my easy speech class. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ffcc33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ffcc33;"&gt;But! Tomorrow is a day for manicures and pedicures, and it will all be alright!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-110997266892650650?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/110997266892650650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=110997266892650650' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/110997266892650650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/110997266892650650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/03/plight-of-quasimodo.html' title='Plight of Quasimodo'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-110981258213429327</id><published>2005-03-02T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T17:20:12.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Creeps and Cliques</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Here's the deal....Why in the world would some dude just come up to a young, unsuspecting girl and start hovering? EEEEEW!!!! Creepy people are...well, creepy. It seems that every week I have a new crazy person story. This week...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;I'm sitting there waiting for the train and an older man...let's call him Clabk Nam. He smiles at me, and immediately I feel a little, well very on guard. He walks up to me and stands just behind my left shoulder, so that I can see him, but just barley. Creepy! Then he asks me how I'm doing and doesn't skip a beat to tell me that I have a pretty smile. I said thank you, and that I was fine. Trying not to make a big deal out of it, and trying not to lead him in to further conversation. The last thing I need is another crazy person around me. I have too many as it is! ha ha ha Anyways. So, he just stands there and watches me, for like 5-7 minutes! He would ask me these really bizarre and a few sicko questions. Ugh! Every week. It's like the Crazies in Dallas see me in a crowd and flock to me. It's really, really weird. But whatever. What can you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;I got a job today! Yay! We'll see how it goes. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it, honestly. It's a good opprtunity, that's for sure. It'll be interesting and fun, so we'll just see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Amber saved me whilst I was in Biology. I was seriously falling asleep when she text messaged me. Ah! Good friends who distract you in class, just like you distract them in class, are completely priceless. It's always been a thing we do, or so it seems. Of course, I always end up laughing or smiling really big when the prof is talking about how the mitochondria convert energy, or how a virus takes hold of a cell. Yep! Of course I look stupid, but again, what else is new? :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;I hate snobby people! Arg! They make me sick. I don't like that people think that they are so much better than everyone else. Especially when these people are grown adults..not high school kids. It's really rediculous. They totally remind me why I hated the cliques and the attitudes of a lot of the people here. But! I have meet some really cool people, so I will happily take on those snobs so that I can get to know the awesome, laid-back people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-110981258213429327?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/110981258213429327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=110981258213429327' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/110981258213429327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/110981258213429327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/03/creeps-and-cliques.html' title='Creeps and Cliques'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-110970660240441529</id><published>2005-03-01T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-01T12:11:42.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Oh So Interesting Life of Mine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffff33;"&gt;I don't really have anything to say today. I am way bored and this is the only way I can pass the time...not really, but it's a good excuse to be stupid. Not that I've &lt;strong&gt;EVER&lt;/strong&gt; needed an excuse to be stupid. But what can you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really happy for Ambrina! She finally shared her singing talent with other people. It a huge step in the right direction. I don't think that she realizes how lucky she is to be able to sing and play the piano...&lt;strong&gt;especially&lt;/strong&gt; at the same time. It's a talent I've always wished I had, but alas, I sing like a toad and can't play the piano to save my life. I'm like that annoying person who wants to, so I poke at the keys, but nothing pretty is ever the result. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amber! It's time for another road trip. I can't stand it! I think that I seriously have a problem with staying in one place too long. It gets to me. I just need a small trip. It's an addiction, I guess, and I need my fix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, boys are cute and funny. I love to look at a really, genuinely good-looking guy. I mean, one that is handsome in every way, ie: personality, looks, manners. Ahh, I &lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt; them! If only it was returned. Oh, well. Same old story, same old sad tune. Nothing new, nothing different. It's still fun...&lt;br /&gt;k, bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-110970660240441529?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/110970660240441529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=110970660240441529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/110970660240441529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/110970660240441529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/03/this-oh-so-interesting-life-of-mine.html' title='This Oh So Interesting Life of Mine'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11064559.post-110929047973638052</id><published>2005-02-24T16:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-24T16:14:39.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahem, Ahem</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ahem, hello?  Is anyone there?  This is my verra, verra first BLOG!  Yay! Just a little shout out to my peeps down in Waco!  Hi.  Ummm...k, bye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11064559-110929047973638052?l=laaaa120.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/feeds/110929047973638052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11064559&amp;postID=110929047973638052' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/110929047973638052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11064559/posts/default/110929047973638052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laaaa120.blogspot.com/2005/02/ahem-ahem.html' title='Ahem, Ahem'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10843897500294758486</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/219/4307/640/Eembaly.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
