<?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-4165920854051318941</id><updated>2012-01-14T07:51:31.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Run mad as often as you choose. But do not faint"</title><subtitle type='html'>My Laughs, My Loves, My Life...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-8887487579959221198</id><published>2009-01-08T06:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T09:23:46.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forever Thankful</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;The first weekend of this new year was just absolutely AMAZING! I spent time with family and friends (new and old), and I couldn't have had a better time anywhere else. I'm so thankful for what God has blessed me with. However, I take an immense amount for granted. God has been reminding me over and over in certain areas in my life where I'm lacking in gratefulness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Several people very dear to my heart are currently going through some of the toughest times in their own lives. My heart aches for them - fiercely aches. This morning has been a rough start, but I'm thankful that God has reminded me of all that He has given me. I want to be forever thankful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;I sit her drinking my coffee, listening to Robbie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Seay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;, and praying for God's will and wisdom in my life and those surrounding me. I want to be what He needs me to be. I want His words to gush from my mouth. I want to be an encouragement to those struggling and not a source of strife. I want His word to dwell within me always. I want to be forever thankful for His Life, His Spirit, and His Love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Colossians&lt;/span&gt; 3:15-17&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"&gt;&lt;span id="en-NASB-29533" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful. Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;And I have to say one more thing. I've been using this "Genius" application on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;iTunes&lt;/span&gt;. I selected "New Day" by Robbie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Seay&lt;/span&gt; Band to be my main song. This is the amazing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;playlist&lt;/span&gt; it gave me. It's been very encouraging to listen to.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;New Day - Robbie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Seay&lt;/span&gt; Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How Wonderful - Leeland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mystery - Charlie Hall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Son of God - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Starfield&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jesus, You are Worthy - Brenton Brown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mistakes - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kutless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Stand - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Hillsong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Dance - Caedmon's Call&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's All About Jesus - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Planetshakers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Love the Lord - Lincoln Brewster&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Peace - Robbie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Seay&lt;/span&gt; Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Stronger - Delirious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Come and Listen - David &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Crowder&lt;/span&gt; Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Carried to the Table - Leeland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Closer - Charlie Hall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yes and Amen - Matt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Redman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;One More Night - Inhabited&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rise - Robbie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Seay&lt;/span&gt; Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Hand That Holds the World - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Starfield&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ready for You - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Kutless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I Need Words - David &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Crowder&lt;/span&gt; Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For My Love - Bethany Dillon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Our God Reigns - Chris Tomlin, Charlie Hall, David &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Crowder&lt;/span&gt;, and Matt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Redman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kindness - Chris Tomlin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Walk the World - Charlie Hall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-8887487579959221198?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/8887487579959221198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=8887487579959221198' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8887487579959221198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8887487579959221198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2009/01/forever-thankful.html' title='Forever Thankful'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-6528386898449412006</id><published>2008-12-18T07:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T10:52:14.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Room</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;This is My room, Ladies and Gentlemen. I've never considered myself much of a decorator. It is something that I enjoy doing, but you know what? It takes money! Anyway, the pictures don't do the color of the walls justice - it's actually a dark turquoise (or at least that was the name of the paint). My family thought I was crazy when I trying to describe to them what I had in mind - well... except for my sister. She always has faith in me. I'm in my room all the time now. It just feels so warm and cozy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqOgE4x_hI/AAAAAAAAAOw/ETGuK67Yft0/s1600-h/bed8.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqOgE4x_hI/AAAAAAAAAOw/ETGuK67Yft0/s320/bed8.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281190194764185106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;The bouquet on the top of this shelf was my bouquet in my sister's wedding. This is also where I keep all my books and movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUpxdWtpmXI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/V7plmraRBwE/s1600-h/bed4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUpxdWtpmXI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/V7plmraRBwE/s320/bed4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281158262172522866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's my satchel! I love my satchel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqPFoIuKJI/AAAAAAAAAO4/4rABu_QnSFc/s1600-h/bed.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqPFoIuKJI/AAAAAAAAAO4/4rABu_QnSFc/s320/bed.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281190839881443474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this picture of the Chrysler Building at Kirkland's for $10! I little piece of NYC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqNCMSuGGI/AAAAAAAAAOg/9r5QQrg17HY/s1600-h/bed6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqNCMSuGGI/AAAAAAAAAOg/9r5QQrg17HY/s320/bed6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281188581844326498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my ginormous desk with my painting above it. I love my desk! Thank you craigslist.com!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqPuf6zw-I/AAAAAAAAAPA/Zpk64WmJ2NA/s1600-h/PC170009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqPuf6zw-I/AAAAAAAAAPA/Zpk64WmJ2NA/s320/PC170009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281191542050243554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqHkJuJrsI/AAAAAAAAAOY/rIyK8N5bb-I/s1600-h/bed5.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqHkJuJrsI/AAAAAAAAAOY/rIyK8N5bb-I/s320/bed5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281182568199859906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqOBzS04NI/AAAAAAAAAOo/UcXrouJuTdQ/s1600-h/bed7.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqOBzS04NI/AAAAAAAAAOo/UcXrouJuTdQ/s320/bed7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281189674645512402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is somewhat of a collage of the places I've had the pleasure of traveling to (except for Paris).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUpvYawXlwI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Ok4mZHqaOkQ/s1600-h/bed3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUpvYawXlwI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Ok4mZHqaOkQ/s320/bed3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281155978335065858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;And just so you know, I don't have a huge fascination with Paris as it may seem. I did one painting, and everyone started giving me anything that had to do with the Eiffel Tower. However, I do love architecture, and I think the Eiffel Tower is gorgeous. I hope to visit Paris someday.&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/4165920854051318941-6528386898449412006?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/6528386898449412006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=6528386898449412006' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/6528386898449412006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/6528386898449412006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-room.html' title='My Room'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUqOgE4x_hI/AAAAAAAAAOw/ETGuK67Yft0/s72-c/bed8.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-925963121063216445</id><published>2008-12-16T07:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T07:36:07.221-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Consistency</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I just read a friend's blog about &lt;a href="http://jaredjohnson41.blogspot.com/2008/12/passions.html"&gt;passions&lt;/a&gt;. It's somewhat inspired me to write a little list of the things and people I love with a quick description of why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Sister, Lindsay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's profoundly loving and caring, and has helped me grow spiritually and physically stronger than any other human being. God has placed her in my life for a reason. I don't even want to think about life without her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Brother, Jeramie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a source of strength that's ever so constant. When other people run, he's still there beside me and has never made me feel alone. I can tell him anything without fear or shame. He's not technically my brother, but he might was well be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Writing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a newer one for me ("newer" -  as in the past 5 years or less). Writing is way for me to pour my other passions and emotions on paper. I love reading and listening to stories and feeling the emotions they evoke - excitement, sadness, love, thrill. Writing is a way of documenting mine, whether it's ridiculous everyday life happenings or something very deeply felt. I love it. It's not so much as an escape but more of a release.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUgww3jgueI/AAAAAAAAANw/MmFgNDZVp9o/s1600-h/DSCN0640.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUgww3jgueI/AAAAAAAAANw/MmFgNDZVp9o/s320/DSCN0640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280524179196656098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Art&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love painting. I wish I had more opportunity to do so. Again, painting is another means of expression. There's no wrong way, which I think many people are seeking. No one can tell you what you're doing is wrong. There's different techniques, different strokes, but you can't make a mistake with whatever you choose. It's you and this artwork is yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUgxeSc1OhI/AAAAAAAAAN4/RV4kN8hc2QY/s1600-h/PC150144.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUgxeSc1OhI/AAAAAAAAAN4/RV4kN8hc2QY/s320/PC150144.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280524959510510098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Laughter and Joy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live by Nehemiah 8:10. "Do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength." There's nothing better than being happy. Everyone is searching for happiness in their own way, and lot of times they're searching in the wrong places. God has given me so much joy, and I couldn't be more thankful. I can be in the darkest of times and still be happy. It's not that I don't care or I don't feel as deeply as everyone else, it's just that God has given me a way of peace and strength - and guess what? It's through joy.&lt;br /&gt;And has far has laughter goes... It's a drug to me. There are times I just can't stop. I'm an addict.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Music&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have probably written more about music than any other topic on my blog. I love music, melody and sound. Granted, there are some "sounds" I prefer not to hear, but God has gifted us with music, and how we choose to use it is up to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I wrote this, I read over it and realized why I love each one of these so much. These are the only things that have been perpetual for me - Unchanging, unwavering, consistent. I can rely on each one in it's own way.&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I don't mind change in my life or new adventures. I live for them. But I can always come back to these things\people and know they will still be there no matter what. To know and be confident in the fact these bonds won't be broken is such an uplifting factor in my life.&lt;br /&gt;I also want to express the fact I know God is behind each one. He knows what I need, and to express my thankfulness would be another lengthy blog. I love my life and what God has given. There's definitely times when I want to run from the struggles I face, but He's given me each one of these that I may come out on the other side stronger and with my faith lifted. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; is the actual constant source, and to Him I give all the glory.&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/4165920854051318941-925963121063216445?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/925963121063216445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=925963121063216445' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/925963121063216445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/925963121063216445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/12/consistency.html' title='Consistency'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUgww3jgueI/AAAAAAAAANw/MmFgNDZVp9o/s72-c/DSCN0640.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-176703591480336791</id><published>2008-12-15T06:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T11:26:18.434-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in Theories and Thought</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204); font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUat7GS-pkI/AAAAAAAAANo/uOnQ_YyErV0/s1600-h/lost+in+thought.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUat7GS-pkI/AAAAAAAAANo/uOnQ_YyErV0/s400/lost+in+thought.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280098843952588354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Last night on my way home from Oklahoma City, I discovered that my heater wasn't working. Not good, especially when it's 32 degrees outside and working it's way down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;In order to stay warm, my mother and I kept the conversation flowing with several random topics. I'm pretty talented when it comes to randomness, so we had no issues there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;I also have theories, theories about pretty much anything. Again, very random theories, I must say, but they keep me going and also laughing (which is my favorite thing to do). Nothing serious though. I'm lighthearted about it all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;So, my mother and I were discussing the Marilyn Monroe theory. Most are familiar with this topic, but I believe there's more to the story than just an overdose. I'm not going to get into the details, but no one can prove them. Yet, that's why they're theories; they're just ideas. I'm a person that thinks about things too seriously and should often be ignored. However, it's something I enjoy and also something my family and friends have to put up with. (I'm sorry).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Here's one of my theories: I believe that there's a lot more that goes on with rich and famous than we actually know. We just think we know every little detail about their lives, but we don't (at least for some). They have enough money to keep certain things hidden from the public. If it's important for them to keep it quiet, they can do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Granted, I know it was a lot easier to keep things on the down-low 50-60 years ago, but take Clark Gable for example. He was supposedly in an accident due to excessive drinking. From different reports there was a pedestrian involved, yet again, this cannot be proved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Either way (hit-and-run or no hit-and-run), MGM's punishment for his behavior was lending him to Columbia Pictures to do this low-budget film called "It Happened One Night". This movie won him an Oscar and four other Oscars including Best Actress and Best Picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;It is also best known for being the first film to show a man's bare chest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Now as you can see, these people had the means to keep this all hush-hush. Case closed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Adding to the topic, I told my mother how I wondered what other celebrities had possibly been involved in certain criminal activities. Who technically killed whom? Who really shot whom? Who bumped off whom?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;I mean, you can't deny me the fact that Puff Daddy (Puff Diddy, P. Diddy - whatever) has puffed a few people off. I have a whole other theory about how he even achieved his name, but I won't post it here. I could get myself in trouble. Just ask me sometime. It's pretty ridiculous though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;I'm going to end my post there. I really don't know if there is a point to this blog, other than the fact that I enjoy thinking and discussing things whether it is ridiculous or something deeper. I often find my self sitting on my bed and thinking about whatever - like I just escaped some other world. People my consider it daydreaming, but I consider it lost in thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-176703591480336791?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/176703591480336791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=176703591480336791' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/176703591480336791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/176703591480336791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/12/lost-in-theories-and-thought.html' title='Lost in Theories and Thought'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUat7GS-pkI/AAAAAAAAANo/uOnQ_YyErV0/s72-c/lost+in+thought.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-5043414277999569008</id><published>2008-12-10T13:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T08:03:38.837-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Music and Tears</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUFuLV8zKBI/AAAAAAAAANI/98Qns6cftgw/s1600-h/cryingisokhere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUFuLV8zKBI/AAAAAAAAANI/98Qns6cftgw/s320/cryingisokhere.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278621379404703762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I'm not a crier. And I have nothing against criers, since I used to be one. But n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;ow, it takes something with personal meaning or significance for the tears to flow. The initiators of such happenings are (in general) People, Movies, and Books.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Now, there's one very important substance I did not mention: MUSIC.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Music plays a monumental part in my life. I have this crazed passion for melodies, and sadly I'm just beginning to learn how to play them myself. (I have a few friends teaching me the guitar. I'm very excited!) I've always considered music has one of God's greatest gifts to mankind, and it's definitely one of the paths I often choose to draw closer to Him. I just c&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;an't express how much music moves me, speaks to me, and comforts me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;With that said, this is what I'm really getting at here:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;I've never cried just because of a song. A song can be so powerful it causes to ache or  to contemplate things, but never to cry. However, if I begin to ponder about anything, whether it be my family or friends, a certain incident, or just life itself; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;then&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; I will surely cry. But, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;the fact is, it's not the song itself; it's the thoughts that the song has directed me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; towards. Yet, I have been at church ,during praise and worship, and cried; but that's still due to the fact I was going through some of the toughest times in my life. Those thoughts and feelings coming to me about the situation I found my life in, were the true reason for my tears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUFOMyj5g0I/AAAAAAAAAMY/-ANC8x6zj3U/s1600-h/babycrying.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUFOMyj5g0I/AAAAAAAAAMY/-ANC8x6zj3U/s320/babycrying.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278586219892671298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;(This baby just listened to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Nickelback&lt;/span&gt; for the first time. This is a different kind of crying.&lt;br /&gt;(And I'm crying with him.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;Now.... according to several of my friends, this is very foreign to them. Upon hearing a song that is in some way moving to them, they might shed a few tears. I, however, do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt; not; I cannot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;A few of these "friends", I might add, are males. They will remain nameless not for their protection but for mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;"Delicate" by Damien Rice is (in my opinion) one of the most moving and powerful songs I've ever heard. Others may hear it and not feel the same, but as for me, I absolutely feel his pain and passion. It's unbelievable. I think if I could cry just because of the intensity of a song,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt; that would be one to break this curse I must have. &lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;(There are many others that affect me in the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt; same way, but I'm going to list them here because it's not important. And with songs, it's pretty much to each his own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;I've even purposely listened to certain songs to cause myself cry. Have you've seen "The Holiday" with Cameron &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" &gt;Diaz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt; and the lovely Kate &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" &gt;Winslet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt; (she's one of my faves)? Picture me now, because that's what I look like when compelling myself to cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;For those who haven't seen it, Cameron &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" &gt;Diaz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt; plays this woman who cannot cry no matter what happens to her. There's this scene where she does just about anything to make herself cry but to no avail. Watch it; it's great!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUGDlFhl7fI/AAAAAAAAANQ/EcBlOklFs_g/s1600-h/Damien_Rice__0_front.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUGDlFhl7fI/AAAAAAAAANQ/EcBlOklFs_g/s320/Damien_Rice__0_front.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278644911416405490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUGDqtWhUTI/AAAAAAAAANY/Oz7FyKkyXro/s1600-h/the-holiday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUGDqtWhUTI/AAAAAAAAANY/Oz7FyKkyXro/s320/the-holiday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278645008006730034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;Now that I'm finished publicizing Damien Rice and "The Holiday", I would like to hear other opinions on the matter of music and tears. If you cry during a song, are you crying &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;in view of the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; song or due to something else?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:arial;" &gt;And, guys, we know you cry. (Dawson wasn't afraid.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUFN8_mVu5I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/tiKb3nAvWg0/s1600-h/dawsoncrying.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUFN8_mVu5I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/tiKb3nAvWg0/s320/dawsoncrying.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278585948514663314" 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/4165920854051318941-5043414277999569008?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/5043414277999569008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=5043414277999569008' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/5043414277999569008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/5043414277999569008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/12/music-and-tears.html' title='Music and Tears'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SUFuLV8zKBI/AAAAAAAAANI/98Qns6cftgw/s72-c/cryingisokhere.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-4815390320174961548</id><published>2008-12-01T11:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T13:21:19.358-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hardcovers VS Paperbacks - In Reagan's Perspective</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/STRSngqfhjI/AAAAAAAAAL4/3yAe1MmbF44/s1600-h/books.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/STRSngqfhjI/AAAAAAAAAL4/3yAe1MmbF44/s320/books.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274931902294230578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I love Books! Sometimes my love for books is more powerful than my love for reading. I can stay in Barnes and Noble for hours and hours. Drinking a cup of coffee, thumbing through the pages of history, fantasy, thrillers; what more can I ask for? The only problem is the longer I spend in book stores the longer my "must read" list becomes, and then my bank account starts shedding some weight. Not good. Stick the the library, Reagan! STICK TO THE LIBRARY!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I have discovered, is that I used to hate paperback books, but only for the fact that they deteriorate a lot sooner than hardbacks. My opinion has reversed in the recent years, because I can pretty much guarantee you I have a book everywhere I go. I usually carry this huge satchel, and you can bet there's a book in there. I used to not be this way. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, now back to why I now prefer paperbacks to hardbacks. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1. Hardcovers are bulkier. There's certain ones I can't just throw in my bag and go. If I did, I would knocking everyone over with my humongous satchel. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;WHAM&lt;/span&gt;!!!! Oops! There goes grandma! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;WHAM&lt;/span&gt;!!! Oops! My sister just went through wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;#2 After I'm finished reading a page, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;flip&lt;/span&gt; it to the other side and crease the middle of the book. I love to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;grasp&lt;/span&gt; a softback and bend the pages to the shape of my hand has I'm reading. The book is curled a bit after I'm finished - like a taco. (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Yummm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!) You obviously can't do this with a hardback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;#3 I don't care if I get coffee stains on the pages or if I write in it or if there's smudges. Why? Because this book just cost me 5 bucks when that hardcover over there just cost me 30!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong. I love hardbacks! Nothing looks better on your trophy shelf. That's how I feel when I've finished a book. I close it. I hold it out in front of me. I sigh a sigh of accomplishment. And I then I take a victory lap around my room; screaming to the top of my lungs. Once you've placed your trophy on the shelf, you're a winner. Nothing says it more like a hardback. The paperbacks just end up falling over. I don't know about you, but it gives me a sense of cheapness. It's like that trophy I got when I was in T-Ball. I didn't have it 5 MINUTES and the bat broke! What the heck!?!?!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is. Hardcovers VS Paperbacks - In Reagan's Perspective.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-4815390320174961548?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/4815390320174961548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=4815390320174961548' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/4815390320174961548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/4815390320174961548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/12/hardcovers-vs-paperbacks-in-reagans.html' title='Hardcovers VS Paperbacks - In Reagan&apos;s Perspective'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/STRSngqfhjI/AAAAAAAAAL4/3yAe1MmbF44/s72-c/books.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-8885103477987832007</id><published>2008-11-26T21:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T23:27:39.565-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heroes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SS7iy4ZiSnI/AAAAAAAAALw/3IDVlqmjRJM/s1600-h/heroes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273401577458256498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SS7iy4ZiSnI/AAAAAAAAALw/3IDVlqmjRJM/s320/heroes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had another absolutely confusing conversation with my sister about Heroes Volume 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But let me back up here a bit. I've watched seasons (aka volumes) 1 and 2. I really enjoyed them, but like many other shows (for example 24, Lost, and so on), if I miss one episode, I feel as if I've missed the whole thing. This may not be the case for some people, but I like to be able to watch 30 minutes to an hour and that be it (for example, Seinfeld, The Office and 30 Rock). Yet, I love the excitement and thrills these shows offer, but I do have issues with the rest.&lt;br /&gt;My addiction to Heroes was also due to the fact that it's so much like X-Men. I love X-Men! I never actually read the comic books, but I loved the cartoon as a kid. I love that they have all these crazy different amazing powers. One can control the weather, one can freeze things, one can heal! I'm enamored by the whole idea of it. As a kid I would imagine I was Jubilee or Storm and Wolverine was my boyfriend, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that said - I've only seen 2 episodes of this latest season. I've been telling all my friends and family not to tell me anything. I don't want to know because I want to watch and experience the show for myself. One of my friends said that he quit watching it because everyone just miraculously kept coming back to life. But I ignored him because I liked the show and wanted to find out for myself. So, again I told everyone not to tell me ANYTHING.&lt;br /&gt;Then... here comes my sister. I will do anything for her and she knows this. She looks at me with her gorgeous eyes, and she's begging me without a word to let her spill the beans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fine, Lindsay! Just tell me! What's happening in the show...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She claps her hands together in utter excitement: "Well!!!! The future Peter..." - she begins. "The future Peter has placed the present Peter in the future."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask, "Wait! Wasn't the present Peter in someone else's body?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, but he's out now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uhhhh... I don't know, but that doesn't matter. But Claire shot Peter!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The future Peter or the present Peter?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The future Peter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So the present Claire shot the future Peter?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No! The future Claire shot the future Peter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So where's the present Peter?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In the future. And the future Peter is dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So she shot him in the head. Because he can only die if she shoots him in the head."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No she didn't! That's the crazy thing! She shot him in the abdomen and now he's dead! Isn't that crazy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then he's not dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The bullet is just stuck in him. If they take it out, he will comeback to life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're right!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She continues on to another character...&lt;br /&gt;"So Peter and Nathan's dad is still alive! He didn't die!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah! And he grabbed Adam Monroe's arm and took all of his powers. Adam then fell to ashes.&lt;br /&gt;So HE's dead now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, he's not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He's not!?!?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No. It won't be long before he's back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, he fell to ashes. I'm pretty sure he's gone for good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Only time will tell."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then ended the conversation on Peter Petrelli and Parker the police officer, and then Mohinder turning into some kind of Spider-Man monster. Seeing a connection?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom then told us about an article she read, telling of certain shows "Jumping the Shark".&lt;br /&gt;She said that towards the end of Happy Days, they had an episode where Fonzie was water skiing, and he actually jumped a shark. So now, when a show starts to go off the deep end and becomes ridiculous, they call it "Jumping the Shark". Heroes was rated the number one show of this season to do so. Everyone is miraculously coming back to life (just like my friend said), good people are becoming bad, villains becoming heroes, and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that I'm no longer interested. I think I'll stick to my ridiculous comedies. Long live Chandler Bing, George Costanza, Liz Lemon, Jim Halpert, and Andy Sandberg.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-8885103477987832007?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/8885103477987832007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=8885103477987832007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8885103477987832007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8885103477987832007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-just-had-another-absolutely-confusing.html' title='Heroes'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SS7iy4ZiSnI/AAAAAAAAALw/3IDVlqmjRJM/s72-c/heroes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-533052351859066121</id><published>2008-11-24T15:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T15:58:13.586-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Innocence of the Young</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;First of all, I have to prep you on a little story before I can tell the one that I've actually come to tell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;It was the night of my sister's rehearsal, and I had stopped at this quaint bed and breakfast where my family was staying for the weekend to pick them up and take them to the rehearsal dinner. My aunt introduced me to John, who ran the bed and breakfast. She also informed him of that bright neon light flashing above my head that read, "SINGLE! SINGLE!". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;John is probably about 5 ft 7 1/2 in, looks like he's probably in his late 20's, and is a little on the creepy side.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;He's also an aspiring photographer, and I happen to have interest in the subject, so we visited for a while about cameras and so on and so forth. However, as we were about to leave he just had to show us this video he constructed of one of his photo shoots.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;The music was horrible. Now, I know I'm a music freak, but even my cousin was making fun of this horribly corny music under her breath.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Finally! We're heading out the door and he tells me that he would love for me to join him and his friends for evening. They were going to go see Madagascar 2 but understood that I couldn't since it was my sister's rehearsal dinner and all. I politely thanked him for the offer, but there was no way I was going anywhere with this guy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;So, the whole night my family teased and teased me about my boy, John. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"I'm sure John would love to be here!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"Reagan, when you go out with him, make sure you where flats. You don't want to hurt his feelings."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"John" this. "John" that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"What a cute video John made!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;And then....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;My little 13-year-old cousin Austin decides to pipe in:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"Yeah, I'm sure John would LOVE to make a video of you!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Awkward pause....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Jodie his father laid his hand on Austin's shoulder then looked at me and said, "He doesn't know what he's saying, Reagan. He doesn't know what he's saying."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I, of course, began to laugh so hard I was crying. I thought my brother was going to fall to the ground. Austin was completely oblivious to what he had just said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;However, I'm thankful that he was. Innocence is something very special and irreplaceable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-533052351859066121?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/533052351859066121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=533052351859066121' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/533052351859066121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/533052351859066121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/11/innocence-of-young.html' title='Innocence of the Young'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-6714393342011154832</id><published>2008-11-12T20:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T20:54:27.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Woopie!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;So, my friend just posted a picture of herself dressed in a woopie cushion costume. Hilarious photo. It reminded me of this random kid in Hastings I had the pleasure of interacting with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I was walking down the movie aisles, talking to this guy I had somewhat of a crush on. The kid would come out of nowhere with his woopie cushion! I would signal to him to cut it out or get lost, but he would&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; repeatedly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; just run off and then come right back. Utterly embarrassed, I abruptly told my crush I had to get off the phone, and I would call him back later. As soon has I closed my phone, the kid took off never to be seen again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I secretly envy that child for his cleverness and bravery. What kid would do that to some random stranger!?!? Wow...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-6714393342011154832?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/6714393342011154832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=6714393342011154832' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/6714393342011154832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/6714393342011154832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/11/woopie.html' title='Woopie!!!'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-50944451086000781</id><published>2008-11-10T12:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T23:26:21.399-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRijK2mMobI/AAAAAAAAALY/cwc24HA4dL8/s1600-h/BransonChristmas2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267139171059540402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 261px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRijK2mMobI/AAAAAAAAALY/cwc24HA4dL8/s320/BransonChristmas2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;, it's official!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;I'm ready for Christmas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;With Lindsay's wedding coming up, I haven't had time to be ready for anything. Not even Thanksgiving! People have been asking me what my plans are for the holidays, and I honestly have no idea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;The other day, I was meeting up with my step mother and sister-in-law at the mall. They said they would meet me in Bath and Body Works. So, has a strolled the lanes of the great Quail Springs Mall, I happened upon our meeting destination. I couldn't believe my eyes! The whole store was decorated in CHRISTMAS! The sound of Dean Martin singing Silver Bells and the scents of their magical Christmas candles (that's right! MAGICAL!) left me breathless. I know I'm sounding utterly ridiculous here, but I love Christmas time. This was an escape from the busy bustle of the constant mall-goers, to a place I like to call the North Pole.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;Ahhhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;! And Christmas music!!!! Can you get anymore cheerful!?!?! Instant happiness coming forth through whatever device you might be listening from: You're &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;iPod&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;zune&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;, radio, and so on. You get the picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;Oh AND! My mother and I are taking a trip to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;Branson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;, Missouri during the first weekend in December. I can't wait to see the Christmas shows. Everyone tells me it's an amazing experience to go there during Christmas time. I'm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;sooooo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt; excited! The picture above is actually of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;Branson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;. "Amazing" in my opinion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-50944451086000781?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/50944451086000781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=50944451086000781' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/50944451086000781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/50944451086000781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/11/christmas-time.html' title='Christmas Time'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRijK2mMobI/AAAAAAAAALY/cwc24HA4dL8/s72-c/BransonChristmas2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-214383579413828906</id><published>2008-11-10T08:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T11:40:12.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Romantic at Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRh2OTT1URI/AAAAAAAAALQ/VLdxvsDg30U/s1600-h/coldplay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 259px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRh2OTT1URI/AAAAAAAAALQ/VLdxvsDg30U/s320/coldplay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267089752283500818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;I'm going to be honest here; I'm a total romantic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;I'm also a complete freak when it comes to music and with my sister getting married, I've been having to listening to so many songs in preparation for her wedding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Some of my favorites and what I consider some of the most romantic songs ever are as follows - no particular order and probably super-duper cliche, but whatever:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Sundress: Ben Kweller&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Shiver: Coldplay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Yellow: Coldplay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Til Kingdom Come: Coldplay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Fix You: Coldplay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Remember to Breathe: Dashboard Confessional&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Such Great Heights: The Postal Service&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;All I Need: Radiohead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;New Day: Robbie Seay Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Closer: Travis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Under the Moonlight: Travis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Your Song: Elton John&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;The Book of Love: Peter Gabriel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Transatlanticism: Death Cab for Cutie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;I know some of these my not be solely about loving someone and them loving back - and blah, blah, blah - but there's moments in each one that the lyrics grasp my attention and cause me to sigh a deep sigh or just feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach. Yes, I'm a dork. But ask any girl - we all feel it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Now... I could probably go on and on with more songs.... but I'm going to stop there. This is my personal list, and if I had more time to think there would probably be more. I actually have no idea why I'm writing this, I guess I've just been listening to a lot of Coldplay recently, and in my opinion they pretty much rule when it comes to being romantic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-214383579413828906?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/214383579413828906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=214383579413828906' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/214383579413828906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/214383579413828906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/11/romantic-at-heart.html' title='Romantic at Heart'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRh2OTT1URI/AAAAAAAAALQ/VLdxvsDg30U/s72-c/coldplay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-3510426859193434531</id><published>2008-11-06T11:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T11:13:19.195-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Conversations We Have</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Random conversation at work:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Me: So, Mom. I heard from the mechanic, and it's the alternator. They'll hopefully have....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;~Melissa, my coworker, walks up behind me~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Mel: Reagan, when I walk up, You stop talking. Do you understand?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Me: When I walk up, You shut up! (Nice comeback, right? Said just like Napoleon too.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Mom: So Melissa, did you fix that issue? (Totally ignoring the conversation we were having that Mel just interrupted.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Mel: Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Mom: What did you do? How did you do it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Mel: I voted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Me: What?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Mom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;: So, you just turned it back on?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Mel: Yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;Me: Wow...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);"&gt;That was the conversation word for word, except for what's in parenthesis. Those are just my thoughts. I was utterly confused and impressed at the same time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-3510426859193434531?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/3510426859193434531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=3510426859193434531' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/3510426859193434531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/3510426859193434531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/11/random-conversations-we-have.html' title='Random Conversations We Have'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-8914763599865514416</id><published>2008-10-23T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T09:28:41.829-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reagan VS Restrooms</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, so there's been several events leading up to yesterday's work of art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will begin with a little reminder of a few happenings that a few of you who know me may have already heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too long ago, I walked into the lady's restroom - obviously, to do my thing - and I opened the door to the stall and the seat was up. Now... usually you can tell if this occurrence is the result of a fresh cleaning. However, this was not the case. At first out of shock, I jump back then scope the room to make sure I'm in the right place. I conclude that I am, but usually resume my business in a different stall.&lt;br /&gt;This incident has happened to me several times since then. Odd...&lt;br /&gt;Another bathroom bewilderment happened while at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;TGIF's&lt;/span&gt; (aka Friday's). I went to the women's restroom and while I was in the first stall, I hear someone walk in. This person (hopefully a "she") went straight to the back stall, threw the door open, and then proceeded to do the same to the next stall and then the next stall. I could hear her coming closer and closer. She finally arrived at mine and jiggled the handle.&lt;br /&gt;I believe I responded with something like, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ummmm&lt;/span&gt;....."&lt;br /&gt;And then an arm shot from underneath the door! She had a roll of toilet paper in her hand, set it at my feet, and then walked out of the restroom altogether. Again, odd...&lt;br /&gt;So my theory is all these things have been happening as warning signs of a day that lay ahead, a day of absolute bathroom horror. This very day will go down in the books, my friends. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;October 22, 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Oklahoma City&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; for a seminar for my job. I already had three cups of coffee and upon arriving at our destination, I - of course - needed a bathroom, pronto.&lt;br /&gt;I spot the women's sign and head straight for the first stall I saw. Unknowingly, I picked a stall with a broken lock. I didn't pay much attention because obviously my thoughts were otherwise preoccupied. Someone walks in, and of course, goes straight for my stall and opens the door leaving me exposed. I don't scream; I usually make this high-pitched "whoop" sound. After I did so, she shut the door and apologized. Awkwardly, I apologize also for not realizing the door was possibly cracked open. Then I just wanted to burst out laughing. I restrained myself and did my best to get the heck out of the bathroom. I then prayed I wouldn't see that woman at the seminar I was going to. God heard me, because I never saw her again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same day.....&lt;br /&gt;I drank too much water during the seminar and also at lunch. So again, I've gotta go. I chose a different bathroom altogether. I didn't want what happened a few hours earlier to happen again. I did my thing and flushed the toilet. The toilet flushed like normal, but instead of filling back up with water, it EXPLODED. Water gushed from places I didn't know was possible. Yes... toilet bowl water was all over me and the floor. It just kept coming. I wished I could have had a shower right then and there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was banned from drinking any kind of liquids until we arrived back at the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;This day was to prove that both God and I have a sense of humor.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-8914763599865514416?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/8914763599865514416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=8914763599865514416' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8914763599865514416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8914763599865514416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/10/reagan-vs-restrooms.html' title='Reagan VS Restrooms'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-1384268525339272555</id><published>2008-09-09T06:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T13:25:04.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding Atlas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SMl8gya3pFI/AAAAAAAAAKI/gbL1qi5jfFY/s1600-h/atlas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SMl8gya3pFI/AAAAAAAAAKI/gbL1qi5jfFY/s320/atlas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244860143781782610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;On our last morning in NYC, my mother and I were explored Rockefeller Center. After "The Toda&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;y Show" we went to the Top of the Rock and then walked around the block looking for Atlas. I couldn't remember exactly where Atlas was located, but I knew it was somewhere in Rockefeller Center. Everyone knows that. Or at least I thought. I asked about three or four people around the area one being a security guard,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"Excuse me, but could you tell me where the Atlas statue is?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;His response, "Nope." He wouldn't even look at me.&lt;br /&gt;I had another lady tell me she had no idea what I was talking about even when I described the statue to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;So I decided to walk into some clothing store on 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Ave and 49&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Street and ask again. (Keep in mind, I've been strolling down 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Ave between 51st and 49&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Streets this whole time. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"I'm sorry, but would you happen to know where the Atlas statue is?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;With a expression of utter confusion, the lady looked at me and said, "The what?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"Atlas. You know, the man holding the globe on his shoulders."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;Still confused she said, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ummm&lt;/span&gt;.... I don't... no, I don't don't know about that. You might want to ask her." pointing to a coworker.  "Hey, Amanda, do you know where - Atlas? Right?" Looking at me and then turning back to her coworker. "Yeah... do you know where the Atlas statue is?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"Of course!" Amanda said. "That big statue?!! Yeah! It's way, way, way down 39&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Street. Almost to the end. Way down there." Amanda overly chipper today, just so you know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"So... way down 39&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Street?" I said. This seemed way, way, way too far from Rockefeller Center. "I'll just continue down 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; until I get to 39&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"Yeah! It's way, way, way down 49&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, so I'll go to the end of 49&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"Yeah, go way down 59&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"So, it's on 59&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;? Not 49&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"Yeah! Way, way, way down 59&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. You can't miss it. It's all the way at the end."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, well, I'll try that. Thank you for your help."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SMl8upZIawI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/wigUhiPoyqI/s1600-h/IMG_0687.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SMl8upZIawI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/wigUhiPoyqI/s320/IMG_0687.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244860381876742914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"No problem! Have a wonderful day!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;I walked out to the sidewalk where my mother was waiting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;"So," she said, "where did they say it was? You were in there long enough."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;I began telling her about the conversation I just had with Crazy Amanda. We both agreed to find someone else. Then I realized... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;this whole time&lt;/span&gt; I had my booklet with me with all the sites to see in NYC. I could have kicked myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);"&gt;Finally! Atlas was located just up the street in between 50&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and 51st. The reason we didn't see it before was because they had it covered for cleaning. The box it was in blended perfectly with the other buildings, so if you just walked by it on the street you wouldn't know it was there. Pretty ridiculous, I know.... but then so was Amanda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-1384268525339272555?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/1384268525339272555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=1384268525339272555' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/1384268525339272555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/1384268525339272555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/09/finding-atlus.html' title='Finding Atlas'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SMl8gya3pFI/AAAAAAAAAKI/gbL1qi5jfFY/s72-c/atlas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-5871650049444772554</id><published>2008-09-05T06:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T08:23:25.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Faith, Hope, and Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SMFN2_UiaSI/AAAAAAAAAJw/7omP_BpVtiY/s1600-h/aw_08_logo_with_text.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SMFN2_UiaSI/AAAAAAAAAJw/7omP_BpVtiY/s320/aw_08_logo_with_text.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242557048341817634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had the pleasure of spending time with friends (new and old) in Ada, Oklahoma, USA, the World.&lt;br /&gt;I have been so blessed to meet every single one of them, and they have been such a testimony to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A message was shared during our visit about keeping faith even during difficult times. When God allows these things to happen, and we keep the faith and hope alive, the ending result &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will be&lt;/span&gt; good. We &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will be&lt;/span&gt; blessed.&lt;br /&gt;Recently many spiritual and physical trials have come against my family and me. I can feel myself becoming bitter, which pulls me farther away from God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God has been so merciful and patient with me. Why is it that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I choose&lt;/span&gt; to lose hope when He has been so faithful and has proven Himself over and over again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to choose life. I want to fight the good fight. I want to finish the course. I want to keep the faith through each moment of hardship. I constantly cry out for peace and strength to keep me standing during temptations, testings and trials. I know if I walk in His endurance and strength that there &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will be&lt;/span&gt; a good outcome.  I don't always recognize it immediately, but there have been so many times where I've looked back later down the road and have seen the work He did in my life and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; understand why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has definitely been one of the reasons I've been listening to Robbie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Seay&lt;/span&gt; Band so much lately. There's at least one song (if not more) on each of his albums that is constantly reminding us (or at least me) of faith, hope and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My faves:&lt;br /&gt;Better Days - Better Days Album&lt;br /&gt;Jesus Garden of My Rest - Better Days&lt;br /&gt;Peace - (This on the Better Days, but I prefer the version on 10,000 Charms)&lt;br /&gt;Song of Hope - Give Yourself Away&lt;br /&gt;New Day - Give Yourself Away (This is my ultimate fave!)&lt;br /&gt;Love Wins - Give Yourself Away&lt;br /&gt;You are Good - 10,000 Charms&lt;br /&gt;Hope - 10,000 Charms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many more songs of his that are wonderful, but these truly speak to me in times I feel myself losing faith, hope and the greatest of all... Love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-5871650049444772554?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/5871650049444772554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=5871650049444772554' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/5871650049444772554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/5871650049444772554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/09/faith-hope-and-love.html' title='Faith, Hope, and Love'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SMFN2_UiaSI/AAAAAAAAAJw/7omP_BpVtiY/s72-c/aw_08_logo_with_text.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-4992027009796331835</id><published>2008-08-21T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T10:03:58.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking the Name of God</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Everyone is familiar with Exodus 20:7 - "You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain, for the LORD will not hold &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;him&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; guiltless who takes His name in vain." - NKJV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;And of course, it's one of the Ten Commandments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;When I do my bible studies, I usually look up the simple definitions and synonyms of the words used in the verse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;This scripture, for most, has always meant something on the lines of - "Thou shall not swear or curse." When I was a kid I never understood where people came up with this translation. But then I read another translation of the verse that said, "You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God." - and using God, Christ and Jesus as swear words are most definitely misusing Christ's name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;But...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I know several years ago, our pastor or one of the elders or just someone (I really can't remember) brought to my attention that this may have a different meaning. I remember doing my own bible study on it not long after that discussion and was just reminded of it recently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;First: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Take&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; to hold, grasp, or grip, to receive and accept willingly, to carry, to occupy, to adopt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Second: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Vain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;ineffectual or unsuccessful; futile; without real significance, value, or importance; baseless or worthless, useless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;While I was studying this, I began thinking of a bride taking the name of the groom. For example, my sister is about to marry, Shay Hayes. She will no longer be Lindsay Faught. She is taking his name as her own, because they will now become one. Lindsay Hayes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Everyday, we take on the name of Christ. How? It's simple - by calling ourselves "Christians." We are taking the name of our Father as our own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Now... here comes the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Vain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; part. When we walk in unrighteousness, we are walking in worthlessness. By calling ourselves sons and daughters of God, but treat His name as if it were nothing, He will &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; hold us guiltless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;What comes to mind now is that a covenant is made between the bride and groom to love, honor and obey. When a person in this kind of covenant turns to another outside of this covenant - to me, this is counting the unity and bond that was made, vain - worthless, futile, without importance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;So as we make a covenant with God, saying that we will love, honor, and obey - yet we turn to another (sin), that is counting the covenant we have made with Christ as nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I don't know if this makes sense to anyone, but it does to me. It just shows me how important it is to take on the name of our Father, and how we need to strive to be just like Jesus - perfect and holy. I know we're going to make mistakes, but that's where God's love and forgiveness comes in, and we can be washed clean and began again. We need to consider the covenant we have made with God as of the greatest importance. No one wants to be in a one-sided relationship. So how do you think God feels?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-4992027009796331835?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/4992027009796331835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=4992027009796331835' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/4992027009796331835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/4992027009796331835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/08/taking-name-of-god.html' title='Taking the Name of God'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-1051949554869154687</id><published>2008-08-16T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T14:21:55.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Save the Bunny!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKyKBkFzcoI/AAAAAAAAAJo/cN665p50rWU/s1600-h/big-bunny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKyKBkFzcoI/AAAAAAAAAJo/cN665p50rWU/s320/big-bunny.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236712226197566082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;I was at my Dad's house this past weekend, and we all were enjoying a nice cup of java on the back patio. The dogs began to bark and chase after what we thought was a squirrel at first, and then realized was a rabbit. My sister, being the animal's rights activist that she is, jumped out of her chair, chased the dogs with her arms waving in the air, and yelling, "Save the Bunny! Safe the Bunny!" When suddenly....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;She bit the dust.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;This is a vision I cannot get out of my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Don't worry everyone, she was laughing the moment she kissed the concrete. She is alive and well. I love that girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-1051949554869154687?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/1051949554869154687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=1051949554869154687' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/1051949554869154687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/1051949554869154687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/08/save-bunny.html' title='Save the Bunny!!!'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKyKBkFzcoI/AAAAAAAAAJo/cN665p50rWU/s72-c/big-bunny.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-6724106114843777283</id><published>2008-08-13T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T21:19:18.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taylor and Celine 4EVER!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKNK5JBBC0I/AAAAAAAAAJI/QDuBtdrthFc/s1600-h/atata.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKNK5JBBC0I/AAAAAAAAAJI/QDuBtdrthFc/s400/atata.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234109537467829058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKNK9WDIecI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/md7YYF5PIRw/s1600-h/celinedion_idroveallnight480.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKNK9WDIecI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/md7YYF5PIRw/s200/celinedion_idroveallnight480.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234109609685842370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;So does anyone remember Celine Dion's video to "It's All Coming Back to Me Now"?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;I do. You want to know why? Because a particular family member&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt; loved&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt; that song. No - it&lt;/span&gt; wasn't my mother. Nope - not my sister. Oh yeah... It was my brother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Every time the video was played on MTV, we would have to stop whatever we were doing and&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"&gt;watch. Later the video of "Because You Loved Me" came out, and Celine was sporting a new and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;much shorter hairstyle. Taylor would comment on how he liked her hair longer:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; "She looks like a mouse now!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Taylor, this is for you.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMHGgnlXfSA"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Celine and Taylor - 4EVER!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Another one of Taylor's faves was N'Sync's "Bye, Bye, Bye." I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; wonder if &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;he still knows the dance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt; moves...&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JoJqID-wJY"&gt;---&gt;Check it Out&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKNPHEhwr-I/AAAAAAAAAJg/4knSTsi84G4/s1600-h/nsync.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKNPHEhwr-I/AAAAAAAAAJg/4knSTsi84G4/s200/nsync.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234114174827671522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;I remember listening to the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Weekly Top 40 on our way home &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"&gt;from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"&gt;a family ski trip. Taylor just knew that "Bye Bye Bye" was going to&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;be the number 1 song, so we had to listen to every single song until&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;he could hear N'Sync. Several hours later, they announced the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"&gt;number 1 song and sure enough, it was "Bye Bye Bye." Just as the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;song began, we lost reception. I don't know who was more upset: Taylor - for not being able to&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;listen to his beloved song; or Lindsay, Dad, and I - for having to listen to 39 songs plus&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;commercials just so that Taylor could listen to a song he had already heard a millions times before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-6724106114843777283?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/6724106114843777283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=6724106114843777283' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/6724106114843777283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/6724106114843777283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/08/so-does-anyone-remember-celine-dions.html' title='Taylor and Celine 4EVER!'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKNK5JBBC0I/AAAAAAAAAJI/QDuBtdrthFc/s72-c/atata.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-5659246821231451609</id><published>2008-08-12T07:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T08:13:21.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Lindsay Lu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHvyPm8pKI/AAAAAAAAAH0/YfeD7f41aqE/s1600-h/linz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHvyPm8pKI/AAAAAAAAAH0/YfeD7f41aqE/s320/linz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233727888443614370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Today is my sister's 25 birthday. I'm so thankful to be blessed with such a beautiful person in my life, inside and out. I'm not just saying this because she is my sister, and I believe anyone who knows her would vouch for me when I say -  she is a truly special person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHtGbHkgVI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Nr0bnE-WLRc/s1600-h/IMG_0984f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHtGbHkgVI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Nr0bnE-WLRc/s320/IMG_0984f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233724936595734866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;For the most part of my life, Lindsay's practically been a second mother to me. She's always been a shoulder of support in very way conceivable. I can't imagine life without her humor, her charm, her patience, her kindness, and most of all her love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHriI6HvuI/AAAAAAAAAHc/t2LWWdnRHZc/s1600-h/MEANDLINZ.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHriI6HvuI/AAAAAAAAAHc/t2LWWdnRHZc/s320/MEANDLINZ.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233723213720567522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;When we were younger, I hated the fact that she told me what to do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt; the time and was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;always&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;the leader in everything. "You're not my mother!", I would tell her. Looking back now, I wish I could knock some sense in that little punk of a kid. She was trying to protect me. Protect me from my own stupid selfishness which would eventually lead to heartache. Out of hope and love she's paved that rocky road smooth, just for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHovkgIgQI/AAAAAAAAAHU/ZNSQO3lDZUw/s1600-h/IMG_0518.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHovkgIgQI/AAAAAAAAAHU/ZNSQO3lDZUw/s320/IMG_0518.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233720145931174146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;I want her to know I love and appreciate all her lectures and "talks," because I know she was h&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;elping me become a better person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;She is apart of me: My Mentor, My Confidant, My Sister, My Friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;With all my heart, Lindsay Lu, I will love you until the day I die.  -Your Ragie Baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-5659246821231451609?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/5659246821231451609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=5659246821231451609' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/5659246821231451609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/5659246821231451609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-lindsay-lu.html' title='My Lindsay Lu'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKHvyPm8pKI/AAAAAAAAAH0/YfeD7f41aqE/s72-c/linz.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-4952476141356377884</id><published>2008-08-11T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T13:41:39.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Red What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Jeff:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Reagan, those shoes look like Little Red Robin Hood's!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I believe you're thinking of Dorothy from the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Wizard of OZ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;. And it's "Little Red &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Riding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; Hood" not "Little Red &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Robin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; Hood."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Jeff:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Yeah!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Me: Let's see Little Red Riding Hood kick butt with the bow and arrow! Woo-hoo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKC167WXYyI/AAAAAAAAAHE/YqE3TsGkaW4/s1600-h/little-red-riding-hood.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKC167WXYyI/AAAAAAAAAHE/YqE3TsGkaW4/s320/little-red-riding-hood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233382790973055778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;By the way, here's my shoes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;You decided: Little Red Riding Hood or Dorothy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I prefer Little Red Robin Hood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKC1E0oZq4I/AAAAAAAAAG8/oQZOCxcqVNM/s1600-h/DSCN1883.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKC1E0oZq4I/AAAAAAAAAG8/oQZOCxcqVNM/s320/DSCN1883.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233381861456718722" 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/4165920854051318941-4952476141356377884?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/4952476141356377884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=4952476141356377884' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/4952476141356377884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/4952476141356377884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/08/little-red-what.html' title='Little Red What?'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SKC167WXYyI/AAAAAAAAAHE/YqE3TsGkaW4/s72-c/little-red-riding-hood.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-7769154307527734944</id><published>2008-07-30T14:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T06:11:59.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Awkward Moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;My mother and I were at a friend's house dropping off a gift or what not. As we were saying hello, their telephone began ringing. Problem was, the phone was cordless and most likely hidden between the cushions of their couch. As it rang she and her husband searched and searched throughout the house and... finally... they found the phone but it was too late. The caller had disconnected before they had time to answer the phone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;(Now, for a little low-down on this couple, although very sweet - I have yet to find life of a sense of humor in either one of them.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;She huffed and he shook his head with great disappointment as they gazed upon that burdensome phone. My mother, trying to lighten the situation, said - "You know, someday they're going to invent a phone attached to the wall. Then you won't have to break a sweat every time you have to answer the phone."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Knowing that my mother was making a joke, I began to giggling as did she. Our friends, on the other hand, stared at Mom as if she was an absolute idiot. I couldn't believe they actually took her literally! The room became &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;awkwardly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt; silent, except for my attempts to hold back a laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Mom turned to me and said, "Well! I guess it's time to go!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;We said our goodbyes and bolted to the car before they could hear us laugh even harder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;PS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;I'm so thankful to be in a family that can laugh at themselves under any circumstance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Here's some of my favorite awkward moments in life... Although most are not my own, I just want to point them out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Tyra Banks&lt;br /&gt;(and her show)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJOBJjEZAHI/AAAAAAAAAGk/vQsnuC5KKYk/s1600-h/tyra+curlers.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJOBJjEZAHI/AAAAAAAAAGk/vQsnuC5KKYk/s320/tyra+curlers.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229665593339740274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Ashely's faux pas on SNL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6790938/"&gt;(don't forget the Orange Bowl either)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJOAsYOfasI/AAAAAAAAAGc/0EU-OFCMTLI/s1600-h/asimpson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJOAsYOfasI/AAAAAAAAAGc/0EU-OFCMTLI/s320/asimpson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229665092213107394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Such as&lt;/span&gt; Miss Teen South Carolina&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span name="intelliTxt" id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Palatino,Book Antiqua,Times New Roman,Georgia,Times;"&gt;“I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uh, some people out there in our nation don’t have maps, and, uh, I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and, uh, the Iraq everywhere like, such as and I believe that they should, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., er, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future for our children.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Wow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span name="intelliTxt" id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Palatino,Book Antiqua,Times New Roman,Georgia,Times;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJNlaMwoMNI/AAAAAAAAAGM/NgLKkxvHjMQ/s1600-h/teen-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJNlaMwoMNI/AAAAAAAAAGM/NgLKkxvHjMQ/s320/teen-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229635093083467986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span name="intelliTxt" id="intelliTXT"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, here's a moment that has definitely happened to me. Very Awkward..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJNlC3pkFuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/IUek5U4z8AU/s1600-h/awkward.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJNlC3pkFuI/AAAAAAAAAGE/IUek5U4z8AU/s320/awkward.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229634692279703266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Can't forget Elaine... My Hero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5xi4O1yi6b0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5xi4O1yi6b0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there was the time I was trying to get a picture of "Heed." His father caught me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJOEGcaM7fI/AAAAAAAAAGs/6zcfQI-zge4/s1600-h/Copy+of+DSCN1028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJOEGcaM7fI/AAAAAAAAAGs/6zcfQI-zge4/s320/Copy+of+DSCN1028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229668838547451378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-7769154307527734944?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/7769154307527734944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=7769154307527734944' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/7769154307527734944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/7769154307527734944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/07/awkward-moments.html' title='Awkward Moments'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SJOBJjEZAHI/AAAAAAAAAGk/vQsnuC5KKYk/s72-c/tyra+curlers.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-8018712900087777134</id><published>2008-07-28T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T09:15:48.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy and the Caddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SI4n8w2YRxI/AAAAAAAAAF0/PmIn2UgK4Y8/s1600-h/Cadillac-Ranch-Amarillo-U-S-A-Posters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SI4n8w2YRxI/AAAAAAAAAF0/PmIn2UgK4Y8/s320/Cadillac-Ranch-Amarillo-U-S-A-Posters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228160142282344210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;My father used to have this '93 Cadillac DeVille that he just thought was the greatest boat - Excuse me! I mean &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Car,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; there ever was. We (my brother, my sister and I) were barely allowed to even eat in the caddy let alone drink, sneeze, cough, or breathe in it's presence. Now that I'm older, I somewhat understand him not wanting an 8-year-old eating french fries with ketchup in his beloved car. A few weeks ago, my nephew spilled a snow cone in my own backseat, and I was reminded of my father. However, snow cones would have never been an option with him. Smart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;But what really reminded me of the good ol' caddy days was Dad's famous words, "Can you slam the door any harder!?!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;We were used to "Junkers" - (translation: automobiles usually worth 10, maybe 20 cents). If you didn't slam your door, your body would most likely be thrown from the vehicle just as soon as the door flew open as you were sailing down the highway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;One afternoon, when Dad was taking Taylor, Lindsay, and I to Wherever, America; we hopped in the car, shut the doors, and here it came:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Can you slam the doors any harder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;!?! My goodness!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Each one of us reopened our doors and simultaneously slammed the them shut with all our might!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Neither Taylor, Lindsay, nor I knew that each of us was going to do the exact same thing at the exact same time. Our eyes were filled with shock! We couldn't believe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; actually happened! Of course, we all began laughing so hard we were in the floorboard, except for Dad. He just stared at us, fiercely trying &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; to smile; therefore, he managed to pull off this awkward expression of deep disappointment, which made us laugh even more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-8018712900087777134?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/8018712900087777134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=8018712900087777134' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8018712900087777134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8018712900087777134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/07/daddy-and-caddy.html' title='Daddy and the Caddy'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SI4n8w2YRxI/AAAAAAAAAF0/PmIn2UgK4Y8/s72-c/Cadillac-Ranch-Amarillo-U-S-A-Posters.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-7543453581523075918</id><published>2008-07-24T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T08:57:57.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi, my name is Harry Pitts.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SInimdWgzuI/AAAAAAAAAFg/fUNbMsjOR5M/s1600-h/bbncover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SInimdWgzuI/AAAAAAAAAFg/fUNbMsjOR5M/s320/bbncover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226957992882130658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;Can you imagine being named "Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii"? Yes, this is  true. A nine-year-old girl from New Zealand was named this by her weirdo parents.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);" href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080724/ap_on_re_au_an/new_zealand_bizarre_names"&gt;Click here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;to read the full story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;I am not against unique names. My life revolves around being creative, and I applaud those who think outside of the box. But... naming your child "Fish and Chips" is stepping outside of one box and jumping into another. This is the box of "INSANITY".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;Now, I don't mean to judge harshly; I just feel sorry for the poor kids. They're too embarrassed to even tell their friends their own name. And I'm not talking about people like my dad. He goes by his middle name not just because of a family tradition, but also because he hates his first name - Howard. This is not a horrible name though, maybe just a little out dated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;Like I said before, I like different and unique names, even to the point where my family thinks I'm weird. For instance, I don't think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Talula&lt;/span&gt; is horrible. Actually, I really like it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;Let's also examine the name &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Apple&lt;/span&gt;. I didn't think that Gwyneth Paltrow and her husband Chris Martin were insane for choosing such a name (and I'm not saying this just because I'm a huge Coldplay fan!). It's not a name I would probably use but it's their life, and I really don't think Apple is ever going to be picked on - no pun intended (especially with having a superstar mother and a rock star father. Think about it).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;Basically what I'm saying here... is be creative not cruel and stupid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1216906100_1"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-7543453581523075918?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/7543453581523075918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=7543453581523075918' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/7543453581523075918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/7543453581523075918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/07/hi-my-name-is-harry-pitts.html' title='Hi, my name is Harry Pitts.'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SInimdWgzuI/AAAAAAAAAFg/fUNbMsjOR5M/s72-c/bbncover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-288023212673347119</id><published>2008-07-17T12:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T15:16:44.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lindsay's hand is as soft as a.... Jelly Jar?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SIZb_Ju5KUI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rnjAIR45Qjc/s1600-h/logo.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SIZb_Ju5KUI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rnjAIR45Qjc/s320/logo.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225965558112528706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;My sister Lindsay stayed with my grandparents for the summer after she graduated high&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;At dinner time, we always hold each others hands, bow our heads, and Big Daddy (my grandfather) prays. Lindsay was sitting next to him one evening and laid out her hand for him to take, but he never did. As he prayed, Lindsay opened her eyes and saw he had his hand around the spoon in the jelly jar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;She did her best contain her laughter until the prayer was over and then asked, "Big Daddy. Did you realize you were holding the spoon in the jelly jar rather than my hand?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Big Daddy's response: "I thought your hand was cold!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-288023212673347119?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/288023212673347119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=288023212673347119' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/288023212673347119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/288023212673347119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/07/lindsays-hand-is-as-soft-as-jelly-jar.html' title='Lindsay&apos;s hand is as soft as a.... Jelly Jar?'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SIZb_Ju5KUI/AAAAAAAAAFY/rnjAIR45Qjc/s72-c/logo.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-748253961929700548</id><published>2008-07-10T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T13:46:03.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture This</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;I found this on Skybag's and Sea-gal's Blogs.... I thought it would be fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt; #1. What is your current relationship status?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvN0HOkBhI/AAAAAAAAAFA/H4xDQNl8T0o/s1600-h/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvN0HOkBhI/AAAAAAAAAFA/H4xDQNl8T0o/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222994488043243026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;#2. What is your current mood?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvNt1O3syI/AAAAAAAAAE4/YOVNixzEK3Y/s1600-h/girlsleepDM2210_468x312.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvNt1O3syI/AAAAAAAAAE4/YOVNixzEK3Y/s320/girlsleepDM2210_468x312.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222994380133479202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;#3. Who is your favorite band/singer?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvNZorK2kI/AAAAAAAAAEw/sxkrjVYBW6o/s1600-h/jonforeman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvNZorK2kI/AAAAAAAAAEw/sxkrjVYBW6o/s320/jonforeman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222994033165130306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvNLeWCUCI/AAAAAAAAAEo/7t0Crm-75kc/s1600-h/vwmusic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvNLeWCUCI/AAAAAAAAAEo/7t0Crm-75kc/s320/vwmusic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222993789873967138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvNFBtA7bI/AAAAAAAAAEg/z5rmw9B2TG8/s1600-h/phantom+planet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvNFBtA7bI/AAAAAAAAAEg/z5rmw9B2TG8/s320/phantom+planet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222993679106502066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;#4. What is your favorite movie?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvM29PbaxI/AAAAAAAAAEY/OqE9ItOZYIw/s1600-h/fourdaughters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvM29PbaxI/AAAAAAAAAEY/OqE9ItOZYIw/s320/fourdaughters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222993437390498578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;#5. What pets do you have?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMxg8OBVI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/XvApXYZZnEw/s1600-h/black-and-white-fat-cat-300x252.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMxg8OBVI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/XvApXYZZnEw/s320/black-and-white-fat-cat-300x252.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222993343894390098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMtrAtoaI/AAAAAAAAAEI/lLrAt618eM8/s1600-h/Weimaraner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMtrAtoaI/AAAAAAAAAEI/lLrAt618eM8/s320/Weimaraner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222993277878116770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;#6. Where do you live?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMiizu1UI/AAAAAAAAAEA/RSRBhwky5TY/s1600-h/oklahoma-DVDcover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMiizu1UI/AAAAAAAAAEA/RSRBhwky5TY/s320/oklahoma-DVDcover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222993086697624898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;#7. Where do you work?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMaw9JK8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/G5M7zWsaVuA/s1600-h/electronic_computers_book_cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMaw9JK8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/G5M7zWsaVuA/s320/electronic_computers_book_cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222992953056242626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;#8. Who do you look like? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(or so I'm told)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMNqT_iCI/AAAAAAAAADw/Bi22BHMg5Zg/s1600-h/rachael_ray_mug.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvMNqT_iCI/AAAAAAAAADw/Bi22BHMg5Zg/s320/rachael_ray_mug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222992727934732322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;#9. What do you drive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvLxINoJFI/AAAAAAAAADo/O6lMLq30148/s1600-h/gas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvLxINoJFI/AAAAAAAAADo/O6lMLq30148/s320/gas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222992237744890962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;#10. What did you do last Saturday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvLWAhkopI/AAAAAAAAADg/aedBK11HeRk/s1600-h/wedding.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvLWAhkopI/AAAAAAAAADg/aedBK11HeRk/s320/wedding.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222991771824595602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"&gt;#11. What did you do last Sunday?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvKI7WN1yI/AAAAAAAAADY/hqPh04MPrl4/s1600-h/sleeping-commuter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvKI7WN1yI/AAAAAAAAADY/hqPh04MPrl4/s320/sleeping-commuter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222990447584859938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;#12. What is your favorite network TV show?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvJ7nAnwyI/AAAAAAAAADQ/BjYJMdZ7hO4/s1600-h/flight-of-the-conchords-dvd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvJ7nAnwyI/AAAAAAAAADQ/BjYJMdZ7hO4/s320/flight-of-the-conchords-dvd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222990218787275554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvJ3pI1b-I/AAAAAAAAADI/wJBOIoYhuk4/s1600-h/30rock_group.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvJ3pI1b-I/AAAAAAAAADI/wJBOIoYhuk4/s320/30rock_group.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222990150639120354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvJxtrkQ1I/AAAAAAAAADA/rYOKfSIt40Y/s1600-h/the-office-michael-scott.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvJxtrkQ1I/AAAAAAAAADA/rYOKfSIt40Y/s320/the-office-michael-scott.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222990048779322194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;#13. Describe yourself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvJVRziDsI/AAAAAAAAAC4/PnPR3ce_19g/s1600-h/happy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvJVRziDsI/AAAAAAAAAC4/PnPR3ce_19g/s320/happy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222989560260202178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;#14. What is your favorite candy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvIJQSD_GI/AAAAAAAAACw/JlNlZexUG7E/s1600-h/hottam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvIJQSD_GI/AAAAAAAAACw/JlNlZexUG7E/s320/hottam.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222988254181325922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-748253961929700548?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/748253961929700548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=748253961929700548' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/748253961929700548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/748253961929700548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/07/picture-this.html' title='Picture This'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHvN0HOkBhI/AAAAAAAAAFA/H4xDQNl8T0o/s72-c/1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-4940536249927966316</id><published>2008-07-06T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T20:28:51.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spoonerisms</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Ever heard of Spoonerisms?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Believe it or not there is a name for those incorrigible tongue twisters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;A &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;spoonerism&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; is a play on words in which corresponding consonants, vowels, or morphemes are switched. It is named after the Reverend William Archibald Spooner, Warden of New College, Oxford, who was notoriously prone to this tendency. -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Wikipedia.com &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;For example:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"The Lord is a shoving leopard" ("loving shepherd")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"It is kisstomary to cuss the bride" ("customary to kiss")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"Mardon me, padam, this pie is occupewed. Can I sew you to another sheet?" (Pardon me, madam, this pew is occupied. Can I show you to another seat?")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;and one of my personal favorites....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"Let us glaze our a**es to the queer old Dean" ("Let us raise our glasses to the dear old queen")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHGMr0UrWTI/AAAAAAAAACY/RfOyRbi2oF8/s1600-h/shocked.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHGMr0UrWTI/AAAAAAAAACY/RfOyRbi2oF8/s320/shocked.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220108127506749746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Can you imagine a Reverend standing for a group people and shouting &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; across the room?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;Most everyone as been a victim of spoonerisms at least once in their life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Names are a common problem with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Jim and Kosh - Dear friends of the family. I've known them practically my whole life. Or at least Josh and Kim have known me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; whole life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Then there's my coworkers Jeau and Boseph. They share an office right across the hall from me. Most people refer to them as Beau and Joseph, but not me. No sir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;The list could go on, but what I'm really blogging about my latest spoonerism .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;My family and I were enjoying a nice home-cooked dinner and discussing the latest happenings within our on daily lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;My mother and I were telling of the wonderful food we experienced in New York City. Mom had this delicious dish that I couldn't remember the name of. It was several kinds of cheeses raped in a crap. That's right... I said, "Raped in a crap." Isn't that the greatest topic to be discussed at the dinner table? What I meant to say was "Wrapped in a crepe."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-4940536249927966316?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/4940536249927966316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=4940536249927966316' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/4940536249927966316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/4940536249927966316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/07/spoonerisms.html' title='Spoonerisms'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SHGMr0UrWTI/AAAAAAAAACY/RfOyRbi2oF8/s72-c/shocked.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-8994254260987098516</id><published>2008-07-02T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T14:36:57.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slang City for Dummies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGvcX9iKYsI/AAAAAAAAACI/bOoQ3hCguK8/s1600-h/Dumb-Dumber.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGvcX9iKYsI/AAAAAAAAACI/bOoQ3hCguK8/s320/Dumb-Dumber.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218506897451803330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;I found this website that takes movie quotes and then translates them for I guess only the true idiots of this world to understand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Here's a few from Napoleon Dynamite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;Uncle Rico:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;Napoleon, you know we can't afford the fun pack. What, do you think money grows on trees in this family? Take it back! And get some Pampers for you and your brother while you're at it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Translation:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;Napoleon, you know we can't afford this variety package of small, individually wrapped snacks. Do you think this family is wealthy? Take it back! And get some diapers for you and your brother while you're doing that because you both still urinate in your sleep like children and dirty the bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;How about this one?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;Rex:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;First off, at Rex Kwan Do, we use the buddy system. No more flying solo. You need somebody watching your back at all times. Second off, you're gonna learn to discipline your image. You think I got where I am today because I dressed like Peter Pan over here? Take a look at what I'm wearing, people. Do you think anybody wants a roundhouse kick to the face while I'm wearin' these bad boys?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;First, at Rex Kwan Do (martial arts school), we use the "buddy system" where students work in pairs. You will not be alone. You need somebody watching out for you against danger at all times. Secondly, you're going to learn to discipline your image. Do you think I got where I am today because I dressed in an effeminate way, like Kip over here? Take a look at what I'm wearing, people. Do you think anybody wants a roundhouse kick to the face while I'm wearing these impressive and manly pants (which look like the American flag)?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;I've been enjoying these so much that I'm beginning to annoying everyone at work. When they say something, I'll yell behind them, "Translation!!!" and then proceed to explain exactly what they just said with more simplistic words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Here's another one from The Lion King...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;Simba:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;Hey Uncle Scar, when I'm King, what'll that make          you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;strong style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;Scar:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;A monkey's uncle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;strong style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;Simba:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;You're so weird.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;strong style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;Scar:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 153);"&gt;You have no idea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;Translation!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Simba:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;Hey Uncle Scar, when I'm King, what'll that make          you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;Scar:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;The uncle of someone low and worthless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Simba:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;You're so strange.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);"&gt;Scar:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;You have no idea how strange I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"&gt;Take a look at - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);" href="http://www.slangcity.com/movie_quote/index.htm"&gt;Slang City&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-8994254260987098516?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/8994254260987098516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=8994254260987098516' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8994254260987098516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/8994254260987098516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-found-this-website-that-takes-movie.html' title='Slang City for Dummies'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGvcX9iKYsI/AAAAAAAAACI/bOoQ3hCguK8/s72-c/Dumb-Dumber.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-6957326348624780360</id><published>2008-07-01T05:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T14:38:21.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Washington Jefferson Square Park</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:100%;" &gt;My Mother and I took a trip to NYC back in May. I'm a huge fan of the Yankees, and if you know baseball at all, you'll know that this is their last season in The House that Ruth Built. Not only did we take in a game, but we also explored the city until our legs gave out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the Parks I just had to go to was the Washington Square Park. I've dreamed of seeing the Washington Arch since I was a little girl, and I just couldn't go to NYC and not see it. However, when we arrived at the park, most of it was under construction. I barely saw any of it. Although I did see this guy, sleeping on the grass. I thought it was funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGpfoE7mhMI/AAAAAAAAACA/D6SE_9c2V-c/s1600-h/IMG_0368.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGpfoE7mhMI/AAAAAAAAACA/D6SE_9c2V-c/s320/IMG_0368.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218088260385277122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we studied the great arch, my mother looked to the pillar on the right and said, "Well that's definitely George Washington. I wonder who the man is on the left? It must be Thomas Jefferson."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGpSxP_thII/AAAAAAAAAB4/65XhYscm-ls/s1600-h/washington.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGpSxP_thII/AAAAAAAAAB4/65XhYscm-ls/s320/washington.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218074124322964610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;With a look of complete confusion I said, "Well... it's called the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:100%;" &gt;Washington&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:100%;" &gt; Square Arch. So, I'm assuming it's George Washington also. I mean, they could have put Thomas Jefferson on the George's arch, I guess.  But it would probably be called the Washington Jefferson Square Park then."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my goodness," she said. "I can't believe I just said that. You'll never let me live that down will you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's right, Mom. I will never forget this."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-6957326348624780360?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/6957326348624780360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=6957326348624780360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/6957326348624780360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/6957326348624780360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/07/washington-jefferson-square-park.html' title='The Washington Jefferson Square Park'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGpfoE7mhMI/AAAAAAAAACA/D6SE_9c2V-c/s72-c/IMG_0368.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-3198021980605141393</id><published>2008-06-27T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T08:43:12.039-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Complete Randomness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGv4xyLYxJI/AAAAAAAAACQ/MEwQ4xBy08Y/s1600-h/laughing-childrenbw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGv4xyLYxJI/AAAAAAAAACQ/MEwQ4xBy08Y/s320/laughing-childrenbw.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218538127405663378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Do you have those moments where you just say something and it makes absolute no sense at all? I mean, it might make sense to you at times but not to the person you're speaking with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;I have those moments quite often. It's like I'm between reality and a dream. My dream makes perfect sense and then when I'm coming back to the real word, sometimes a piece of that magical land comes with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Then when all reality hits you, the room is quite. Everyone's staring at you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Then &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;KABOOM&lt;/span&gt;!!! And avalanche of laughter comes rollin' in! Oh! And you can't forget the pointing of fingers. No sir!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;As I was saying, this is a usually a daily occurrence for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;For example - I was on a work trip with my boss Jeff and my coworker Kara. On our lunch break, Jeff begins to pray over our food. As He was praying, I was thinking how thankful I was for him and for his prayer over our meal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;He said&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;A&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;men&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;then Kara said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Amen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;... then I said - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Thank You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;. I didn't even wait for them to laugh; I immediately threw myself back in my chair and began laughing so hard I was crying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;For the rest of the day, we said &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Amen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt; for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Thank You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Thank You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt; for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Amen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Also, as my friend once stated - I have hearing dyslexia. Somebody says something and I hear another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;My mother and I were discussing the Broadway play we had seen. I was trying to remember if David Hyde Pierce had won an award for his roll in Monty Python or if he had just been nominated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;My mother responded with, "Fratoni's?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;I said, "What?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;"Fratoni's?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;"What?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;"FOR TONY's!? Are you talking about the Tony awards?!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Again, I immediately began to laugh. I explained to her what I had heard. I said, "I thought were were talking about some Italian family. I saw that Taxi in front of us and thought it was a Pizza delivery car. I didn't know what the heck you were talking about!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;My mom started cracking up the moment I mentioned "Italian Family."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);"&gt;Good times, the Faughtsters have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-3198021980605141393?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/3198021980605141393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=3198021980605141393' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/3198021980605141393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/3198021980605141393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/06/complete-randomness.html' title='Complete Randomness'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGv4xyLYxJI/AAAAAAAAACQ/MEwQ4xBy08Y/s72-c/laughing-childrenbw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-7254682743437880146</id><published>2008-06-26T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T08:39:20.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emma and the Firecracker</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGTl8JQmwPI/AAAAAAAAAA4/IMPlKelE7Gw/s1600-h/emma.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGTl8JQmwPI/AAAAAAAAAA4/IMPlKelE7Gw/s320/emma.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216547089842356466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;There are too many words to describe my cousin Emma. She's 9 years-old and already very passionate, sweet, funny, dramatic, and most of all... loving. Today my story is about her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Emma came bolting down the hall has she always does and ran straight into my arms. We both squeezed tight and then just immediately threw herself away from me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"Reagan! I have something to tell you!", she said.  "A firecracker blew up in my ear!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;I gasped and my eyes grew to the size of baseballs. I inspected her ear and saw the back was black and red from the burns.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;My sister, sitting beside me, grabbed my arm and said, "Now Emma, tell Reagan what you were &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;doing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; when the firecracker &lt;span&gt;exploded&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;"Well," Emma said with a huge grin on her face. "Logan told me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;he&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt; was lighting the firecrackers in the ground. Papa John said that was the only way he could play with them - if he lit them in the ground and then ran away. I told Logan that I didn't have to do that because I was better than him. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; could light the firecracker and throw it. As I told Logan I was better than him, I raised my arm as far back as I could and threw the black cat. It hit the back of my ear and exploded!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Emma speaks rather loudly and is so animated about everything. So by this time, she had attracted a crowd. Someone mentioned, "Well, pride comes before the fall, Emma." All of us started chuckling including Emma. She's always going for the laugh factor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;She said the first words out of her mouth after the pop was, "I'm sorry, Logan! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" My Aunt was so proud of her for immediately recognizing her fault.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Emma is such a storyteller. I only wish you could have seen her telling this story herself. She can tell it better than I can write it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-7254682743437880146?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/7254682743437880146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=7254682743437880146' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/7254682743437880146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/7254682743437880146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/06/emma-and-firecracker.html' title='Emma and the Firecracker'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGTl8JQmwPI/AAAAAAAAAA4/IMPlKelE7Gw/s72-c/emma.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165920854051318941.post-2484298613129800407</id><published>2008-06-25T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T14:40:01.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Approach</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGLDMgKy8rI/AAAAAAAAAAw/9Pr6unX3yYM/s1600-h/kidchocolateface230width.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGLDMgKy8rI/AAAAAAAAAAw/9Pr6unX3yYM/s400/kidchocolateface230width.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215945938009518770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;    I'm always laughing. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when there isn't anything to laugh about at a particular moment, then I'll think of something or some story to evoke at least a smile on my face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;    Laughter is the absolute best medicine. If if anyone wants to debate me on this topic, go ahead. But I'm sticking to this belief and nothing nor no one can change my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my new approach to my blog is by only posting stories and the little anecdotes that occur throughout the day or come to mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Some may be simple and stupid, but if they make me laugh, I want to remember them always. I forget everything, and I've been saying forever that I should write all this silly nonsense down that I might remember. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drum roll please for the first story of this sorry little blog....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I entered the laughing world at a young age. However, I was usually the one being laughed at. And the one laughing was my brother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;    Remember those candy containers with the small scoops at the super markets? You fill your bag with candy and then weigh it at the check out? Well, I used to think the candy was free, so my sister and I would just grab a hand full and munch down as we followed our mother throughout the grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;Mom finally caught us digging into the containers and instructed us never to eat the candy again. It had to be paid for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;    Leaving candy out there for the taking is just too much temptation for a four-year-old. My mother's instructions could not be withheld! I shoved the candy in my pockets and has we were about to leave, I sprinted towards the sliding doors. I ran as fast as I could and almost made it to freedom. That's right I said "almost." As I was running towards to the great outdoors, I tripped over my own feet and fell to the floor.  Saltwater taffy flew out of my pockets and covered the grocery store tiles.&lt;br /&gt;I immediately began to cry and my brother immediately began to laugh... hysterically. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;    My mother however, was trying NOT to laugh and told me I had to pick every piece up and apologize to the cashier (who was also trying not to laugh.) She kept her head down and tried not to look at me as I handed her the candy. I was absolutely humiliated.&lt;br /&gt;Life would never be the same again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4165920854051318941-2484298613129800407?l=busy-nothingness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/feeds/2484298613129800407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4165920854051318941&amp;postID=2484298613129800407' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/2484298613129800407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4165920854051318941/posts/default/2484298613129800407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://busy-nothingness.blogspot.com/2008/06/new-approach.html' title='A New Approach'/><author><name>RunningMad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17443696435165712549</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SRhXIrfYADI/AAAAAAAAAK4/74lKs97SRAk/S220/me.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dOOChIwWYjI/SGLDMgKy8rI/AAAAAAAAAAw/9Pr6unX3yYM/s72-c/kidchocolateface230width.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
