<?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-17108889</id><updated>2012-02-16T14:14:40.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Slapdash Thoughts</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>164</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-115258628388028982</id><published>2006-07-10T22:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T22:51:40.990-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Survey Says.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This Town Sucks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our town has these stupid signs, flyers, banners, etc., all over town that says "My Town Name. survey.com Tell us what you think? Huh. Okay, I think I will and I go to the web site. They ask all these dumb questions about the library that they just built but they can't fix the dam High School. Okay, so I start taking the survey yet it is totally boring me half to death. I want to tell them what I think but there really isn't any place to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not get me wrong about my town. I love this town but they just have inadequate things or events to do. I pay too much money on taxes for what? A huge ass library that I do not think that all the books they own will fill up the space and yet, they can't fix the High School or have more activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I can either sit here and bitch to you about it in which will do you no darn good because you don't live here or, I can voice my opinion and blab to anyone that is standing next to me in line what I think of the town. In fact, while I was at the gas station today I started voicing my opinion to the cashier. There that is a start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How else can I voice what I think. Ah, perhaps a nice little letter to the Town paper. I think that would get printed. Not going to put my name in there as I probably would get the news crew here. Bad enough that I have the cops here almost on a daily base. Oh by the way, I get a phone call from the Police and ask if I want to support our local Police. As a matter of fact son's friend's Mom got one and we both laughed at them. Ya, we are supporting you and keeping you busy for sure. Hell, didn't you have fun at my house January 7th during that raid? And, don't our son's enjoy being harassed and arrested by you for stupid idiotic things. You got my support all right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the biggest beef I have with this town is the lack of activities for the teens. Oh sure, there is a teen center but they don't do anything for the teens. So, what else is there to do but stupid shit to get them arrested. And, no, the Police haven't been here in the last couple of weeks. Phew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is my plan? I have had this dream for several years now and I think it is a pretty good dam idea as this idea is popping up all over the place now. I told the cashier what this town needs is an Under 21 Night Club. My catch is this. The teens have to be a part of the night club. That means they would learn every aspect of how to run a business. Good education there. They have to come up with their own entertainment and get people to have bands there or perhaps have skits, poem night etc. There are people learning how to cook perhaps and make simple appetizers etc. They can have teens that can be bouncers to keep things in control. You get the idea? Most of all have a few adults there to help out should any problems or questions come up and the parents be involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How would one propose this to the town? Anyone have any ideas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-115258628388028982?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/115258628388028982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=115258628388028982&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/115258628388028982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/115258628388028982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/07/survey-says.html' title='The Survey Says.....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-115211209421372360</id><published>2006-07-05T11:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T11:08:14.323-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lots Of News</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It has been a while since I have blogged here. I noticed that I haven't blogged since Easter. Just terrible I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, since then my son-in-law has been sentenced to 5 years in prison but he is going to be fighting that since his Lawyer didn't do a good job at keeping the sentence down to at least 2-3 years. He is at a maximum security prison. Not like the guy murdered someone but has a cell mate that spent 8 years in prison and the day he got out he went and shot the person that put him there and is right back in prison. Lucky the person lived and he only got 5 years. Tell me, what is wrong with this picture? My son-in-law was in a car with two other guys that had drugs in the car and both admitted that the drugs were theirs and he was clean. One guy got prison and the other didn't. What is wrong with that picture? Anyway, so he is fighting that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cops in my town are being assholes and harassing my son and his friend. They are just waiting for them to screw up. Well, my son's friend has indeed been arrested several times on really stupid stuff. You know how kids get into fights? Most just take it and that's that. Not this one kid. Then, my son and his friend went swimming and they were about to get in the car when 3 huge guys just beat the crap out of his friend and one told my son to shut up and stay out or they get him. Well, there were many witnesses around to prove that the 3 guys started the fight but they knew they were in trouble and went to the Police and told this big lie and of course they came after my son's friend. They did all this investigation and learned that those guys started it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My biggest blow since I last blogged was the death of my brother. I had gone up to Vermont to open up our summer house that we share. I haven't talked to my brother since a big family blow out about 4 years ago. See, my brother has been a teen drug and alcoholic and been in and out of rehabilitation for the last 4 years. He ran from Florida last July and drove up to Vermont only to have gotten arrested for drinking and driving. His son got him out. Big mistake there. Within two months he was caught driving his car in which he isn't allowed to drive for the rest of his life. I have no idea why he was put in the slammer but a con he is bullshitted his way and told the court he will enter rehab. Little did they know he just left one in Florida. I think he was to go in the program for awhile and then had to go to jail. I am not sure for how long but I think it was for 3.5 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he comes to the cottage after I do and of course brings two friends since he needed someone to drive him over there. Tells my mother they are recovering fuckups and they all found God. She feeds them all and then he goes back to the cottage. Up all night drinking and doing who knows what. Apparently, they told my Mother that they will go to church with her. She drives to the cottage and honks the horn. One guy comes out and says he is still sleeping. Mom goes to church with out them. She comes home and goes about her business. Around 2:00 PM these guys come down to my Mother's house and says we can't wake up Jeff. Mom looks at them like "What do you mean you can't wake him?" and gets up and goes to the cottage and stands in the doorway and knows without even touching him he is dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We learned that on May 30th he prescribed Dilaudid and Valium to him. What was this Doctor thinking after having read on what Dilaudid was used for. My brother didn't have the following that is described below. Accordinly to the Medical Examiner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dilaudid, a narcotic analgesic, is prescribed for the relief of moderate to severe pain such as that due to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Biliary colic (pain caused by an obstruction in the gallbladder or bile duct)&lt;br /&gt;Burns&lt;br /&gt;Cancer&lt;br /&gt;Heart attack&lt;br /&gt;Injury (soft tissue and bone)&lt;br /&gt;Renal colic (sharp lower back and groin pain usually caused by the passage of a stone through the ureter)&lt;br /&gt;Surgery&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We still are waiting for the Autopsy report and I want to know the time of death especially because I have this strange feeling about my brother's death. My brother was too much of a chicken to kill himself. Now, I understand that he could have just gotten up and wanted to get high and overdosed himself. There is something so wrong with this picture as one of the guys called my Mother the next day saying something like my brother stole some drugs from this guy and "He was done wrong" should we call the Police?" My younger brother was listening on another phone when he heard this. These guys are nervous about something. So until we get that report I or my brother's son can't do anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else...went to Vermont over the July 4th weekend. We had a big party for my Mother and Aunt (twins) for their 80th Birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-115211209421372360?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/115211209421372360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=115211209421372360&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/115211209421372360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/115211209421372360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/07/lots-of-news.html' title='Lots Of News'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114505165071633544</id><published>2006-04-14T17:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T17:54:10.740-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Happy_Easter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Happy_Easter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Good Friday, and frankly I don't know what's good about it since it is raining. I have noticed many of my daffodils are popping up all over the yard and I certainly didn't plant any. I wish it were that easy that flowers, trees, scrubs etc., just plant themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are going to my sister-in-laws for Easter. We didn't have Easter last year as she was away. She is always on some business trip. She does a lot of trade shows in NY, Chicago, Boston, Florida, and California. Not married so big advantage to the company that she works for. Hell, the lady never misses work either if with the problems she has. Bless her. Anyway, we haven't seen her since Christmas and we are only half hour away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really itching to get up to Vermont at my summer place. So, we are planning on going over Memorial Weekend with some friends to open the camps up and put boats, docks and what ever else needs to be done. We also have to plan my Mother and her twin's sister's 80th Birthday party. Their Birthday is in May but since we can't get everyone together until July that is when we will do it and a lot of their friends will be in Vermont as well. Should be fun. So much is needed to be done over Memorial weekend because I am not going to do stuff the last second when I get up there in July.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All is well here. No raids at the house, no one getting arrested....Phew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Easter all....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114505165071633544?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114505165071633544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114505165071633544&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114505165071633544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114505165071633544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/04/happy-easter.html' title='Happy Easter'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114481075980934806</id><published>2006-04-11T22:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T23:01:08.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This Blog Need Life....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/L2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/L2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously need to fix this blog up. It looks awful but really don't have the will to do it. Maybe I should pay someone to do it for me. Notice that picture on the front of the blog? Yup, I did that. Taking a PSP (Paint Shop Pro) class and let me tell you this stuff isn't easy to remember to do. But, you have to keep doing it and doing it to get the hang of it. All the lessons are in Dutch but translated into English and there are like 25 steps to go before you move up into another class. The photo on the top of blog is Lesson 2. I am going on lesson 4. I had a wee bit trouble with 3 in which you see. All in all, this is fun and so addictive. Now, who is going to redo my blog for me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114481075980934806?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114481075980934806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114481075980934806&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114481075980934806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114481075980934806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/04/this-blog-need-life.html' title='This Blog Need Life....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114368425921745983</id><published>2006-03-29T21:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T21:04:19.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing New...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;It seems spring is somewhat here. I have noticed that my tulips are starting to come up. When I first moved here they weren't there but now they are and I certainly didn't plants them. I should gather them up and stick them in the front of the house as they are all over the yard. Of course my smart-ass husband said "Have you heard of the birds and the bee's?" "No, I think you need to teach me!" The yard is a mess from the last bit of snow we had in which we got 20" dumped here. Branches and crap all over the yard. Doesn't help that the dogs tramp through the mud either turning what grass I had upside down. Well, that is okay, since that part of the yard we are going to fence in and they can trash that all they want. I will leave the green thumb to my husband as I can kill a cactus. I swear I can...and, have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Toby: Your remark: You're daughter's husband sounds like a loser, even more so than me. I pay my own bills. Why do women love the losers? Better, how do the losers get hooked up with the good women? The answer to this riddle is that they are CON-Artist's. They spot the vulnerable, and the nice ones from good families with money. So, your far from being a loser if you hold a job and pay your debt to the society. And, that loser will be going to JAIL SOON! I try so hard to get my daughter to see the light of all this and get her to ask her self the question "Is this how I want to live? Is this a man that will provide for his family? Is this the man that will help provide a home? etc. If she can come up with some good answer's I am all ears. If not, while he is jail...drop him the divorce papers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went and got my son his ID card for his trip to Florida. This nitwit asked me to go get him some sedatives because he is having some anxiety attacks of flying. It is his first plane ride. Right, I am going to pump up my kid with some drug that will send him flying in which would probably do the opposite. LOL! I just told him to tell J to keep talking the whole flight or watch some movie or take his laptop. Then he says "Maybe, I should just smoke a blunt!" Dam kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids and I are very, very open. There isn't too much that they keep from me other than my son drinking but he really can't hide that either. We are so open that half of the time we never shut the bathroom door to pee to give you an idea. My parents were so closed about so much I didn't want this for my kids. I couldn't talk to my parents when I needed to and at times I still don't know how to talk to my mother. She is so intimidating, domineering, so set in her ways it is not worth getting in a spat with her. You just never win with her. So, it is like yes Mom, no Mom, whatever Mom, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, not much else here to talk about. I am not sure if you know I also blog on Blogster but, here is a little creation I made today. Not like the house needs cleaning. Screw that! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Bloggin_et.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Bloggin_et.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114368425921745983?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114368425921745983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114368425921745983&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114368425921745983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114368425921745983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/03/nothing-new.html' title='Nothing New...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114329853812465843</id><published>2006-03-25T09:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T09:55:45.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am Here...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I get an email from one of my blogger buddies wondering where I am and if I am okay. You know who you are and very kind of him to take the time to email me and ask in which prompt me to look at my blog to see when the last time I had blogged. My bad, it's been some two weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what has been happening since then. Well, my son had his court day and had to plead guilty to interfering with a Police Officer and is on a year probation. If he should violate that he goes to jail for 3 months. The Prosecutor told them that he is from our home town also and that now that he has been arrested they will watch his every move since we are from a small town and they have nothing better to do but watch and wait until you screw up again just so they can hall his ass to jail. Within one day my son and his friend were walking through someplace with some girl and they get stopped and searched by the cop for what reasons my son has no idea. He also told me that the male cop searched the girl. He asks me if that was legal. I told him no and that he should have requested a female cop to do that and if the girl was smart she say something as he and his friend are witnesses to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess, with what happened to my son and what the Police were investigating was because there was a party in which a kid was drinking and popping pills and some kids took him over the border of the town and dumped him off and called the ambulance. Well, since everyone was a minor someone supplied the alcohol to these kids. I am sure he had to tell who it was. I just learned that they are watching this guy and the liquor store that these kids go to get their booze. Well, my son and his friend went down town to the teen center and my son's friend went over to the liquor store and my son stayed behind at the teen center. Well, a cop was watching and saw the guy supply the alcohol to my son's friend and busted the two. The kid was arrested along with my son from the previous charges and got the same sentence as my son. From what his mother said she will have to call a Lawyer and see if he can keep him out of jail and present to the Judge that he isn't a criminal but a kid who needs help with his drinking problem. Makes more sense to have it done this way. I gave my son a harsh lecture and told him that this was his best friend and he should have stopped him but knowing him they were going to drink this together. I said it could have been him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, what else. My daughter first try in getting pregnant didn't work. I am glad on that but she is going to the next step in having the procedures of having them extracting her eggs and taking his sperm and putting them in a dish and getting the eggs fertilized and then put the eggs back into her. I just sit there and smile at her and listen. I have done all my screaming at her at what I think about all this. In case some of you aren't aware of how I feel about my SNL ...he may be a nice person but he is on the top of the list of all ASSHOLES out there. Perhaps you may have seen his picture in the Dick-tionary!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, when I write all this I wonder if some of you think that I come from trailer trash park. While I am not proud of some of the things that have been happening in my life such as these things in which are certainly not my doings and we basically had a normal...well, not normal but you know what I mean life. Seems that since my daughter married this IDIOT stupid ass shit has been happening and my husband and I have been trying so hard to let my daughter know how our lives have been so turned upside down because of her childish husband and we are trying so hard to figure out just what kind of hold he has on her that makes her not walk away when she knows he is making everything and everybody miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came from a high class family. While I am far from the classification of snobs. I married a man that came from a lower class family. Why? Because it is more natural to me that having to be viewed as a high class family. It's too much work to keep up to certain standards, its boring, its too snobby. LOL! It's just not me. We are middle class in my little town, with middle class problems just like everyone else. This town has nothing for the teens just like the town I use to live in. Do you know that the town I use to live in didn't even have a liquor store? Still doesn't. Trust me, I had my fair share of looking for trouble but smart enough not to get caught. And, there were a few times I got caught doing stupid ass shit and do you think my Daddy fixed everything? Nope. Lesson was, you created your problems, you fix it. While my family did not have that image of "Lets keep up with the Jones" far from that. My mother never dolled up. You would find her with dirt on her face from doing something. My parents hated going to the store and spending money. They loved to spend their money on Real-estate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I think I have rambled on enough. Oh, and another reason for not blogging is the fact that my computer went AWOL and I had to reinstall everything. Bummer! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114329853812465843?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114329853812465843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114329853812465843&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114329853812465843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114329853812465843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-am-here.html' title='I Am Here...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114192784181059321</id><published>2006-03-09T13:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T13:10:41.896-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Daily Garbage....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Our lovely dryer that we have had since we moved in this place of 10 years decided to go to dryer heaven. The death rattle was getting to us so we unplugged it this morning. May it rest in peace. Good news, another dryer is on it's way sometime today along with a new washing machine. The washing machine that we have now is getting up in age too so, we decided to unplug it's life support as well. Ah, many good years of clean clothes I shall always remember. We decided to get the new stackable washer and dryer so we have more room in the laundry room. I will be able to put a table in there so we can either fold clothes there or dump more crap on it. Let's see which way it goes...probably a dumping table. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am feeling a little better and have noticed that certain foods really irritate my stomach. Hum, does this sound like an ulcer? I am not going to rule out that there could be something else wrong as it is only day 3 with this medication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband sounds like shit with this nasty cough he has. He barks up my tree about going to the Dr. but can't take his own advice. I tell you he is a complainer lately. But, if I should say something he gets all bent out of shape. So, I just keep my mouth shut and muffle under my breath "cry me a river"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cleaned off my computer desk this morning. Wow, I have a table! Give me until the end of the day and it will return to it's messy way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, we had gone out to order the new washer and dryer, stopped into the Vet's office to pick up more food for Max. By the way, his ear looks wonderful now. Now, to get him to stop itching but, I am suspecting that allergies of other things are getting to him as the weather is changing. I suppose this means that I need to give him allergy shots. What a riot to inject my own dog and I can't stand the site of needles. Anyway, we got home and put the big bag of dog food down by the bar area. Later, the dogs were down there but Max. Reyna, the bitch, always thinks everything belongs to her. Well, King, was walking by the bag of food and Reyna got all nasty and starts attacking King and the next thing we knew there was a big war with the two. No matter what we did the two went at it and then my husband got in between it...big mistake as one of them bit his thumb that I thought he should have had stitches but too much money he is thinking. I finally found a stick and as soon as I held that stick they ran. Gotta have one of those breaking sticks around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, while we were out I had stopped in the Town Hall as I had a question about my taxes that I would not have seen if I hadn't requested copies of what I had paid out. I went in and said that I had seen that there is a negative mark next to the amount of $1,256.00 what does this mean? She said we owe you that amount. I then, proceeded to say that when I worked in the tax office and when I spotted an over payment I gave the courtesy of tell the tax payer they over paid. Why can't this office do something like this? Apparently, it isn't their job. I tell you, what the hell am I paying all this money to the Town Employees if they can't work. I tell you I really like to rip them a new asshole. So, I have to go back to my mortgage company and ask them to call them and request the money, and then from there they will take it to the Finance Department and cut a check when they feel like it. So, I think I won't see this money for another month. That's okay, it's vacation money. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114192784181059321?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114192784181059321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114192784181059321&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114192784181059321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114192784181059321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/03/my-daily-garbage.html' title='My Daily Garbage....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114165751682674943</id><published>2006-03-06T09:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T10:05:17.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>12 Step Internet Recovery Program</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Coffee_bug_st.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Coffee_bug_st.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I will have a cup of coffee in the morning and read my newspaper like I used to, before the Internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;2. I will eat breakfast with a knife and fork and not with one hand typing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;3. I will get dressed before noon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;4. I will make an attempt to clean the house, wash clothes, and plan dinner before even thinking of the Internet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;5. I will sit down and write a letter to those unfortunate few friends and family that are Internet-deprived.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;6. I will call someone on the phone who I cannot contact via the Internet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;7. I will read a book... if I still remember how.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;8. I will listen to those around me and their needs and stop telling them to turn the TV down so I can hear the music on the Internet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;9. I will not be tempted during TV commercials to check for email.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;10. I will try and get out of the house at least once a week, if it is necessary or not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;11. I will remember that my bank is not forgiving if I forget to balance my checkbook because I was too busy on the Internet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;12. Last, but not least, I will remember that I must go to bed sometime... and the Internet will always be there tomorrow!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114165751682674943?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114165751682674943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114165751682674943&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114165751682674943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114165751682674943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/03/12-step-internet-recovery-program.html' title='12 Step Internet Recovery Program'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114139289882034741</id><published>2006-03-03T08:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T08:34:58.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, I am Here...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Going%20Nuts%20Header111111111112212111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Going%20Nuts%20Header111111111112212111.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;It looks as though Badman was asking if I was home, and yes it has been awhile since I last wrote. I suppose I have been busy and forgot to write my life adventures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to court for my son's stupidity and waited for dam 5 hours. We wanted to see the Prosecutor but he was so busy with this one party of YO's (Youth Offender's) that he never saw anyone else. Not sure what those kids did but they sure took up our time. Must have been at least 10 of them. By the time we got to see the Judge it was 5:00 and we were the last ones. Of course, they tell us to come back March 10th with either our own Attorney or see the Prosecutor but to see him you have to come at the court at 10:00 but our case won't be until 2:00. The court here does all YO (Youth Offender's) in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter has been wanting to get pregnant and has been seeing this Fertility Dr. I really don't need her to be pregnant now with this asshole husband of hers. He is a long story and I don't think you have time to hear it all. Anyway, I can't stop her as she is 24 and it's her life. So, she has had some testing done and they have come up with the fact she has eggs but they just release when they should is why she never has gotten pregnant. Good thing there. Now, she has taken this fertility drug to help release the egg and then they will do artificial insemination. Draw back...multiple births. More of a chance to have twins and less of having 3 or more but that isn't to say that it hasn't happened. She is nuts, I must be nuts listening to this but hey I am the Mom and have too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am adopted and always thank my lucky stars that I am when it comes to having kids. For the simple reason is that my adopted parents such as my Mom is a twin, my father's sisters are twins, my mother's brothers wife is a twin. On my husband side of the family triplets are known. Someone would have been pregnant with twins. I think it unusually skips generations and one of my kids would have been the ones with twins anyway. The odd thing about all this is that my Mom couldn't have kids but her twin could. My father side of the family one sister could have kids and the other could and same goes with my Mother's brothers wife. On my husband's side of the family his sister's couldn't carry girls. One sister had triplet girls...all died. Her son had triplets of 2 boys and 1 girl...she died. The boys in his family however, were able to have girls. It is why I have 17 Nephews and 17 Great-nephews. I only have 1 niece on my husband's side of the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we got snow yesterday again. Not too bad compared to the last dumping of 20". Our weather it seems is a month behind in the last few years. Strange.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114139289882034741?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114139289882034741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114139289882034741&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114139289882034741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114139289882034741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/03/yes-i-am-here.html' title='Yes, I am Here...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114029336357523301</id><published>2006-02-18T14:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T15:10:51.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing How-To-Do Articles</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Springablebox_st.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Springablebox_st.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I am learning PSP, and I do a lot of crafts, a lot of my work will be craft related. This is a gable box that I made. If you want to use it this is fine, and you need to print out two of them and put the box together.You may need to resize to fit regual size paper (11 x 8.5). Best to use cardstock paper, and white of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had bought PSP (Paint Shop Pro) for myself for my Birthday last month. No, I cannot send my husband out to get any computer stuff for me. This guy has no idea how to turn on the computer, let alone send him to a computer store? If I told him to pick up a mouse for me he come back with a live one. Get the point here? I tried to teach him the basic but, I just didn't have the patience's with him. If he had some computer skills it be a different story but, he has zilch.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;He only uses a special computer to program in codes that he needs to at his job. It is totally different from the usual desk top or laptop. It involves with Pools and Spa's. Nevertheless, he still isn't computer savvy whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Anyway, I am drifting off from my topic here. Well, I belong to several Yahoo Groups to help me learn this PSP stuff. Well, it was obvious that some of what goes on these groups really don't teach you much and I had to seek other ways of learning this stuff. Even though, I had gotten a big fat book along with the program I be still sitting here trying to figure out this stuff. So off to Google to help me. I came across zillions of sites that give tutorials on how to do certain things. Perfect. Some of the sites that I had gone to would tell you to do this and that but failed to tell you where to go to do this and that and would use terms with no explaining about them. I had to weed out sites that explained things clearly. If one is to right these tutorials they should write assuming the person has no idea about PSP. Not always the case. I did however, find some good sites that explained things thoroughly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Now that I have some basics of how this darn thing works I am getting addicted to it. I have lots to learn and from the little basic stuff I have learned I am bored with that part and want to learn animation now. Back to Google for some tutorials and hopefully I can get some good sites that teach this properly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;If anyone plans on writing out any HOW-TO-Do articles, bear in mind, you should always assume a beginner is going to read your tutorials so, write your article as if you were just learning yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, notice the background on this blog? Yup, I made that with PSP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114029336357523301?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114029336357523301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114029336357523301&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114029336357523301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114029336357523301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/02/writing-how-to-do-articles.html' title='Writing How-To-Do Articles'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-114004118137847933</id><published>2006-02-15T17:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T17:06:21.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can You Survive?</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Take this simple test to see if you would survive under this circumstances. Not knowing can cost your life. There are 17 questions and I only answered 10 right. It says that I am alive but hurt because I didn't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.spicolisbarleybin.com/games/survival.swf"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Survival Test&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-114004118137847933?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.spicolisbarleybin.com/games/survival.swf' title='Can You Survive?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/114004118137847933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=114004118137847933&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114004118137847933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/114004118137847933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/02/can-you-survive.html' title='Can You Survive?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113987230944674065</id><published>2006-02-13T18:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T18:11:49.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Books Not To Read To Children</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;I am going to ignore my title and read these stories to my kids. You know, life lessons that they will need. LOL! Oh, don't look shocked they are 23 and 18! LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image011.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image011.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image010.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image009.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image009.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image008.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image007.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image006.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image004.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image003.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image002.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image002.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113987230944674065?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113987230944674065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113987230944674065&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113987230944674065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113987230944674065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/02/books-not-to-read-to-children.html' title='Books Not To Read To Children'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113971813002763002</id><published>2006-02-11T23:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T23:22:10.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cops Just Love Us....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;My son had gone to a party tonight. I had asked him flat out if there were going to be parents. He was honest and said no and I said no good not going as anything could happen will happen. It is only a few friends he said. I said Ya, and some where along the line someone has a blabber mouth and it becomes bigger. So, he goes out any way with his friend Jason. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;At 9:00 I get this phone call from him to pick him up at the Police Station. At first, I was like stop fooling around. He is foul mouthing me and says he isn't kidding around. The officer got on the line. Says that there was a party but he wasn't at this one. He and his friend were walking and there were about 6 police cars at this house. A police officer stopped them and wanted to talk to them that is all. What did my son do and Jason? They take off. Guilty, guilty and guilty. If you don't have anything to hid I tell my son then why run and then when they catch you, you then resisted an arrest. He bitched about how ruff they were and how they hurt him. Told him that is what you get for running. Now, if you were smart you could have stood there and allowed the cop talk and ask a few questions and all this shit wouldn't have happened. So what happened. Apparently, some kid got drunk and passed out and so a bunch of kids put him in a car, drove him to the next town and left him on the side of the road and then called an ambulance. The cops in the next town traced the kid back to our town to a certain party. If he had been inside he would have been in more trouble but he was outside walking by and being obnoxious and running from them. I had explained to him that all he had to do was answer a few questions for them to help them with the investigation and then off you could have went but no, he had to be stupid. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;They brought him down to the station and he said he was there for hours before they called me. He said they had the handcuffs so tight and no one would loosen them a big but then one cop did. He had no bond but got possession of alcohol to a minor. My son, is 17 so he couldn't buy the booze. And interfering with the cops. When they went into this house a 14 girl answered the door. She was drunk and a couple of other girls there but were not drunk. So, whom ever supplied had to have been older but wasn't there or this girl's parents had the booze. I just hope the kid that was taken to the hospital is okay. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Something similar happened to my daughter. She got drunk and her friends just dumped her at the hospital and left and then called me. I yelled at her friend for not being there for her. And, she fed me this line she had to get back to her kid in which I then blasted to her that she never takes care of her kid and is always dumping her kid off at someone so horse shit to her remark. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;We then get home. My husband is royally pissed and my son had knocked something over that made my husband more pissed. He runs after my son and he is now trying to get away from his father and falls over the gate and is on the floor. My husband steps over towards him and I can see the rage in him. I look at him and said you lay one fucken finger on him I will kill you. He turned sheet white at what I had said and of course told me to fuck off. He can be mad at me all he wants but if he touched him he wouldn't have stopped and could have hurt him. I wouldn't have hesitated to have him arrested. I am sorry, no matter how upset you are with your kids violent behavior is not the answer. I just told my son to go into his room and sleep off his booze and we will talk when he is sober. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;I seriously need to move from this town you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113971813002763002?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113971813002763002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113971813002763002&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113971813002763002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113971813002763002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/02/cops-just-love-us.html' title='The Cops Just Love Us....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113934603196773450</id><published>2006-02-07T15:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T16:01:00.740-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture Of The Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://imageshack.us"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 291px; height: 278px;" src="http://img51.imageshack.us/img51/9946/snowjob6mg.jpg" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Even non-living organisms get lucky.....Dang!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113934603196773450?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113934603196773450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113934603196773450&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113934603196773450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113934603196773450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/02/picture-of-day.html' title='Picture Of The Day'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113924206149776125</id><published>2006-02-06T11:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T11:07:44.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde Logic and More....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Okay, no pun taken as I am a blonde my self and no where as stupid as some. Perhaps a wise-ass one in which is better to be then a DUMB-ASS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;BLONDE LOGIC &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Two blondes living in Oklahoma were sitting on a bench talking and one blonde says to the other, "Which do you think is farther away .... Florida or the moon?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;The other blonde turns and says, "Helloooooooooo, can you see Florida...?????"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;CAR TROUBLE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;A blonde pushes her BMW into a gas station. She tells the mechanic it died. After he works on it for a few minutes, it is idling smoothly. She says, "What's the story?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;He replies, "Just crap in the carburetor"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;She asks, "How often do I have to do that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;SPEEDING TICKET &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;A police officer stops a blonde for speeding and asks her very nicely if he could see her license.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;She replied in a huff, "I wish you guys would get your act together. Just yesterday you take away my license and then today you expect me to show it to you!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;RIVER WALK &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;There's this blonde out for a walk. She comes to a river and sees another blonde on the opposite bank. "Yoo-hoo!" she shouts, "How can I get to the other side?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;The second blonde looks up the river then down the river and shouts back, "You ARE on the other side."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;AT THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;A gorgeous young redhead goes into the doctor's office and said that her body hurt wherever she touched it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;"Impossible!" says the doctor. "Show me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;The redhead took her finger, pushed on her left breast and screamed, then she pushed her elbow and screamed in even more. She pushed her knee and screamed; likewise she pushed her ankle and screamed. Everywhere she touched made her scream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;The doctor said, "You're not really a redhead, are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;"Well, no" she said, "I'm actually a blonde."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;"I thought so," the doctor said. "Your finger is broken." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;KNITTING &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;A highway patrolman pulled alongside a speeding car on the freeway. Glancing at the car, he was astounded to see that the blonde behind the wheel was knitting! Realizing that she was oblivious to his flashing lights and siren, the trooper cranked down his window, turned on his bullhorn and yelled, "PULL OVER!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;"NO!" the blonde yelled back, "IT'S A SCARF!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;BLONDE ON THE SUN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;A Russian, an American and a Blonde were talking one day. The Russian said, "We were the first in space!" The American said, "We were the first on the moon!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;The Blonde said, "So what? We're going to be the first on the sun!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;The Russian and the American looked at each other and shook their heads. "You can't land on the sun, you idiot! You'll burn up!" said the Russian.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;To which the Blonde replied, "We're not stupid, you know. We're going at night!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;IN A VACUUM &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;A blonde was playing Trivial Pursuit. It was her turn. She rolled the dice and she landed on Science &amp; Nature. Her question was, "If you are in a vacuum and someone calls your name, can you hear it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;She thought for a time and then asked, "Is it on or off?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;FINALLY, THE BLONDE JOKE TO END ALL BLONDE JOKES! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;A girl was visiting her blonde friend, who had acquired two new dogs, and asked her what their names were. The blonde responded that one was named Rolex and one was named Timex. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Her friend said, "Whoever heard of someone naming dogs like that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;"HELLLOOOOOOO......," answered the blond. "They're watch dogs!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113924206149776125?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113924206149776125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113924206149776125&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113924206149776125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113924206149776125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/02/blonde-logic-and-more.html' title='Blonde Logic and More....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113923707805354805</id><published>2006-02-06T09:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T09:46:40.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Bowl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;font&gt;I am not a football fan what so ever and the only time that I watch it is during Super Bowl. Yet, I mostly watch for the commercials as most like to. Imagine the money involved just to get a spot and spending months trying to come up with a good commercial. They are getting better each year. Anyhow, of course the team I picked won. Way to go Steelers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya, I have been lagging on my blog lately. Amazing, I don't have too much to say these days. Or, perhaps, there just isn't anything worthwhile to say on my part that is. I got this new program PSP and this is driving me insane. I have enrolled in those Yahoo groups for free lessons. The thing that really bugs me about reading the lessons is that the person that wrote it assumes we newbies know some of the tech words. Plus, they never tell you were to find the tools or really explain what the hell they are talking about. I have to ask all these questions. I know, no question is dumb when trying to learn this crap. But come on, learn to write out the lessons in ENGLISH please. So, I am trying to do this myself through trial and error in which I think most learn that way unless they have taken a class at their nearby school or college. When I got PSP 9 they gave me the book and it is the size of the NYC telephone directory. Dang, this is going to take me longer than I thought. But, I am so determined to learn this and I will. Then, you will see some of my shit on here. Okay, I have done a few. Looks like a kid learning how to use a crayon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really should be paying attention to fixing up some things in my house instead of the stupid program. I started too and became bored with it. I get that way all the time. I think it is because I am ADD. No wonder things are so half-assed done in this house. My whole family is like that and you would think we have someone that isn't so they can help each of stick to one task at a time. Noooooooooooooo! I swear even the dogs are ADD too. One of these days I will get back to it when I become bored with what I am doing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113923707805354805?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113923707805354805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113923707805354805&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113923707805354805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113923707805354805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/02/super-bowl.html' title='Super Bowl'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113893547079686006</id><published>2006-02-02T21:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T21:58:04.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is The Secret?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://what-is-the-secret.blogspot.com/"&gt; What Is The Secret?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Check it out.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Two places to check it out... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.what-is-the-secret.com/"&gt;What Is The Secret? :: View Videos for Clues ::: Worldwide Television Event &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113893547079686006?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://what-is-the-secret.blogspot.com/' title='What Is The Secret?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113893547079686006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113893547079686006&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113893547079686006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113893547079686006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/02/what-is-secret.html' title='What Is The Secret?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113855550546973248</id><published>2006-01-29T12:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T14:48:59.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Burger King/Budweiser Frog</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; font-weight: bold;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/BKing2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Has anyone seen the latest Burger King commercial where the King is running on the football field. Just what on earth is Burger King trying to sell here? Burgers, Football or NIGHTMARES!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This is an actually NFL game. The King is running down the field past defenders to score a touchdown. The person that King replaced is San Francisco QB Steve Young.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Just what does the King have to do with football? Absolutely nothing! Here is the catch though, people talk about it, you remember it, and that is what Burger King wants. They represent how much of an idiot they are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/burgerkingoatmealguy2.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/burgerkingoatmealguy2.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sorry girls, Burger King and the Oatmeal guy have a thing going. Or, perhaps Burger King is bisexual and very greedy. LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;While I am at it with advertisements...guys this is right up your beer drinking alley.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;There is a reason why middle aged women shouldn't go to Mardi Gras and drink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/image0011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/image0011.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113855550546973248?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113855550546973248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113855550546973248&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113855550546973248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113855550546973248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/01/burger-kingbudweiser-frog.html' title='Burger King/Budweiser Frog'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113780499126345979</id><published>2006-01-20T19:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T19:56:31.320-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Smart Ass Answers</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;These are great. Something that I would most likely say and do, and get me in a lot of trouble but hey that's me and that's life! LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TOP 5 SMART ASS ANSWERS FOR 2005 ...according to  Reader's Digest:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smart Ass Answer #5:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;  A flight attendant was stationed at the departure gate  to check &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tickets. As a man approached, she extended her  hand for the ticket, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;instead he opened his trench coat  and flashed her. Without missing a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;beat....she said,  "Sir, I need to see your ticket not your stub."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smart Ass Answer #4:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;    A lady was shopping for a turkey at the grocery store,  but she &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;couldn't find one big enough for her family. She  asked a stock boy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Do these turkeys get any bigger?" The  stock boy replied," No ma'am &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;they're dead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smart Ass Answer #3:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;  The cop got out of his car and the kid who was stopped  for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;speeding rolled down his windo w. "I've been waiting  for you all day,"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the cop said. The kid replied, "Yeah,  well I got here as fast as I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;could." When the cop finally  stopped laughing, he sent the kid on his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;way without a ticket.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smart Ass Answer #2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;    A truck driver was driving along on the freeway. A sign  comes up &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that reads, "Low Bridge Ahead." Before he knows  it, the bridge is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;right Ahead of him and he gets stuck  under the bridge. Cars are backed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;up for miles. Finally,  a police car comes up. The cop gets out of his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;car and walks up to the truck driver, puts his hands on his hips  and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;says, "Got stuck, huh?" The truck driver says, "No, I  was delivering &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;this bridge and ran out of gas."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AND NOW........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FOR THE..........BEST ONE..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;#1 SMART ASS ANSWER OF THE YEAR 2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;    A college teacher reminds her class of tomorrow's final  exam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Now class, I won't tolerate any excuses for you not  being here &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tomorrow. I might consider a nuclear attack or  a serious personal &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;injury or illness, or a death in your  immediate family, but that's it,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;no other excuses  whatsoever!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;   A smart ass guy in the back of the room raised his hand  and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;asked, "What would you say if tomorrow I said I was  suffering from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;complete and utter sexual exhaustion?" The  entire class is reduced to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;laughter and snickering. When  silence is finally restored, the teacher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;smiles knowingly  at the student, shakes her head and sweetly says &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Well, I guess you'd have to write the exam with your other hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113780499126345979?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113780499126345979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113780499126345979&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113780499126345979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113780499126345979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/01/smart-ass-answers.html' title='Smart Ass Answers'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113771853073894046</id><published>2006-01-19T19:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T19:56:46.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Create Your Own Music</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Okay, I know I have slacked off in giving you something to do. To all you music lovers out there&lt;a href="http://www.createbands.com/"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="www.createbands.com"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.createbands.com/"&gt;Create Your Own Band&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I hope this darn link works. If not, let me know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113771853073894046?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113771853073894046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113771853073894046&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113771853073894046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113771853073894046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/01/create-your-own-music.html' title='Create Your Own Music'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113768100254027881</id><published>2006-01-19T09:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T09:30:02.586-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Atlantic City, NJ</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://imageshack.us"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 308px; height: 243px;" src="http://img8.imageshack.us/img8/7896/ugly6er.png" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anyone loose a relative some where? LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Today I gotta make reservations for Atlantic City. My husband's company has a convention to go to at one of the casino's in NJ. I won't go with him on Monday as there is a class that he may go too. His friend, from another company that he use to work at will be coming on Tuesday with his wife and will pick me up. I am staying one night at one of the casino hotel's. I am booking at the Sand's Casino. My husband will be at another Hotel that his company has for him as he is sharing with his friend. Kindof sucks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I haven't been to the Boardwalk since the early 70s. At that time the boardwalk was only about 3.5 miles long. Today, it is 7 miles. I know it is going to be awesome and best I remember my camera as I am going to make my husband step out of the convention and take a stroll on the Boardwalk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I will tag along with his company as his boss has put me down as one of the employee's so I can see this Pool &amp; Spa convention. From what I understand from hubby they also put on a dinner ~ for free! He says the food is awesome. We will at some point go and play some games. There is no way I am playing any card games as I suck at it. So, slot machines and anything else they have is fine with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Can't wait as we haven't done anything in so long. Well, he has but not me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113768100254027881?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113768100254027881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113768100254027881&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113768100254027881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113768100254027881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/01/atlantic-city-nj.html' title='Atlantic City, NJ'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113709285259943224</id><published>2006-01-12T14:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T14:07:32.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Were You In Your Past Life?</title><content type='html'>The Big View&lt;br /&gt;Ever wanted to know who you were in a past life? Check it out by clicking onto link ---&gt; &lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);" href="http://http://www.thebigview.com/pastlife/"&gt;The Big View&lt;/a&gt;. (http://www.thebigview.com/pastlife/ )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what mine said about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your past life diagnosis:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.&lt;br /&gt;You were born somewhere in the territory of modern France around the year 1800.&lt;br /&gt;Your profession was that of a seaman, dealer, businessman or broker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your brief psychological profile in your past life:&lt;br /&gt;Bohemian personality, mysterious, highly gifted, capable to understand ancient books. With a magician's abilities, you could have been a servant of dark forces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:&lt;br /&gt;Your task is to learn, to love and to trust the universe. You are bound to think, study, reflect, and to develop inner wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113709285259943224?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113709285259943224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113709285259943224&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113709285259943224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113709285259943224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/01/who-were-you-in-your-past-life.html' title='Who Were You In Your Past Life?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113661110722529434</id><published>2006-01-07T00:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T00:18:27.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shake Down!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As many of you know that there is never a dull moment in my house. Well, it seems as though it has been dull until today. To let you know this is going to be a long blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I had just taken a shower as my husband and I were going to run to the grocery store in a while. I sat down at the computer and was reading someone's blog. Reyna, my dog started barking as usual over every little sound and I looked at her as she was peering out the window. My dogs are my ears for me and whenever they do bark I always get up to see what any of the dogs are barking about. I had noticed the hair on her fur was standing up. This seemed a little odd I thought and curious as I was, I had gotten up and looked out the window. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Every watched the TV show cops when they are about to invade a house? This is what I saw. Six or 7 cop cars race up into my driveway with at least 20 cops dodging out of the car with their guns held close to them as each scattered in all different directions on my property. My first thought was they were going after someone that had come onto my property but then I saw a few take position behind their car and my son-in-law's car. My heart flew out of my chest and I started hyperventilating and shut my computer room door so that that dogs wouldn't follow me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I raced down the stairs where my husband was and he is a sleep in the recliner and I yelled to him "Get up the Fucking cops are here and surrounded the house!" He literally flew out of the recliner and we went to the door and threw open the door. He went first and held his hands up and the cops were yelling him to get down. He got down on his belly with his hands over his head. They see me, and yelled get out and I held my hands up as well and a couple of cops directed me to get behind them. I am flipping out and told the cop I don't need this kind of drama in my life and I feel like I am going to pass out. Not good for someone who has high blood pressure. So anyway, they did a quick search on my husband and tell him to stand behind them by another vehicle. The cop turns to me and says "Where is he" referring to my son-in-law. I show him the window where he is, and then warn them that there are 4 dogs in that house, and three being Pitt Bulls. Now, they really don't want to go in there, and are trying to figure out how to get my son-in-law out. Being a smart ass I said here I will help you and I started to go around the car and I was gonna go in the house and rip his dam body out of the house and he grabbed me to keep me from proceeding. We noticed that the bedroom window was open so, I yelled as loud as my big fat mouth would yell and said "Edwin, get your fuckin ass out of my house now!" I said it several times. We waited and waited for some 15 minutes but he didn't respond. I yelled again. From what I gathered later he was a sleep is why he didn't respond. But, anyway, the dumb ass lets the dogs out of the bedroom in hopes that Reyna will attack one. All of a sudden I see Boon, the puppy, and then King running out but no Reyna. The one dog that I thought would harm someone didn't come out. She sat at the top of the stairs and didn't move. Edwin, slowly comes out of the house and of course like you see on cops he has about 5-6 guys grabbing him and slamming him down into the snow. The expression on his face showed WTF? He had no dam clue why they were there and what he had done apparently. I walked over to him and yelled at him to stay the fuck away from my daughter as well as my family. But, I really didn't know what the fuck I was yelling at him for cause I didn't know what the hell he had done. We then asked what he had done. They told us that he apparently threaten to kill a cop. I had no words and just a shocked look on my face when I heard that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;They then asked to search the house. I said you can search his room but no where else as he only uses that room, the bathroom, and perhaps the kitchen but that is where all his belongings are and no where else in the house. So, I escorted them into the bedroom and just like on cops they ripped the bedroom apart. It is a total disaster now. They didn't find anything in that room. No weapons, no drugs, no nothing. Then, they though, oh perhaps the guns were in his car. We looked high and low for the keys and only found the keys to the Lexus. So, he permitted them to break the window of the car. None of them wanted to do it. So, my husband goes into the garage and comes out with an ax and it took three tries to get the window to smash. Of course they all made this comment that the car was bullet proof. They tear that car apart. Nothing in there. Then they go to the other car. Nothing in there as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mean while we now have an audience of neighbors, and passing cars literally stopping and watching this whole drama. My town is a quiet town. Nothing happens here really and this is fun watching for everyone. My sons friend father saw the drama and gets out of the car and proceeded to step into the property only because he thought his son was at the house but the two had just left and the cop told him to get away or he be arrested for obstructing an arrest. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We had two neighboring town cops there. My town and Norwalk cops since he is known to be down there as well. And, the FBI as well. The cops were every where. They took him down to Norwalk Police Station. We then called our daughter at work to inform her. Of course we are arguing with her, etc., about the whole shit that went down. She only had about 15 minutes of work left and then began calling any police station to see where he was and to get some answers on WTF was going on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My daughter doesn 't take shit from no one and not from the cops either as they especially Norwalk cops are known to stretch the truth about things. So, she finds him and gets to the station and demands some answers, and demands to see him. She was brought into a room so they can talk to her and they wanted to arrest her for just being the wife. Of course my daughter and her nasty mouth more or less told them to fuck off and demanded to see him. They bring her where he is and she jumps all over him and the Cop in which is a distance cousin to my son-in-law was in the room along with the officer that said he threaten to kill him. That officer then tells the Cop that he never threaten to kill him and that so and so in which is a good friend of Edwin's ratted him out claiming that he threaten to kill him. Edwin doesn't understand why his friend is doing this as they have known each other for many years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Come to find out that the guy that made the faults statement of him being threaten also turned on his father, his brother, and someone else. They learned that this guy is nuts and he tried to kill him self in front of his daughter when they questioned him at his home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Meanwhile, the cops wanted to search my husband's sister's house and my daughter said what for. We don't live there. We just have mail going there and our licensee says that is our address. So, my daughter calls his Lawyer and tells her this. Their Lawyer said to let the babies have their way and that she needed to escort them to her Aunt's house. So, while that is going on the cops were already at the house. Without a warrant. They get there and she is like ripen mad and screaming at them that she said she almost got arrested for her mouth. She and the rest of the cops go into the house and they tell her to stay in the kitchen. She wasn't about to listen to them and went into the livingroom so she can watch what they are doing and follows them so that they don't plant anything. She later calls her Aunt to tell her what happened and she was in Texas on business and when she gets home she will file a suit against them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My daughter is calling us every step she is doing and tells me she got a bondsman and his bond is $2,000 and she has to come home and get the money that they have stashed in the room to get him out. So, come Monday he will need to go to court to have all this misunderstanding taken care of as the cops said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you fuckin believe this. What horse shit? Oh, and they slapped a charge on him saying he resisted an arrest. He did not. I watched what they did as well as my husband. He cooperated with them after having been there and done that before and knows better. My daughter said that he has bruises and cuts all over him. Well, they are known to be rough and Edwin is a big guy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Okay, I think my drama for the year is done...lets move on with 2006. Dam, it has only been 6 days into the New Year and this shit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh, I said to the cop "Dam, this is like watching the show cops!" His response was "It is like the show cops, only your living it"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113661110722529434?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113661110722529434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113661110722529434&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113661110722529434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113661110722529434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/01/shake-down.html' title='Shake Down!'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113642747253720615</id><published>2006-01-04T21:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T21:17:52.586-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So, It's My Birthday Today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My husband and I decided to go to the town we use to live in to visit a friend of ours. As a matter of fact our friend's Birthday is today too. His real name is Gill but every one calls him Jill. We all think Gill just doesn't fit him and who knows what his mother was thinking when she had him. She named the second son Greg. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anyway, Jill was up in the attic redoing it with 4 other guys who we know and one being our nephew. His father, that lives next door use to live in this house gave him the house but not the other son because he was to irresponsible and wouldn't get off his ass to work. There was a bit of a war there with the two and Jill was willing to let him be part owner but his brother didn't want to help fix up the place or get a job and help pay for the material. Then, Jill was demanding rent money from him and he wouldn't pay that either. Later on the brother moved to Florida. So, everything worked out for the best. He also has his nephew living with him and we just learned that his wife's brother will be living there too soon since he is separated from his wife. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;After the visit we went to Appleby's for a late lunch. I tell you, they serve really good food there. Today, I decided to have this southwest chicken. It was so darn good. They have a special for $12.99. You get this appetizer of corn chips with southwest cheese sauce, the Southwest chicken, and a piece of raspberry cheesecake. We couldn't eat the cheesecake so we asked them to put it in a container for later. I just had a had it and man oh man was that good too. I gotta make this some time again. Just fabulous. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What did I get for my Birthday? I went on line and did my own shopping. I bought a software program called Paint Shop Pro 9. Want to do some of my own graphics. I also want a Wacom Graphire Tablet. I am still shopping for other things. LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113642747253720615?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113642747253720615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113642747253720615&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113642747253720615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113642747253720615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/01/so-its-my-birthday-today.html' title='So, It&apos;s My Birthday Today...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113631969124493139</id><published>2006-01-03T15:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T15:21:31.276-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Back To Normal</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am glad all the holiday's are done and over with and things have returned to normal. With all three holidays in a row it is enough to make anyone insane! The decorations are down and back up in the attic. I can now reclaim my living room again. I tell you, with the decorations up it is more cluttered. I know it is nice and all but my gosh the stuff you put up to make the house look nice. I didn't up everything like I normal do since I had rented a dumpster just a couple weeks before Christmas and threw out my entire living room set, my recreation room set, the entire garage full of crap. And, would you know I need to rent another dumpster. It truly amazes me the amount of crap we have in our homes. Really, do you use most of it? So, my living room was bare and I really had no place to put decorations. Just on the wall and a few places. That's it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We did get our new furniture the week after Christmas. It would have been nicer before Christmas. Oh well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Max is coming along but just the other day his ear was bleeding all over the place. Ugh, back to the Vet again. So, the Vet had a solution to the problem. Take a look at the picture. I know, he looks sad, and at the same time it is funny. We were laughing so hard in the Vet's office. I am sure the dog would have gotten down off the table and bit our ass for laughing. Needless to say, he removed his funny turbo off his ear quickly. He ran out of the car and found the nearest bush and pulled it off. Serves us right for laughing at him. But, we had to redo it all over again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://imageshack.us"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img248.imageshack.us/img248/8137/maxear7vj.jpg" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;While we battle with Max, our Reyna is in heat. Yes, we need to fix her but in the mean time this is what we have to do when she is in heat. Yes, that is a diaper you see on her. And, yes, she looks unhappy, and rather embarrassed too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://imageshack.us"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img275.imageshack.us/img275/8848/diapertime0im.jpg" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So, what else is new. Oh ya, I will be another year older tomorrow. Yup, creeping up to 50 but not there just yet. Two more years and I will be climbing over the hill. What are my plans...who the heck knows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113631969124493139?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113631969124493139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113631969124493139&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113631969124493139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113631969124493139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2006/01/getting-back-to-normal.html' title='Getting Back To Normal'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113606088784573008</id><published>2005-12-31T15:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-31T15:28:07.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Message For You...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Click Here.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" href="http://www.paperboy.nl/index.cfm?PID=827D36AB-FC1A-6186-8DE1F099A66FC89E"&gt;Happy New Year&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113606088784573008?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113606088784573008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113606088784573008&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113606088784573008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113606088784573008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/message-for-you.html' title='A Message For You...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113599440391970914</id><published>2005-12-30T20:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T21:00:15.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/newyear2006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/newyear2006.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Well, now that Christmas is over and the New Year is coming in. I hope everyone had a great holiday and Santa was good to everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our family did it's usual Christmas Eve tradition and went over to my husband's sister's house. At one time everyone use to come over but ever since the death of his mother 10 years ago it has gotten smaller. This is okay since he has a large family. Most Italian families do. My husband is the baby of the family and has 5 sister's and 1 brother. Having everyone pile into this small cape house in which belonged to his mother and now belongs to his sister. The year his mother died, she was going to stop doing this tradition but we talked her out of it and told her that her Mother would want her to continue the tradition. The family grew too much that it was hard to have everyone there at once. See, when I got married I gained 17 nephews in one day and I am a Great Aunt to 17 nephews as well. There are only 4/5 nieces I have on his side of the family. Anyway, it was pleasant. Then on Christmas day we go back over to the sister that had Christmas Even and exchange gifts with her. She is my husband real sister and the other 4 are his step-sister, and brother. Then off to his late Aunt's house for the traditional Christmas dinner. Of course we start off with appetizer then the 3 course meal. Santa was really nice this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Max is doing well and home. He see's the Vet 2 times a week to make sure we are treating him properly and so far we are taking good care of our dog. We do keep him separated from the other's and got one of those playpen's for kids and let him walk around in that. We have gates all over our house. I feel like I am trying to keep my kids off of furniture etc. Well, I am. I bought new furniture and I am banding them from the living area. I also have new furniture down stairs as well. Since my husband spends his time down there he can watch the dogs carefully so that they do not make their new bed on our new furniture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we approach the New Year how many are setting those New Year Resoultions for themselves and what are they. I have only created at least 3 things since I don't want to set myself up to fail. 1. Loose 10 pounds. 2. Find a job 3. Redo the house in which I am in the process of doing so I am well on my way to accomplishing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113599440391970914?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113599440391970914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113599440391970914&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113599440391970914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113599440391970914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113537074195959509</id><published>2005-12-23T15:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T15:46:22.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ebay Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Check this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://tinafolsomphotography.com/ebay_song.html"&gt;Ebay Song&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113537074195959509?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://tinafolsomphotography.com/ebay_song.html' title='Ebay Song'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113537074195959509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113537074195959509&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113537074195959509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113537074195959509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/ebay-song.html' title='Ebay Song'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113531069484007847</id><published>2005-12-22T22:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T23:05:22.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I got my Baby!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Max10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Max10.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Went to the Vet and he explained what needed to be done and then he brought Max down and he was sooooo HAPPY to see us I cried. Then, he put him on the examining table to show us just what to do. He has to see the Vet Tuesday. Will probably have to bring him 2xs a week but that is okay since he comes home to me.&lt;font&gt;As we pulled up into the drive way he knew he was home and tore out of the car and ran into the yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;a href="http://imageshack.us/"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 242px; height: 164px;" src="http://img436.imageshack.us/img436/4613/max16kl.png" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt;&lt;font&gt; &lt;font&gt;&lt;a href="http://imageshack.us/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img380.imageshack.us/img380/3770/max35ew.png" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" width="222" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can see how his ear is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got into the house the puppy, Boon Koon, jumped the gate and was waiting at the top of the stairs for us. She was shaking since it has been 3 weeks since she seen Max and almost forgot about him. Then, she recognized his sent and was wagging her tail. The others of course were curious about him. Since I had bought one of those circle playpens that can open up and I had surrounded his cage so they can't get too close to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did something crazy yesterday. We were driving to find a gate for Max and as you might know we are in a desperate need of another vehicle as the one I have has 210,000. The car is still running but it is only good for around the town type driving now. None of this long hauling driving as she once was able to do. There is a used car lot at the end of our road and we are always looking to see if there is a car that we like and for a reasonable price. We both spotted a Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo that is hunter green. Ah, my favorite color. All of a sudden we are in the parking lot looking at the car. The inside is clean, the outside no dents with just a few scratches but who cares. The price is $5995. but I think I can talk him down. So, I go inside and inquire about the car. We get the keys and take the car for a spin and come back and I said I will give you $5600. for the car and the guy said okay. We went to the bank, to our Insurance Agency, and back to the dealer. He sends out his guy to the Motor Vehicle and by 4:00 I got my self a car. We spotted the car at 1:00 in which the car wasn't there yesterday. Within 3 hours we got ourselves a car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://imageshack.us/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img371.imageshack.us/img371/7501/newcar14gu.jpg" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then went home and had dinner and went back out to Bob's Furniture and got our furniture we spotted a couple of weeks ago and ordered it. We will have the new furniture December 26th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113531069484007847?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113531069484007847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113531069484007847&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113531069484007847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113531069484007847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-got-my-baby.html' title='I got my Baby!'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113526311625834018</id><published>2005-12-22T09:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T09:51:56.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MAX IS COMING HOME TODAY!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Max.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Max.6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I have been really busy and need to seriously catch up on blogging. Thanks for all your support and prayers .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I spent part of the day wrapping up my daughter's gifts for her while my husband went out to lunch with his boss and the other guys at work. He really likes his new job that he started this year and gets along with the boss really well. He was telling me one day in the office a client had called and one of the other guys answered the phone and they told the client that the boss was unavailable because he was in the back room with the secretary stuffing the ole turkey as he does every year. The client took it the wrong way and was like I see he is busy and will call later. They all had a good laugh over it. Seems that they do this kind of crap all the time to the clients. Even the boss will say perverted stuff on the phone from what I gather. Anyway, he loves working there and is glad he left the other company in which he heard they want him back. He told me he wouldn't go back if they gave him a $10 raise. Money doesn't mean anything at a job unless your happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;After he got home in which was around 4:00 we went out so I can finish my shopping in which was a few things. He took me to Applebie's for dinner but he didn't eat since he had just ate. We got home around 8:30 and started watching Scare Face and then popped in the movie that I had got from Netflix Herbie Fully Loaded. Cute movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MAX IS COMING HOME TODAY...............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113526311625834018?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113526311625834018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113526311625834018&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113526311625834018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113526311625834018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/max-is-coming-home-today.html' title='MAX IS COMING HOME TODAY!'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113468150737037934</id><published>2005-12-15T16:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T16:18:27.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good News!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;Max ~ No Cancer!&lt;br /&gt;What a cry of relief this is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Went to see Max and the Vet explained what he had done. He said that when Max scratched his ear on the backside to death he had punctured two holes in his ears to cause the bad infection and like I said before they had to stitch the holes up. Then of course the cut he had to make to keep draining the ear and the other cut to take of the growth or tumor and the results should be in on Monday. This is gonna cost us $77 a day for him to be in there so, my husband and I are like no frickin way we can afford this any more and are only alternative is to drain his ear and put medication in ear ourselves. He is gonna have to watch what the Vet does as I couldn't even look at it. I only saw the back side of his ear and how they had shaved all around the ear just grossed me out. So, he is going to be the one that does this and I have to hold him down. The Vet said that we will have to do this for a month or he has to stay at the Vet for a month. Ah, for free maybe but I can't afford this any more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113468150737037934?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113468150737037934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113468150737037934&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113468150737037934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113468150737037934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/good-news.html' title='Good News!'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113459994812752504</id><published>2005-12-14T17:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T17:39:08.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Max</title><content type='html'>Called the Vet to check in on Max. He is sore and to be expected since they had drained more blood from his ear. They took part of the growth out to have it analyze and I am not sure when the results will be in. Apparently the dog had gone crazy scratching his ear before I had talkin him to the Vet and he scratched right through his ear. They had to put 9 stitches in his ear. They are not sure when he will be able to come home. It all depends on the test results and how well he is healing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While on the phone with the Vet I had made an appointment for the puppy to have her shots etc. She goes in on her Birthday next week. Ouch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got the tree in the house but not in the stand. Making progress here. It should be up perhaps next week? Who knows. This season sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113459994812752504?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113459994812752504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113459994812752504&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113459994812752504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113459994812752504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/max.html' title='Max'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113432914121879819</id><published>2005-12-11T14:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T14:25:41.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Author - Mark Barnes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am not a sports fan but I have a little story to tell you. I am on another blog site and I had gotten an email by this guy asking me how to increase their blogeyes and of course being the smart ass I am I told him that I was a blabber mouth and I like to write about anything. I gave him a point pointers to. Perhaps the pointers were for me rather than the thousands of readers on the internet. I said that while Politics is a great subject it tends to get worn out and if he is prepared to get into a heated political war with other bloggers go right ahead and write about it. I just basically told him to be himself and write what ever comes to mind and if he is good he will get those readers coming back and perhaps someone will blog about him that will make others check out his blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He isn't a Blogspot subscriber but I had suggested this to him because I told him that Blogspot is filled with a lot of writers like him and he would mesh in well if he can handle two blogs. So, I had to see who this character is and read his blog. Then, I followed to his website. Ah, he is indeed a sports writer. Football seems to be his specialty. He has written a new novel "The League" by Mark Barnes. He just may be the next John Grisham or James Patterson from what I am gathering of his style of writing. It doesn't matter if he is writing about football to me because after all, he writes suspense or mystery and I read those type of books as well as other type of genre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you should be looking for a book for someone that likes sports may I suggest picking up The League or perhaps you may want to read the book as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=lifesspecialm-20&amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;l=as1&amp;amp;asins=1933255080&amp;=1&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;lc1=0000ff&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;bg1=ffffff&amp;amp;f=ifr" style="width: 120px; height: 240px;" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113432914121879819?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113432914121879819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113432914121879819&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113432914121879819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113432914121879819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/new-author-mark-barnes.html' title='A New Author - Mark Barnes'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113423686009229699</id><published>2005-12-10T12:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-10T12:47:40.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update on Max</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I just want to thank all of you for your prayers for my dog Max. I know I haven't been visiting your blogs lately but I just have too much on my mind lately and will be for the next week. I have lost my spirit of Christmas. As soon as my Max returns home I will feel myself again. I just don't like the fact he is at the hospital all by himself and wondering if he thinks I have abandon him.  I gotta find a nice blanket and some treats for his homecoming and he better be home for Christmas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I just got back from the Vet. I brought my husband with me this time just in case being upset as I am I would miss what the Veterinarian would tell us about Max. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He didn't want us to talk because he didn't want Max to know we were there but the dog knew. The Veterinarian had his assistant bring Max out to show us the ear. I stood by the door, I just couldn't go in and see his ear. I just do not have the stomach for that. Well, even if I had looked at it I would have freaked out. So, it was best my husband went in and looked at the ear. The ear is still draining out from what I could see on the examining table. The assistant was covering Max's eyes but dogs can smell you and know your sent to figure out that your there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We then went down stairs to talk more about the surgery. What he will do first is take a sample of the growth to determine what kind of growth it is. He said he could just cut the growth out and leave the ear but then that growth will come back or just take the ear off completely. The one main thing he is concerned about is the fact the infection and other medical problems Max is having now he may not make it through surgery. In other words he can die from the surgery. That was it for me. I just cried like a baby when he said that. So, in other words, this surgery is a 50/50 chances of survival from what I am gathering.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Vet will call to let me know when he will do the surgery. He just wants Max to be on the medication he is on a little longer is why he says he will do it on Monday or Tuesday. So, I forked over another $1,000.00 today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I told my husband do not get me anything for Christmas. Taking care of Max is my gift and bringing the dog home. He is going to need a lot of special care. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113423686009229699?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113423686009229699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113423686009229699&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113423686009229699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113423686009229699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/update-on-max.html' title='Update on Max'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113416205818698313</id><published>2005-12-09T15:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T16:01:05.886-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture Fun...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Look at each picture, try to figure out what it represents, and then look at the answer below it. Have fun!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT0005816.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT0005816.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hole Milk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT0004311.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT0004311.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;King of Pop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT0004010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT0004010.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tap Dancers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000379.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000379.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Card Shark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000348.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000348.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Baseball Bat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000317.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000317.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pool Table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000286.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000286.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dr. Pepper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000255.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000255.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Eggplant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000224.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000224.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Assulted Peanut&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000193.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000193.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dandy Lion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000162.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000162.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lite Beer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ATT000131.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ATT000131.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Palm Pilot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113416205818698313?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113416205818698313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113416205818698313&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113416205818698313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113416205818698313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/picture-fun.html' title='Picture Fun...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113407487700192563</id><published>2005-12-08T15:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T15:50:17.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Very Bad News on Max...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Max.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Max.3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Really bad news. Max isn't doing well. The Vet had called my husband's cell phone since he couldn't reach my house phone. I was vacuuming and didn't hear the phone ring until it was too late.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He had explained to my husband that Max has a tumor in his ear. It is cancer. This explains the nose bleed more and his swollen ear. He said he will have to cut the ear off but he believes Max will be fine afterwards. I don't know. Cancer is cancer no matter where. My other dog died of cancer. So, the Vet will be calling me shortly since my husband suggested he call to explain all this to me and my husband wanted to warn me. Max is a Yellow Lab/Golden Retriever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am not in the greatest mood and certainly not in the holiday spirit now. I couldn't care less. I won't be able to do any shopping since this surgery is going to wipe us out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Will keep you posted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113407487700192563?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113407487700192563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113407487700192563&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113407487700192563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113407487700192563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/very-bad-news-on-max.html' title='Very Bad News on Max...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113399259729834966</id><published>2005-12-07T16:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T16:56:37.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Max, My Dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Max.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Max.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Max is in the hospital. He will need surgery on his ear. This dog has mad allergies and we can keep giving him medication for the ear and his skin but it will not go away until we know what he is allergic too. It could be something simple as changing his dog food. I feed my dogs Pedigree and basic crunches. So, we will send his blood work to some specialist out in California that deals with dog allergies. The nose bleeding as I said before he was having. Well, it backed up into his ears and made his ears blow up so they have to drain them. He also has lyme. Poor thing. The Vet said his ear could have burst and it would have made a bloody mess all over the place and lucky I brought him in. So, yes, his ear is infected now. Damage...close to $2,000.00. I told him to give him any shots he needs by contacting his old Vet as I didn't like them any longer because they weren't treated him properly. I am not sure how long he will be in the hospital. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113399259729834966?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113399259729834966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113399259729834966&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113399259729834966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113399259729834966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/max-my-dog.html' title='Max, My Dog'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113390157658349907</id><published>2005-12-06T15:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T15:39:36.633-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Humor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Reindeergames.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Reindeergames.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Snip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Snip.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/upass.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/upass.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Mexican.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Mexican.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/lottery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/lottery.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/ice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/ice.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Ho.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Ho.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/dildo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/dildo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Bad.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Bad.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113390157658349907?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113390157658349907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113390157658349907&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113390157658349907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113390157658349907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmas-humor.html' title='Christmas Humor'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113387658030157611</id><published>2005-12-06T08:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T08:43:02.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Dogxmas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Dogxmas.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As you know my husband got his HDTV on Sunday. Of course he was very, very happy about his gift. I told my son that he had to hook everything up for non-technology Dad but there was one slight problem. The TV I had bought you couldn't just plug the cable wire right into the TV. WTF? You would have thought that the person selling me this TV would have told me that I needed extra equipment to get this working but noooooooooooo! I wouldn't have bought that TV. So, off we went to Circuit City and had to buy a VCR to hook this up. No, I do not have a cable box. I just have the wire that just connects into the TV. That simple, no stupid box. So, we had to spend $54 on a VCR. Hubby says maybe it is time to upgrade the cable. Upgrade!!! Hell, just to have basic and then run the two computers cost close to a $100 a month. Let's just stick with the stupid VCR connecting way. I am not adding another darn bill. This is the only Christmas shopping I have done. My son wants a new Laptop. My daughter doesn't say what she wants and I haven't asked really except for slippers. My dog ate mine. Figures the two men ask for gigantic things and the women under $10.00&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113387658030157611?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113387658030157611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113387658030157611&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113387658030157611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113387658030157611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113363935080298790</id><published>2005-12-03T14:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T14:51:46.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Early Christmas Present</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/TV.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/TV.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My husband is getting his Christmas gift early tomorrow. Yup, he wanted a HDTV and home theater surround sound. I got a good deal on it and it was in stock and grabbed it. Since I had done some shopping around it seems that this model and another sells quickly so I jumped at it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The other big thing he wants is KitchenAid Artisian Series Stand Mixer, the 5 qt. one - Wants to make his own pasta and saugage. Yup, you can tell he is the cook in the house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The mixer he is just going to have to wait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Mixer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Mixer.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113363935080298790?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113363935080298790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113363935080298790&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113363935080298790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113363935080298790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/early-christmas-present.html' title='Early Christmas Present'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113349717679891606</id><published>2005-12-01T23:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T23:19:39.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Badday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Badday.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Next time you think your having a bad day...try being in this person's shoes! There is no way out of this one...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113349717679891606?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113349717679891606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113349717679891606&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113349717679891606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113349717679891606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/12/bad-day.html' title='Bad Day'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113340130834119090</id><published>2005-11-30T20:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T20:44:03.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Angel Card Project</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In one of my craft groups I have a gentlmen that is involved with a church project called "The Angel Card Project" Every year lots of people come together to spread a little holiday cheer to those that need it the most. They send holiday card to the less fortunate, sick, elderly, lonely, and to those that generally need cheering up. To participate visit his site at:&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" href="http://www.countrychurchcrafts.com/2005angelcardproject"&gt;Angel Card Project&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;: Do something nice this year and volunteer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113340130834119090?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113340130834119090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113340130834119090&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113340130834119090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113340130834119090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/angel-card-project.html' title='Angel Card Project'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113337345706991142</id><published>2005-11-30T12:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T12:57:37.210-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mumbling Away</title><content type='html'>When my daughter got home from work last night she ran out to develop some photos of her trip to Puerto Rico. She must of had 10 rolls but only developed 2 at the moment. She said in the 5 days he took her to all these places. He was at peace being around his family again. Sometimes you have to do just that to make yourself feel hole again. It is just his mom, step Dad, and 2 step brothers here in CT. The rest of his family is in Puerto Rico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter had a blast and said it was so beautiful down there. I had asked if she had gone in the water and she said yes and she almost drowned. All of a sudden my face was sheet white. I guess the current pulled her under and she couldn't resurface and she started to panic. Her husband and his Uncle realized they couldn't see her and flew into the water and pulled her out. I bet she won't be swimming in there again for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, her husband wants to move down there and of course my daughter said she didn't care but he have to find a job since he could speak Spanish and she would have to learn since no one would hire her with out speaking the Language. Reminds me here and no offense to foreigners but I think should be applied here. If you can't speak English you have no business working. Go into some of these McDonald's, Burger King, and KFC and you are trying to tell them what you want and they only know by the #1 meal, #2 meal etc. What's up with that? His Grandmother has an apartment above the garage or somewhere and his Uncle that is a Carpenter said he fix it up for them if they wanted to live down there. Not that I want to see my daughter move that far, I want them to be out of my house and on their own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, she had fun and that is what counts and she did say she talked to him a bit but didn't really get deep into their issues as they wanted to have fun. Now, get this. They come home and this jerk is sitting in the car talking away on the phone and she is bringing all the luggage in and she has to be at work in a few hours. Him no. WTF!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113337345706991142?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113337345706991142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113337345706991142&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113337345706991142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113337345706991142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/mumbling-away.html' title='Mumbling Away'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113329142558907150</id><published>2005-11-29T14:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T14:12:25.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chocolate Math</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This will blow your mind! It is called "Chocolate Math" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Don't tell me your age; you probably would tell a falsehood anyway-but the Hershey Man will know! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DON'T CHEAT &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. First of all, pick the number of times a week that you would like to have chocolate (more than once but less than 10)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. Multiply this number by 2 (just to be bold)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. Add 5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. Multiply it by 50 -- I'll wait while you get the calculator.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. If you have already had your birthday this year add 1755.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;    If you haven't, add 1754.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6. Now subtract the four digit year that you were born.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;    You should have a three digit number.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;    The first digit of this was your original number.(i.e., how    many times you want to have chocolate each week). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;    The next two numbers are:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;           YOUR AGE! (Oh YES, it is!!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, my daughter did not bring a bird back...too much hassle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113329142558907150?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113329142558907150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113329142558907150&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113329142558907150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113329142558907150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/chocolate-math.html' title='Chocolate Math'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113320329560698139</id><published>2005-11-28T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T13:41:36.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Daughter</title><content type='html'>My daughter and her husband went to Puerto Rico last Wednesday to visit his granmother that he hasn't seen in years and introduce my daughter to his family. She called last night to check in. She is having a good time and loves it down there. Weather is warm in the 8Os she says with no humidity. Her main reason of calling is asking me to call the airlines to find out what she needs to do to bring a love bird back home. His Grandmother raises them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the airline and the requirements were just too much as they would have to take the bird to the Vet and then show that the bird is healthy to travel. I told her to forget it. But, being stubborn as she is I bet she will find a way to bring this bird back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope she had the chance to have a heart to heart talk with her husband as he has been a pill lately and needs a good swift kick in the butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am waiting to see if we need to go to JFK and get her today as she will come in at midnight. I hope she can get the person who drove her to the airport to do it. Then, she works tomorrow. She will be so tired. Oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113320329560698139?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113320329560698139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113320329560698139&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113320329560698139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113320329560698139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/daughter.html' title='Daughter'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113313599265074383</id><published>2005-11-27T18:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-27T18:59:52.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What is your Elf Name?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Okay kiddies, it's Christmas time for some fun again...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;style type="text/css"&gt;&lt;!--TD.elfcontent { padding-left:5px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-right:5px; padding-top:2px; font-size: 11px; FONT-FAMILY: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; color: #000000; }--&gt;&lt;/style&gt;&lt;table bgcolor="#000000" border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" height="120" width="300"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table background="http://extimg.jokesunlimited.com/whitedot.gif" height="100%" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="3"&gt;&lt;table&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="elfcontent" align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://extimg.jokesunlimited.com/elfnames/smallelf.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="elfcontent" align="center" valign="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Christmas Elf Name&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Christmas Elf Name is&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="elfcontent" align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://extimg.jokesunlimited.com/elfnames/smallelf.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="3" align="center"&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="elfcontent" align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;img src="http://extimg.jokesunlimited.com/elfnames/firstnames/12.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="elfcontent" align="left" valign="top"&gt;&lt;img src="http://extimg.jokesunlimited.com/elfnames/secondnames/1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="3" class="elfcontent" align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jokesunlimited.com/christmas_elf_name.php"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Get your Christmas Elf Name at JokesUnlimited.com&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113313599265074383?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113313599265074383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113313599265074383&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113313599265074383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113313599265074383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/what-is-your-elf-name.html' title='What is your Elf Name?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113301692921513822</id><published>2005-11-26T09:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-26T09:55:29.283-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Window Shopping</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Furniture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Furniture.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My husband and I decided to go to Bob's Furniture store and we picked out some living room and downstairs furniture that we want. We will make the final decision next week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This is what we have picked out. I was trying to persuade him to go with this nice green or beige. Nope, the country red is what he wanted. Don't get me wrong I love the color too. I already have hunter green trim in the living room with beige walls in which need to be repainted anyway. So perhaps the red will go with it as it is a country red and not red, red. We also added a few more pieces of furniture; a wing chair with an ottoman. I didn't like the table and end table because they were glass. Now, if I didn't have any dogs that didn't rough house then I would have stuck with the glass tables so I want some wood table instead. Now, lets just hope they don't eat that. LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We then checked out bedroom sets for my son but will let him decide what he wants.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;On our way home we stopped at Best Buy since it was their Grand Opening. Just window shopping. He stops at the BIG TV's. Me, I am over by the computer software and digital cameras and then went over to the appliances and looked at stoves, washing machines, dryers, and refrigerators.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sheesh, I think our eyeball just spent close to $8,000 -- $9,000 in what 3 hours. LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells oh what fun it is to shop the night away Hey!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Get this, my son and husband want a pool table. While I think it is cool but it takes up too much room. My husband said that every time our son goes to the teen center this is what he does. Oh, and I thought it was to attract the cops up here. LOL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Max made it through the night without a nose bleed thank goodness. Although, I will say that when I let him out before bed he came back in with a slight bloody nose and I quickly put an ice pack on it and it stopped. See, he was fine all day going in and out but once the temperature dropped his nose started bleeding. This is why I was saying before it has to do with the coldness outside. You know how when you go outside and if it is cold the hairs in your nose get frozen? Well, I think this is like what is happening to him. The dog is 5 years old our age but in dog age is 35.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Last night I had to get my son in which he met up with me at the end of the road at the gas station. He was with 6 other guys. I had gone into the store and two of the cashiers know me. They were telling me that my son and his friends came in and one of them was really rude and called one of them a Bitch. I asked if it was my son. They were quick to say no and that every time he comes in he is the quiet one and would just laugh. Of course I said sounds like him as he is like me. I would be the one that would laugh when I was younger and yet I would be the one that got in trouble for laughing. Anyway, after our conversation I had gone outside where all the boys were and gave them a speech about RESPECTING. Told them when I was their age regardless if I agreed with my parents or my elders I respected them and I strongly suggested them to follow that rule. I told that rule was taught to me in church. I said honor thy parents and respect thy elders as I also said that I was almost 50 years old and I still respect my Mother even if I didn't agree with her. It is just a Cardinal rule that I follow. I told them that people will respect them if they are respecting others and they won't get kicked out of places. I wondered if they walked way saying that I was a bitch? Probably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so confused with the fact Thursday being a holiday and today is Saturday and I thought it was Sunday. This old age crap is getting worse. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113301692921513822?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113301692921513822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113301692921513822&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113301692921513822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113301692921513822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/window-shopping.html' title='Window Shopping'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113295493178148996</id><published>2005-11-25T16:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-25T16:42:11.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Max</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Max.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Max.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really scared for my Max, the Yellow Lab/Golden. I had turned in for bed and decided to watch the new movie bewitched and all of a sudden Max had a really bad bloody nose again. So, my husband and I are cleaning up the massive blood all over the place. We put cold water up against his nose and the bleeding stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the movie was over and I went to sleep. Boon, the younger dog go up and was by the door. I sensed she knew there was something wrong and she was right. She could smell Max bleeding again. I was freaking out at 3:30 in the morning with all this blood. We finally got it to stop. It would even get worse when he shook his head making blood go every where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got up around 6:30 and once again cleaning the dog up again. I had to go back to sleep. I am just getting up and having coffee now and need to jump into the shower and then will call the Vet since I had put him in the cage in which forces him to lay down so he won't bleed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really, really scared to take him to the Vet. Last time I went was last year around Christmas when King got hit by a car. And, then the other time was to put my Katie down. I am afraid of what they are going to tell me about Max. Hubby asked if I could do this alone. Ah, NO! First, what if he starts bleeding again and what if they tell me something really bad and I won't be able to handle it like when they told me Katie had cancer. Nope, not going through it alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am hoping it is dry air. And, no, we do not have our heat on and we do not have forced air heat. We have been using the fireplace. It seems that every time I let Max out and he comes back in his nose starts to bleed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the Vet...they are off today. I will continue to watch him and so far he is okay. If it keeps up I will put in a emergency call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine said he could have nose mites or that his allergies are dripping down his nasal cavity. Could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As some of you know I also blog over Blogster. Seems that Blogster finally made their change over. However, at first it was a little difficult to navigate around like here it was at first. They censor your comments to make sure you do not swear and if you do they put ### in it. Many people over there are really upset over the Freedom Of Speech. While I agree with them on that. Now, some were testing the water in comments and all of a sudden they got booted with out warning. I really don't think that was fair. They could have this 3 warning notice out. But this didn't seem like the case. So, a few of my friends that already blog here on blogspot have been booted over there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose if this keeps up the new owners will loose a lot of people and the whole darn blogsite will end up coming over here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is pitiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113295493178148996?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113295493178148996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113295493178148996&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113295493178148996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113295493178148996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/my-max.html' title='My Max'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113284385632080047</id><published>2005-11-24T09:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T09:53:54.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/snowman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/snowman.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had crawled to bed around 11:00 and watched my usual show every night - MASH and set the timer on the TV so that it goes off automatically in case I fall a sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I woke up around 6:00 to let the dogs out. To my surprise we had about 3 inches of snow. Now, I love snow and all but I think this came like a month too early. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I think I did read here online in the Farmer's Almanac that we would possibly get a white Thanksgiving. I am just curious how many people are swearing right now because they have to travel today. Probably not far but far enough in the snow and probably don't have their snow tires on yet. I think most people put them on around Thanksgiving. Well, people your a little too late! LOL! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Something weird happened last night as I was preparing for bed. I had looked at my Golden Retriever and he was rubbing his nose with his paw. At first, I thought his paw was bleeding but I looked closer and he had a bloody nose. Is it possible that a dog's nose becomes so dry like ours does and bleeds? This is what I am thinking. I was almost afraid to go to sleep fearing that when I woke up the dog would be dead. That wouldn't have been good loosing another animal on a holiday like last year I lost my cat on Christmas Day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113284385632080047?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113284385632080047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113284385632080047&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113284385632080047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113284385632080047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/snow.html' title='Snow'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113279616047985050</id><published>2005-11-23T20:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-23T20:36:00.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pregnant Turkey...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I had recieved this story in one of my Yahoo groups and thought it was rather funny and wanted to share a cute Thanksgiving story with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;One year at Thanksgiving my Mom went to my sister's house for the traditional feast.  Knowing how gullible my sister is, my mom decided to play a trick. She told my sister that she needed something from the store.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When my sister left, my mom took the turkey out of the oven, removed the stuffing,  stuffed a Cornish hen inside the turkey, and re-stuffed the turkey.  She then placed the bird(s) back in the oven.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When it was time for dinner, my sister pulled the turkey out of the oven and proceeded to remove the stuffing when her serving spoon hit something, she reached in and pulled out the little bird. With a total shock on her face,  my Mother exclaimed, "Patricia, you've cooked a pregnant bird!" At the reality of this horrifying news,  my sister started to cry.  It took the family two hours to convince her that turkeys lay eggs!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113279616047985050?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113279616047985050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113279616047985050&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113279616047985050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113279616047985050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/pregnant-turkey.html' title='The Pregnant Turkey...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113275762030086456</id><published>2005-11-23T09:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-23T11:49:05.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/HappyThanksgivingTurkey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/HappyThanksgivingTurkey.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As the year is coming to an end it will be Thanksgiving tomorrow. I have several pies to make today and some appetizer as well. It will only be my husband, son and I this year. My daughter decided not to cancel her trip to Puerto Rico. Even though my husband and I really wish her not to go since her marriage is on the war path but hopefully with the time alone down there she can whack some sense into this husband of hers. Highly doubtful but worth a try. &lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Happy Thanksgiving to you all and try not to over stuff yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In the mean time let us all think about what we are thankful for. I shall go first. &lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Despite the fact that this has been a rough year for me I am thankful that I didn't end up in the funny farm. Wellbutrin came to my rescue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I am thankful my husband likes the new company that he is working for after 8 years of complaining of the other company he made a switch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am thankful that I have two pain in the butt kids that I love dearly and they are healthy. I am still working on that attitude adjustment on my daughter. My son is so mellow and I am thankful that he has calmed down after years of dealing with an ADHD child. Funny how you loose one insanity only to gain another type of insanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am thankful that I have a roof over my head, my belly full, and a few clothes on my back. I simple do not gripe about what I want or think what I need and appreciate what I have in front of me and that is my family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Most of all, I am thankful for our Troops. Being overseas is rough on our men and woman and they are doing a hell of a good job. They have more guts than I will ever have. I pray for their safety and wish they come home to their family soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Happy Thanksgiving!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some little fun...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bg style="color:#eeb859;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Thanksgiving Costume Is&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#f7cf8a"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tkqlhce.com/rk118shqnhp46CA995648EEB876"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/19693.jpg?is=300,300,0xffffff" border="0" height="300" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;a style="color: blue;" href="http://www.tkqlhce.com/rk118shqnhp46CA995648EEB876"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Apache Maiden&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://shiny.blogthings.com/whoshouldyoubeforthanksgivingquiz/"&gt;Who Should You Be For Thanksgiving?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113275762030086456?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113275762030086456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113275762030086456&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113275762030086456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113275762030086456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/happy-thanksgiving.html' title='Happy Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113271477142819469</id><published>2005-11-22T21:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T22:01:36.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cat Litter Cake Recipe</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CAKE INGREDIENTS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1 box spice or German chocolate cake mix&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1 box of white cake mix&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1 package white sandwich cookies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1 large package vanilla instant pudding mix&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A few drops green food coloring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12 small Tootsie Rolls or equivalent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SERVING "DISHES AND UTENSILS"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1 NEW cat-litter box&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1 NEW cat-litter box liner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1 NEW pooper scooper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Prepare and bake cake mixes, according to directions, in any size pan. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Prepare pudding and chill. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crumble cookies in small batches in blender or food processor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Add a few drops of green food coloring to 1 cup of cookie crumbs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mix with a fork or shake in a jar. Set aside. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When cakes are at room temperature, crumble them into a large bowl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Toss with half of the remaining cookie crumbs and enough pudding to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;make the mixture moist but not soggy. Place liner in litter box and pour in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;mixture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Unwrap 3 Tootsie Rolls and heat in a microwave until soft and pliable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shape the blunt ends into slightly curved points. Repeat with three more &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;rolls. Bury the rolls decoratively in the cake mixture. Sprinkle remaining &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;white cookie crumbs over the mixture, then scatter green crumbs lightly over &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;top.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Heat 5 more Tootsie Rolls until almost melted. Scrape them on top of the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;cake and sprinkle with crumbs from the litter box. Heat the remaining &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tootsie Roll until pliable and hang it over the edge of the box. Place box &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;on a sheet of newspaper and serve with scooper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113271477142819469?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113271477142819469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113271477142819469&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113271477142819469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113271477142819469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/cat-litter-cake-recipe.html' title='Cat Litter Cake Recipe'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113271057391780859</id><published>2005-11-22T20:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T20:49:33.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What is Your Life Rated?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I took this from&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);" href="http://www.rubenblack.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ruben&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;. I had expected my life to be rated R but I guess I am not as bad as I thought I was. That's nice I suppose. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.readingforresults.com/rating/nc17.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is rated NC-17.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.readingforresults.com/rating/quiz.htm"&gt;What is your life rated?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113271057391780859?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113271057391780859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113271057391780859&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113271057391780859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113271057391780859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/what-is-your-life-rated.html' title='What is Your Life Rated?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113270142433839858</id><published>2005-11-22T18:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T18:17:04.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Here Kitty Kitty</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A good friend sent this to me today and I wanted to share with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; YOU HAVE GOT TO PET THIS CAT!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cool Black Cat with Green Eyes -- go to this site (link below) to see something awesome! I have no clue how they got this to work. There are somee great code writers out there! If you tease her with the mouse pointer on her chest or stomach, she will purr. I got her to meow also, by rubbing her forehead with the pointer. If you make a slow circle around her body, (counter-clockwise) not only will her head and eyes follow your pointer, but toward the top, her paw will go up! And when in front of her paws at the bottom, her foot comes out like she wants to play with your mouse pointer. (Don't hold the mouse down, just move it.) Enjoy! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153); font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.broenink-art.nl/maukie2.swf"&gt;Kitty Kat!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113270142433839858?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113270142433839858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113270142433839858&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113270142433839858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113270142433839858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/here-kitty-kitty.html' title='Here Kitty Kitty'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113267839485338638</id><published>2005-11-22T11:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T11:53:14.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Closing Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Well, finally the big day came and it is the closing of the loan. The Fed Ex guy came to deliver the documents that we need to sign. Now, to get a notary here and watch us do the signing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I got a phone call last night from some company out in Texas asking me when is a good time for the person to come and notarize our documents etc. I told her that all this stuff has to be done by 5:00 our time. She said okay and would call back. Hum, here it is 11:47 my time and the girl never called me back. So, my loan Officer called me this morning to see if everything was set. Nope, I told him and told him about the phone call. You could hear it in his voice like "Can't anybody do their job?" He told me he will find out what the story is. I think he forgot there is a time difference here. So, it is about 9:00 in Texas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I just want this over with. I got other things to do but wait around here. I don't even have a turkey for Thanksgiving and I will be dam if I am going to eat Dog Food! Well, I could be thankful that it is still food. Right? Every Thanksgiving we let our dogs have a meal too. Okay, I know I am nuts but hey, they are part of the family too and have lots to be thankful too. Like doggie bones, a good master, a nice home, etc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113267839485338638?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113267839485338638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113267839485338638&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113267839485338638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113267839485338638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/closing-day.html' title='Closing Day'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113259242501110212</id><published>2005-11-21T11:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T14:20:13.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS ~ WOMAN'S VIEW</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;  Men, take note: If it weren't for us woman there be no Christmas or any other special occasions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T'was the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen;&lt;br /&gt;I was cooking, baking,moaning and complaining.&lt;br /&gt;I've been here for hours; I can't stop to rest.&lt;br /&gt;This rooms a disaster, just look at this mess!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I've got thirty people to feed.&lt;br /&gt;They expect all the trimmings. Who cares what I need!&lt;br /&gt;My feet are both blistered; I've got cramps in my legs.&lt;br /&gt;The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a knock at the door and the telephones ringing&lt;br /&gt;Frosting drips on the counter as the microwaves dinging.&lt;br /&gt;Two pies in the oven, desserts almost done;&lt;br /&gt;My cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had all I can stand, I can't take anymore;&lt;br /&gt;Then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady;&lt;br /&gt;Then grins as he chuckles "The eggnog is ready!"&lt;br /&gt;He looks all around and with total regret,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Says "What's taking so long, aren't you through in here yet?"&lt;br /&gt;As quick as a flash I snapped;&lt;br /&gt;Yelling and screaming; so angry that words can't describe!&lt;br /&gt;He flees from the room in fear of what might come out of my mouth next!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And screams "MY GOD WOMAN, YOU'RE GOING INSANE!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what was I doing, and what is that smell?&lt;br /&gt;Oh darn, it's the pies!! They're all burned when I was busy giving him a good yell!&lt;br /&gt;I hate to admit when I make a mistake,&lt;br /&gt;But I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE.&lt;br /&gt;What else can go wrong? Is there still more ahead??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this is good living, I'd rather do without.&lt;br /&gt;Lord, don't get me wrong; I love holidays;&lt;br /&gt;It just leaves me exhausted, all shaky and dazed.&lt;br /&gt;But I promise you one thing, if I live till next year,&lt;br /&gt;You won't find me pulling my hair out in here.&lt;br /&gt;I'll hire a maid, a cook, and a waiter;&lt;br /&gt;And if that doesn't work,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'LL HAVE IT ALL CATERED!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113259242501110212?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113259242501110212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113259242501110212&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113259242501110212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113259242501110212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/twas-night-before-christmas-womans.html' title='TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS ~ WOMAN&apos;S VIEW'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113252986727778596</id><published>2005-11-20T18:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-20T18:37:47.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/sleighs1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/sleighs1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Okay Kid's it is triva time and it is about Christmas. Let's see how much you know. Take out a piece of paper, then give your answers in the comment box.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;1.  Not Counting Rudolph, how many reindeer pull Santa's sleigh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;l0&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;2.  What color is Santa's belt?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;White&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Black &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Gold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Santa doesn't wear a belt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;3.What were Frosty the Snoman's last words?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;I hate you, Mr. Sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;I 'm melting!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;I'll be back someday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;It's too darn hot!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;What's happening?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;4.  What Christmas song contains the line: "Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation"?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Silent Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;O Come, All Ye Faithful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;The First Noel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Joy to the World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Deck the Halls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;5.  What day of the year is usually the busiest shopping day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;The day after Thanksgiving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;The last Sunday before Christmas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;The day before Christmas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Christmas day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;The day after Christmas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;6.  In "A Charlie Brown Christmas", who builds a gray snowman?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Charlie Brown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Lucy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Linus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Pigpen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Snoopy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;7.  How many "drummers drumming" did my true love give to me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Eight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Ten&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Eleven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Twelve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;8.  What did the Grinch use to pull his sleigh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;One sickly reindeer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;His dog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Rats&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Giant snails&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Eight of the Whos from Whoville&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;9.  What do they call their Christmas gift bringer in Chile?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Senor Santo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;El Claus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Old Man Christmas (but in their native language)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;They don't have Christmas in Chile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;10.  In "A Christmas Carol", what song does the caroler sing outside Scrooge's office?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Silent Night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;O Come All Ye Faithful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;The First Noel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Joy to the World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;11.  What state has a city named "Santa Claus"?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Alaska&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Colorado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Indiana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Lousiana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Maine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113252986727778596?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113252986727778596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113252986727778596&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113252986727778596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113252986727778596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/christmas-game.html' title='Christmas Game'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113252564663086053</id><published>2005-11-20T17:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-20T17:27:26.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bunch of Crap</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Turkey2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Turkey2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Do you believe it. Thanksgiving is almost here. I still have a few things that I need to get for that day. All this preparation and you sit down and eat for what? Fifteen (15) lousy minutes and you are so stuffed you can't move other than to the nearest recliner or couch in which by the way isn't the greatest thing to do after eating. They say to move around. I have learned over the years not to stuff my face any more. I just don't like that full feeling that I can't move. Did you know, that a lot of people end up in the emergency room on Thanksgiving. Some feel like they are having a heart attack after stuffing their faces and others actually have heart attacks. After reading that I am just going to eat like a pig. Oh, you do know that pigs actually do not eat that much. So, if someone ever calls you a pig...Thank them. LOL! Now, I use to say I eat like a bird because it seems they eat so little. Wrong, take a look at them sometime. They are always eating. And, they eat more than a pig. So, stop being a bird okay! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;I know I haven't been blogging much. Either I am not feeling well, having an anxiety attack or I am just plainly tired all the time. What gives? Plus I am so bored out of my mind lately. And, yes, boredom can tire you out. I needed that fresh air today. Had to run to the store for just a few things. I had the windows wide open and letting the cold, fresh air, blow through me. It was refreshing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;So, I get home and steam is pouring out of my husbands ears. I tell you, there isn't a dull moment in this house. So, I put the bags down to listen to my husband have this cow about our son-in-law. We have 4 dogs and 3 being Pitt Bulls. The rule in the house is that they can't run around the yard if there are people out side. Simple rule. You just never know and I am not going to loose my house because of my son-in-laws stupidity. He is really good with the dogs but this isn't the point here. My daughter is hanging out the window telling her husband that there are people out side and get them in. He brings them in and starts going off on my husband for being so up tight about the dogs and told him he was being immature. That really pissed my husband the hell off. And, so the two get into this fight and he plainly told him to get the hell out of the house. Then, our daughter yells at her father because she is afraid he will leave her. I am thinking here as he is telling me this. Hello, don't you want to leave the asshole anyway because he has no respect for you or this family and he dam cheats on you and doesn't come home half of the time and you are worried about him leaving you when you should have left him in the first place. What is wrong with this picture? She never defends us on rules in the house. She could have said to her husband that as long as we lived here that they should follow the rules regardless how old they were and it isn't his call to tell us what the hell we should be doing in our own house. Who the hell does he think he is? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt; I am telling you, since I was old enough to learn some simple rules like HAVE RESPECT FOR YOUR PARENTS AND ELDERS you darn well do it. I don't care that I am nearly 50 years old I am still my mother's child and still follow that rule. I do not talk back to my mother even though there have been a million and one times that I wanted to send her to the MOON! The thing is, it is called RESPECT! These dam kids do not! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;  Okay, I think I said a mouthful here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113252564663086053?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113252564663086053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113252564663086053&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113252564663086053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113252564663086053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/bunch-of-crap.html' title='Bunch of Crap'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113236599614521516</id><published>2005-11-18T21:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T21:06:36.146-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold;"&gt;As I said before that I haven't feeling to well. Yesterday takes the cake. We all know a woman's job keeps going no matter what. Even when she isn't feeling well. Who else is going to to the work. Well, I had done some cleaning yesterday. I didn't do much just cleaned the bathroom. I have white tiles and it gets rather dirty easily. I use those Magic Erasers and they sure clean everything. Well, I ran out of them and use a normal sponge with some cleaner. After I had finished I was having such a Anxiety attack that I was in tears. I begged my son not to go out until I felt better. If anyone has them you know what I am feeling. Finally, after about an hour and half it goes away and it has left me totally exhausted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold;"&gt;My son had brought up something to me about my anxiety attacks. He said every time you clean you get one. Now, I am thinking why is that? He is somewhat right. I am wondering if when I use a cleaning chemical it triggers an attack for some unknown reason. When I clean I usually do not use cleaning products and just use a sponge and wipe down everything because of allergy purpose. The sponge collects the dust and also I don't have to inhale any cleaning chemicals around the house. I did use a floor cleaner and I have actually changed the cleaner. Well, it is basically the same stuff but has a lemon sent to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold;"&gt;I still felt a little edgy today. I am wondering if the Wellbutrin dosage of 150 mg isn't working any longer and I need to up the dosage? Well, I will finish what I have and ask the Doctor. Ugh, I hate this getting older crap. If it isn't one thing, it's another thing and it goes on and on. Like fixing one thing while something else breaks down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold;"&gt;LET'S STOP THE INSANITY PLEASE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113236599614521516?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113236599614521516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113236599614521516&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113236599614521516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113236599614521516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/blah_18.html' title='Blah'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113227422258137873</id><published>2005-11-17T19:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T19:26:15.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Turkey Place Cards</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Turkeyplacecards2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Turkeyplacecards2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Turkeyplacecards.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Turkeyplacecards.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Need some Turkey Place Cards for your table?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Two different kinds here. Print out on cardstock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113227422258137873?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113227422258137873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113227422258137873&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113227422258137873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113227422258137873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/turkey-place-cards.html' title='Turkey Place Cards'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113224855171976339</id><published>2005-11-17T12:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T12:31:55.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pay It Forward...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so .. was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;he looked poor and hungry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you. He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;said, "I'm here to help you, ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire.  But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Bryan never thought twice about being paid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, "And think of me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He waited until she started her car and droveoff. It had been a cold and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the twilight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed something written on the napkin. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: "You don't owe me anything. I have &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you." Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's gonna be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;There is an old saying "What goes around, comes around." And it does.. Today, I sent you this story, and I'm asking you to pass it on .. Let this light shine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Good friends and family are like stars....You don't always see them, but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;know they are always there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113224855171976339?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113224855171976339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113224855171976339&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113224855171976339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113224855171976339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/pay-it-forward.html' title='Pay It Forward...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113219327891705992</id><published>2005-11-16T21:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T21:07:58.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Man...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/Perfectman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/Perfectman.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Just becareful guys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;this can happen to you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Heheheh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113219327891705992?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113219327891705992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113219327891705992&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113219327891705992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113219327891705992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/perfect-man.html' title='Perfect Man...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113217078613723591</id><published>2005-11-16T14:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T14:53:06.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Are You?</title><content type='html'>Are you a &lt;a href="http://www.alphadictionary.com/articles/yankeetest.html"&gt;Yankee or a Rebel&lt;/a&gt;? Take this quick simple test.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113217078613723591?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113217078613723591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113217078613723591&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113217078613723591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113217078613723591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/what-are-you.html' title='What Are You?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113208849029596265</id><published>2005-11-16T12:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T12:22:06.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun Stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I haven't been feeling to well since Sunday and really haven't had anything to say. Mostly because I am cranky and tired. I didn't want to forget my readers and wanted to keep you entertained. So, I came up with some fun stuff and probably obnoxious stuff to amuse you in case your bored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.findthoughts.com/"&gt;FindThoughts.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; - This Google-like search engine uses new technology that allows you to search peoples' minds for factual information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);" href="http://www.pickboogers.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.improb.com/airchives/paperair/volume6/v6i4/postal-6-4.html"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.crazyillusion.com/"&gt;CrazyIllusion.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; - An amazing optical illusion. See it for yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.getannoyed.com/"&gt;GetAnnoyed.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                                   - A list of thousands of ways to annoy people.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.blogger.com/SillyMessages.com"&gt;SillyMessages.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; - Hundreds of funny answering machine messages for you to use.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.blogger.com/Dumb.com"&gt;Dumb.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; - Dumb jokes, stupid dates, dumb videos, crazy stories, silly pranks, and other dumb stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.blogger.com/Stupid%20Videos"&gt;Stupid Videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; - Hundreds of videos of people doing stupid stuff: pranks, accidents, funny animals, crazy stunts, etc. Like America's Funniest Home Videos but much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.monitorcamera.com/"&gt;MonitorCamera.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; - Take your photo online for free. Because of a new breakthrough in web technology, you can now take a picture of yourself using your computer monitor. No special equipment needed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.darwinawards.com/"&gt;The Darwin Awards&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; - True stories of stupid things people do that got them killed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.guinnessrecords.com/"&gt;Guinness Book Of World Records&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; - Watch videos of people doing amazing things, read about record holders, or try to break a record yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.blogger.com/Createfarts.com"&gt;Createfarts.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                                   - Create farts online.                                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.blinkerfluid.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113208849029596265?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113208849029596265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113208849029596265&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113208849029596265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113208849029596265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/fun-stuff.html' title='Fun Stuff'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113208557188809725</id><published>2005-11-15T15:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T15:13:10.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Cook A Turkey</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Okay kids we know that Thanksgiving is next week. How many of you are cooking a turkey at your house this year? In case you have no idea what you are doing this link will help you prepare and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);" href="http://www.liquidgeneration.com/content/a55hat.aspx?cid=1707"&gt;cook turkey&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;, and for those of you that would like to learn even though your not cooking a turkey this will help you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113208557188809725?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113208557188809725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113208557188809725&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113208557188809725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113208557188809725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/how-to-cook-turkey.html' title='How To Cook A Turkey'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113207077786305316</id><published>2005-11-15T11:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T11:08:21.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Game Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;font style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Hello Boys and Girls. How would you like to play&lt;font style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);" href="http://n.ethz.ch/student/mkos/pinguin.swf"&gt;Smack the Penguin&lt;/a&gt;&lt;font style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;? It is suppose to help you relieve some stress. I am not sure about that, as it surely can piss you off! Go ahead, give it a try. You have to click on that Giant B. Snowman with the bat in his hand.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113207077786305316?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113207077786305316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113207077786305316&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113207077786305316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113207077786305316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/game-time.html' title='Game Time'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113206263992932070</id><published>2005-11-15T08:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T08:50:39.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde Jokes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;WHICH IS FARTHER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Two blondes living in Oklahoma were sitting on a bench talking........and one blonde says to the other: "Which do you think is farther away..........Florida or the moon?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The other blonde turns and says "Helloooooooooo, can you see Florida.......?????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;CAR TROUBLE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A blonde pushes her BMW into a gas station. She tells the mechanic it died. After he works on it for a few minutes, it is idling smoothly. She says, "What's the story?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;He replies, "Just crap in the carburetor" She asks, "How often do I have to do that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;SPEEDING TICKET&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A police officer stops a blonde for speeding and asks her very nicely if he could see her license. She replied in a huff, "I wish you guys would get your act together. Just yesterday you take away my license and then today you expect me to show it to you!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;KNITTING&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A highway patrolman pulled alongside a speeding car on the freeway. Glancing at the car, he was astounded to see that the blonde behind the wheel was knitting! Realizing that she was oblivious to his flashing lights and siren, the trooper cranked down his window, turned on his bullhorn and yelled , "PULL OVER!" "NO!" the blonde yelled back, "IT'S A SCARF!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;BLONDE ON THE SUN &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A Russian, an American, and a Blonde were talking one day. The Russian said, "We were the first in space!" The American said, "We were the first on the moon!" The Blonde said, "So what? We're going to be the first on the sun!" The Russian and the American looked at each other and shook their heads. "You can't land on the sun, you idiot! You'll burn up!" said the Russian. To which the Blonde replied, "We're not stupid, you know. We're going at night!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;LAST ONE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A girl was visiting her blonde friend, who had acquired two new dogs, and asked her what their names were. The blonde responded by saying that one was named Rolex and one was named Timex. Her friend said, "Whoever heard of someone naming dogs like that?" "Hellllllllooo," answered the blonde. "They're watch dogs!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113206263992932070?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113206263992932070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113206263992932070&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113206263992932070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113206263992932070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/blonde-jokes.html' title='Blonde Jokes'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113202265116458646</id><published>2005-11-14T21:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T21:44:11.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Symptoms of the BIRD FLU...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The Center for Disease Control has released a list of symptoms of bird flu. If you experience any of the following, please seek medical treatment immediately:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;1.  High fever &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;2.  Congestion &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;3.  Nausea &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;4.  Fatigue &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;5.  Aching in the joints &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;6.  An irresistible urge to shit on someone's windshield&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113202265116458646?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113202265116458646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113202265116458646&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113202265116458646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113202265116458646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/symptoms-of-bird-flu.html' title='Symptoms of the BIRD FLU...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113199369192937727</id><published>2005-11-14T13:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T13:55:12.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jobs</title><content type='html'>My brother, who owns&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.hireknowledge.com/"&gt;Hire Knowledge&lt;/a&gt;- Putting Intelligence to Work is his slogan.  He has &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.hireknowledge.com/professional/locations.html"&gt;locations&lt;/a&gt; all over the US.  If you use his services tell him or the staff that the owner's sister sent you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sent me this new  website for job searching. I thought you all would be interested in the "Google of job search tools". &lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.indeed.com/"&gt;Indeed&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.indeed.com/"&gt;Indeed&lt;/a&gt; has begun to greatly improve the speed and accuracy of my job search. It searches all the major job boards as well as thousands of other companies job sites directly. A big time saver! A great tool and an obvious job board killer. This is going to hurt Monster. Enjoy it, and bookmark it for future use.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113199369192937727?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113199369192937727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113199369192937727&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113199369192937727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113199369192937727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/jobs.html' title='Jobs'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113197664098729509</id><published>2005-11-14T08:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T08:57:20.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How Much of  an Asshole/Bitch Are You?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border: 1px solid ; padding: 5px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; width: 150px; background-color: rgb(255, 201, 51); text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 5px; font-size: 12px;" nowrap="" align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I am 36% Asshole/Bitch.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-size: 10px;" target="_blank" href="http://www.fuali.com/test.aspx?id=dd4c0ca6-a554-4cbe-b0e7-bc17462a412e"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.fuali.com/testimage.aspx?img=f8828b94-f1d9-424a-b2d8-9b47d093da27.gif" alt="Part Time Asshole/Bitch." style="margin-top: 5px;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I may think I am an asshole or a bitch, but the truth is I am a good person at heart. Yeah sure, I can have a mean streak in me, but most of the people I meet like me.&lt;div style="margin-top: 5px;" nowrap="" align="center"&gt;&lt;a style="font-size: 10px;" target="_blank" href="http://www.fuali.com/test.aspx?id=dd4c0ca6-a554-4cbe-b0e7-bc17462a412e"&gt;Take the&lt;br /&gt;Asshole/Bitch Test&lt;br /&gt;@ FualiDotCom&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113197664098729509?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113197664098729509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113197664098729509&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113197664098729509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113197664098729509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/how-much-of-assholebitch-are-you.html' title='How Much of  an Asshole/Bitch Are You?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113197600914595874</id><published>2005-11-14T08:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T08:46:49.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Addict To The Internet?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border: 1px solid ; padding: 5px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; width: 150px; background-color: rgb(255, 201, 51); text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 5px; font-size: 12px;" nowrap="" align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I am 42% Internet Addict.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-size: 10px;" target="_blank" href="http://www.fuali.com/test.aspx?id=9f41fe56-707b-4667-8090-9c248abfc0c2"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.fuali.com/testimage.aspx?img=b7ebbc34-5024-4399-a103-f7a164a09d66.gif" alt="Slight Internet Addict." style="margin-top: 5px;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I could go either way. Deep into the madness of nights filled with coding CGI-Scripts and online role playing games, or I could become a normal user. Good luck!&lt;div style="margin-top: 5px;" nowrap="" align="center"&gt;&lt;a style="font-size: 10px;" target="_blank" href="http://www.fuali.com/test.aspx?id=9f41fe56-707b-4667-8090-9c248abfc0c2"&gt;Take the&lt;br /&gt;Internet Addict Test&lt;br /&gt;@ FualiDotCom&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113197600914595874?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113197600914595874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113197600914595874&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113197600914595874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113197600914595874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/are-you-addict-to-internet.html' title='Are You Addict To The Internet?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113191978310093711</id><published>2005-11-13T17:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T17:09:43.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Weekend</title><content type='html'>My husband and I had gone to his home town this morning. It is only 40-45 minutes away depending upon the traffic. We went to a friends house and use to live across the street from them. Plenty of good times with big parties and use both houses. It seems like yesterday but seeing his kids grown up in which they are around my son and daughter's age. They have been redoing the house for the last couple of years and I haven't seen it since they were just starting. The house is big and old he said the footage is 2,600. He inherited from his father in which a lady that died left the house to his father and they were just friends. Make me wonder just how much of a friend he was to her to get a house for nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't gone down there since last Christmas.  I am so glad that I have moved away from there. We lived right off of Route 1 and in which runs all the way into NY and right off of Route 95 that runs from Canada to Florida. The town has expanded in the 10 years that we have left and it is so darn crowded with so many stores. When I am there I feel like sardines in a can, and there is so much traffic no wonder I became such a road rage person when I lived there. My gosh, my language was just awful on the road and everyone is so busy flipping the finger at each other. I knew then I needed to get the heck out of that town.  Also, when the Principal from the school calls you up and says your daughter was in a fist fight with some other girl you know it is time to bug out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we moved to this town and because my daughter was basically street smart and here is like the country she knew how to take care of her self. The kids were afraid of her. I know I can laugh about it now since she is all grown up now but any kid that moved from that town up to here were street smart and the kids were just plainly afraid of them. The one thing that really up set my daughter when we visiting the school she said there were no black people here. Well, she only saw like 4-5.  See, we lived in a town with a variety of different culture as it is good for the kids to be exposed to that. I liked the town because it was quiet and you got more for your money with a bigger house and some land. We did try to find something down there but I just couldn't find a house I liked. So, we moved here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on our way home we stopped at Walmart for a few things then home and then I had to go back out for the other groceries.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113191978310093711?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113191978310093711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113191978310093711&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113191978310093711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113191978310093711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/weekend.html' title='The Weekend'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113188857206931392</id><published>2005-11-13T08:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T08:29:32.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>George Bush</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;George Bush has a heart attack and dies. He goes to hell where the devil is waiting for him. "I don't know what to do here," says the devil. "You're on my list but I have no room for you, but you definitely have to stay here, so I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I've got 3 people here who weren't quite as bad as you. I'll let one of them go, but you have to take their place. I'll even let you decide who leaves."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George thought that sounded pretty good, so he agreed. The devil opened the first room. In it was Richard Nixon and a large pool of water. He kept diving in and surfacing empty handed over and over and over. Such was his fate in hell; "No!" George said; "I don't think so. I'm not a good swimmer and don't think I could do that all day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The devil led him to the next room. In it was Tony Blair with a sledgehammer and a room full of rocks. All he did was swing that hammer, time after time after time. "No! I've got this problem with my shoulder. I wou ld be in constant agony if all I could do was break rocks all day," commented George.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The devil opened a third door. In it, George saw Bill Clinton lying naked on the floor with his arms staked over his head and his legs staked in spread eagle pose. Bent over him was Monica Lewinsky, doing what she does best. George Bush looked at this in disbelief for a while and finally said, "Yeah, I can handle this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The devil smiled and said; "Monica, you're free to go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113188857206931392?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113188857206931392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113188857206931392&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113188857206931392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113188857206931392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/george-bush.html' title='George Bush'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113188829435692749</id><published>2005-11-13T08:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T08:26:21.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yard Clean Up...</title><content type='html'>I have said that raking leaves is a waste of time since I live in a wooded area. It is almost rediculous to keep raking when the leaves will be in the yard the next day. That is my theory anyway. Well, what did I do today. No not rake, but used the leaf blower. You know, a little easier but still had to blow them leaves off the porch and since my husband had mowed the lawn in which will probably be the last time I thought I get out there and help the poor guy. I have to admit the yard looks better. I am so sad that most of the leaves are off the trees. I can see my neighbors. I guess this means we need to pull the curtains so you can't see in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I did one amazing thing on Friday. We have had this old car sitting in the driveway that my husband had used for spare parts for his truck for about 5 years now. Looked really stupid sitting there with the darn hood up. I couldn't tell you how many times I told him to at least put that hood down to at least make it look presentable. Well, he gave me the okay to call the junk yard. They came with in 2 hours and took it away. The guy said to me that he traveled up and down this road plenty of times and said that car has been there like what? 5 years? Just about I told him. Ah, it looks so much better now. Now, to take the basketball hoop down. My son took the jungle gym down over the summer as that was left there by the previous owners and since my son used it a bit when we moved here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113188829435692749?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113188829435692749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113188829435692749&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113188829435692749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113188829435692749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/yard-clean-up.html' title='Yard Clean Up...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113180731435863704</id><published>2005-11-12T09:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T09:55:14.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Memory of D.P.Osterhout Jr. 5/5/1926 - 11/12/1993</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Twelve years ago today my father past away. I got the phone call just as I was walking in the door where I worked. The managers were told by my mother-in-law since my Mom didn't have my work number. They had instructed me to call my mother-in-law and she just kept telling me on the phone to go to her house in which was basically across the street from where I worked. I told her I had just got to work and have to give them a reason why and she just would not tell me. I begged her to tell me and she did. I dropped the phone and collapsed to the floor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Since my father had passed away in November and was to be buried in Vermont we couldn't have the funeral at the time since my parents lived in Georgia. We had to wait until the ground was thawed out and buried him in July when our summer camps were opened. So, basically for 8 months we couldn't put him to rest. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;We had a Quaker funeral. It is a normal service but for those that had something to say about my father could make a speech. I had written a poem for my father based on one of the days that I had spent with him just before he passed away. I almost could not read this in front of everyone and my cousin that was sitting right behind me whispered to me and said it was okay if I couldn't but I may regret it if I didn't. The room was packed and I stood up and read the below poem to everyone and basically collapsed after reading this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;My father ment the world to me. He was the one that understood me, he loved me unconditionally unlike my mother. He was a smart, caring, loving, fun man. He was the type of person if you could not afford to go to college he fund your college as he did to a few people. Education he would for ever be drilling into our heads. This man paid for his twin sister's college tuition as his parent were poor. He paid for his and went to Yale. He sent all 4 of us to college. He sent my sister-in-law to college as her parents couldn't afford it etc. He paid it in cash. It was just the type of person he was. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;My parents could not have kids and they had adopted 4 kids. I am honored I was choosen by they, raised by them, and loved by him. If I can just have one more of his bear hugs he would give me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I miss you Dad....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Pervading Memories &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Sitting, rocking in our chair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;On that cool crisp summer morning. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Looking out towards the lake. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Maybe admiring the beauty &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Or, lost in our thoughts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Our endearment of being together &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Father and Daughter &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;With no words to say &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Occasionally looking at one another. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Exchanging smiles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Leaving an everlasting impression. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;This remembrance I hold. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;“I Love You Daddy” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I didn't  need say ... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;He is gone ... His pervading spirit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;A fullness in my heart he has left. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113180731435863704?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113180731435863704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113180731435863704&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113180731435863704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113180731435863704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/in-memory-of-dposterhout-jr-551926.html' title='In Memory of D.P.Osterhout Jr. 5/5/1926 - 11/12/1993'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113173852773531399</id><published>2005-11-11T14:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-11T15:50:26.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So, You Have Gas....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I am sure many of you have started to blog about something only to realize you really have nothing to say. I get that way sometimes so I would just start reading other blogs and then someone's blog triggers a thought or a memory and this usually will get you going. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;So, here I am reading &lt;a href="http://reapyourdreams.blogspot.com/"&gt;Dream Gurl&lt;/a&gt; blog about her husband calling and telling that she farted as she rolled over in bed. Okay, so talking about farting is not on the top of the list of things to write about and yet people will still laugh about it or they would be ashamed to write about their farting stories. Maybe I can inspire you to tell yours who knows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Anyhoo, when I first got married some 25 years ago and I am sure a lot of you husband have done this to your wife. Don't sit there and say you haven't or I am going to ask your wife. How many men have pulled the sheets over their wife's head and farted? I can see you nodding your heads saying yup many times. Well, my husband did that to me as well. Now, most men think it is okay if men fart and not woman. Hello, if I got some gas coming out of my ass and I need to fart then I will. I know you think it isn't lady like. What the hell do you want us woman to do? Try to squeeze our ass so tight and glide across the room really fast to the nearest bathroom and hope no one is in there so we can fart! Hum, lets see, a little noise, coughing, drag a can across the room, push the grocery cart in hopes it loud so you can smother the sound of the fart is what I would do. I am sure you woman have done things to disguise the farting sound. And, yes, it is terrible to do it in public I will agree with that. In your own home is another thing as I am not going to rush to the bathroom to fart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;So, where am I going with all this? I had enough of my husband smothering me under the covers and farting and I needed to get him back one day. The day came when I saw my husband sleeping on the couch and I bend down so my ass was in his face and tapped his shoulder and he woke up and I ripped him one right in his face. He flew off that couch so fast and stood there yelling WTF at me. I was laughing, said something like I got you back for all the times you smothered me with your farts. He never covered my head again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Hey, pay back is a BITCH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113173852773531399?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113173852773531399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113173852773531399&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113173852773531399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113173852773531399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/so-you-have-gas.html' title='So, You Have Gas....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113172315281654968</id><published>2005-11-11T10:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-11T10:32:32.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Black Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;While we are waiting for our Home Equity Loan my husband and I have been talking about the things that need to be done around the house, new furniture, paint the entire house and other miscellaneous things and a few things he like to have. Most of the money will get put away in which I like to invest in. I need to do some homework to find out the best place to invest the money. I don't want to tie it up for long should we need some for an emergency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was just saying to my husband that in the 13 years of being in retail this will be the first year that I will have Black Friday off. Last year, I had worked for just the season at Toys R Us. This is the most insane store to be in. That weekend I was so exhausted and the customers were crazy. They trashed the place that when the store closed for the day we had to clean it all up for the next day trashing. You barely even get a chance to pee. I must have been nuts to even apply to that store. Told my self never again. Working at the craft store was much better on Black Friday weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this year, I think I will haunt some stores. I know it is nuts to even shop that weekend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113172315281654968?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113172315281654968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113172315281654968&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113172315281654968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113172315281654968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/black-friday.html' title='Black Friday'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113167393798956853</id><published>2005-11-10T20:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T20:54:11.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Adventures Of Skiing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;This is rather long...sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that you heard about my cross-country skiing day. My downhill skiing was even better. As I have said that I really do not like speed going down the hill because I just don't know how to stop properly. I was telling this to my younger brother during this same winter as my parents were driving us to Burke Ski area in Vermont near Stowe. My younger brother was calling me a chicken. I was indeed but I didn't want him to know that so he dared me to go skiing. I caved in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we are getting fitted for our skies and Dad strongly suggest some lessons for me. Of course, after all just the other day I stabbed my self with the pole in the boob. I needed to learn how to stop myself. So skiing lesson I was having. Now, I was one of the oldest having lessons. I was the most clumsy one of them all. The most uncoordinated one. The instructor had to pay attention to me the most. All the other students were young kids with no fear. After having like an hour and half of some brief lessons it was now time to test ourselves and go on the "Bunny Slope" Just a little hill and a very open field that I couldn't possibly kill myself or anyone for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we all are on the Bunny Slope practicing for a while. By George, I am getting the hang of this. I can do this I tell my self. Now, the instructor wants to bring us up to another slope. I feel a little confidence that I can do it. We have to take a chair lift up. Huh? I am terrified of heights. Oh, no, I can't go on that and look down. Well, my brother decided to join me and guide me. Tells me to make sure that I keep my skies up when we are about to get to the top, lift the bar, and take off. Simple, any moron could do it. I must have been the stupidest moron on the planet that day. Forgot to lift the skies up and they get jammed into the snow and I fall flat on my face. I am sure I gave a few people some laughs. I do however remember people rushing over to me and helping me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the trick to get back down to the bottom was going to be one challenge for me. I am skiing along and I see that I am doing fairly good and I am picking up speed, then I am coming around a corner and wham I slammed into a tree. I had blacked out and finally came too with all these people looking at me. I didn't know what happened and then it came to me that I had just kissed a tree. I just got up really fast and really embarrassed and skied on. I finally get to the bottom of the hill and there were my parents waiting and there was Mom with this horrible look on her face again. They rush over to me and I had no idea why they had the horrible look on their face. Well, when I had kissed that tree I had this huge lump on my forehead and blood was dripping down my face and I really didn't feel that blood. My brother had been way ahead of me and waited at the bottom of hill but never saw me come down and he went back up and found my hat and was freaking out because he thought that I had gotten hurt and raced back to the lodge and found us. I got all cleaned up and decided I wasn't going on that hill again and I would go on a smaller mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weird thing happened. I ran into a class mate of mine from High School there so we paired up and went skiing together and we forgot to get off the lift and went to another slope. We are standing at the top of the mountain. I knew right there and then that I was going to die because we see this sign saying "Expert Trail" Of all rotten luck. Someone helps her down the slope but leaves me at the top. I finally said Fuck It and started taking off my skies and would walk down the slope or die. I was on that slope for an hour and then my friend got a rescue team to go up and find me since she never saw me come down. How embarrassing again. Of course these two good looking guys have to come up and help me down the expert slope making me zig zag down. Of course I made it down alive since I am writing this aren't I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I once again scared the pants off my parents. You know how many times they could have been rushed to the hospital because of me that day? Oh wait, I am not finished yet. We decided to have lunch and then my parents want to go cross-country skiing at a near by area. So, my brother, sister, and I had to stay at the ski area for a couple more hours. I decided that I should stick with the Bunny Slope. After all, it was an open field with no trees or really steep slope. The other two went their own way and I stayed with my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had been skiing on this slope for a while. I had no problem and then my clumsiness kicked in again. I was skiing down and took a nasty fall. I couldn't get up. My friend saw that I was in trouble and rushed over. I told her I think I popped my knee cap out but there was no way in hell was I going to a hospital since no one would know I was there. I told her my sister and brother were skiing and Mom and Dad went off some where else. I did the worst, I slammed my knee cap back to where it was supposed to be. That pain, was so unbearable and was the dumbest thing I ever did. I managed to get up with the help of my friend and got me back to the Lodge and sat in the chair and never got back up until my family came. I wasn't limping and just told them that I feel no big deal. Nope, never went to the Doctor over this until several years later and that Dr. knew what I did with out me having to tell him. Yup, I screwed up my knee for life. It doesn't sit in the socket like it is suppose too and I still to this day haven't had the surgery to fix it. Aren't I a dumb ass!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a note...I haven't gone skiing since 1975...and you wonder why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113167393798956853?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113167393798956853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113167393798956853&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113167393798956853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113167393798956853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/adventures-of-skiing.html' title='The Adventures Of Skiing'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113164520048917887</id><published>2005-11-10T12:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T12:53:20.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bruises</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;I had skipped over to &lt;a href="http://blogfortwo.blogspot.com/"&gt;Na Uh! Ya Huh&lt;/a&gt; blog aka momyblogr and there she has this big bruise. I am not sure where that bruise is on her body and didn't ask. Looking at that picture reminded me of a big bruise like that I had on my body one time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Christmas for many years, my family would go to our winter house in Vermont and we go skiing. I could downhill ski but wasn't' good at it and often would go cross-country skiing with my parents. It is a lot of work cross-country. The thing I liked about it was the fact I could cross-country anywhere and not just on a ski slope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my parents and I would cross- country around the town where our winter/summer homes were and we could cross-country across the lake. Back in 1975 my parents are roughly my age now (48) and we were going down this slope. They had gone first, and me, being the chicken because the slope was steep and here I am only (17) at the time was a big chicken to go down. Then, I thought, they made it down with no problem so can I. I proceeded to go down the hill and my speed is increasing fast and I am not very good at stopping. At this point I didn't like the rate of speed that I was going and wanted to slow down. I have no darn idea how this happened but some how or another I had crossed my skies and tumbled over and my poles are flying every which way and then I felt a sharp pain after I had tumbled down onto the snow. I wasn't sure what had happened and I hear my father shouting from the bottom of the hill "Are you alright?" luckily, my head was facing my parents and I can see my mother with this horrible look on her face. I knew I must have looked like hell. They had quickly taken off their skies and raced up the hill. I was completely tangled up and my father pulls the ski pole out that had jammed into my left side boob. Yes, you read this right and stop laughing. That dam hurt, and I had this huge bruise on my boob for weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To let you know, that was the end of my cross-country days of skiing. I will tell you my downhill skiing accident another time. Yes, you will laugh at that one too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113164520048917887?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113164520048917887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113164520048917887&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113164520048917887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113164520048917887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/bruises.html' title='Bruises'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113164239208613337</id><published>2005-11-10T11:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T12:06:32.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/BoonKoon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/200/BoonKoon.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When ever I leave the computer desk I have to make sure that I push the chair in otherwise one of the dogs will sit in the chair and look around the desk to pick something off the desk to chew on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell you how many times my Boon Koon. That's a picture of her has eaten my glasses. I have gotten to the point I buy those cheap glasses at the dollar store because she ate my prescribtion glasses. $250 glasses in that dogs mouth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my daughter calls me ever day from work and I get up from the computer and forgot to push my chair in. This little shit gets up on the computer desk and she sees my sons Birth Certification of Birth and a business card on the desk and takes them and would have proceeded to chew them to bits. She must of heard me finish up on the phone and I then go back into the living room where the computer is and see her sitting there INNOCENTLY like WTF did I do? I had noticed that she is sitting on the Birth Certificate and business card trying to hide it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She will be a year December 23rd.  These dogs no matter how old they are they still like to chew things up. My Pitt Bulls like to shread things into thousands of little pieces. Yes, I have 3 Pitt Bulls.  You can see the other dogs in that picture blog I have on the side bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113164239208613337?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113164239208613337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113164239208613337&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113164239208613337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113164239208613337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/my-dog.html' title='My Dog'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113163905084123343</id><published>2005-11-10T11:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T11:12:17.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Silhouett Portrait</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/silhouett.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/200/silhouett.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;I belong to alot of craft groups and find tons of ideas through these groups. People are always thinking of inexpensive gifts to make for Mom, Dad, Kids, Grandparent, and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long ago, when I was about 7 or 8 years old. My mother did a silhouette portrait of my brother and I. To this day, she still has those portraits sitting on her dresser. For those that have kids, this make a great gift for the Grandparents. You could even have someone do a silhouett of you to give as a gift. People appreciate gifts made over gifts bought because you put your heart and soul into that gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silhouette Portrait&lt;br /&gt;Materials:&lt;br /&gt; •   Desk lamp&lt;br /&gt; •   Table&lt;br /&gt; •   Tape&lt;br /&gt; •   Large sheet of black paper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What to do:&lt;br /&gt; 1.  Place a desk lamp on a table about 6 feet from a blank wall.&lt;br /&gt; 2.  Have your child stand against the wall so his profile casts a&lt;br /&gt;shadow on the wall behind him.&lt;br /&gt; 3.  Tape the paper to the wall, in the shadow, and trace your child's&lt;br /&gt;silhouette.&lt;br /&gt;4. Cut out silhouett, glue it to a white paper and place in frame. You could reverse and make a white silhouett on a black background.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113163905084123343?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113163905084123343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113163905084123343&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113163905084123343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113163905084123343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/silhouett-portrait.html' title='Silhouett Portrait'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113163303553508462</id><published>2005-11-10T09:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T09:30:35.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bubba Kitty Kat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/catoutonalimb%7EDMW.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/200/catoutonalimb%7EDMW.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;My sister had emailed me telling me her kitty kat that she has had for 22 years died in her arms last night by the fireplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister found this cat when she was in college in PA and kept that cat hidden in her dorm all four years. From there she went back home to my parents in Virginia, then to California, then to Boston, back to California, then to Manhattan, NY, then to Vermont, and then to Colorado. Every where my sister went that cat was with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That cat has flown on a plane more than any animal has. My sister had this carrier that looked like a gym bag and she would Bubba (cat) in this bag. It had mesh on both ends so he could breath. She would lay diapers on the bottom should he have an accident. Before she put him in his carrier she tell him to keep quiet or they be walking to their destination. Bubba never even meowed on any of the trips. As soon as she get off the plane she find some grass and let Bubba do his thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has traveled across the country by car from Colorado to Vermont every summer. I would call him the most traveled cat. She had an idea he would pass on soon as he became deaf, was skinny no matter how much she tried to put weight on him. He was just old, and tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubba is now in Kitty Heaven..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/cat.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/200/cat.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113163303553508462?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113163303553508462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113163303553508462&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113163303553508462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113163303553508462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/bubba-kitty-kat.html' title='Bubba Kitty Kat'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113115707763207112</id><published>2005-11-09T20:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T20:13:45.096-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Get your own sex name</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;I don't know why, but some of these silly quizzes are rather funny because we know most of them are made by the young kids. Yet, we find our selves doing them just for fun. I hope none of these offends anyone and if they do I am sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, now, I am sure there are some of you that may name their body parts. Well, I know men do but I haven't heard any woman naming their boobs or kitty. I say kitty because it is better especially saying it in public. If I knew you well enough and was standing in front of you having this conversation I would use the other word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, so these are some of my names of varies things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"  align="center" border="1" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Your Boobies' Names Are: Silk and Satin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/boobiename.html"&gt;Get your own Boobie Names&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"  align="center" border="1" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Your Porn Star Name is: Cumisha Jones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/pornname.html"&gt;Get your own Porn Star Name&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"  align="center" border="1" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Your Girl Parts Are Named:  The Flaming Lips&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/sexname.html"&gt;Get your own Sex Name&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"  align="center" border="1" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Your Stripper Name is: Delicious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/strippername.html"&gt;Get your own Stripper Name&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in case you men want to know what your penis name is. So, in order for me to generate this I used the name Jack. Sorry Jack. LOL! This is the results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"  align="center" border="1" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Your Penis Name is: Big Lebowski&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/penisname.html"&gt;Get your own Penis Name&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just using some guys name. I don't even know a Blake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"  align="center" border="1" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="300"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;To pick up Blake: Hi will you help me find my lost puppy? I think he went into this cheap hotel room across the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/pickuplinegenerator.html"&gt;Get your own Magic Pick Up Line&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113115707763207112?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113115707763207112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113115707763207112&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113115707763207112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113115707763207112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/get-your-own-sex-name.html' title='Get your own sex name'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113155475399238190</id><published>2005-11-09T11:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T11:45:54.013-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Appraiser</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;So, the apprasier came and went. I was telling him about my phone call to the Town Clerk. He had gone to the Assessor's Office and got what he needed.  I had asked him when the house was built and he said in 1972 and then I asked the sqare footage. He tells me that the living area being up stairs is 1,262 + 5oo downstairs and finished. So, the total would be 1,762. I had a feeling that it was up there and thought when I was told 1,262 was too low. But this is how they tell you. Just your living space but when they figure the value of the house they add in the basement as they call it. He then asked what I thought my house value is. I said I am hoping at least $350,000 - $440,000.  So, if I can get at least say $390,00 for it and minus out the Home Equity of $90,000 I still have $300,000. for this house. My total profit being of $117,000. I can live with that.  All in all the value has doubled since I bought it for $183,000 with no mortgage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then started talking as I said I was from Norwalk as well as Wilton. So he asked my husband's name and said that it rings a bell. So, I named off some relatives and friends. Ah, yes he now knows who we are and our relatives. It such a small world isn't it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He couldn't give me a value since he needed to add up some number and will give it to my loan officier. So, I shall have to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113155475399238190?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113155475399238190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113155475399238190&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113155475399238190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113155475399238190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/appraiser.html' title='Appraiser'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113155169186798197</id><published>2005-11-09T11:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T10:55:47.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Typing Test</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.aspecialplace.net/Fun/typing.htm"&gt;How fast can you type&lt;/a&gt;? I took 4 years of typing in High School as well as 2 years in College. I use to be really fast. I guess as I get older my fingers don't work that fast any more. So, I have dropped from 70 wpm down to 55 wpm. Well, as of today. So, test your skill how well you type. I had always hated those tests. Talk about pressure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113155169186798197?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113155169186798197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113155169186798197&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113155169186798197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113155169186798197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/typing-test.html' title='Typing Test'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113148215482067062</id><published>2005-11-09T08:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-09T10:56:20.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ole</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Okay, I got this from Soonerfan as he is always sending me funny stuff. This is a pisser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ole was working at the fish plant up Nort in Dulut when he accidently cut off all ten of his fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ole went to the emergency room at the Clinic and when he got there the Norsky doctor looked at Ole and said, "Let's have da fingers and I'll see what I can do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ole said, "I haven't got da fingers."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you mean, you haven't got da fingers?" the doctor asked. "Lord - it's 2005! We's got microsurgery and all kinds of incredible techniques. I coulda put dem back on and made you like new! "Why didn't you bring da fingers?" To which Ole says........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Are you ready for this????)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How da f--k was I supposed to pick dem up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113148215482067062?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113148215482067062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113148215482067062&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113148215482067062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113148215482067062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/ole.html' title='Ole'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113148719174437247</id><published>2005-11-08T16:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T16:59:51.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Messages</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/1600/4BB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3020/1064/320/4BB.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;That's right honey, I don't like Pabst Beer. But every now and then the Doctor makes  me  have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113148719174437247?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113148719174437247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113148719174437247&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113148719174437247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113148719174437247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/messages.html' title='Messages'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113146815744592315</id><published>2005-11-08T11:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T11:43:30.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Assessor's Can Just Kiss My.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;I have an appraiser coming tomorrow and he had asked me some questions about my property such as total sq. footage, age of house, and acreage. I couldn't remember any of this. So, I decided to call our Assessor to get this information. They wouldn't give me this information over the phone because someone had called them for this type of information and asked for the sq. footage, and they only gave the footage of the living area and not the basement area and she said they didn't ask for that. So, now they don't give out the information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, to me the sq.footage is the entire house upstairs, downstairs, etc., but apparently the Assessor's have it broken down to sq. footage of living space and then the basement. Okay, I use to work in the Assessor's office and correct me if I am just plan dumb here. I would give the entire sq.footage of the house. Don't most people use the whole frickin house? Even if the basement isn't finished you still use it for storage, laundry room or what ever. You may not sleep there unless your in the dog house with your spouse. But you get my point here I need the entire footage of the house basement and all. It is still part of the house because when I sell it I am selling the whole frickin thing. They wouldn't even give me the acreage or when the house was built. Oh I have to come in to see this or mail a self-address-stamped envelope. I said to her "First, no car, appraiser coming tomorrow and lets not forget here that I pay this town a pretty penny of $5,000+ a year on taxes and you can't give me any of this information where all the other towns do. One last thing I said to her this is the most pathetic policy I have ever heard of" and hung up the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not like this on the phone but when I hear something just so stupid it just pees me off. So in other words if some person living in Pluto, and needed all this like right now this is the line you will get. Talk about rotten customer service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113146815744592315?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113146815744592315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113146815744592315&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113146815744592315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113146815744592315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/assessors-can-just-kiss-my.html' title='The Assessor&apos;s Can Just Kiss My.....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113142423453230666</id><published>2005-11-08T09:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T11:45:10.563-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jokes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;RECENT STUDY FOUND OUT WHICH DAYS MEN PREFER TO HAVE SEX. IT WAS FOUND THAT MEN PREFERRED TO ENGAGE IN SEXUAL ACTIVITY ON THE DAYS THAT STARTED WITH THE LETTER "T."&lt;br /&gt;EXAMPLES OF THOSE DAYS ARE AS FOLLOWS:&lt;br /&gt; TUESDAY&lt;br /&gt; THURSDAY&lt;br /&gt; TODAY&lt;br /&gt; TOMORROW&lt;br /&gt; THANKSGIVING&lt;br /&gt; THATURDAY&lt;br /&gt; THUNDAY&lt;br /&gt;***********************************&lt;br /&gt;Another RECENT SURVEY WAS CONDUCTED ALSO TO DISCOVER WHY MEN GET OUT OF BED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.. HERE ARE THE SURVEY RESULTS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 5% SAID IT WAS TO GET A GLASS OF WATER&lt;br /&gt; 12% SAID IT WAS TO GO TO THE BATHROOM&lt;br /&gt; 83% SAID IT WAS TO GO HOME&lt;br /&gt;*********************************&lt;br /&gt;THE PERFECT BREAKFAST...AS A MAN SEES IT......YOU'RE SITTING AT THE TABLE AND YOUR SON IS ON THE COVER OF WHEATIES......YOUR MISTRESS IS ON THE COVER OF PLAYBOY.........&lt;br /&gt;AND YOUR WIFE IS ON THE BACK OF THE MILK CARTON.&lt;br /&gt;**********************************&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S THE BEST FORM OF BIRTH CONTROL AFTER 50?&lt;br /&gt;    NUDITY&lt;br /&gt;**********************************&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A GIRLFRIEND AND A WIFE?&lt;br /&gt;     ABOUT 45 LBS.&lt;br /&gt;**********************************&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A BOYFRIEND AND A HUSBAND?&lt;br /&gt;     ABOUT 45 MINUTES&lt;br /&gt;************************************&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S THE FASTEST WAY TO A MAN'S HEART?&lt;br /&gt;THROUGH HIS CHEST WITH A REALLY SHARP KNIFE&lt;br /&gt;*************************************&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A SOUTHERN ZOO AND A NORTHERN ZOO?&lt;br /&gt;     A SOUTHERN ZOO HAS A DESCRIPTION OF THE ANIMAL ON THE FRONT OF THE CAGE, ALONG WITH A RECIPE.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S THE CUBAN NATIONAL ANTHEM?&lt;br /&gt;  ROW, ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT..........&lt;br /&gt;*****************************************&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A NORTHERN FAIRYTALE AND A SOUTHERN FAIRYTALE?&lt;br /&gt;     A NORTHERN FAIRYTALE BEGINS "ONCE UPON A TIME....."&lt;br /&gt;     AND A SOUTHERN FAIRYTALE BEGINS...........&lt;br /&gt;    "Y'ALL AIN'T GONNA BELIEVE THIS SHIT&lt;br /&gt;**************************************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113142423453230666?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113142423453230666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113142423453230666&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113142423453230666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113142423453230666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/jokes.html' title='Jokes'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113142308502759985</id><published>2005-11-08T09:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T11:44:51.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fly A Helicopter</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Have you ever wanted to fly a Helicopter? Well, now is your chance. And, the best part is you can crash and not hurt any one. Come on, &lt;a href="http://www.hurtwood.demon.co.uk/Fun/copter.swf"&gt;lets go flying&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113142308502759985?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.hurtwood.demon.co.uk/Fun/copter.swf' title='Fly A Helicopter'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113142308502759985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113142308502759985&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113142308502759985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113142308502759985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/fly-helicopter.html' title='Fly A Helicopter'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113142595666828333</id><published>2005-11-08T07:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T11:44:27.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Bathroom For Men....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://imageshack.us/"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 352px; height: 298px;" src="http://img251.imageshack.us/img251/6633/bath7gi.jpg" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                         &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Wishful Thinking Guys!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113142595666828333?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113142595666828333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113142595666828333&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113142595666828333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113142595666828333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/new-bathroom-for-men.html' title='New Bathroom For Men....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113142284410969893</id><published>2005-11-07T23:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T23:07:24.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eye Say We Have Some FUN!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Hey kids! You know how Mom says to be careful with your eyes? Well this fun you don't have to worry about hurting your eyes. You have the pleasure of playing with someone else's. Isn't that fun? Click here &lt;a href="http://www.arseiam.com/fx/08.htm"&gt;EYES!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113142284410969893?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113142284410969893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113142284410969893&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113142284410969893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113142284410969893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/eye-say-we-have-some-fun.html' title='Eye Say We Have Some FUN!'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113141751675782065</id><published>2005-11-07T21:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T21:38:36.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>About Blog Stalking...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;I just wanted to clear up something that I had said in that blog about a blog stalker. For those that visit me on a daily base and sometimes more than once because I may have written something else I wasn't referring to any of you. I just didn't want you to think that I am getting crept out byany one here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing that someone had asked is how would you know that someone was stalking? And, like Sydney had commented about having a status counter on ones blog you can see where the IP address is coming from is how you know how many times a person visits your blog but that person doesn't even make comments. So, that is why I had said would this be a blog stalker? When someone visits your blog like 24 or more times a day you wonder what is up with this person? Not that you don't mind them visiting but it is weird that they don't even comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, I just wanted to clear this up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113141751675782065?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113141751675782065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113141751675782065&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113141751675782065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113141751675782065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/about-blog-stalking.html' title='About Blog Stalking...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113139605659304877</id><published>2005-11-07T15:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T15:48:42.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog stalker...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;You know when someone doesn't like you they still keep coming to your blog several times on a daily base to check your blog out. I mean, if you don't like someone, why do you care what they do? Right? Why continuously check to see what they are doing or saying especially when they check on you at least 10 - 15 times a day or more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, are they afraid that person is going to talk about them and reveal something about them that they don't want anyone to know about? Are they that insecure about who they are and feel guilty with some of the things that they have done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't this harassment? Especially when you have no idea why this person doesn't like you. Even if you know who your stalker is and you have done nothing to this person to cause this kind of behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a blog stalker? What would you do if you had a blog stalker?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113139605659304877?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113139605659304877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113139605659304877&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113139605659304877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113139605659304877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/blog-stalker.html' title='Blog stalker...'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113137011827239028</id><published>2005-11-07T08:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T09:17:39.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful Weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;It was a gorgeous weekend. Saturday's temperature was in the 70s and Sunday was warm but not as warm as Saturday. It seem like everybody was outside in T-shirts, and shorts catching what may be the last of the warm weather. It was like Indian summer, and the magnificent colors of the leaves in which we are at our peak. Leaves just scattered all over covering the ground. While it may seem like a mess to some but not to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had done our usual running around and my husband had to put in a new sewer pump as the other one went. In the 10 years that we have lived here we have only had to call someone in to repair the boiler and while the guy was doing that my husband would watch him closely so if it should break down again he knew what to do. Being a home owner you learn to fix almost everything yourself if you can. Of course when we first lived here he didn't know squat. I bought him plenty of those How-to-Do books on repairs. They have come in handy that is for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems as though in the last couple of weeks a few things in the house have broken down that my husband hasn't been able to work on his truck. He has been working on since summer and can only do what he can with what ever time he has. He is rebuilding the whole engine. Right now he is working on the brake line. It seems that every time he completes one thing something else needs to be done. Well, the truck had been sitting in the garage for some time so things got rusty and what not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had friends over on Sunday and since it was nice out we just hung out side and let the puppy run around. So it was a pleasant weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How was your weekend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113137011827239028?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113137011827239028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113137011827239028&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113137011827239028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113137011827239028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/beautiful-weekend.html' title='Beautiful Weekend'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113132498460749832</id><published>2005-11-06T19:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-06T19:56:24.633-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Older</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;See what happens when you get older...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imageshack.us/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img123.imageshack.us/img123/6137/gettingolder7uv.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" width="312" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113132498460749832?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113132498460749832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113132498460749832&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113132498460749832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113132498460749832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/getting-older.html' title='Getting Older'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113124391705072015</id><published>2005-11-05T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-05T21:25:17.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is Very Disturbing....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;I went to this site that a friend of mine gave me to check out driver's liscense and found mine on this website. This is really scary stuff to see this on the Internet but then again you never know what you will find on the Internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.license.shorturl.com/"&gt;National Motor Vehicle License Bureau&lt;/a&gt; web site- offering a free searchable database of over 121 million U.S. driver's license photos and license information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The United States B.S. amendment to the Freedom of Information Act enacted on Sept. 3rd 2004 provides public access to motor vehicle driver's information in an electronic format. Under the Motor Vehicle Operator License Identification Act (MOLIA), all US states are required to adhere to the Driver's B.S. statute and store an electronic copy of all valid drivers licenses in their state, of which neither is true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read what a few people said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Your database has become a valuable tool in my private investigation work. "&lt;br /&gt;  - Ralph Keener&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" Using your services I discovered a case of identity theft -- someone used my identity in another state. "&lt;br /&gt;  - Don Johnson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks to your service I was able to find my old highschool sweetheart when all other avenues had failed. It's a lot easier to identify someone by a photo rather than fishing through white page listings."&lt;br /&gt;  - Michael Moore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're a source for great laughs. I wanted to retake my license photo until I saw my friends were worse! "&lt;br /&gt;  - Leah Thalistleheimer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do your self a favor and see if yours is in that database.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113124391705072015?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113124391705072015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113124391705072015&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113124391705072015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113124391705072015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/this-is-very-disturbing.html' title='This Is Very Disturbing....'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113115942251462241</id><published>2005-11-05T20:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-05T20:09:12.833-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Which Messed Up Barbie Would You Be?</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- START YOUTHINK.COM QUIZ RESULTS --&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table color="black" style="width: 324px; height: 583px;" bg="" border="0" cellpadding="10" cellspacing="2"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr bg="" color="white"&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;/td&gt; &lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youthink.com/quiz.asp?action=take&amp;quiz_id=304"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(80, 90, 132);"&gt;Which dysfunctional Barbie are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sorority Slut Barbie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica;font-size:85%;"  &gt;You're the Tri Sigma whore that every frat loser knows by name. You love your hot pink tube top and your blonde streaks glow in the blacklight at all the frat parties. Chances are you've been on Girls Gone Wild at least once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youthink.com/quiz.asp?action=take&amp;quiz_id=304"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 307px; height: 307px;" alt="Personality Test Results" src="http://www.youthink.com/quiz_images/quiz304outcome1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;/td&gt; &lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youthink.com/quiz.asp?action=take&amp;quiz_id=304"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:white;"   &gt;&lt;b&gt;Click Here to Take This Quiz&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"  &gt;Brought to you by &lt;a href="http://www.youthink.com/quiz.asp"&gt;&lt;span style="color:white;"&gt;YouThink.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; quizzes and personality tests.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!-- END YOUTHINK.COM QUIZ RESULTS --&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113115942251462241?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113115942251462241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113115942251462241&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113115942251462241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113115942251462241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/which-messed-up-barbie-would-you-be.html' title='Which Messed Up Barbie Would You Be?'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113123316314419057</id><published>2005-11-05T18:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-05T18:26:03.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Girlfriend's Nephew</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;I do not buy the newspaper. Why bother as I can read what is going on right on the Internet. A friend of mine that I use to work with had IM me tell me that a friend of ours that we worked with nephew was killed on Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An apparent drag race turned deadly late Thursday when a fiery three-car crash killed my friend's nephew. His car slammed into a tree. Kids are always challenging each other to see who's car is the fastest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passenger was trapped inside the burning car was critically injured, and two others were seriously injured. He was pronounced dead shortly after the crash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The accident happened around 11:30 p.m., the kid that was killed, another kid and a third driver, were north on this road "in close proximity to each other" when one kids car veered right and lost control, police said. The car rolled on its roof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid that died car then clipped the left front of the other driver,sending it spinning out of control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the other kid striking the kid that died his car headed northwest across the road, left the pavement and hit a large tree before bursting into flames.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid that died was apparently ejected, but passenger in his car was trapped inside the burning vehicle.Two of the responding police officers were treated for smoke inhalation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid that was trapped in the burning car was flown by a LifeStar helicopter to a burn unit. He was listed in critical condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend family has been through some hell loosing a few family member. Such as her parents house burned down killing her two brother's that were trapped inside. Several years ago she lost another brother due to an aneurysm and now this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113123316314419057?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113123316314419057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113123316314419057&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113123316314419057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113123316314419057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/girlfriends-nephew.html' title='Girlfriend&apos;s Nephew'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17108889.post-113115539790097195</id><published>2005-11-04T20:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-04T20:49:57.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Male Brain</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;May I have your attention please! Have you ever wanted to see what really goes on inside the male brain? Now, is your chance to see a live male brain at work. I always knew that some of their noodles were missing. This explains it all! We all knew they were thinking with the wrong &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;HEAD!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imageshack.us/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img209.echo.cx/img209/5295/malebrain6kl.gif" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" border="0" width="233" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17108889-113115539790097195?l=blogdreamz.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/feeds/113115539790097195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17108889&amp;postID=113115539790097195&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113115539790097195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17108889/posts/default/113115539790097195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogdreamz.blogspot.com/2005/11/male-brain.html' title='Male Brain'/><author><name>Susan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07039600196004181408</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NwGwCqewjYQ/TRFZI8zlOuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/YT0-Vn-OCGY/S220/me1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
