tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17809948529340009872024-03-13T11:28:58.626-07:00SuperShannonB's Wine Girl Blog 🍷The trials and tribulations of life, in a society overloaded with technology, and the drama that comes along with it. Cheers! SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-58174474178189394772016-02-24T17:51:00.000-08:002019-10-15T14:10:09.479-07:00Little Miss Entitled<br />
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">With recent hype pertaining to 25 year-old millennial Talia Jane and her "open letter" to Yelp CEO, Jeremy Stoppelman (</span><a class="_e75a791d-denali-editor-page-rtfLink" href="https://medium.com/@taliajane/an-open-letter-to-my-ceo-fb73df021e7a#.ir3s52eyp" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #4a6ee0; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;" target="_blank"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">https://medium.com/@taliajane/an-open-letter-to-my-ceo-fb73df021e7a#.ir3s52eyp</span></a><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">), and the backlash that occurred just four days later, after 29 year-old Stephanie Williams, blasted a rebuttal right back at her (</span><a class="_e75a791d-denali-editor-page-rtfLink" href="https://medium.com/@StefWilliams25/an-open-letter-to-millenials-like-talia-52e9597943aa#.ocn2hy6bc" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #4a6ee0; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;" target="_blank"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">https://medium.com/@StefWilliams25/an-open-letter-to-millenials-like-talia-52e9597943aa#.ocn2hy6bc</span></a><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">), Stephanie's bold response to Talia's skewed sense of entitlement, got me thinking about my own life. Mainly experience in my twenties.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xjWV_rk0PWc/VszIrBCkgxI/AAAAAAAAMhc/1NFPtYlSk9g/s1600/12670458_1565663797089990_3460756511180674746_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xjWV_rk0PWc/VszIrBCkgxI/AAAAAAAAMhc/1NFPtYlSk9g/s200/12670458_1565663797089990_3460756511180674746_n.jpg" width="160" /></a><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">For those of you that aren't privy to the conflict, Talia thinks that because she makes only $8.00 per hour at her job at Yelp, living in the MOST expensive part of the country - WE, as taxpayers, should assist her in paying for her ultra-lux lifestyle, including her super fancy bourbon fetish, and love for big bags of white rice. </span></div>
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<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Poor, Talia.</span></div>
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Stephanie, on the contrary, disagrees, stating that Talia should get off of her privileged ass and start looking for additional work, perhaps in other, less satisfactory fields. You know, the "dirtier" fields, like bartending. Serving. </span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Waiting...</span></div>
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Gasp.</span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Both of the girls mentioned above were English majors. I too majored in English - with the hopes of one day becoming an editor of some kind, and/or maybe even the author of a novel or two. I still hope to write a book one day, but for now, blogging is my literary outlet of choice. I never thought I would be working in Property Management after I graduated from college, but I'm pleased with the career choices I've made over the past nine years.</span></div>
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I chose a degree in English, not because I thought I might end up wealthy one day, but because it was a subject that I genuinely enjoyed. I love(d) reading literature and writing papers, and with my blatant failed attempt in Biology, in my first semester at NKU, I knew I had made the right choice to switch - even if I had zero clue where I might end up after I graduated.</span></div>
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I did know one thing, though. I sure as shit didn't want to end up with a boatload of student loans, heading into my retirement still drowning in college tuition debt. </span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MuPM-klu-Os/Vs3Vm5bmmnI/AAAAAAAAMi0/pfti9lLBFMQ/s1600/MOTIVATIONAL-QUOTES-FOR-WORK-HARD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MuPM-klu-Os/Vs3Vm5bmmnI/AAAAAAAAMi0/pfti9lLBFMQ/s200/MOTIVATIONAL-QUOTES-FOR-WORK-HARD.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">This decision - to stay debt-free </span><em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">after </em><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">college - was single-handedly the smartest decision that I've ever made in my entire life. So, I worked my ass off throughout my college years - mostly in nursing homes - which paid well, even at that time. </span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The day after I graduated high school, I applied for and was immediately hired at a nursing facility in Batavia, only a few miles from our house. I was able to get my STNA license for free since the state permitted the facility to provide those courses to new hires. That in itself saved me a ton of money. The only stipulation was that I had to agree to work there for at least one year, or I would have to pay back the cost of the course, which, at that time was around $1,500.</span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Anyone who has ever worked in a nursing home knows that it's </span><em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">incredibly</em><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> difficult. I worked on the Alzheimer's unit, where I was kicked, punched, spit at, and smacked on a pretty regular basis. I balled my eyes out on my commute to and from work for the first six months. I would continuously get called in for mandatory overtime at 3:00 in the morning, even during snow emergencies. I could barely get a day off. But I was young and needed the money for school, so I trudged on.</span></div>
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">When I finally began my first year at NKU, I would commute back and forth on weekends, where I would work 16-hour shifts on Saturdays and Sundays, and then head back to school Monday morning and start the process all over again.</span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHGJJNDZAyA/VszXoOELkfI/AAAAAAAAMhw/cGLWbIjmCqM/s1600/20151113_120558-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHGJJNDZAyA/VszXoOELkfI/AAAAAAAAMhw/cGLWbIjmCqM/s200/20151113_120558-1.jpg" width="198" /></a><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">At the end of my first year at NKU, I realized that out-of-state tuition was costing me double, and I was running out of money fast. That summer, I made the decision to transfer to UC, Clermont, and gain reciprocity there. After two years, I earned my associates in pre-education and transferred back to NKU, paying less than half of what I shelled out my first year. This is also when I moved out on my own and moved into my first apartment (off campus) with a gal I met at NKU, my first year.</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nhX3U43K14w/Vs3ZNxN0Q6I/AAAAAAAAMjM/ps34K9DWzzk/s1600/20160224_112052-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nhX3U43K14w/Vs3ZNxN0Q6I/AAAAAAAAMjM/ps34K9DWzzk/s200/20160224_112052-1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">During the summers, I continued to load up on as many hours as I possibly could. Overtime really paid off. At times, I worked more than one job. During the latter part of my college years, I served at various places and bartended weddings with a girlfriend of mine. I also worked in retail, for seasonal work for a little extra money.</span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I may not have known where I was going to end up after college, but I sure as hell worked hard to get there. After I finally returned to NKU in 2001, I eventually got a different job at another nursing home in Anderson Township, where I continued to work and go to class. At this time, I moved out on my own, roommate free. I lived off of ramen, pop tarts, Campbell's soup, and nursing home food (thank you for the world-famous grilled cheeses, Ryan, you have no idea what a life-saver you were to me, then. Otherwise, I would have starved). I worked, and I worked, and I worked even more. And I went to class. I studied during lunch breaks and shopped at second-hand stores. There were times that I had to cut back my credit hours here and there and work even more to get by and pay bills. Some semesters, I was only able to complete one or two courses at a time.</span></div>
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">After nine long, excruciating years, I did it! I finally graduated from NKU. Regardless of how long it took me, I'm proud of myself for all of my hard work; for the stressful cram sessions and the countless sleepless nights. </span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #1c1e29; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">And now, another nine years later, I don't have to worry about paying off student loans. And </span><em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">that</em><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> is something to celebrate. Here's to working for what I've got.</span></div>
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<br />SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-36425288951199051452015-01-13T10:08:00.002-08:002015-01-15T10:51:16.899-08:00Ten Important Things I've Learned By Going Paleo<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_ic3vmYaMo/VLVZHNsSCoI/AAAAAAAAEHM/VIvll_mfWdw/s1600/the-paleo-diet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_ic3vmYaMo/VLVZHNsSCoI/AAAAAAAAEHM/VIvll_mfWdw/s1600/the-paleo-diet.jpg" height="247" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My energy levels
are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ri-donk-u-lous<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yes, that’s
right. And I don’t need my “required” morning coffee anymore. I can’t even
believe I’m writing those words, considering there was a time I really didn’t
think I could live without it. And while I do indulge in the occasional cup of
coffee (usually on Sundays) since I enjoy the taste, these days, I’m drinking
tea with lemon, if I’m not drinking water. I run around each day like I could
run a marathon. And you know what? I just might this year!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Labels, labels,
labels<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s quite scary how much garbage - AKA,
carcinogens - are lurking in just about every type of food these days. You MUST
read the labels in order to avoid added sugar, preservatives, and chemicals.
This is NOT an option - especially, since the FDA is, quite frankly, a joke.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s really not as
hard as you might think<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It really
isn’t. The hardest part is listening to other people try talk you OUT of a
lifestyle that you KNOW is good for you. The alcohol part has been a challenge
because I have always loved my Blue Moon. But when the urge strikes, I grab a
glass of red vino instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sugar and processed
foods really are the enemy<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I never
realized how bad all of the sugars were making me feel, until I stopped eating
them completely (sugar, grains, dairy, etc.). Now, I can get up and go, without
feeling sluggish, sore, pissed-off, or lazy. I have read quite a bit of literature
that states that sugar is just as harmful for you as shooting up Heroin or
snorting Cocaine. And I totally believe it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m not moody. At
all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am not
kidding here. I cut out the garbage, and these days, I feel HAPPY. Stressful
situations aren’t so stressful anymore, and it’s the first time in ages that certain
people don’t send my blood-pressure through the roof! I sing in the car on my
way to work, I don’t have intense road rage like I used to, and I’m not
irritable. This in itself is a great motivator! There are also some pretty interesting
articles out there regarding the link to anxiety and depression to one’s diet.
Here is one of the hundreds that I have found online: </span><a href="http://robbwolf.com/2011/06/27/paleo-conquers-depression"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">http://robbwolf.com/2011/06/27/paleo-conquers-depression</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You don’t need
dairy to get your daily calcium<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s what
the leafy greens, like spinach are for! You would be surprised how many
vitamins and minerals are in clean food. That’s the best part about this lifestyle,
it involves good clean, healthy, vitamin-rich eating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">7.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Working out is fun<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This goes
back to my energy levels – working out is no longer a chore. It’s something I actually
look forward to, and I can actually feel myself getting stronger. And It’s a great
feeling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">8.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I felt like ASS
while my body was detoxing<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you can
get past the first week, you are golden, and you can pretty much do anything
after that first “hell” week. Once you get past the detox phase, you’ll want to
keep going anyway. This icludes butis not limitd to: headaches, sore muscles, irritability, and som pretty crazy mood-swings.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">9.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not all fats are
bad for you<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Avocados,
eggs, coconut oil, olive oil…these are GOOD for you fats - NOT bad. These fats
are essential for proper brain function, and Lord only knows I need all of the
help I can get in that department.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">10.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dairy, wheat, grains,
sugar, legumes, soy, corn, and starchy vegetables are to be avoided<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And to think
that I under the assumption that things like granola and edamame were good for me.
WRONG. There is a reason that I feel like shit every time I eat these items.
They’re not.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t9czCICE3P4/VLVaUm2-5KI/AAAAAAAAEHY/_l1sQSxlI4w/s1600/gopaleo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t9czCICE3P4/VLVaUm2-5KI/AAAAAAAAEHY/_l1sQSxlI4w/s1600/gopaleo.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-84446964007624052272014-12-31T11:22:00.000-08:002014-12-31T11:22:11.099-08:00 **ATTACK** of the Chronic Complainers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><em><span style="background-color: white; color: blue;">Several of my friends have been getting on me about writing a book based on stories they've heard from me, while working in the apartment industry. For now, I'll just blog about a few of them.</span></em></strong> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyone that has ever had the pleasure of working in customer service, has most definitely had his/her fair share of dealing with some downright frightening-ass people. The apartment industry is really no different.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The following is an example of a letter that I sent to someone residing at one of the communities I've worked for. I've always called these types of letters "love letters,"or "nasty grahams." These letters are compiled for a variety of interesting and sometimes entertaining reasons; mostly because of a neighbor's complaint or issue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear <span style="color: black;">{Insert Name Here},</span></span></i><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">We are receiving
complaints at our office regarding your pet. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">One of your neighbors
came to us this morning and indicated that you are keeping your dog on your
balcony and that it urinated on the head of the resident below you, on at least two different occasions. Our maintenance staff
also noticed that there are several piles of dog excrement on your balcony, which
this is extremely unsanitary. We have included photos for you to review.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">We are asking that you
please do not keep your pet on your balcony unattended. Please see the Pet Addendum
portion of your lease agreement for information regarding pet privileges.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Further complaints of
this nature will result in our asking you to remove the pet from the premises.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me</span></i><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">CC: Resident File:</span> {I Find It Ridiculous That I Even Have To Address This} <span style="color: blue;">Pet Complaint</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HuTJb9WzQ0k/VKRGh0V-gnI/AAAAAAAAEGk/oJWJLPo0cIw/s1600/Pen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HuTJb9WzQ0k/VKRGh0V-gnI/AAAAAAAAEGk/oJWJLPo0cIw/s1600/Pen.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish I could say that people were not really this clueless, and at times, vile, and that I was making this stuff up for
the purpose of my blog, but unfortunately, I’m not. I have
sent<em> </em>out hundreds - maybe even thousands - of these types letters, ranging anywhere from from pet issues to domestic situations. Many people just don't know how to behave, and I'm stuck being the bad guy - simply because I'm doing my job. Trying to make everyone happy all of the time is hard work, and most of the time, impossible! I've had to call the police on people, both drunk and sober, and physical aggression is never ruled out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think the most awkward complaints would be addressing those pertaining to loud sexual encounters. Yikes. <em>Hey, by the way, can you please keep it down when you are having sex at three in the morning? The neighbor below you is complaining that you are being really, really loud and you two weren't the ones that were "up all night," if you catch my drift.</em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My biggest disappointment in human interaction, though, is coming into contact with people who are blatantly rude. For no reason at all. Maybe they were picked on in school as a child, or maybe they weren't given enough hugs by daddy growing up, but it's e</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">specially difficult to experience "attitude" that is thrown in the faces of the people that are trying to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">help</i></b>. I see it every single day. I see it at work. I see it in stores, checking out. I see it while commuting to and from work. I see it everywhere. It's senseless and diabolical!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gIOxnkELD8w/VKRFNRKJzrI/AAAAAAAAEGc/9hZwRCuhe1w/s1600/Rude.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gIOxnkELD8w/VKRFNRKJzrI/AAAAAAAAEGc/9hZwRCuhe1w/s1600/Rude.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then comes the complaining. The
increasing level of unwarranted complaining and whining that I have endured and/or witnessed over the years is actually mind-bending. Some people can and will complain about things that I would never even <em><strong>think</strong></em> to complain
about. This is why there are so many frivolous lawsuits - because people can be petty and ridiculous.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I must say that my
favorite instance of verbal, physical, and psychological abuse - while being forced to maintain **superior customer
service** - would be while dealing with a woman named Alice.* </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alice is quite frankly, the nastiest and most hateful woman that
I have ever come into contact with, in my <strong><em>entire life</em></strong>. Alice was so mean and so rude, that I would literally have nightmares about the woman at night, and panic attacks while driving in to work. She always reminded me of that one mean person (neighbor, teacher, bully, etc) that everyone was scared to death of as a child, growing up. I've also referred to her as The Wicked Witch on more than one occasion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CAfXXh2DEqI/VKRErMyUNWI/AAAAAAAAEGE/zGk-Pc4w6yU/s1600/wickedwitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CAfXXh2DEqI/VKRErMyUNWI/AAAAAAAAEGE/zGk-Pc4w6yU/s1600/wickedwitch.jpg" height="233" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alice would speak to me like I was snotty two-year old, incapable of completing the simplest of tasks. She would stomp into the office wearing an evil scowl so frightening, that it would scare even the evilest of movie villains. Alice would bark out her demands, and then make me repeat them back to her - because, in her mind - I was I was completely and totally incompetent and ridiculous. She would stomp out, and slam the office door, practically shaking it clean off of its hinges.I don't know, maybe she had some sort of vitamin deficiency.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alice was also nice enough to continue to refer to me as “new management,” completely oblivious of my seven-year tenure with the company.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One Monday morning, I drove into work. As I pulled in, a car was already parked in our leasing parking lot, waiting for our office to open at 9:00 am. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>Shit. It was Alice.</em> My heart freaking stopped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I gathered my things and got out of my car, and headed into the office. Alice followed me, practically walking on my ankles with each step of her stride. I was SO not ready for her, this early in the morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Alice was there to pick up her packages. <em>OK,</em> I thought.<em> Easy enough. Deep breaths.</em> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Her packages, for some reason, usually weighed around 150 lbs. I never understood what in the world she was always ordering that weighed so damn much. Judging be the decor on her balcony, her taste was very similar to what one would see in a funeral home. She was was probably here to pick up one on her funeral home flower arrangements or cast iron cemetery decorations. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I looked for her packages but could find nothing, and my heart started really pounding when I had to break the news to her. This was a fate worse than death - and </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was the unfortunate
soul that had to inform her of the bad news. Why did this woman have this affect on me? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Usually, the driver for UPS will make his rounds around the property, drop off notices to the residents that weren't home, and then drop all of packages off at the leasing office afterwards.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Every now and again though, the driver will do his usual song and dance, head to the office, and then find that no one in the office to accept them.This would usually only happen if he attempted to deliver after hours or both of us (there are only two of us in the office) were on a tour or out on the property, during the really busy summer months.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R8ZjFEBYutw/VKRIaTA2rnI/AAAAAAAAEG0/nSzycLsNK4w/s1600/UPS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R8ZjFEBYutw/VKRIaTA2rnI/AAAAAAAAEG0/nSzycLsNK4w/s1600/UPS.jpg" height="174" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">After I gave Alice the bad news that her packages were not at the office, she actually
had the audacity to accuse me of stealing her packages. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>What? Are
you fucking kidding me? A federal offense, no less, but hey, I’m the dumb ass.</em></span></div>
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Alice then proceeded to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">PUSH ME </i></b>(yes, apparently physical violence is now OK in the
workplace) out of the way so that she could make her way to our copier to
photocopy her UPS slip. I secretly snickered as she fumbled with the buttons on the machine,
unable to figure out how to use it. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>You're so smart,</em> I thought, <em>YOU figure it out!</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frustrated, Alice eventually looked at me and screamed, <em>Why the
hell are you just standing there, copy this damn slip for me!!</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Absolutely</em>, I stated, while I aggressively snatched the slip from her cold, ridged, fingers. I copied the slip, as she continued to berate me and accuse me of stealing her packages. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I calmly - yet shakily - explained that the UPS driver probably still had her packages on the truck and would be delivering them today. Alice continued to scream, and eventually she threatened me, stating that if they didn't than, "I would most certainly pay."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Wow...</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wrz3n0ibFNg/VKRFHActEQI/AAAAAAAAEGU/wS5Xxv07LX8/s1600/Karma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wrz3n0ibFNg/VKRFHActEQI/AAAAAAAAEGU/wS5Xxv07LX8/s1600/Karma.jpg" /></a></div>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As expected, Alice's packages did arrive that day, and thankfully, maintenance happened to be in her apartment, working on some things when they arrived. They brought the packages in and placed them on her counter for her. When I called her and left her a voicemail to let her know - in addition to an email - she never responded to me, thanked me, or apologized. Nothing. But I was never expecting something like that from her anyway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Luckily, Alice moved out about a year later. And like all of the other pain in the asses of the world, I never have to deal with her ever again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ya know, it really doesn't take any extra effort to be nice to someone, especially someone that you really don't know. It's actually really quite simple: treat others how you want to be treated. That's it! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I understand that everyone has their bad days, but that person - yes, that person who is trying to <em>help</em> you - might also be having a crappy day. It's time that we stick together, love each other, and <em>support</em> each other instead of constantly tearing one another down.</span><br />
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-22544518787179461842014-10-03T12:06:00.001-07:002014-10-03T13:09:10.476-07:00Happy October 3rd! It's Mean Girl Appreciation Day<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GB9Y6mawU7U/VC7hngIbltI/AAAAAAAAD84/Hgc6PIQvJ28/s1600/Group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GB9Y6mawU7U/VC7hngIbltI/AAAAAAAAD84/Hgc6PIQvJ28/s1600/Group.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LXOdEjg_mVI/VC7FIYM_0dI/AAAAAAAAD7g/wtJvhFiUwV4/s1600/Pink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LXOdEjg_mVI/VC7FIYM_0dI/AAAAAAAAD7g/wtJvhFiUwV4/s1600/Pink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In honor of <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Mean Girls Appreciation Day</strong></span>, I found it very necessary to create a blog dedicated solely to fabulous <strong><span style="color: magenta;">Mean Girls</span></strong> movie quotes. Thank you, Tina Fey - you're a genius!</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></em> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here are my all-time favorite Mean Girl moments...enjoy!</span></em></div>
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><em><span style="color: magenta;"></span></em></span></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"></span></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><em><span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: <span style="color: black;">Ho ho ho ho ho! Candy cane grams! Tyler Zimmerman two for you. Glen Coco, four for you Glen Coco, you go Glen Coco.</span></em></span></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"></span></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">Karen</span>: I can't go out (coughs quietly). I'm sick...</span></em><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">Regina</span>: Boo, you whore.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></em> </div>
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">Student</span>: Nice wig, Janice, what's it made of?</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: You're mom's chest hair!</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">Regina</span>: Get in loser, we're going shopping</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><span style="color: magenta;">Regina's Mom</span>: <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I just want you to know, if you ever need anything, don't be shy, OK? There are NO rules in the house. I'm not like a regular mom, I'm a cool mom. </span></em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Bye, Jason...</span></em><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EKn1fnubOH0/VC7IL9H23II/AAAAAAAAD70/iJpA6anPBRE/s1600/Back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EKn1fnubOH0/VC7IL9H23II/AAAAAAAAD70/iJpA6anPBRE/s1600/Back.jpg" height="123" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><br />
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: That
one there, that's Karen Smith. She is one of the dumbest girls you will ever
meet. Damien sat next to her in English last year.<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: black;">
<span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">She
asked me how to spell orange. <o:p></o:p></span></span></em><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
<span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: </em></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That
little one, that's Gretchen Wieners. <br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: She's totally rich because her dad invented Toaster Streudels. <br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: Gretchen Wieners knows everybody's business, she knows everything about
everyone. <o:p></o:p></span></em></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
<span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: </em></span><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">That's
why her hair is so big, it's full of secrets. <br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: And evil takes a human form in Regina George. Don't be fooled because she may
seem like your typical selfish, back-stabbing slut faced ho-bag, but in
reality, she's so much more than that. <br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: She's the queen bee - the star, those other two are just her little workers. <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span>Damian: <span style="color: black;">She's
fabulous, but she's evil.</span></span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></em><br />
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I1SmP0dld1U/VC7WKOd2mOI/AAAAAAAAD8c/F_L0GkRIPu0/s1600/Pink%2BShirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I1SmP0dld1U/VC7WKOd2mOI/AAAAAAAAD8c/F_L0GkRIPu0/s1600/Pink%2BShirt.jpg" /></a><em><span style="font-size: large;">...Give me my pink shirt back!</span></em></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">
</span><em><span style="color: magenta;"></span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><span style="color: magenta;"></span></em> </span></div>
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<em><span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: You can't join Mathletes, it's social suicide!</em> </div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Gretchen</span>: </em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><em>Why should
Caesar just get to stomp around like a giant while the rest of us try not to
get smushed under his big feet? Brutus is just as cute as Caesar, right? Brutus
is just as smart as Caesar, people totally like Brutus just as much as they
like Caesar, and when did it become okay for one person to be the boss of
everybody because that's not what Rome is about! We should totally just STAB
CAESAR!</em></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><em><span style="color: magenta;">Karen</span>: It's like I have ESPN or something. My breasts can always tell when it's going to rain.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Janis: </span><span style="color: black;">That's Damian. He's almost too gay to function.</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: [<span class="fine">reading the entry on himself from the Burn Book</span>] "Too gay to function?" </em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: That's only okay when *I* say it! </em><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3ZU55Q3JjU/VC7TzJtkOjI/AAAAAAAAD8Q/Si-6dCvUvIM/s1600/Popular.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3ZU55Q3JjU/VC7TzJtkOjI/AAAAAAAAD8Q/Si-6dCvUvIM/s1600/Popular.png" height="190" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 107%;"><em><span style="background-color: white; color: magenta;">Cady</span>: And they have this book, this burn book, where they write mean things about all the girls in our grade.<o:p></o:p></em></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 107%;"><em><span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: What does it say about me?<o:p></o:p></em></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; line-height: 107%;"><em><span style="color: magenta;">Cady</span>: You're not in it.<o:p></o:p></em></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><em><span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: Those bitches!</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><em><span style="color: magenta;">Bethany</span>: One time she punched me in the face. And it was awesome.</em></span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: Oh my God, Danny DeVito! I love your work!</em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Janis</span>: Wow, Damian, you've truly out-gayed yourself.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Regina</span>: Is butter a carb?</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Mr. Duvall</span>: My apologies. I have a nephew named Anfernee, and I know how mad he gets when I call him Anthony. Almost as mad as I get when I think about the fact that my sister named him Anfernee.</em> <br />
<em></em><br />
</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XcKcXkKGa9o/VC7Mptt7_SI/AAAAAAAAD8A/Ksn2ueDkdvI/s1600/Alcohol.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XcKcXkKGa9o/VC7Mptt7_SI/AAAAAAAAD8A/Ksn2ueDkdvI/s1600/Alcohol.gif" height="169" width="320" /></a><span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><em>Oh, God, honey, no! What kind
of mother do you think I am? Why, do you want a little bit? Because if you're
going to drink I'd rather you do it in the house.</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<em><span style="color: magenta;"></span></em> </div>
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<em><span style="color: magenta;"></span></em> </div>
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<em><span style="color: magenta;">Regina</span>: Gretchen. Stop trying to make "fetch" happen. It's not going to happen.</em></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><em><span style="color: magenta;">Bethany</span>: I can't help it if I've got a heavy flow and a wide-set vagina!</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em><span style="color: black;"></span></em> </div>
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<em><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;">Damian</span>: Say crack again.</span></em></div>
<em></em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Sales Attendant</span>: We only carry sizes one, three, and five. You could try Sears.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em><span style="color: magenta;">Mr. Duvall</span>: Hell, no. I did not leave the South Side for this! </em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em></em><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xcDNXWyKv2k/VC7fLvk1wsI/AAAAAAAAD8s/PJU4c4xXI8M/s1600/Cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xcDNXWyKv2k/VC7fLvk1wsI/AAAAAAAAD8s/PJU4c4xXI8M/s1600/Cake.jpg" height="221" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">...She doesn't even go here!</span></em></div>
<em></em><br />
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Grool.</div>
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<em><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><em></em></span><o:p></o:p></em><br />
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-84831073225807956542014-08-28T13:56:00.000-07:002014-10-01T08:54:34.032-07:00Noise Pollution<br />
I haven't written a blog in quite a while. <br />
<br />
Actually, that's not entirely accurate. I've written several blogs over the course of the past twelve to fourteen months (twenty-one blogs to be exact) but I haven't <em><strong>published</strong></em> any of them. They sit in the "drafts" section of my Blogger account, waiting for me to do something with them. I think some of them are decent, but I also know that they're probably going to be controversial to some.<br />
<br />
Millions of people across the country are <em><strong>astonishingly</strong></em> brave, especially when they get behind a keyboard. With that said, why do I have reservations regarding my own writing? Why should I care if I may or may not piss someone off? Everyone else lacks the common courtesy filter. Maybe I should look into that.<br />
<br />
Most of the time, I bite my tongue when I know in my heart, I really should be speaking up. For instance, I was in the brand new Fort Thomas Panera (yuumm) a few weeks ago, when I witnessed a cranky older man absolutely laying into the two young girls behind the counter. Over coffee. <em><strong>Coffee.</strong></em> Since when did everyone become so disconnected and rude? <br />
<br />
I <strong><em>almost </em></strong>spoke up...<br />
<br />
<em>If you're going to get nasty with people old man, how about you stay at home and make your own damn coffee?</em><br />
<br />
But I didn't, dammit. There are many other scenarios where I probably should have opened my mouth, but didn't.The less confrontation, the better, right? Unless you're a blatant asshole, I probably won't call you out (as seen in my previous blogs). Or unless I've has a few beers.<br />
<br />
Throughout my entire life, I feel as though I've been somewhat of a peacemaker. The type of person needing and wanting to make everyone around me feel as comfortable as possible. To make people laugh. To make them feel great about themselves. <br />
<br />
Until now. Something in my mind has drastically shifted over the course of the last twelve months. Maybe it's the endless array of bullshit that I've been forced to endure time and time again. The constant battle to try to make my friends and family - and even complete strangers - <strong><em>happy</em></strong>. Happier than myself, even.<br />
<br />
I'm getting to that point in my life where, I'm not biting my tongue any longer. Nothing in this life is safe or secure. Or nice. Or permanent. So stay tuned; this is just the prologue.<br />
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<br />SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-79133061481115876832013-11-27T05:33:00.001-08:002015-12-30T07:40:36.307-08:00My Declaration of Independence<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="2"></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">The United States Constitution is a truly spectacular piece; it's the linchpin to the success of this country's 237 years of freedom (July 4, 1776, for those of you young kids that might not have paid attention in grade school). The Constitution separates our country from other countries who are lacking such democracy, and it the one device that keeps persons in power from completely corrupting the system. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">The escalating number of mass shootings in this country has undeniably sent the media (and the like) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">into an anti-gun frenzy, and certainly prompted me so start paying closer attention to how the media relays their information to the public. With this said, I noticed a pretty dramatic shift in how the media reported their information on the more recent shootings at <st1:place w:st="on">Sandy Hook, and UC Santa Barbara. </st1:place></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">Something changed. And while I DO sympathize for the victims of each and every one of these attacks, I also believe in our Constitution and in the Second Amendment of The Bill of Rights. </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">...A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">free State</st1:state></st1:place>, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed...</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">I know what some of you are probably thinking right now. But before you jump the gun (pardon the pun, but I simply could NOT resist) and assume that I’m gun-toting member of the Republican persuasion, I would like to take this time to let you all know that I’m a GDI – a God Damn Independent. Politics have become either so far left or so far right, it’s really quite ridiculous. I don’t believe in extremes. I believe in certain aspects of both political parties, but to label myself as either Republican or Democrat, I simply cannot do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Regardless of how things may have changed over the course of the past few hundred years, our </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">founding fathers were most definitely on to something when they penned the Constitution. I do believe in the rights and freedoms as stated in the Constitution and The Bill of Rights. I also believe that the more the government gets involved, the more our rights and freedoms are diminished. If you wish to judge me based on that, then so be it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">A few years ago, I took a concealed carry class, and finally “officially” learned proper gun handling mechanics. I will have to say that the class was extremely informative. I am not uncomfortable around guns - I have been around guns my entire life. I come from a family of hunters, and my dad of course, taught us appropriate gun safety growing up. But for me, it had definitely been awhile, so I’m really glad I signed up and got my license to carry. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">The criminals responsible for heinous acts of violence (such as these mass shootings), will continue to break whatever laws are in place, and this will not change if congress decides to enforce even stricter gun regulations, or ban them altogether. The only people who will actually suffer will be the law-abiding citizens of this country. Do you honestly think that criminals like Adam Lanza, James Holmes, or Elliot Rodger even so much as batted an eyelash in regards to the law, when they walked into these places to shoot up innocent people? Do you think it's really a coincidence that these mass shooting keeping occurring in places where abiding gun owners/carriers aren't permitted to carry their arms? Of course not. School and universities, shopping malls, and theatres are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">easy</i> targets because these types of places generally do not permit the entry of those carrying a gun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">I feel that it is highly unacceptable to be forced to listen to such one-sided opinionated dribble from each and every one of the loud-mouths associated with our media. The days of journalists reporting hardcore facts are extinct! If I wanted to listen to egotistical political opinions, I would quickly log on to Facebook and read them there. I have zero interest in listening to opinionated nonsensical gibberish; just give me the facts and move on.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>The following was taken from:</em> </span></span><a href="http://www.archives.gov/exhibits/charters/bill_of_rights_transcript.html"><span style="color: purple; font-size: x-small;">http://www.archives.gov/exhibits/charters/bill_of_rights_transcript.html</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">free State</st1:place></st1:state>, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">In Suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any Court of the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">United States</st1:place></st1:country-region>, than according to the rules of the common law.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #463e3e;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The powers not delegated to the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">United States</st1:place></st1:country-region> by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-7440308732721225712013-03-05T12:52:00.000-08:002013-11-27T04:47:29.999-08:00It's a Beautiful Day in the [Neighbor]Hood<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Kim and I reside in a condo just west of downtown <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Cincinnati</st1:place></st1:city>, in Lower Price Hill. Some people have taken to calling our neighborhood <em>The Incline District,</em> most likely<em> </em>to make the area sound better than what it actually is. To be perfectly honest, our neighborhood leaves little to be desired. I will give the city credit though – they are working diligently to try and get the place cleaned up. The problem is that most people living in this area don’t give a shit. Many of Price Hill’s inhabitants are often inconsiderate, and somewhat lacking in the pride and compassion departments. Just as soon as something is restored, it’s back to piss poor condition soon after. Let’s take the Price Hill Kroger Market Place, for example. Kim and I made a bet as to when that brand new facility would be destroyed; it only took about a month and a half. I’m still hopeful, though. With the demolishment of an outdated viaduct and the rebuilding of a new one, perhaps LPH finally has some potential. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I would like to point out that the condo community isn’t nearly as bad as the rest of the area. If anything, we have the best view on the property and it could even be argued, one of the best in the city. My general rule of thumb is that as long as I'm not forced to venture to the<i> top</i> of the hill, I'm golden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There are a few issues, though. About a week and a half ago, Kim and I were walking our two small dogs at around 11:15 pm. We stumbled across - not one, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">two</i> - sets of prostitutes in front of the wooded area near dumpsters where pet owners are required to walk their pets. These prostitutes were, of course, performing lewd acts right in our parking lot. Kim, noticing a head pop up, immediately ran to the first car, knocked on the passenger side window and yelled, a<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lright, time to go</i>…<i>you gotta go…you can't be up here.</i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Neither of us actually saw the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> other</i> car that was parked just one spot over until it sped off rights as Kim and I were discussing the first violators.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Unfortunately, these episodes happen on a pretty regular basis. Kim and I are constantly finding needles, chicken wing bones, and used condoms (gross) in the rear of the property. It’s no secret that prostitution (in addition to blatant drug activity) runs rampant on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">West Eighth Street</st1:address></st1:street>, just at the bottom of the hill. Our condo is a twenty-second trek for girls to get picked up, park the car, and conduct their "business." And while the recent addition of two sturdy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Private Property</i> signs now permits District 3 to ticket violators, it certainly doesn’t deter these people from constantly entering the property illegally.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There has been chatter around our community regarding the installation of video surveillance cameras. Almost everyone is on the same page with the project, and most of us agree that these cameras would seriously help in eliminating a lot of the illegal activity that goes on at night. The catch is that, as in <i>all </i>walks of life, there is always that <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><em>one difficult person</em> - the one who chooses to be difficult in almost every instance. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Our condo association board is no different. One troublemaker is pulling out all the stops to keep the installation of the cameras from happening, including adding even more fuel to the fire with blatant rumors. But she doesn’t have to deal with the prostitutes, the lewd acts, and the safety concerns, does she? To hell with us dog-owners, right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There is a meeting this week in regards to this project. Until then, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see where this one goes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For more entertainment, go to Kim's blog: </span><a href="http://kimesherwood.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://kimesherwood.blogspot.com</span></a></div>
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-63626798766116359512013-01-24T10:32:00.000-08:002013-08-22T19:38:56.754-07:00Control - Alt - Delete<br />
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<span style="font-family: Candara;">Shortly after the holidays, Kim and I headed out on a Saturday evening to attend one of his comedy shows in <st1:place w:st="on">Northern Kentucky</st1:place>. Nothing out of the norm, here. As we're walking in to the place, I get a <st1:personname w:st="on"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shannon</i></st1:personname><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Barno</i> to my left, and I look over to see an old girl friend that I haven’t seen over five years. For the sake of this blog, I will call her Allison.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Candara;">I cannot for the life of me explain this, but this run-in with Allison was bittersweet. While I had a fantastic time catching up with her, both of us knew damn well that we didn’t end things on a good note. When the night ended, we exchanged numbers but there was a strange silent understanding that there wouldn’t be any further contact. Not to mention, with the shenanigans that she and I used to get in to, I’m pretty sure that her husband can’t stand me. But that is neither here nor there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Candara;">Back when I was still friends with Allison I had the tendency to play the friendship game with some pretty toxic people. I don’t want to say that I was a pushover per say, but I did find myself putting up with a lot of shit that I shouldn’t have - and for what? For the sake of keeping the peace with people who weren’t even worthy of it? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Candara;"><o:p>Because I was </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Candara;">keeping the company of contaminated people, Kim eventually brought my defect to a head. I was whining to him about Allison <em>again</em> who, at the time, was completely taking advantage of me. Kim stopped me and asked me why I let Allison constantly make withdrawals from our relationship without making a single deposit. To him, my relationship with Allison was obviously bankrupt. Puzzled, I looked and him and thought, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">well isn’t THAT is a fantastic question</i>.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mBJVcNLZZCk/UQBDZwqKUXI/AAAAAAAAATQ/zXW4nSvJruw/s1600/423089_4905417953287_1874871799_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" oea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mBJVcNLZZCk/UQBDZwqKUXI/AAAAAAAAATQ/zXW4nSvJruw/s200/423089_4905417953287_1874871799_n.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Candara;">Very shortly after hearing those simple but very important words, I pulled the plug on our friendship. Sad, I know, but I felt much better. No more drama, no more withdrawals, no more heartache.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Candara;"><span style="font-family: Candara;"><span style="font-family: Candara;">It would be wonderful if this was the only time I've had to end a crappy relationship, but anyone who either knows me or has read even one of blogs knows it's not. Not even close. Not by a long shot. I've had to weed out the liars. The manipulators. The cheaters. The pumpkin-pie eaters (kidding). You never see the bad ones coming because as a wise man once said, bad people are intriguing (thanks, Jorge Garcia). </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Candara;"><span style="font-family: Candara;">About three months ago, I walked away from yet another toxic situation. This one wasn’t quite as obvious, but eventually I saw this individual's true colors, very shortly after Kim and I got engaged. This one was tricky - we had been great friends for <em>years</em>! But with a small jab here, a bitchy dig there, and an off-handed comment just about everywhere (not to mention her threat to kick my ass on my <em>birthday</em>) I soon realized that this gal was jealous. Who gets jealous of their own friends? You're supposed to be happy - better yet, <em>ecstatic</em> - for your friends and family, not jealous. Haters always gotta be hatin', right? Anyway, after receiving a super-shitty group text message regarding a <em>un-</em>invitation to her party (that’s right, instead of just calling me and talking to me like a freaking human being, I was uninvited via bitchy, threaded text), I was done. Of all the things in the world,<em> that</em> was the straw that broke the camel's back. Control, alt, delete.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Candara;"><span style="font-family: Candara;">If there is someone in your life who is making you unhappy, either because that person is constantly putting you down, or leading you into bad situations, or lying to you, or cheating on you, or generally treating you like garbage, and you're thinking of pulling the plug on that toxic relationship then <em>just do it</em>! He /she is NOT worth the pain and frustration. The genuine people that truly love you for who you are (GOOD friends; family members) will still be there. And all those little things about yourself that those toxic people used to refer to as <em>annoying</em>, or <em>irresponsible</em>, or <em>stupid</em>, or <em>lame</em>? Those things will undeniably be embraced - not ridiculed - by the people who really love you.</span></span></div>
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-86697493722458395022012-10-04T07:13:00.000-07:002012-10-04T13:17:15.547-07:00Hold on, Let me Check my Facebook (Real Quick)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ahhhhhh, yeeeessss....<br />
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It's the ass-crack of dawn, and you barely have your sleepy eyes open wide enough to locate your partner and whisper, <em>good morning, </em>but some how you do manage to muster up just <span style="background-color: white;">enough </span><span style="background-color: white;">strength</span> to slowly roll over, grab your smart phone, slide the screen to unlock it, and immediately check your Facebook page. After all, you have to see if anyone has responded to your witty posts and comments from the night previous, <em>right</em>? </div>
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You finally manage to get your groggy butt up out of bed, pull on some clothes, and head to work. Throughout your work day, you're forced to read and respond to no less than 13,467 emails. You Tweet (or according to Kathy Griffin, 'Twat') a few mildly amusing quips or news stories on Twitter. You pin a funny BluntCard or two on Pinterest along with a few new and ingenious recipes. After you go home for the evening (if you're into writing like me), you might post a blog if<strong><em> </em></strong>you're feeling particularly saucy that night. And before heading to bed for the night, check your Facebook <em>again.<strong> </strong></em>Does this sound familiar? If so, you're not alone. <br />
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When it comes to social networking, Facebook is the cat's pajamas. Facebook is a lot like Wal-mart. You really don't <em>want</em> to go, but every so often you just <em>have</em> to; if not for the merchandise then for the entertainment value alone. My mother whole-heartedly believes that Facebook is an evil ploy aided by our government to get naive people (such as myself and the rest of the world) to give out personal information with little or no effort on their part. And who knows, she could be right. People put <em>everything</em> about themselves on Facebook without so much as batting an eyelash. <br />
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I bet your ass that some of your so-called "friends" make posts on Facebook that absolutely hit a <em>nerve</em>, don't they? I have a few friends that I genuinely contemplate de-friending on a regular basis because of the dumb shit that they continue to post. And don't get me started on how often these people are posting stuff! There's usually an update, picture, check-in, and/or game played every 33-36 seconds. <em>Oh, I see that you just checked in at the Gyno! Good for you! Good luck on your pap-smear! Hope everything turns out all right! </em></div>
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Facebook is also notorious for enabling inappropriate, stalk-like behavior by just about everyone. Want to see what your boyfriend from high school is up to? Check him out on Facebook. Feel the need to get in touch with an old fling from that crazy weekend get-away seven years ago? Look him up on Facebook. Is it killing you to see what your new boyfriends ex-girlfriend looks like? Well by all means, <em>please </em>go and see what she looks like on Facebook. Chances are, she'll have 150 back-to-back pictures of herself in the bathroom, posing full out duck face.<br />
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I'm not on Facebook now as much as I was, say a year or two ago. Anymore, I'm just on there to "check-in" at various places, and I can do that on Foursquare. I've deactivated my Facebook account multiple times because there are days that I just get tired of the egotistical horse manure that people put out there (maybe I'm just a bitch?). But after about a week or two of proudly living Facebook-free, I log back in and come back for more. I'm currently trying to get enough courage to deactivate it for good. Maybe if they made those fun little tokens like they do for people in AA - <em>then</em> maybe then it would encourage me to keep off and stay off. And just <em>think </em>of all of the extra time that I would have to do other things - like check my email!!<br />
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-280282073018428892012-09-14T12:13:00.002-07:002013-08-22T20:02:18.050-07:00The Stench of Humanity <div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I have to wonder what the mental capacity must be with the world’s countless inhabitants. I’ve found that I either "see" people as either wildly amusing or jaw-droppingly dreadful. And before I go<em> </em>any further with this, I would like to clarify that I'm not talking about the people who have an occasional tongue slip and say something stupid (GOD knows that have I crammed my foot in my mouth A LOT), or even those irritating, highly opinionated people, because <em>I'm</em><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> irritating and highly opinionated</i>. Actually, I admire the people who have a no-bullshit stance on life.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Like these people, if you want my honest opinion on a topic, I'll to give it to you, straight up. Call it a curse or call it a positive and/or redeeming quality, but it's the one quality that I’m actually proud to have: a no-bullshit persona. But now I'm getting off-topic.</span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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</span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What I’m attempting to describe is so more that that. Unfortunately, there are people that, while the words are billowing from their mouths, I totally pull an Ally McBeal and begin to day-dream...I can't help but look at these poor people and think, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how on earth have you managed to make it this far in life without either hurting yourself or getting your ass kicked, or both? </i>Then the awe-factor sets<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>in.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>People can be such buffoons! I must just have an extremely low tolerance for such a ridiculous level of douchebagery, which is why I could <em>never</em> be a lawyer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There are various strains of idiot that have recently floated to the societal surface that I would like to tackle, head on. The first type is that the archetypal, haughty, self-promoting, pain in the ass, prima donna with an<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">incredible </i>ability to place him/her herself on the highest pedestal possible. For the purpose of this blog, I shall call this ridiculous individual, Perfect Polly. You've never heard Polly so much as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">whisper</i> anything derogatory about herself. Come to think of it, you’ve probably never heard Polly tell a joke about herself. That teensy, tiny little joke might somehow paint her in a negative light and bruise her ginormous ego. Polly never can and never will do anything less than awesome – ever, because <em>Polly is remarkable at everything in every possible way</em>. We get it, Polly, you totes rock. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As Polly is droning on and on AND ON about all of the wonderful things she has done with this and with that, I imagine myself leaning over and punching her right in her throat; but as soon as the image pops into my head, I realize what's REALLY going on here. Polly only acts this way because she lacks the self-esteem that she so desperately wants everyone to think she really has. So I pull my imaginary arm back, and settle down.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Now let's go on to the second type, which you might not spot quite as often as type number one, but unfortunately still very much exists in the world: Debbie Downer. Debbie is a rather usual breed of miserable pessimist. She's all too quick to point out the imperfections the very people who are unfortunate enough to be around her. Debbie will relentlessly bitch, cry, whimper, and moan about every element of everything, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>of the time. Debbie even manages to find the negative in seemingly <em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">charming</span> </em>things like sunshine, daisies, and kittens. Sadly, Debbie will never, <em>ever</em> find peace in her meaningless life because she is just<em> that</em> wretched. Debbie doesn’t appreciate her life or the wonderful things that life has to offer, which <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> makes me crazy, when considering the countless people out there who are desperately fighting to save their own. Nothing will ever make Debbie happy and she will forever continue to go through life squeezing out what's left of the happiness around her, like a dirty, soggy dish rag. </span><u1:p></u1:p></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Because normal people like you and I are somewhat benevolent individuals, I find myself in a desperate attempt find some sort of redeeming quality in Perfect Polly and Debbie Downer. I mean, there has to be <em>something</em>, right? But just as I’m giving myself the ole' benefit of a doubt pep-talk, I get smacked up-side the head with life's giant football, realizing that there will never be anything good about these people, because they're, well, ridiculous. At this point, all I can do is try to ignore people like this and hope that one day, my head doesn't inflate to the size of Polly's, or come to find everything around me as loathesome as Debbie.</span></span><br />
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-58077397636665207402012-08-22T13:48:00.003-07:002012-08-22T13:48:36.496-07:00I'm Sorry...<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm Sorry.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">These two teeny-tiny words are not said (or heard) as often as they should be. When I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and I don't have a problem admitting when I am. Buy many others obviously lack the ability.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Recently, I made the conscience decision to apologize to someone – a friend, of a friend, of a friend – who I had hurt a while back. Not to make excuses for my behavior in the past but mentally, I was in a pretty bad place in my life. I’m certainly not proud of the way that I behaved at that time, but I did learn a valuable life lesson from it. If only I would have just went with my gut and stayed away from a few bad seeds, things would have been a lot different. But I can't go back, so, here we are.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, I knew that I had offended this woman, because she had made it <em>abundantly clear</em> to anyone who would listen to her – my close friends included. She continued to trash-talk me behind my back on a regular basis and <em>well after</em> the incident occurred. So, two years later, I swallowed my pride (and my fourth Blue Moon), and decided to finally nip this thing in the bud, once and for all. I pulled her aside and I apologized for my wrong doings, and she seemed to take a liking to the fact that I was admitting fault, on my part. In fact, she accepted my apology, and told me that she appreciated the gesture.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I thought for a very brief moment, that she had finally viewed the situation from my perspective. Apparently <em>not</em>. In fact, I couldn’t have been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i> wrong. The next day, she acted as though nothing had happened and immediately went back to her trash-talking. Apparently now she's upset that "things were brought up from the past," and she's "totally humiliated" because of it. So my question is: <em>weren't these things already brought up from the past when you decided to trash talk me to my friends, not even a month ago?</em> It makes zero sense to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Regardless, of this, I’m not completely full of shit. When I tell someone that I’m sorry, for God’s sake, I genuinely mean that I’m sorry. And the truly sad part is that I'm not the only person that should have apologized. T<em>here was another person involved!</em> But by all means, go back to kissing <em>that </em>person's ass, why don't you?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After a lengthy conversation with a pretty good friend of mine, we chalked it up to the she's-bat-shit-crazy-factor. The fact that this woman acted as though things were fine one minute, and then completely changed her tune only a few hours later, leads me to believe that this is definitely the case.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At this point sweetie, I've said my peace. If you don't accept that then <em>trust </em>me, I'm<em> completely</em> fine with it. But the next time you see me out - right after you've been talking shit for the hundredth time - I'm not going to be so nice. Take your meds.</span></div>
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-27465636346727555292012-05-11T10:15:00.000-07:002012-06-11T12:45:39.185-07:00People<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Most people who know me will vouch that I'm a social butterfly. I like to be out and about whenever possible. And when you're flitting around as much as I am, you're bound to witness a whole lot of human interaction. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now, for the most part, I would like to think that people as a whole are kind, caring, and decent. I see the good things that people do for one another. One day I might witness a woman offering to help an elderly man across the street, another, I may see a man offering up directions to a woman who is obviously lost. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">But there are also a lot of ugly people in the world, too. Hateful people. The kind of people that normal people (like you and I) don't really understand.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">H</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">ate - the kind of hate that chills you to your core - the stuff you see in the local news <em>every single day.</em> The troubled teen who kills his neighbor’s entire family; the withdrawn middle-aged man who tortures then kills teenage girls; the clinically depressed woman who drowns her own children in a bathtub. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Obviously, these are the <em>worst-case</em> scenarios but unfortunately, we hear about these horrific circumstances way more often then the good ones.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When I think about all of these outrageous things that are constantly happening around us, I have to consider the less obvious ways that we are hateful to one another. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Perhaps our incessant use of social media and the bombardment of never-ending technology has made us a little...cold. But ha</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">ve you ever stopped to think about the less extreme acts of hate? The stuff that you don't necessarily see on the news, but that happens right smack dab in front of you? I know you've witnessed at least one idiot screaming at the person behind the Customer Service desk while waiting to check-in at the airport, or while ordering an espresso at Starbucks. I've seen the malicious ways that people treat one another for no apparent reason. Maybe it's out of sheer frustration or maybe it's an ego thing. Or perhaps s</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">ome people just have a false sense of entitlement - those who feel like the rest of the population owes them something – and it’s usually more that what the rest of us are getting. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia;">There are days that I can picture that rude customer from earlier in the day going home later that night and plopping his/her butt on the couch, calling up a friend and spouting off something like:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It was so ridiculous that the airlines bumped my flight back a whole hour. I mean, seriously. You should have heard me. I really laid into the bitch at the desk, too. I wish you could have seen the look on her face. I made her look soooo stupid.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now, I can say with absolute confidence that you just made yourself look ignorant. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">If you really want to get what you want, I would like to think that most people would recognize and understand that you have to be <em>nice </em>to the person that you're making such demands to. After all, they're the ones that are holding the cards to your fate at that moment in time. Sugar catches more flies than vinegar. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When someone screams at me, it only makes me want to give them absolutely nothing: </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia;"><em>You want an apple, you say? Well guess what? You're an obnoxious, self-centered egotistical, nit-wit and you’re definitely getting an orange. Now, would you like me to schedule surgery so you can have that stick removed?</em></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The next time you feel the urge to scream at someone who is simply trying to help you, try to remember one thing: you never know what the person that you're screaming at (like your misbehaved toddler) might be going through. Perhaps he/she has just lost a loved one - or has just been diagnosed with incurable cancer - or has maybe has just come back to work after suffering a massive heart attack (jeez, go easy on the poor guy or you might give him another!). </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia;">Don't get me wrong, I most <em>certainly </em>have my moments. There are days that it takes a <em>great deal</em> of strength to just step back, and just take a few breaths....<em>Woosah.</em> But I have also found that being nice doesn't require that much more of an effort than being rude or indifferent to someone you don't know.</span></div>SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-28506405443945533842012-04-13T13:20:00.000-07:002012-06-11T12:41:18.620-07:00Cell Phone Drivers: BEWARE!<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I'm here to talk about cell phone usage. And I'm not talking about my Verizon data plan. I'm talking about the nine out of every ten drivers that I see on the road that are either talking on their cell phone or texting (or Tweeting...or Facebooking...or Pinteresting).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I'm all for multi-tasking. I can multi-task with the best of them. But leave that for the work force, shall we? W</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">hen I'm attempting to merge into the passing lane because the jackass in front of me is driving 45 MPH in a 65 MPH, because he's talking on his cell phone, and then I spot ANOTHER ass clown that is texting in the lane that I'm trying to merge into - and not paying a bit of attention - I have a <em>genuine</em> problem with that. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just last week, a brand new sparkly silver BMW nearly ran straight into me, cutting me off at a red light at a three-way intersection downtown and gunning it at 70 MPH. And what do I see as I'm driving through the intersection and slamming on my newly-worked-on brakes? The SuperDouche himself, chatting away on his cell phone - with a cop sitting right there, watching the whole scenario unfold. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And while I do realize that you are THE most important person on the face of the planet, Mr. SuperDouche, I'm really not in the mood to die a painful fiery death today. And I really don't think that my family or my friends would be particularly thrilled at the thought of the police picking my severed body parts up from the pavement in the aftermath of a horrific car accident, simply because YOU couldn't stay off of your phone for a measly three seconds. But because you are sooooo important, I know that YOU just really don't care. Kudos, Mr. SuperDouche. Kudos.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Going forward, I think I'm going to BLAST my car horn at any driver who is on his/her cell phone while operating a vehicle. And </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not talking about a quick "beep." Oh, no, I'm talking about an earth shattering, fully loaded fourty-seven second sounding of my horn that will make any unsuspecting cell-phone-talking driver nearly piss his britches; while </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">making it perfectly clear to him - and everyone around him - that he too - is a SuperDouche. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They make hands-free devices for a reason!! Time to start using them!</span>SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-40701287500219410252012-03-07T12:06:00.013-08:002014-12-05T12:06:06.086-08:00Well, That's Just a Myth<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">However, I read an article online, written by <span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Kari Huus (msnbc.com)</span> in regards to an Atheist billboard that was scheduled to be erected in a heavily Jewish neighborhood of <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">New York City</place></city>, when at the last minute, the owner of the site backed out. The billboard apparently displayed the words:<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-size: 7.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">You know it’s a myth…and you have a choice.</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">That fact that this Atheist group wishes to display their billboard for the entire world to live and breathe isn’t the offensive part. Catholic groups express their thoughts on a pretty regular basis when dealing with sensitive topics like abortion and birth control. And whether you like it or not, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i> people in this country have the right to their own opinion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">For those of you who think otherwise, the First Amendment of the Unites States Constitution states: </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It really isn’t up to me to judge a sect of people that chooses to - or not to - believe in a higher power. After reading the words on the billboard - which were displayed in English and Hebrew - I was most offended by the word, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i>. This little ten word sentence indicates that this group of people <em>knows </em>indefinitely - <em>and beyond a shadow of a doubt</em> - that religion, and God - is a myth. Any given person on trial in a <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">United States</country-region></place> courtroom isn’t given that much certainty!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I see so many people pointing the finger at religious groups for being offensive, ridiculous, overly conservative, and even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">crazed lunatics</i>. But I already know that I have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">choice</i>, so please don’t patronize me by stating the obvious and then try to coerce me into thinking that I don’t.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I chose to believe, because without my faith, I would feel empty inside. My moral compass is founded on what I believe could happen to me after I pass. Call me traditional, call me religious, call me ignorant, call me what you want - but I have lost far too many loved ones to not believe that there is something truly magnificent for them (and me!) on the other side. </span></div>
SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-23712657996362321702012-02-14T12:49:00.000-08:002015-02-14T12:59:56.550-08:00Happy Freakin' V-Day<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Well, it's that time of year again. Valentine's Day. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">The season of love. And over-priced merchandise. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">And even though I'm in a happy and committed relationship <em>now</em>, this "holiday" still gives me a giant case of the ass. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Last year was tragic. My newly-wed brother asked <u>me</u> of all people to run and fetch his delightful little order of a dozen beautiful long-stemmed red roses along with a container of plump, hand-dipped chocolate covered strawberries and place them in their house so that when his newly-wed wife would come home later that day, she would find them sitting on their newly-wed coffee table. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">How romantic!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Yes, my doofus little bother asked his older, lonely, and very single sister to run his Valentine's Day errands for him. SHIT!</em></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em></em><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I walked into Kroger and the place was like a Ringling Brothers production. The floral department was flooded with frantic desperate men, looking to spend their entire savings on marked-up flowers and candy. And of course, they were all shopping at the last possible minute. Typical. All I wanted to do was grab the lovely-dovey crap and get the hell out of there. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Well, that wasn't at all possible. I waited in line for what seemed like an eternity. By the time I finally made my way back to the deli to pick up the stupid strawberries, I was balling my eyes out, and was barely able to muster up the words: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have a pick-up order for Barno</i>. The lady looked at me like I was a two-headed homeless girl begging for spare change. She finally found the order, I ran out of that horrid place as fast as I could, still weeping like an infant. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I never want to re-live that moment ever, <em>ever </em>again. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>So, this Valentine’s Day, my heart goes out to anyone that has ever struggled to get through this ridiculously dumb day. Happy Freakin’ V-Day, people.</em></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SXcD2uq0GWA/UFOKpZUQ04I/AAAAAAAAAN0/hwUwlKI37JE/s1600/dead_roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SXcD2uq0GWA/UFOKpZUQ04I/AAAAAAAAAN0/hwUwlKI37JE/s320/dead_roses.jpg" hea="true" height="239" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">** But, I still love you, Kim E Sherwood! <3</span></span></span></span><br />
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SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-48802812004245573352012-01-10T20:29:00.000-08:002012-01-10T20:29:14.057-08:00The Art of FriendshipThis one is is dedicated to my best friend, Karen.<br />
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I met Karen in the fifth grade at St. Susanna. She transferred in from another school like I had two years prior. We were both kind of the outcasts of our class, and I think that's why we got along as well as we did. I had transferred to St. Susanna in the midst of my third grade year, and it was pretty much a shit show from the word, go. Up until that point, I had attended a much smaller school in the middle of an even smaller country town, that still had <em>nuns</em> teaching and running the school (OMG). Transferring wasn't a pleasant transition for me. To make matters worse, I had a horrible stutter, so every time I so much as opened my mouth to speak in class, I would repeat the same words over and over and over again. At the time, it was so humiliating; it was such an gawky, awkward time in my life. Looking back at all of it, all I can do is laugh at the some of the things that went on then.<br />
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When Karen first arrived to class that fateful day in the fifth grade, we clicked instantly. We hung out in and out of school, never fought, and <em>always </em>had each other backs. Suddenly, all of the other crap that was happening around me really didn’t matter anymore - we had each other to lean on. Oddly enough, we both ended up at Mason after grade school (while all of our other classmates went off to private high schools) and I was just relieved to be attending the same high school as my friend.<br />
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In the middle of my high school high school career, right before my junior year, my parents broke the news to me that we would be moving <em>again</em>, which meant I would have to transfer schools <em>again</em>. Needless to say, I was devastated and extremely nervous about starting another new school. <br />
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Well, I survived (gasp!). In fact, my time at Williamsburg was pretty fantastic. Time went on, and naturally, the two of us eventually got caught up in our own busy lives. New people and new friends arrived, but Karen and I managed to remain close to one another. Even if we weren't constantly talking or hanging out as much as we did in the good ole' days, our friendship continued to grow over the course of the next fifteen years. We we continued to be there for each other; she was there for me during my tough times, and I was there for hers. Karen has helped me through some of my toughest days.<br />
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True friendship is realizing that even if you aren't able to talk to each other for a certain period of time, that a certain unspoken understanding remains; that beautiful security of knowing that you can simply pick up right where you left off - without any explanation or grudges - and laugh and carry on, as if no time had ever gone by. It must come with longevity. I am blessed to have such a fantastic person in my life; she really brings out the very best in me. Oh, and she really makes me laugh. Out loud.SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-11106370244217403522012-01-06T22:25:00.000-08:002012-01-06T22:25:22.212-08:00Ode to the HatersThis one is for all the haters that we've all grown to love...<br />
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Like that stupid girl at the bar that keeps giving you the stink eye from across the room (ewwwww!!!). Or when you just find out that someone you know has just talked some <em>serious </em>smack about you behind your back. Both of these scenarios have happened to me, as I’m sure they have happened you at some point.<br />
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Let's start with scenario one:<br />
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About a year and a half ago, I was out at Pachinko's with some girlfriends for a birthday celebration and this girl that was sitting at the bar in front of where we were standing/drinking/talking/dancing was <em>clearly</em> pissed off that one of my girlfriends was talking to her "man friend". Now keep in mind, at first glance, this chick may have looked as though she was your typical grade a classless bimbo, but this one...<em>this</em> one was super special. This girl had a knack for finding <em>just</em> the right clothes for that pathetic wannabe bad girl look that she was trying so hard to achieve when she reached for those clothes earlier that evening, looked into her precious little mirror, and said to herself, "<em><span style="font-style: normal;">Yep...<em>this</em> is totally the look I'm going for."</span></em> This girl reeked of desperation. She was rockin' a half-priced Charlotte Russe corset (about four sizes too small) accompanied with a sweet pair of knock off designer jeans (muffin top <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">runneth </i>over) and a very interesting blend of mandarin make-up that made Snooki look like an Albino. Yes, the only thing this chick spent any real money on was her buy-one, get-one DD botched boob job, which unfortunately, wasn't getting much support from her ensemble.<br />
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Now, normally, I try not to pay much attention to people like this. The whole point of going out is to have a good time with friends; not to get caught up in all of the drama that certain people like to create in their heads when they're out drinking.<br />
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Like this girl.<br />
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Apparently, sparked with jealousy, the "fashionista" proceeded to whip out her turbo-sized can of Aqua Net hair spray (how the hell did that thing even fit in her purse?) and spray us directly in our faces, all while looking at the mirror behind the bar, watching and smirking and spraying some more. This went on for a full 45 seconds. After she was done, she nonchalantly placed the can on the bar, gave the mirror one last look, and obnoxiously grabbed her crooked boobs. Like this was a normal thing to do in the middle of a crowded bar. <em>Really?</em> <br />
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Now, I didn't say anything, knowing in my heart that if the dumb skank would have had any kind of personality <em>whatsoever</em>, her man friend wouldn't have needed to engage himself in conversation with my group. And I’m not really the type of girl to be blatantly confrontational with strangers. It’s just not my style. But I am the type of girl that may like to engage in occasional secret revenge. So, at some point, I contemplated snatching her beat up iPhone (that she kept leaving at the bar), quickly running to the bathroom to take pictures of my ass, upload them to her Facebook and Twitter accounts, and text them to all of her contacts, BUT I didn't - and I didn't have to. Karma came back to bite her in the ass because later I happily watched as she reached for her bar stool, which "slipped" out from underneath of her and tumbled to the ground with a hard SMACK. Ouch. <br />
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On to scenario two:<br />
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A few weekends ago, a friend called me to tell me that a woman that she met at a Christmas party was talking some pretty serious smack about me. What was truly odd was that I hung out with this person <em>all of one time</em> over a year and a half ago, so I didn't really know her at all. This woman knew things about my personal life that she had to have gone out of her way to seek out. Maybe she had me tailed by a private investigator? Perhaps she had my phone lines tapped? Anyway, if you really think about it, I should have been flattered. Here was this woman, after all of this time, spending her nights at Christmas parties, getting herself all riled up with what I was doing, and I hadn't even so much as batted an eyelash. <br />
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Anyway, my friend "kindly" put the woman back in her place, letting her know - point blank - that she didn't particularly care for the inappropriate things that were being said about me. I really do appreciate the fact that my friend stuck up for me, and I am extremely lucky to have such fantastic people in my life that have my back in times such as these.<br />
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Yes, there really is nothing quite like that feeling of just finding out that someone doesn't like you (*tear*). But one question still plays in my mind: why in the hell did this woman care about what I was doing now, after all of this time? Isn't it time to...I don't know...maybe <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on"><em>move</em></city><em> <state w:st="on">on</state></em></place>...after a certain point? When it comes down to it, either you like me or you don't. And while I will admit that I tend to have a mouth on me and say whatever comes to mind, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yes</i>, that <em>has</em> gotten me into quite a bit of trouble now and again, I'm not going to change for anyone. So if you're a hater, kindly<em> </em>get over it and go find something else to worry about. <br />
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>:-DSuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-90136229477645120952011-12-29T09:19:00.000-08:002011-12-29T09:26:48.702-08:00Ugh...Rude!Kim and I talk quite a bit about the complete lack of consideration that many people tend to have for other people, and quite frankly, it drives us both nuts. This is not only on the road, but out in public (i.e. at restaurants, stores, etc.) After a few conversations that we've had on the subject, I now have a tendency to actually look for the rude things that people do. <br />
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I have composed a list of the top 10 rude-ass things that people do (quite frequently):<br />
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<div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>Not holding the door open for the person behind you, while entering a building. Also be sure to say thank you<em> </em> if someone holds the door open for you. I don't hold the door because I am the door attendant; I do so to be polite!</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>Talking on your cell phone at any restaurant, while in line or while cashing out at a store, or while driving. No, Mr. Douche Bag, I really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t</i> care to hear about your Colonoscopy prep procedures right before I eat my dinner.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>Not getting up and letting an elderly person or pregnant woman sit in you seat while waiting for a table at a restaurant. Get off your fat ass and let them sit! You will appreciate when someone does it for you!</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">4.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span> Speeding up instead of slowing down when someone obviously needs to merge (while driving). You're just an ass if you do this, and clearly deserve to get hit (when you do)!</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">5.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>Asking your server 105 questions about a specific item on the menu and then ordering something completely different instead. Really?</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">6.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>Under-tipping your server or not tipping at all. That poor girl/guy only makes $2.13 an hour. If you can’t afford to tip your server, than stay the hell home already. Or serve for a month, and see how you like it.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">7.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>Incessantly whining about gratuity being included on your bill at comedy clubs. Just to let you know, it’s on there because the cheap asses in # 7 don’t like to tip their servers, and have ruined it for everybody else, so you can thank them for the addition.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">8.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>If someone gives you his/her seat(s) while they are about to leave a crowded bar, <em>THANK </em>him/her.<em> </em>Don’t just look at them like they owed it to you. This is especially true for women that think that men are giving up their seats to hit on them. Trust me, you’re not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>cute, and the guy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> just trying to be nice.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">9.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>If you’re going publicly protest something, make sure you know <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">WHY</i> you’re doing it, and that the reason isn’t just to get on television. Otherwise you’re just really annoying us all.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">10.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>Acknowledge the people that you are riding on an elevator with. Small talk isn’t that painful, and if you don’t say anything, you just look stuck-up.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">I have a feeling that after reading this, you’ll start watching people a little more closely too!</div>SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-30948876122191357152011-12-28T12:54:00.000-08:002012-04-30T06:57:37.602-07:00And That's Life, I Guess<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">As I get older, I miss being that free-spirited, happy-go-lucky kid, with every breath that I take. Let's face it - being a kid was<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> awesome. </span></em>No responsibilities, no worries, no regret... just pure unadulterated freedom from responsibility and uninhibited fun with likeable friends. I would partake in enjoyable activities all day long: I would ride my bike, roller skate, and when I <span style="background-color: white;">got a little</span><span style="background-color: white;"> older</span>, swim at the pool. I would laugh with my friends like there was no tomorrow. And Santa Claus! The thrill of Santa Clause showing up on Christmas Eve, and finding those wonderful gifts under the beautifully lit Christmas tree the next morning; was so very <em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">magical. </span></em>I really don’t think there was anything in the world better than the way I felt at that very moment. I am extremely lucky to have had such a joyful childhood. <br /><br />As a teenager, my biggest concern was whether or not the <em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Delia's</span></em> catalog I was constantly ordering from was going to have my size shoe, or if that cute boy in my art class was finally going to ask me out, already (come on, man!!). I ran track, was really big into theatre and acting, and relentlessly flirted with lots and lots of boys. The days where finding a killer Prom dress seemed to be my biggest worry - and accomplishment. Not to mention, I could eat like I was going to the electric chair and I never had to worry about gaining an ounce. Those really were the days. <br /><br />College finally arrived, and I began to learn what it required to live on my own, was forced to buy things like laundry detergent and stamps (you know, the really fun stuff), and I had to be accountable for, well, um, everything. As a poor college student, I had to live on <span style="background: yellow;"><span style="background-color: white;">Ramen</span></span> Noodles and Pop-Tarts and study incessantly and it was<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> incredible</span></em>! I was a Delta Gamma, so I got to go to things like mixers and parties, and fundraisers, and dances. Some of the best years of my life were had in that first year of college.<br /><br />And now - I'm (gasp!) 31. As in, <em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">THIRTY-ONE YEARS OLD</span></em>. I am an adult. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A real life, bill-paying, condo-fixing, mother-of-two-spoiled-doggies ADULT</i>. I can't even begin to tell you how saying this absolutely blows my mind. I don’t feel 31. Hell, nine times out of ten, I don’t act 31. How in the <em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">hell</span></em> did I get to be in my 30's?! I go to work every day, deal with butt head complainers on a regular basis, have lots and LOTS of responsibilities - and even more bills. <em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">BILLS</span></em>. Ugh, might I add that paying bills is a completely <em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">unfair</span></em> (and tedious<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">)</span></em> task? It seems like there was always something that needs to be paid off or even more, repaired, and certainly at a price to me. Car repairs, home repairs, doctor bills, vet bills. I can't imagine how expensive having kids will be (and may I say, <em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">kudos</span></em> to the parents out there working to make ends meet, just to keep their kids clothed and fed and in basketball/soccer/cheerleading/football, 'cause there is certainly nothing is cheap about any of that). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I will tell you that when I turned 30, this uncontrollable feeling of impending doom suddenly took over my once happy demeanor. Oh, and the little things – things that I hadn't really given much thought before - suddenly became life-threatening: </span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Oh no, could that skipping heart beat possibly be heart disease? Wait, could that constant dry cough be lung cancer? And hold on, what the hell is with all of these lines, wait are those…WRINKLES?! SHIT, maybe I SHOULD have listened to my mother and put on more sunscreen after all, instead of just telling her I did. OK, what's with that spot on my arm?? Could that be skin cancer?? Oh, thank God it's just an age spot. Wait, Doctor, did you just say I have an AGE SPOT? Seriously??? </span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I will honestly but regretfully say that I have been to the doctor more times since I turned 30 than <span style="background-color: white;">Heidi </span><span style="background: yellow;"><span style="background-color: white;">Montag</span></span> with all of her plastic surgeries. It's absurd, really. It's amazing what turning 30 can do to a poor girl. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<br /><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The whole idea of aging and growing up just makes me ponder the more profound questions in life. These questions go through my mind quite a bit now, especially when I see horrific things happening in our world today. I worry about things that I cannot control - I wonder why we are here and what our true purpose is. I also question why life flies by so damn quickly. This is especially the case when I am driving in my car for some reason; my mind has a tendency to wonder at that time. I have to wonder, is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everyone</i> like this? Does everyone worry about the things that they can’t change also? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I will be the first to admit that I am <em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">terrified</span></em> of death. I'm even more terrified of losing the people in my life that mean so much to me. I lost my cousin - my best friend - my partner in crime - when I was barely out of high school and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wonder why on earth God could take such a good person (kid, that is) away, and why she didn’t get to grow up and experience the things that I was able to experience over the course of the past 12 years. None of it makes any sense to me. Maybe in the "end", I will finally get to see why.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Time goes back quicker now than it ever did when I was younger, when I spent so much of my energy wishing to grow up. I let it all slip right by me. I don't know that I ever really appreciated being so young and carefree. I will say, that now, everyday, I sure as hell try to appreciate what’s right in front of me. Everyday is truly a blessing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">And that's life, I guess.</span>SuperShannonBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082874435494585314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780994852934000987.post-41369616285175042542011-08-19T12:46:00.000-07:002012-10-19T12:47:16.733-07:00I Bet You Think This Blog is About You, Don't You?<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Let’s face it – dating today is not what normal people would call fun. It's a total pain in the ars. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">I remember when I was younger, I loved, loved, LOVED to date! It was all so exciting to sit at home and paint my nails with my girlfriends while we talked about boys and read gossip mags and waited for them to call us at home and ask us on…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gasp</i>…a real date! Or even the mere anticipation of coming home and checking your messages on your answering machine, and finding that the one that you'd had your eye on, had actually called you and left you a message. Oh, the butterflies! The excitement! The stories! Ahhhh, I <em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">loved</span></em> that feeling!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Things aren’t so simple anymore. Maybe it's getting older, or maybe it's society, but dating today is like some sort of torture. Quite honestly, I would rather have a rectal exam.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Dating when I was younger was long before the days that we were suddenly overloaded with technology and Internet and cell phones. Advanced technology is the root of all dating evil today. Texting can be done quite sneakily, and another girl can send a racy picture to your boyfriend in less than 20 seconds. One of my girlfriends told me that, literally, right in front of her, her boyfriend received a completely nude picture from one of his many bimbo female friends. This girl not only sent the picture of her new boob purchase to him, but to <em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">every single guy</span></em> in her contacts list. I mean, how is any normal woman supposed to compete with that?! There are a lot of crazies out there. Actually, an older <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sex and the City</i> episode called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Freak Show</i> comes to mind, when I think about dating in 2011.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Last year was a pretty awkward year for me - I turned 30 and essentially lost my mind. I broke up with my boyfriend, Kim, of almost 5 years, I went out every night, and hung out with a douche bag DUI attorney on a pretty regular basis. I started hanging out with a completely different crowd of people. I changed my hair, lost almost 25 lbs, but I still didn’t know what the<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> hell</span></em> I was doing. All I did know is that I was turning 30, and my life seemed as though it was rapidly dissipating. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Let’s begin with the douche bag lawyer. I shall call him…Nat*. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Nat was a particularly unique and heinous brand of douche bag. Please note that I say, "was" because I no longer converse with him, but I imagine he is still just as ridiculous now, as he ever was. I see his Facebook posts now and again and I can't help but laugh. He is way beyond completely full of shit.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">When I first met Nat, I knew he was the way he was. I knew he was special. I knew that he was notorious for preying on married and other unavailable women. It was a game to him. Remember a young fellow by the name of Sebastian from, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cruel Intentions</i>? Yes, Nat wasn't too far behind Sebastian. Nat would use women and then throw them away like last month’s issue of Cosmo. Nat was a pig. Oink. But Nat <em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">never </span></em>had any problems finding self-deprecating, insecure women to fill the gaps in between all of the other women he was “seeing” that particular moment. I say, “seeing,” because Nat wasn’t really a “dating” kind of guy. He did, however, “hang out” with the women that he slept with from time to time. He usually categorized his hangout ladies by the days of the week: Keri on Mondays, Cathy on Tuesdays, Becky on Wednesdays, Robin on Thursdays, and so on and so forth, changing his women every month or so (brilliant, really - less confusion that way). </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Even knowing all of this, I somehow fell face first into Nat’s trap. His life somehow seemed intriging, and maybe almost a little glam. Now, please - don't judge me - I am <em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">not</span></em> a stupid girl! I have always been exceptionally smart when it came to men. I have always followed all of the rules when it came to dating and men: don't be too clingy, always play hard to get, never, ever, get overly jealous, blah, blah blah. Nat managed to ruin all of that, and turn me into an insane, jealous, overbearing pushover. Oh, he was good. He was real good. I fell for his lies and I gave him the benefit of the doubt. But even though I kind of liked him, I <em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">never </span></em>trusted him, and rightfully so. He wanted to be able to do whatever he wanted with other women but freaked out on me when he found out that I was talking to other men. Why wouldn't I be? I just got out of the longest relationship I have <em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">ever</span></em> been in! Not to mention, I was never completely certain that I should have ended that relationship to begin with! I loathed myself on a daily basis and was vey sad that I broke up with a man that made me happy from the very beginning an potentially ruined the rest of my life. Something was missing, and I knew the whole time all of this crap was going on that it was Kim.</span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">At one point, I made the decision to once and for all, rid myself of all of bullshit, so I stopped calling and texting Nat altogether. But it wasn't easy. He was charming, you see. I knew he was seeing a new girl and of course I was a little hurt by all of that, but I just couldn't be the side show freak anymore. But anytime I would back off and try to get away from the little insect, he would sneak up behind me and, POW! He would suck me right back in. This went on for <em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">months.</span></em> If he was feeling neglected by his new girl, he would get ahold of me and would act like he was interested in me again. Nat loved the idea of winning me back only to hurt me again. Finally, I really did call it quits, once and for all. It took awhile, but I finally did it, and It was the best thing I could have done, because Nat was poison. Toxic. Now he is someone else's problem. <em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Thank God</span></em>. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Nat was single-handedly the biggest mistake of my life. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Or was he?</span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">Looking back on this shit-show disaster of a situation, I might have never figured out what I really wanted. Kim and I got back together after almost a year of being separated and we are actually better and happier now than we were before everything fell apart. We both fought it for the longest time, and then finally realized that we really were made<span style="background: white;"> for </span>each other. So, in hindsight, I have to look at the situation as a blessing, not as a moment of sheer insanity on my part. I've have a pretty hard time forgiving myself for everything that has happened in that time period. But maybe everything really does happen for a reason. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia;">* Name is fictional.</span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Shannon Barno</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: x-small;">August 17, 2011</span></div>
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