<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539</id><updated>2012-02-04T20:45:18.461-08:00</updated><category term='myspace'/><title type='text'>Blognosity</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>84</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8639572817290650259</id><published>2008-08-06T17:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T17:46:48.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Car Sleep</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_uHz5k4l5Oy0/RmnqinXK6AI/AAAAAAAAA1c/yKYAnpUCxzE/IMG_0816.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 106px; height: 143px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_uHz5k4l5Oy0/RmnqinXK6AI/AAAAAAAAA1c/yKYAnpUCxzE/IMG_0816.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We all do it. I have such a love/hate for it. I am super bored in the car, so OK I will try to go to sleep. Then I realize that I cannot sleep without opening my mouth. I, for some reason, hate that. You look stupid sleeping that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8639572817290650259?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8639572817290650259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8639572817290650259&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8639572817290650259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8639572817290650259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/08/car-sleep.html' title='Car Sleep'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/_uHz5k4l5Oy0/RmnqinXK6AI/AAAAAAAAA1c/yKYAnpUCxzE/s72-c/IMG_0816.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-5616957717161093791</id><published>2008-08-06T17:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T17:42:15.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"That's what she said" Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://l.yimg.com/img.tv.yahoo.com/tv/us/img/site/75/01/0000007501_20060920143802.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 169px;" src="http://l.yimg.com/img.tv.yahoo.com/tv/us/img/site/75/01/0000007501_20060920143802.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I feel enough time has gone by that I think in certain situations it could still be funny. Before I only thought Michael Scott could say it for me to approve. Now, I think it has aged in such a way to the point where I find the humor in it. I look at it the same way I view the word "phat." Its old enough to use again. I have come to realize that that is my main problem in life. I cannot stop using things that have aged and are sort of weird to say in 2008. I say them. I say even say "peace out." The problem lies when I meet new people. I do not stop the weird language. Sometimes people get freaked out. But they are stupid anyways because obviously I am joking and obviously they are idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go on and if someone says, "Put it in!" please, be my guest, just say it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-5616957717161093791?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/5616957717161093791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=5616957717161093791&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5616957717161093791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5616957717161093791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/08/thats-what-she-said-update.html' title='&quot;That&apos;s what she said&quot; Update'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8448597926240551952</id><published>2008-08-06T17:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T17:31:16.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Cupid</title><content type='html'>need love? &lt;a href="http://www.bigcupid.com"&gt;check it out.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8448597926240551952?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8448597926240551952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8448597926240551952&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8448597926240551952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8448597926240551952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/08/big-cupid.html' title='Big Cupid'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8187341764830177797</id><published>2008-08-03T16:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T17:08:00.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Living Alone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.inlightenimages.com/Boredom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.inlightenimages.com/Boredom.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I recently got an apartment of my own. By recently, I mean I have been living here for roughly about 45 minutes. From this experience, I have come to the conclusion that its quite boring. I unloaded my bags from Target. That took about 10 minutes. Then I made oatmeal in a leftover gladware container left by the previous owners, microwaved it and then realized I did not get utensils yet. Eating oatmeal from a straw is dumb and weird. Now I am contemplating a nap. I understand there are perks to living alone but I also now know that its completely boring. Especially when its completely bare from furniture or any form of entertainment. Stealing the internet from the neighbors is the best thing that has happened thus far on my journey of living alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8187341764830177797?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8187341764830177797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8187341764830177797&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8187341764830177797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8187341764830177797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/08/living-alone.html' title='Living Alone'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-662014737627732066</id><published>2008-08-03T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T16:57:22.267-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello again, world</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://kimandjason.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/celebrate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://kimandjason.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/celebrate.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ok. So, I am back. Due to recent popularity of my blog, I decided that I needed to put a stronger effort towards making the best blog that my long fingers could type. The best blog in buffalo 2009, if you will. Topics were running low and I knew I needed more. I decided to travel the world to expand my mind, body, and soul so that my blog topics would become virtually endless. I went to London, NYC, Stockholm, Mexico, Newark, Paris, Rome, Grove City, Barcelona, etc. I rammed around the world to enhance my blog. So to all of you who suffered long work days refreshing this page over and over only to never find a change; worry no more. I did this for my fans. I did this for Best of ArtVoice 2009. Most importantly, I did this for you. So, please, sit back, relax and get ready for a new set of blogs to come your way.&lt;br /&gt;A hug,&lt;br /&gt;Roxyjme&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-662014737627732066?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/662014737627732066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=662014737627732066&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/662014737627732066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/662014737627732066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/08/hello-again-world.html' title='Hello again, world'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6728939355584246503</id><published>2008-04-16T11:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T11:55:15.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"That's what she said"</title><content type='html'>enough already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6728939355584246503?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6728939355584246503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6728939355584246503&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6728939355584246503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6728939355584246503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/04/thats-what-she-said.html' title='&quot;That&apos;s what she said&quot;'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7555431001847802199</id><published>2008-04-16T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T11:50:43.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sacredbalancing.com/Living%20as%20Joy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.sacredbalancing.com/Living%20as%20Joy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its hard to update blogs all the time. But I started the bloggers lifestyle, so it's my duty to keep updating it. Just do not hate me for not always updating it because its not always easy. I don't have google analytics for goodness sake. Is it weird to say "oh my goodness"? I think its nice. Should the ? go inside the quotes? I feel like it shouldn't so I didn't but I'm really not sure. I did not major in English. I did however get the Most Improvement Award (The Gammerman Award) last semester in my writing class. I got it because I did not care about the class and had other homework to do when the first assignment was due and I was aware that we could always resubmit the paper for a regrade. So i turned in a 40% paper. I was expecting more of a 10% but what did I care? I could resubmit it! Anyways by the end of the semester it was an A paper, hence the biggest improvement in the class. lol. I have a certificate to show you. I could care less about certificates. They are so lame. But I mean, it's nice. They are trying to be nice. and I see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope that no one hates me for not updating my blog. I'm sorry for being busy. In a really short time (12 days!), my college life will be complete and I will have nothing to do for a few months. I will sleep the majority of it. But the times I am awake I will blog my life away. I will also play some basketball. Hopefully racquetball. Maybe poker. Maybe bake some cupcakes for my friends. Maybe get a makeover. I dunno. The usual. But just understand that school is taking over my life and blogs will come in the near future. I do not know what else will come in the future. Hopefully new technologies. Like drive through grocery shopping. I think that is such a good idea. Order online. It tells you to pick it up in 30 min or whatever. Then you drive up. I did watch this weird thing on youtube about new technologies too. They are going to connect all Flickr photos so viewing the world will constantly be updated every second. It's hard to explain, but really cool. But ya, I'll blog soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7555431001847802199?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7555431001847802199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7555431001847802199&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7555431001847802199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7555431001847802199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/04/updates.html' title='Updates'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7151536165631960898</id><published>2008-03-19T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T11:55:51.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jerks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00376/charley1_280_376645a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 126px; height: 206px;" src="http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00376/charley1_280_376645a.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It has come to my attention that I have major mixed feelings about rude people. Rude people meaning a dick or a bitch. I realized that I kind of like these people and I also kind of hate these people. Please let me elaborate. When a man is a dick to stupid bitches, I think he is funny. When he is a dick to me, he deserves death. When a bitch is annoying, I will hate her. When a bitch is rude to other people for me so I do not have to be, I like her a lot. When a bitch is not just a bitch but a stupid bitch, I would prefer she did not exist. When a bitch or dick do mean things just to be mean, I do not like them. See, this is complicated. I guess what I am trying to say is that a dick/bitch can be rude to other dicks/bitches and I am ok with it. More than ok, I encourage it, mainly for my humor and that they deserve it. It's nice to find the good in everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7151536165631960898?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7151536165631960898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7151536165631960898&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7151536165631960898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7151536165631960898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/03/jerks.html' title='Jerks'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7342096046189545386</id><published>2008-03-19T12:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T12:40:49.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colors</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://realcolorwheel.com/colorwheel.htg/Real_Color_Wheel_475.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://realcolorwheel.com/colorwheel.htg/Real_Color_Wheel_475.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am annoyed that you can only wear certain colors at certain times. I feel like I cannot wear red and green unless its around Christmas time. This annoys me. I want to wear red and green more than one little season. It is not fair that Christmas claimed those colors. It makes me bitter towards the season of giving.&lt;br /&gt;Currently, its a few days after St. Patty's day. I have a green coat. Now it feels a little awkward to wear because people just think in their heads that I'm a little late on wearing it. And, omg, I just realized that on March 18th everyone probably thought I was a huge sl*t because you always think that when you see a girl walking in the afternoon with something that she should have been wearing last night.&lt;br /&gt;Of course I wore the coat on March 17th and of course someone said something. "Oooh! so festive!!" I just want to get decked out in green when its not St. Pattys day. I just want to wear red, white, and blue without having too much pride. I just want to wear orange and black when its not Halloween. LoL I don't really care about those two colors together. But I do just hate associations. I can't wear yellow and black without thinking of a bee. Thank goodness I don't know anything about sports teams. If you are into sports, how do you wear colors? Every color you wear you would be supporting some team. Gross. But we all need to wear a little color sometimes. You can't always wear black or your parents will think you went goth. I guess what I am trying to say is that you shouldn't be racist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7342096046189545386?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7342096046189545386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7342096046189545386&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7342096046189545386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7342096046189545386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/03/colors.html' title='Colors'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-104632051686572024</id><published>2008-03-19T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T12:26:01.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird People</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.truffleshuffle.co.uk/store/images/thumb_cache/Tweety_Blonde-34T_300_340.90909090909_88.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.truffleshuffle.co.uk/store/images/thumb_cache/Tweety_Blonde-34T_300_340.90909090909_88.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;talks to him/herself. doesn't seem to know they have hair. eyes never seem to be looking in right direction. pant length confusion. own little world. scrunchies. transition lenses. frizzy/greasy hair. balding in weird places. overly intrigued by science.  sports Pooh gear. likes egg salad. acne. rarely uses cell phone or does not have one. never wore make up. concerned about animals/environment. exceptional computer skills. spends saturday night either: surfing the internet, watching weird tv stations, experimenting with cat, or creating a bomb. weird weight. band aids. owns a reptile. pasty. wears free tshirts. wakes up a little too early. lacks all types of social skills. coordinationless. really nice unless too angered by how cruel the world has treated them. dancing is optional but in no way sexy/good. farts freely. obsessed with some musical. fantasizes about life with person they never spoke to. weird parents. does not party due to either lack on invite or lack of social skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its weird to be normal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-104632051686572024?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/104632051686572024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=104632051686572024&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/104632051686572024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/104632051686572024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/03/weird-people.html' title='Weird People'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-9174903972617356465</id><published>2008-03-14T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T22:48:15.915-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='myspace'/><title type='text'>Top 8</title><content type='html'>Ok, actually I will talk about your top 8 on myspace. Such a dramatic situation. There are several roles that one can play when referring to your Top 8. You are usually one of the following:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.beloblog.com/ProJo_Blogs/shenews/tom%20friends-400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.beloblog.com/ProJo_Blogs/shenews/tom%20friends-400.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The Mysterious Myspacer: You are the one that uses the code to hide your top 8. Clever. You stay out of drama. You try to not take myspace too seriously. Kudos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Change-Top 8-Allthetimer: You are tricky. One day I am in the top row, the next I'm closer to the middle. Make up your mind! I am glad to be on your myspace, but I question what I did to keep moving down. And why do you like "Kristen" more than me sometimes? She is annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Top Million Spacer: You have the max top friends that you can have. Why? It is kind of weird and annoying to see that many people. I understand you are super popular and have too many friends to decide who to chop off, but come on. It's a little much. And the people that did not make your top million must feel pretty crappy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pretend That Order Doesn't Matterer: Oh, please. You thought a little bit about it because your bestest friend is first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Good Spacer: You have achieved perfection to your myspace page. You have your bestest friends layed out perfectly on your Top 8-12. You are stable in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Top Bands Spacer: You have drama in your life. You cannot choose your top 8 so you hide behind it by filling it with bands instead. Sure, its a good way to get rid of your ex, but we all know that is why you did that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Never Change Iter: You can't move on. You know the person should not be on your myspace anymore because you have not talked to that person in a really long time, but it would be weird to change it. Or the Never Change Iter could also just be someone that is not that into myspace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Still Has Tom on Top 8er: You really could care less about who you have on your top 8. Or you are pretty funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the 8 kinds of top 8 people that myspace produces. Which one are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-9174903972617356465?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/9174903972617356465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=9174903972617356465&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9174903972617356465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9174903972617356465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/03/top-8.html' title='Top 8'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-2103422125127127996</id><published>2008-03-14T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T14:52:55.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deleting Friends</title><content type='html'>SUCH A BIG DEAL. To friend someone is not a big deal. I mean, I have ignored several people since I have started my facebook/myspace accounts, but I truly have to not know the person at all to be so rude as to ignore their friendship. Even if I met a person once and they friend me, ok, a little weird, but I will still accept  this &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://jeffreykishner.com/images/myspace-delete-friend.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 120px;" src="http://jeffreykishner.com/images/myspace-delete-friend.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;internet relationship that we are starting. I always wanted to friend a man that I met once and then when he accepts it, put "it a relationship with" him. I think it would be so funny and creepy. But I can't get myself to do something that creepy.&lt;br /&gt;Last year, I was browsing around on facebook only to discover that my former friend from high school DEFRIENDED me! What a jerk. What did I ever do to him? And the only reason I discovered it was because I was going to post something nice and funny on his wall! Omfg, what a jerk. Then I saw him in real life. He was nice to me! But all I could think about was how he actually took the time to find my name and press "remove friend." It is weird how such a dumb little thing means a lot. Do not even get my started on Top 8 drama.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-2103422125127127996?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/2103422125127127996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=2103422125127127996&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2103422125127127996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2103422125127127996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/03/deleting-friends.html' title='Deleting Friends'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7972227899065898325</id><published>2008-02-19T18:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T19:08:31.055-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gauntlet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.vaguespace.net/blog/images/thm_bad_ct_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.vaguespace.net/blog/images/thm_bad_ct_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Do you know about the Gauntlet? Those MTV Real World vs Road Rules challenge thingys. I'll admit, I like watching them. Something about annoying bitches and extremely large muscley men duking it out amuses me. It just really confuses me. The people turn into animals. They are no longer humans. They are heartless f*cks that should be really embarrassed that they are actually doing this. I understand money is cool and its fun to win, but to make yourself seem like a weird psycho bitch to the entire world, makes the money not so tempting. On the contrary, I would be awesome at all of the challenges. I am pretty sure I would win everything. I know I could beat Coral. But Ok, I'm only admitting to beating the girls. Cause they are really all whiney stupid bitches. Or just a bitch. Or just stupid. But the guys on the other hand. I would lose every challege. I just do not understand where these men exist. They are all over 6'million" and over 220 lbs of muscle. The only guys I see would be pushing it if they said they weighed 145 lbs regardless of how tall they are. Its fine to be a skinny, real normal, mostly because 'roid ragers are real weird. But it just makes MTV real mean because they are not showing the other 99% of the type of people in this world. Real World should be called Unreal Man Bodies and Extreme-super Bitch show.  Ok well, I have been to the gym. I have seen some guys over 145lbs. But they are mostly fat. Fat and muscley. Or maybe I should search more in a frat house for this type of male. But then, I do not want to search for this because if I ever found a man that is that annoying and in love with himself and that loud when he gets mad, I would hate him with my whole heart.&lt;br /&gt;But I will continue to watch these fake people do extreme things and cry and fight and drink.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7972227899065898325?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7972227899065898325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7972227899065898325&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7972227899065898325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7972227899065898325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/02/gauntlet.html' title='The Gauntlet'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-3154323007658509658</id><published>2008-02-13T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T10:06:16.139-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Locker Room Nudity</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lbhf.gov.uk/Directory/Links/Apps/Filming/locations/Adult%20Education/Sands%20End%20Community%20Centre/images/Showers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lbhf.gov.uk/Directory/Links/Apps/Filming/locations/Adult%20Education/Sands%20End%20Community%20Centre/images/Showers.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is really getting to me. It is so gross. The only nude people are the grossest ones. Regardless of if you are gross looking or not, please refrain from this! It's always gross.&lt;br /&gt;Today I am writing about this blog topic because I was outraged by the nudity I witnessed. I go into the locker room and prepare for a shower. I hate taking showers there, but due to my schedule I am forced to shower in these sick showers. The showers are set up with personal showers on the end and community showers in the middle. WHY WOULD YOU USE THE OPEN COMMUNITY SHOWER IF THERE ARE PRIVATE ONES OPEN? The saggiest/sickest old lady chose community. I would have given her the death glare to let her know that know one needs that, but I immediately put my head down and headed straight for my own shower. I understand that we are all girls. Ok, ya I get it. But you are gross looking. This is not Europe. I feel uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;I am just really confused. My biggest concern is why. As I was walking to my locker there is this girl standing in front of her locker brushing her hair, NAKED. WHY????????????? Your clothes are right next to you!!!!!!! PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON FIRST YOU NAKED FREAK. Today I also witnessed a lady walking towards the showers naked with her towel in her hand. OMG just wear the towel. WHY CANT YOU JUST WEAR THE TOWEL?! I just do not get it. I guess the locker room is just everyones chance to be free. I do not want to be apart of it. I just want to change my clothes as fast as I can with no one seeing me. I do not think I am weird. I think it is very normal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-3154323007658509658?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/3154323007658509658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=3154323007658509658&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3154323007658509658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3154323007658509658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/02/locker-room-nudity.html' title='Locker Room Nudity'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-9074088304495468256</id><published>2008-02-06T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T20:31:19.169-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Morning</title><content type='html'>Ughhh. Kill me. That is usually my first thought after the 5th snooze. Snooze is stressful to me. I know I need to get up, but I cannot. I just cannot. So I snooze. It's the most uncomfortable 5 minutes ever. If I sleep during the snooze the sleep seems like I just blinked and then I hear that horrible noise right away. Or, if I can't physically get up, but I also cannot fully sleep, I just am in my bed waiting to hear the horrible noise. Ew, it's so miserable. I believe that the world would be 10 times happier if we banned alarms. Just wake up when you feel like it. Ok, things would be a lot less productive, but I have time. I can wait. If I become CEO of a company, I am going to have a few policies. Come to work when you wake up. Stay until you cannot really use your brain anymore (expected ~ 1.5 hours). Fridays: off. No one is productive on Fridays. Naps: optional. Everyone would be so nice! If you have ever worked in an office, you know that people are actually doing the work they need to be doing about 5 to 20% of the day. Why force someone to stay longer? It just makes everyone grumpy.&lt;br /&gt;The only morning I ever liked in my life was Christmas. The first year I slept in for Christmas was weird. It's when I knew I was a woman and not a girl. JK, I have never thought that. But regardless, it was weird. I could wait to open gifts? I'm so mature! But the gift of sleep has become much more important to me these days. I would sleep 14 hours a day if I could. I would be happy.  I know I would actually be crabby when I would be awake because when you oversleep you get tired too which completely does not make sense to me but ok I would be&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://baby.lovetoknow.com/wiki/images/Baby/thumb/1/1a/Newborn_sleep.jpg/300px-Newborn_sleep.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://baby.lovetoknow.com/wiki/images/Baby/thumb/1/1a/Newborn_sleep.jpg/300px-Newborn_sleep.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; crabby but then I would think about how much sleep I just had and inside I would be all fuzzy and happy but crabby outside.&lt;br /&gt;It physically hurts me to speak 20 minutes after I get out of my bed. DONT MAKE ME SAY GOOD MORNING TO YOU. I give my roommates the "Goodmorning" eye, but they don't get it. They want the words. Too painful. The "goodmorning" eye turns into a death glare and I head straight to the bathroom. Can't help it. The morning is a terrible time. It's usually a dreaded day ahead of me which just makes it all the worse. But even if its an awesome day to be excited for, when I'm in my bed, I do not want to get out. No, never. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;I recently had to be at the airport for this silly internship I am doing. I have to reduce the wait time of the morning check-in lines. I have to be there at 3:30AM. This is no joke. If it was a joke, it would be the cruelest joke in the entire world. So anyways, it was real and I kept a journal of my first day at work:&lt;br /&gt;3:25 - Arrived&lt;br /&gt;3:26 - No coffee available, thought otherwise when arriving. Regret not stopping at Tim Hortons.&lt;br /&gt;3:30 - Want to take a nap&lt;br /&gt;3:33 - No one really here. Kind of weird.&lt;br /&gt;3:40 - Noah and I observe the TSA staff coming in.&lt;br /&gt;3:47 - We decide that we are going to come in at 4:00AM for the future Mondays.&lt;br /&gt;3:48 - Coffee still unavailable. Eyes drooping.&lt;br /&gt;4:04 - Lights come on. Things are picking up.&lt;br /&gt;4:09 - Coffee place lights come on. A little hopeful.&lt;br /&gt;4:12 - Stand up to get come energy&lt;br /&gt;4: 13 - Did not work&lt;br /&gt;4:15 - Eat apple that brought for lunch for energy&lt;br /&gt;4:22 - Walked around again. Obtained no information.&lt;br /&gt;4:27 - Getting busy.&lt;br /&gt;4:28 - Still no coffee. Confused/tired&lt;br /&gt;4:35 - Coffee man behind counter. Still not open. Fake out.&lt;br /&gt;4:40 - Noah and I were productive for 3 minutes!!&lt;br /&gt;4:43 - Starting to get looks from workers.&lt;br /&gt;4:53 - WTF!!! No coffee. Feeling hopeless.&lt;br /&gt;4: 59 - Coffee open! Feeling alright.&lt;br /&gt;5:00 - $3.48 for Large coffee and apple.&lt;br /&gt;5:01 - Annoyed. Put 4 sugar packets in.&lt;br /&gt;5:02 - Forgot I was supposed to meet lady at 5:00. She was waiting for me. Already messed up.&lt;br /&gt;5:20 - Met 2 nice ladies.&lt;br /&gt;5:25 - Huge lines. Where did they come from?&lt;br /&gt;5:43 - Realize there is no solution to making the wait time shorter.&lt;br /&gt;5:44 - Project: Screwed&lt;br /&gt;5:46 - Observed 3 people &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wearing &lt;/span&gt;head pillows in line. Weird.&lt;br /&gt;5:55 - Heard someone say this time was early. Body hurt with anger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got too tired to write anymore for the rest of my time spent there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things:&lt;br /&gt;I would be upset for 3 days if someone woke me up by pouring cold water on me.&lt;br /&gt;I would like my little cousins 20 times more if they did not find such joy at waking me up at 8:00AM every time they come to visit.&lt;br /&gt;2 hour delays in high school were the best things ever. Sleep in. School is obviously not productive and you never have to make up the day of. Jack pot.&lt;br /&gt;How long do you have to sleep to get morning breath?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. But I do find it weird that my favorite and least favorite times are spent in the same place. I am happiest now because I am about to sleep. I am most miserable in the same spot, but listening to my alarm ring.&lt;br /&gt;What a world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-9074088304495468256?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/9074088304495468256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=9074088304495468256&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9074088304495468256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9074088304495468256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/02/morning.html' title='The Morning'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-752279210496080878</id><published>2008-01-27T11:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T13:52:14.917-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tea</title><content type='html'>I love tea. Never did I ever until this past month. Now, I am obsessed. I feel like it is cleansing my soul and keeping me awake at the same time! I also have sleepy tea. It does not make me sleepy. I believe it is a mind trick and if I believe it makes me sleepy then I would get sleepy. But I did not let my mind work its powerful magic and I stayed up for 3 hours after I chugged my sleepy tea down.&lt;br /&gt;Sad story: Yesterday, I went to Spot Coffee and ordered Pink Grapefruit Green Tea!!! So good! So hot though. We sat on the couch. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.amgmedia.com/freephotos/tea_cup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.amgmedia.com/freephotos/tea_cup.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then my friend came to join us so we had to move over to make room. My friends currently sitting on the couch had no consideration for the scolding hot tea on my lap and decided to make room for my other friend real quick and moved around real fast causing my tea to pour all over my pants. It hurt. I wanted to scream. I was in a public area so I was able to restrain my scream by making the saddest frown I could for several minutes.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of getting burned. At the age of 4, I did not understand why the coils turned red on the stove when my mother made me Ramen noodles. When she took the pan off, I rested my entire palm including fingers on the red coils. I was real blistery and had to draw a cat in preschool with my left hand. I sucked at it, so my BFF helped me draw it. She drew the whiskers all wrong and I was pissed.&lt;br /&gt;Back to Spot. Before all the chaos happened with the huge spillage on my legs, I had another incident before. As I was ordering, the worker asked me what my plans for the evening were so he could have a quick convo with me for a nicer tip. My plans for the evening were to attend an art gallery because my friend has some work up at it. Never do I go to art galleries on a Saturday night. Actually, never do I really go to art galleries on any night. I am just not that kind of person. I like art, ok, but plz understand what I mean. But, just like a typical Spot customer, I got my tea and told the worker that I was attending an art gallery.&lt;br /&gt;I felt typical.&lt;br /&gt;I hate feeling typical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cat has a really comfy cat bed and was sleeping on the kitchen floor instead one day. My friend said, "why doesn't Mitch ever sleep in his cat bed?" I said, "Because that would just be too typical."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-752279210496080878?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/752279210496080878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=752279210496080878&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/752279210496080878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/752279210496080878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/01/tea.html' title='Tea'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8875378873060571459</id><published>2008-01-24T11:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T13:16:51.131-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Basketball</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.ehow.com/images/ehows/steps/box_5L.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 189px;" src="http://www.ehow.com/images/ehows/steps/box_5L.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I used to want to play in the WNBA. Why? Ew, I don't know. I was tall. That is basically it. When I was in second grade I was taller than my teacher. Obvz she was insanely short. But she was an actual human and I was actually taller than her (we went back to back). So I figured it was my destiny to play basketball. I joined the team in my community and was pretty awesome. My mom thought I was precious because I smiled for about 10 minutes after every shot I made. But then I reached a point where my game matured and I no longer smiled when I scored. Then one time in third grade, I had the ball and a girl grabbed the ball and we were both holding on tight.&lt;br /&gt;She bit me.&lt;br /&gt;Less out of pain and more out of shock I quickly released the ball and stared at my arm. Bite marks? From a girl? In third grade? What a f*cking weirdo!!!!! I wish I could meet her now. She is probably one of those booger eating outcasts that wears tweety bird tye dye t-shirts, I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;So by the time I got to fifth grade, I felt that basketball was my calling. In 5th grade you can join the junior varsity team at my school. I was the only fifth grader that played in the game and not the fifth quarter. Was this typical to have fifth quarters? I think they were nothing but rude and embarrassing. You sucked if you played in the fifth quarter. I would rather not play than display my suckiness to the world in the fifth quarter. But anyways, I played in the real game. I didn't start or anything, but chill out, I still played. So when we were playing Sacred Heart, I was on the bench chatting my life away with my friends when I hear my coach calling my name to come in! Oh NO! I was not paying attention at all. Zone or Man? Oh shoot. So I quickly ask the girl that I am replacing what is going on. Ok, I am guarding #23. Ok. I go in. I am right under the hoop and somehow the ball is just rolling. I get it. I shoot. A simple layup. I miss. Get the rebound. Shoot. Miss. Shoot. Miss. Shoot. Miss. (please note: all of this is true without exaggeration) Shoot. Miss. "Wait" I think to myself. "Where is everyone?"  Then it hit me. I looked behind me. Everyone was staring at me. I looked at the ref. He was pointing for me to go to the other side. OM&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;F&lt;/span&gt;G! I shot at the wrong hoop. I shot at the wrong hoop a million times and missed each time. I gave the ball to the point guard. Continued for the few minutes remaining.&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;wanted&lt;br /&gt;to&lt;br /&gt;die.&lt;br /&gt;The positive thing that came out of that experience was I used it as my most embarrassing story for the next 5 or so years of my life. I used it until I replaced it with when I fell down an entire flight stairs in my high school as a stupid Freshman and everyone saw and I was bleeding in four places.&lt;br /&gt;Eighth grade. I somehow continued to play basketball even after the mortifying experience. And I was still super good. I did the jump ball and I am pretty sure I did not even jump. Tippy toe and got it every time. That was my goal. Win the jump ball every time. I got MVP. I ruled.&lt;br /&gt;High school. Ok, this is when I realized I am not that good. I made the team but stayed on the bench 24/7. I did not mind it too much cause I liked the other bench warmers. And I was getting to the age where being that manly was kinda grossing me out. The varsity coach came to our practice once and gave us nicknames.&lt;br /&gt;Dancing Bear. He seriously gave me Dancing Bear. WHO CALLS A GIRL A DANCING BEAR!&lt;br /&gt;I somehow continued to play through my sophomore year. It was then that I hit a major milestone. We were playing Mercyhurst, our biggest rivals, and everyone came to watch. We were undefeated. They were undefeated. This game was super important. The game was really intense, but we were super good so we were winning by 8 points near the end of the game. With one minute left, I turn to my teammates on the bench and say, "What if coach put me in now? That would be so mean." We laugh at the thought. Not playing the whole game and then just playing for the last minute. What a pity minute. How embarrassing that would be. But I got a little nervous. They would do something like that. So I watch the clock slowly go down. 30 seconds left. Phew, I am not going in. Good.&lt;br /&gt;Then, with 1.7 seconds left in the game I hear, "JAMIE!" WTF. Why is coach calling my name? I look at her. She yells at me to get in. I give her the deadliest death glare my eyes could produce. "ARE YOU KIDDING?!?!" I respond. "No, GO IN!" Stupid Bitch. I go in for the f*cking 1.7 seconds. I stood there. Holding back tears. We won. I could not have been sadder. I did not try out my junior year. I ended my basketball career.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8875378873060571459?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8875378873060571459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8875378873060571459&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8875378873060571459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8875378873060571459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/01/basketball.html' title='Basketball'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6670688227455528298</id><published>2008-01-17T12:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T12:43:44.131-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Man Boobs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/06_02/manboobs1106_228x334.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 211px;" src="http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/06_02/manboobs1106_228x334.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One good thing about being a girl is that I do not have to live my life stressing every day about whether or not I am growing man boobs. If I were a man, it would be a major concern of mine. In my opinion, you do not need to have sexy pecs, but plz do not have man boobs. If you are fat, then its more ok. Its more accepted. But the sucky part of that is: you're fat.&lt;br /&gt;I believe that man boobs on slightly normal sized men are the worst thing that could happen to an alright looking guy. Like a little chunkadunk of a boy but with very apparent man boobs. Oh gawd. Poor dude.&lt;br /&gt;If I were a guy, I would not be super into the gym. For the same reasons why I wouldn't gel my hair and constantly take jager bombs. But what if my man body was prone to getting all fatty in the chest area? Ugh. It would just be depressing. I would spend a lot of my time trying to wear a tight shirt underneath a baggier shirt. But then what if I was going to get laid that night and then she saw how tight my undershirt was and then she didn't like me anymore. But then maybe I wouldn't worry about that because let's face it. I have man boobs. I most likely am not getting laid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;side note: finding a pic for this blog really grossed me out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6670688227455528298?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6670688227455528298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6670688227455528298&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6670688227455528298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6670688227455528298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/01/man-boobs.html' title='Man Boobs'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6792836205225583303</id><published>2008-01-14T16:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T16:31:25.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid People</title><content type='html'>I am for them not existing. What a waste! OK well, I do not think we should kill them because they take over the jobs that I never want or did have when I was 16 and that is helping me live my life so I guess that I actually appreciate stupid people. But I do not appreciate having conversations with stupid people. It takes a lot for me to think you are stupid. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.all4humor.com/images/files/Stupid%20Haircut.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.all4humor.com/images/files/Stupid%20Haircut.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I give at least 3 ditzy remarks per conversation before I conclude stupidity. If you are reading this blog, congrats! You're not stupid. I believe that only my friends read this blog and I am only friends with nonstupids. I kind of think people that listen to country music are stupid. I have a few friends that listen to country music and are not stupid though. I think they just fall under the freakishly weird category of my friends. I really do not understand country. I feel like it is sweeping over our nation and it makes my stomach hurt. People will say, "Jamie, you used to like the Dixie Chicks." My response: I was in 5th grade! We are all stupid then! But apparently television has proved that we are not stupid when we are in fifth grade. In fact, apparently they are all smarter than us. Ugh, that show makes me mad too. I do not care if you can name all the Presidents or do long division or whatever they do on that stupid show. I just want to have a conversation without thinking you are so f*cking stupid in the back of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6792836205225583303?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6792836205225583303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6792836205225583303&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6792836205225583303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6792836205225583303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/01/stupid-people.html' title='Stupid People'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-208143676621156236</id><published>2008-01-10T06:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T06:59:44.545-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eye Contact</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.israeleyedoctor.com/eye_contact_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.israeleyedoctor.com/eye_contact_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not into it. I'm too good at being creepy about it. I am not sure if all of the people I speak to realize that I am very weak in this area. I think they do. I think maybe I never understood the proper way to socialize. I hate looking people in the eye. Ew. I just do not want to. I am not good at it. I either never do or overdo. I just completely prefer looking down. Or at something sicker on your face.&lt;br /&gt;Interviews are the worst. "Don't forget good eye contact!" they all tell me. So I think I just stare them down and they hire me because they fear my laser eyes. I think that is it. So maybe it is good that I do the eye contact thing too intensely. I will scare my way to the top.&lt;br /&gt;Intense eye contact may work in the work world, but it does not however, produce boyfriends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-208143676621156236?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/208143676621156236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=208143676621156236&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/208143676621156236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/208143676621156236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/01/eye-contact.html' title='Eye Contact'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-2023870783325744807</id><published>2008-01-07T08:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T12:01:34.222-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ren &amp; Stimpy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.tvacres.com/images/ren.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.tvacres.com/images/ren.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I like this show. I have liked it since I was a young child. My father would watch it with me. I recently just rewatched it. I still like it. The close up parts are interesting. It is pretty gross. I do not know why I liked it as a child. I liked it so much that I begged my parents for a Stimpy doll. Then one day, I went to Toys R Us and my parents said today was the big day where I could finally have my own Stimpy doll. I was so happy. I got to the aisle and there he was. So cute. But there were only a few Stimpys left and a million Rens were still on the racks. Poor Ren. Nobody wanted a Ren doll. I got the Ren doll out of pity. He farted when you squeezed his stomach.&lt;br /&gt;Good choice.&lt;br /&gt;I do not know why I was such a boy and liked things like that as a child. My sister and I would play 007 more than any boy would. My father only had two daughters so I think he sometimes just pretended we were sons. He srsly made me go outside and play catch with him. I told him I did not want to but he told me I had a good arm so I should. He wanted me to play softball but I said, "Sry, I am not a lesbian."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that there is anything wrong with that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-2023870783325744807?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/2023870783325744807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=2023870783325744807&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2023870783325744807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2023870783325744807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/01/ren-stimpy.html' title='Ren &amp; Stimpy'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-829897436103083697</id><published>2008-01-04T05:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T06:10:25.684-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2001/05/29/freak_150x155.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2001/05/29/freak_150x155.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I do not know how to dance. I dance a lot.&lt;br /&gt;It bothers me when a man in a movie uses the excuse that he can't dance as the reason for not being able to slow dance with a girl. It just does not make sense. Slow dancing requires no skill.&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I managed to f*ck it up when I first started the life of slow dancing. The first time I slow danced was when I was 12. I was at a holiday ball that my parents went to and I was the coat girl. As a 12 year old, I was the height of a giant. A boy that was in high school working for the catering service asked me to dance because he thought I was older.&lt;br /&gt;I never slow danced before.&lt;br /&gt;I put my arms on his hips because I had no idea where to place my hands.&lt;br /&gt;I am still kind of embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;Freak dancing, however, requires great skill, particularly in the "booty" area.&lt;br /&gt;Freak dancing is an amazing art form. It involves lots of grinding and the serious sexual facial expression. Without that face, its not a true freak dance. Freak dancing releases sexual frustration. You cannot freak dance and laugh though. That makes it unsexy. Freak dancing is all about being as sexy as a dancer as you can to let your special dance friend that you are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;real &lt;/span&gt;good.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot freak dance properly. I think it is too funny to take seriously. How does one shove the a$$ into the pelvis of the other, shimmy shake to the floor with it, and grind back up without laughing? It's virtually impossible.&lt;br /&gt;People that take freak dancing seriously are hornballs.&lt;br /&gt;This new superman dance that people do is really odd. I am completely anti synchronized dances because it is just weird. I get really mad when the Cha Cha Slide, Macarena, or Electric Slide come on. No, I do not want to dance to it. People are obsessed with peer pressuring others to dance those dumb dances. Please stop. I really do not want to. That is the one thing I am dreading for weddings. I am coming to an age where I will be going to a lot of weddings. I am not dreading open bar. I am dreading open bar + synchronized dance songs because there is no telling where that could lead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-829897436103083697?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/829897436103083697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=829897436103083697&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/829897436103083697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/829897436103083697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2008/01/dancing.html' title='Dancing'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-4792891388208062889</id><published>2007-12-26T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T17:04:51.297-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Raisins</title><content type='html'>Who would ever think to eat them? Grapes...ok they are real good. So juicy, so nice. But if I had a nice grape and then watched it shrivel up over the days/weeks, I would not be interested in eating it. I would be really grossed out actually. Never would it cross my mind to eat that wrinkly little wonder because I thought that maybe it would taste good. So whoever discovered raisins is interesting and I wish I could meet him. Do not think I am being rude by saying him even though I am not sure who discovered them because, lets face it, a guy discovered raisins. I would bet a lot of money. Men are better at discovering things than women. I bet that is a fact. Women are too scared and not daring enough to eat such a little shriveled thing.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/8055/raisin5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/8055/raisin5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really unsure about how I feel about raisins. I like them, but if I never ate one again, I would not be upset. Things like chocolate, I would die if I was told I could never eat it again. That is why I am scared of becoming allergic to things. I am currently not allergic to anything. I would die if I was allergic to cats, chocolate, and grapes. I say grapes mostly because I am obsessed with wine, not because I need raisins in my life. Ok, so that is a little confusing, so I will summarize this paragraph. I do not need to eat raisins ever again but I would die if I was allergic to grapes because I am an active wine drinker.&lt;br /&gt;I do not drink real deal wine, just Franzia Refreshing White. So refreshing. So white. So cheap. Such lovely feelings.&lt;br /&gt;Cookies with raisins are such a disappointment if you are unsure if its a chocolate chip or a raisin. It is sad to be a raisin because the chocolate chip always wins. On a cookie. In trail mix. Always gone before the lonely less popular raisin. At least cinnamon friended the raisin to make it not completely hated. If you were to think of them as people: Chocolate chips would belong to the cool club. Cinnamon would be the class president that likes everyone that helped raisins, the struggling loser trying to fit in, become apart of the social yet not completely cool club. For example, raisins would be the girl that although she is not the most attractive, she has a pretty good personality so you still give her a chance. Just like she would push her personality for acceptance, raisins push being healthy to get people to choose them over the chip.&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, raisins are weird. I once came across the tiniest grape that nature could produce. So cute and tiny to the point where I could not eat him. So cute that he became a him instead of an it. So cute that I named him Melvin. So Melvin became a household wonder. We adopted him when we first moved to my current house and it is there that he still resides. He has aged into a lovely raisin and we plan on daring someone to eat him. But, at the same time, he has grown on me and I do not want to see him eaten.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-4792891388208062889?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/4792891388208062889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=4792891388208062889&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4792891388208062889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4792891388208062889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/raisins.html' title='Raisins'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7333687240984023642</id><published>2007-12-18T11:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T11:23:10.433-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Corn Dogs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en/9/9a/Corndog_Inside.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en/9/9a/Corndog_Inside.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;These things are weird. They make me very skeptical. These days, I am taking over the role of a vegetarian so I will not eat them. I have never had a corn dog. Never in my life. I think they are weird. But I also think that I would like them. I feel that a lot of people are anti corn dogs. But why? They are so handy. They are on a stick!&lt;br /&gt;I feel they are shunned upon because they promote white trash. They save the need to buy a bun. So that's nice.&lt;br /&gt;I tried morning star vegetarian corn dogs. I liked them. I will be purchasing them again. I am not ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;Is corn bread the bread they use on corn dogs?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the name that scares anti corn doggers away. It's a gross name. I think we should change the name to Weiner Sticks.&lt;br /&gt;They also have mini corn dogs. How cute.&lt;br /&gt;Everything mini is cuter. Cuter but not by any means better. Examples:&lt;br /&gt;An ipod mini is cute, but obvi an 80 Gig is better.&lt;br /&gt;Those mini pop cans are cute, but you look like a creep drinking them.&lt;br /&gt;Mini plane food is cute and better cause its just really neat. I got a miniature Sprite when I went to France. Now you are thinking a can cut in half like the ones I just referred to. BUT that is not what I am referring to. It was exact proportioned can to the original only 3 times smaller! How cute! So obviously I did not drink it. I put it in my cute mini fridge that I had in France. There it sat for 5.5 weeks. I saved it. Tempted to make a mixed drink with it, I held back. I knew, it was worth saving it. Too cute. TOo CuTe.&lt;br /&gt;Plane ride home. They gave me miniature bottles of wine. Yessss. Then...ZomgZzZ! I left my minipop in the minifridge. MiNi FrEaK Out. I saved and saved and prevailed yet, my stupid brain forgot about it when it came time to packing. What a stupid day. But then it came to me. I do not need a perfectly proportioned mini can of pop to make me happy. Happiness is better when shared and I was not planning on sharing that minipop with anyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7333687240984023642?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7333687240984023642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7333687240984023642&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7333687240984023642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7333687240984023642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/corn-dogs.html' title='Corn Dogs'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6727953822477406825</id><published>2007-12-17T11:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T09:16:16.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Creed vs. Nickelback</title><content type='html'>Is there a difference? If you know the difference, did you seriously spend the time to distinguish between the two? Can one say I like Creed but not Nickelback? They have to be the same band because they both must realize that they singlehandedly destroyed the definition of music. I would rather listen to someone barfing. I listen to a variety of music. Some of it is considered real good. Some of it is considered real bad. But all of it sounds better than someone yarfing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://us.ent2.yimg.com/musicfinder.yahoo.com/images/yahoo/wind_up/creed/creed2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://us.ent2.yimg.com/musicfinder.yahoo.com/images/yahoo/wind_up/creed/creed2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True Story: I was youtubin' it the other evening and I wanted to see an actual music video of this horrible Nickelback that people speak of. It was then that I became extremely depressed. There I was watching a Nickelback video realizing I knew most of the words. "How could this be?" I thought to myself.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.birmingham101.com/Nickleback.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.birmingham101.com/Nickleback.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was then that I realized the devil is Nickelback. How else could those horrible lyrics be trapped into my brain? It made me sick. Made me almost barf. That would have been better though because then I would not have to listen to that horrible devil music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That must be the difference between Nickelback and Creed.  I am happy to say that I do not know any Creed lyrics. Therefore, Creed is just really disgustingly horrible and Nickelback is actually the devil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6727953822477406825?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6727953822477406825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6727953822477406825&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6727953822477406825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6727953822477406825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/creed-vs-nickleback.html' title='Creed vs. Nickelback'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-4714556590580622043</id><published>2007-12-16T10:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T21:40:13.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nintendo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.gamerhelp.com/images/content_images/122901-7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 119px; height: 194px;" src="http://www.gamerhelp.com/images/content_images/122901-7.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Love it. Live it. Like it. Play it. Game it. I love playing nintendo. The best days I have lived are the ones where I play nintendo all day long. Maybe eat. Mostly just game. I swear a lot more when I play nintendo. I get so upset with the world when I lose a life. It sucks! Playing nintendo might stress me out more than real life stress. I get really nervous for every castle that I enter. My heart beats. My palms get sweaty. I need to defeat the castle. I must. F*ck. I just got little. F*ck the world. My life sucks. The world is a vampire. I hate the world. OMG ZOMG. A mushroom! The magic shroom! I'm big again. My life makes sense once again. (wipes palms and takes a deep breath). Search for fire power. That is my mind about every few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;Some of the biggest fights I have ever gotten into with my sister have been from nintendo. "Go get the key!" "Where?!" "No!!! You passed it! Why would you do that?" "I didn't know!" "You're so bad, I knew I should have done one player" or she would pause it on me when I am in midair to me screw up so it would be her turn or she would always take all the mushroom houses. I am pretty sure we did not speak to each other for two days when we had our hugest nintendo blow out.&lt;br /&gt;I also like games with guns. I love cyber killing. I am against real world killing. Racing is always classic fun. Mario kart &lt;3.&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, nintendo makes the world a better place. I &lt;3 techonology. I will never be one of those mothers that tells my children to get off nintendo and go outside because if  you get real good, you can compete and make a lot of money. And I will be killing their brains out in 007 right along with them. I'll be the cool mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gamers never say die"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-4714556590580622043?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/4714556590580622043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=4714556590580622043&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4714556590580622043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4714556590580622043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/nintendo.html' title='Nintendo'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7676222788448090482</id><published>2007-12-15T06:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T06:58:27.197-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Karaoke</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://writingcompany.blogs.com/this_isnt_writing_its_typ/images/karaoke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 338px; height: 225px;" src="http://writingcompany.blogs.com/this_isnt_writing_its_typ/images/karaoke.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Karaoke is its own cock block. Does anyone look good actually doing it? I guess if a girl goes for super funny and you somehow manage to pull off funny and not absolutely ridiculous, you might have a chance of getting away with it. But chances are, she will stop being interested.&lt;br /&gt;What pulls me towards that counter to sing a Jackson 5 hit, I'm not sure. I say to myself, "You will make a fool of yourself. You really should not sign up for anything. Just stay in the crowd. Don't be weird. Don't be weird. Don't do it." But my fingers do not listen to my brain and on they go writing down the number to I Want You Back.&lt;br /&gt;Friends always support their friends to sing.&lt;br /&gt;Friends are jerks.&lt;br /&gt;They should be saying, "You will look so stupid and its a really bad idea to get up on stage." BUT Noooooooo. Friends say, "SING! ALONE! It will be awesome!"&lt;br /&gt;I guess karaoke would not be a cock block if you sang, "put it in my mouth" by Akinyele. I would guess free drinks the rest of the night. You whore.&lt;br /&gt;I think karaoke is a good time. You cannot do it sober unless you are one of those high on life weirdos. Or unless you get up there and hold the mic and do not move and everyone thinks you are real weird.&lt;br /&gt;The regulars at karaoke are funny because they have "their song."&lt;br /&gt;I think karaoke is spelled in such a dumb way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=basFCccX5yg"&gt;This is worth going to&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really attracted to any man that sings any Creed song and does not look at the screen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7676222788448090482?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7676222788448090482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7676222788448090482&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7676222788448090482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7676222788448090482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/karaoke.html' title='Karaoke'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6667874977381386547</id><published>2007-12-10T17:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T17:46:27.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cracklin' Oat Bran</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www2.kelloggs.com/ServeImage.aspx?BID=407&amp;amp;MD5=fa4b3b7e6c93cff024f95290d951a3e4&amp;amp;W=220"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www2.kelloggs.com/ServeImage.aspx?BID=407&amp;amp;MD5=fa4b3b7e6c93cff024f95290d951a3e4&amp;amp;W=220" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The name is misleading. Cracklin' makes me skeptical. (mostly due to the lack of a "g") Oat makes me think meh. And bran makes me think I need to be over the age of 65 to eat it. Yet, its the best cereal ever. Looks like dog food. Tastes like glorious pieces of heaven. The cereal is made of oat bran&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; flavored with cinnamon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; and nutmeg&lt;/span&gt;, and held together by brown sugar in the form of a Squared O. I used to eat it as a child. I do not purchase it often because the box is so small and its still so expensive. But its soooo good. But sometimes I just buy it because its very necessary. It's good with milk. It's good without milk. I'm happy its here. I think maybe they made it such a weird name to keep this magical wonder a secret. But I'm unleashing the secret and letting you know that it's good. It's really really good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6667874977381386547?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6667874977381386547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6667874977381386547&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6667874977381386547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6667874977381386547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/cracklin-oat-bran.html' title='Cracklin&apos; Oat Bran'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7313779801657678923</id><published>2007-12-10T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T16:56:42.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bitches</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.fuppedduck.com/cart/images/bitch-be-gone-400px.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.fuppedduck.com/cart/images/bitch-be-gone-400px.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I hate them! Why are they alive? I think they are mean people. Not mean people that "upper deck" everyone's house that they go to, but mean in a much more devilish way. Why? I'm not sure. I think they hate life and want to make sure everyone knows it. It's funny to be a bitch if you're a nice person. I had a problem with this. I used to be nice. I used to be a real nice young little girl. But then, I started being bitchy as a joke. Oh it was very funny. Everyone couldn't believe nice little girl was being super bitchfest. But then, I grew fond of this bitchy attitude. I do not know what attracted me to adopt this new lifestyle but with every bitch comment that came out of my mouth, I was enjoying it more and more. I still do not like bitches. I am on my way back to being nice. It's kinda tough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also believe that bitches date really nice men and it confuses me a lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also think that it's funny to say "Bitch, please!" (but it has to be said like, "BiTCH, PLEEEEEEEEEEZ"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to think it was funny to say "Betch" at the time when I also thought OMG Shoes was funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes its funny to say "Besh" but you have to use it VERY sparingly to pull it off. And you have to be nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bitch glares scare me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have mastered the Bitch Glare. I have only given it several times. If I give it to you and do not smile afterwards, I would be scared. But then not really because I do not go any further than the bitch glare. Whats next? Bitch glare leads to bitch fight? I choose walking away and making fun of her outfit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think bitches are annoying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what I classify a bitch as:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;pink phone&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;fake tan&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;fake hair&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;pointy bitch shoes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;too much attitude&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;often found at malls&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;often also a slut&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;often calls other girls sluts&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;wore a tiara on her 16th and 21st birthday&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;squeal scream&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;often has a permanent mean face on&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;says "like" more than anything&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;nice to your face, makes fun of you behind your back&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;death glare rays&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;still calls her father "daddy"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a huge jerk&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;ODs on text messaging&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;bitch eye liner&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;does not drink beer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;makes the grossed out face at fat people&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;complains like no other&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;thinks the world revolves around her&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;puppy dog eyes her father&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;prefers being called princess&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;never kills a spider&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Bitches get stitches."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Don't be a bitch.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7313779801657678923?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7313779801657678923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7313779801657678923&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7313779801657678923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7313779801657678923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/bitches.html' title='Bitches'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-3742728918200157520</id><published>2007-12-06T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T10:54:58.004-08:00</updated><title type='text'>YouTube</title><content type='html'>This could be the best thing that happened to me since nintendo. I reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally like youtube. This is what I like about it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;how it has the ability to make anyone famous:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hZAr9E8i3ng&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hZAr9E8i3ng&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;how if you are caught doing something dumb, than you will regret it 100 times more:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AlkF3DtarRE&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AlkF3DtarRE&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;unlimited videos of fat people falling:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;rb&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ecT9IVjXRVw&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ecT9IVjXRVw&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/rb&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;step-by-step video of how to do that soulja boy dance:&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RrwO5-CNi2I&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RrwO5-CNi2I&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;spices up people's comments on myspace:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UlAkOhH9eek&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UlAkOhH9eek&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;reminisce about oldie but goodies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UO_tm-C7yfU&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;and for this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LU8DDYz68kM&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LU8DDYz68kM&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;and to catch awesomely horrible people being awesomely horrible:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rOs9gypNFto&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rOs9gypNFto&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;and more fat fallers: &lt;br /&gt; &lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fH_zgcEI5RE&amp;amp;rel=1&amp;amp;border=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fH_zgcEI5RE&amp;amp;rel=1&amp;amp;border=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-3742728918200157520?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/3742728918200157520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=3742728918200157520&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3742728918200157520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3742728918200157520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/youtube.html' title='YouTube'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6136739996946672068</id><published>2007-12-01T08:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T14:03:45.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Abercrombie &amp; Fitch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.yalyta.com/upload_image/2007389422850172.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.yalyta.com/upload_image/2007389422850172.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I just made a side note in one of my recent blogs about this store, but now I feel it deserves its own blog.  This is a store for 7th grade brats and jerks.  You are in 7th grade.  It's cool to wear expensive things.  You are a brat/jerk, so you have your parents buy you these dumb clothes with Abercrombie across the chest.  Ok, I can handle that.  It might be cool in 7th grade. Now, I am older and I do not understand why people still wear these things.  Have you ever been in the store? It's so uncomfortable.  It's so loud. And its filled with cocky a-holes.&lt;br /&gt;I did shop there before in my life. I wish I did not. But, we all make mistakes.  So every time I was in there, they never asked me to work there.  They always ask attractive people to work there.  Abercrombie people think I'm ugly.  It's also a bad store for that reason because if I see a nonattractive worker, instead of me thinking he is a normal person, I question how he got the job because his face is pretty rank.&lt;br /&gt;Rumor has it that the unattractive A&amp;amp;F workers work after hours resetting up the clothes for the next day.  If you are reading this blog and realize that you work at A&amp;amp;F and you only work when the store is closed. Sorry, you're ugly.&lt;br /&gt;Boys that wear Abercrombie after the age of 20 are a part of a fraternity.&lt;br /&gt;Boys that wear Abercrombie after the age of 20 and are not a part of a fraternity, act like the type of man that is in a fraternity, meaning cocky-a-hole-jerk-i-hate-you-dick-face-y-do-u-gel-your-hair-and-still-pop-your-collar type of men.&lt;br /&gt;What is so intriguing about a shirt that says Abercrombie across your chest? I would much rather prefer a shirt that says "look, but don't touch."&lt;br /&gt;I actually saw a girl wearing that. She had major boobs and I wish she didn't because that would be funnier.&lt;br /&gt;I also saw the fattest man ever have a shirt that said, "I beat anorexia." I laughed. Then I saw it again and thought, "That was only funny the first time."&lt;br /&gt;I like when ugly people wear shirts that say, "I think therefore I'm single" Because I want to tell them, "No, I'm pretty sure you're single due to the rankness all over your face and body."&lt;br /&gt;Moving on. This is what I now question. So I get clothes for Christmas from my mother that I am not too fond of. But some are nice but not amazing. I don't like returning so sometimes I end up wearing something that I do not completely agree with. So, my sister is like me. Shes not into the whole Abercrombie market. But my mother does not know this. Shes just a nice little mom. So she bought us sweatshirts that say Abercrombie on the front for Christmas last year. It was a nice thought but I just was not into it. I exchanged mine for some extremely overpriced jeans. My sister, although did not really like it, thought it was comfy so she kept it.&lt;br /&gt;So basically what I'm saying is this: Maybe you shouldn't reject a person right away due to one thing. Let's start giving people second chances because who knows if thats the real them! Let's be proactive about wanting to get deeper inside the person and find out who they truly are. Get past that stupid Abercrombie shirt and find what's in his heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just kidding. I mean sometimes it might be a fluke that that Abercrombie wearing person isn't a dumb dick, but thats one in a trazillion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6136739996946672068?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6136739996946672068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6136739996946672068&amp;isPopup=true' title='57 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6136739996946672068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6136739996946672068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/12/abercrombie-fitch.html' title='Abercrombie &amp; Fitch'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>57</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-1497243079239263849</id><published>2007-11-29T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T11:14:30.619-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter to Dentists</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.jupiterimages.com/common/detail/88/60/23106088.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 119px; height: 159px;" src="http://images.jupiterimages.com/common/detail/88/60/23106088.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dear Dentists,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do you only ask me questions when you hands are all over my mouth? Are you trying to make the worst possible noise when you scrape my teeth with that horrible death tool? Please do not be offended when I end up punching you in the face one day because when you scrape my teeth, my entire body clenches up and I want to die. I think a punch in your face would make it a lot better. It's not that I hate the person you are, but it is. And if my body is clenched and you are asking me a question when it is very clear that I am not able to respond, I will punch you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JME&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS I noticed you recently changed your gloves from regular latex to grape flavored. I'm not sure how I feel about this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-1497243079239263849?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/1497243079239263849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=1497243079239263849&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/1497243079239263849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/1497243079239263849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/11/letter-to-dentists.html' title='Letter to Dentists'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6059196914058914834</id><published>2007-11-29T09:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T09:36:11.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Furry Hoods</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img80.imageshack.us/img80/8629/josiahyp7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://img80.imageshack.us/img80/8629/josiahyp7.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I would like to begin saying I am completely against wearing any real fur.&lt;br /&gt;My initial feelings when I first saw fur on hoods were hmmmm ok. I did not partake in the purchasing of a furry hood because I just wasn't sure about it. Several years later, I realized I was ready for a plaid coat.  So my hunt for the plaid coat of my dreams was on.  There it was! Delias! What a stinkin cute plaid coat. Light blue, and off white and brown. PERFECT! It had fur on the hood, but I did not care. Too cutesy to pass up. OMG they only have XL and XS. OMG I am neither one of those sizes. OMG. I had 20 dollars off and it could not have been more perfect, so of course the coat of my dreams was not in my size.&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks later...&lt;br /&gt;There I was back at the mall with Christmas presents as my main intention. Although my mother and father do not need anything from Delias, I thought, why not go in and look. OMG there is one coat of my dreams left. Dont get too excited, it's probably not your size, I thought  OMG my size. OMG.&lt;br /&gt;So I finally had a coat with fur. I enjoyed it. A little extra coverage and its nice and soft. I feel that I am not for or against fur on hoods. If it's on a coat I like, sure, if not I'm ok with that too. But boys? That is iffy. To this day I am still not sure about boys wearing fur on hoods. I have several friends that wear fur on hoods and I am quite proud of them for being able to pull it off very well. But there are also very many men in my life that I hope never try to wear fur in the hoods because I believe they just cannot handle it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Please note that I am pretty sure fur inside the entire hood is unacceptable for men of all ages but I am always willing for someone to prove me wrong. This is very rare to happen.&lt;br /&gt;Also note that I am against any full furred hoods from Abercrombie and Hollister because I am against Abercrombie and Hollister.  To tell you how shallow I actually am, if the future man of my dreams that was so perfect for me came up to me for the first time wearing a shirt that said Abercrombie across his chest, I would probably not give him a second thought. Thats sad. Sad but true. I just do not get it. You just paid $60 for a stupid shirt that says Abercrombie. You are dumb. I do not like you.&lt;br /&gt;Ok I have one friend that wears clothes like that, but I tell him all the time he is weird and I'm not sure why we are friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6059196914058914834?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6059196914058914834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6059196914058914834&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6059196914058914834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6059196914058914834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/11/furry-hoods.html' title='Furry Hoods'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6927136165944946131</id><published>2007-11-26T16:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T17:05:18.784-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Laugh Response</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://disabilitiesunlimited.org/blogs/media/HumourLaughingKitten.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://disabilitiesunlimited.org/blogs/media/HumourLaughingKitten.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I do not know if I have bad hearing or if I am just prone to meeting mumblers, but whatever it is I can never hear what people are saying. I can hear what my friends are saying. Maybe once I become friends with someone they get louder. Anyways, when I first meet people its automatically awkward because that is my lifestyle. So when I meet someone and they say things and I cannot hear what they are saying, I either say what about a million times or give the laugh response. I choose the laugh response 9 times out of 10. If I truly am concerned with what you actually said I will possibly say what but for some reason I get awkward and can't manage to say what or just don't care so I laugh and hope that what they said was funny. I do usually start out saying what but I'm not going to say it every ten seconds so I just pretend to hear you. This is really stupid of me yet I do it all the time. I am mentioning this because I was recently caught. This new man that I met asked me a question. All I heard what "so youdsgjkhhsdglsgkjs" so I responded, "hehahehheh" Then he said "what?" because he asked me a question. I guess that is better than if he said, "My grandma and cat died today" because then I would just look like an ass. In this situation I just looked like a superfreak and I probably will not be talking to this man any time soon.&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, please speak more clearly and if you are not good at doing so, please understand that I will not always say what, I will have no idea what you are saying to me, and I'm not a superfreak when I laugh at your questions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6927136165944946131?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6927136165944946131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6927136165944946131&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6927136165944946131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6927136165944946131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/11/laugh-response.html' title='The Laugh Response'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6622245239430906059</id><published>2007-11-16T14:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T11:21:32.094-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Wasted</title><content type='html'>I'm for it. It's fun. I wish I did not like it so much. I usually have a handful of regrets for the nights when I'm at my prime waste case.&lt;br /&gt;Getting wasted is funny because it has so many funny sayings to go along with it. Such as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;You saucin' tonight?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lets pound some.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You wanna get slam jammered?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was so hammered.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lets get sloppy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drink the sweet nectar of the gods&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What a sh*tshow.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Let's get retarded in here.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get f*cked up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm tipsy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lets drink an assortment of cocktails till we get real loosey goosey.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;18 to get busy, 21 to get dizzy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get stupid.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;under the influence&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;messed up&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;YOURE INTOXICATED&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dowwallpaper.com/wallpaper/miscs/cocktail/cocktail1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.dowwallpaper.com/wallpaper/miscs/cocktail/cocktail1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The thing is, they are all pretty funny to say. Please note that if you say any of these and are fir realz about it, you're weird. I mean maybe you can pull off a few. But never say sauced and mean it. That is my problem in life. I think its weird to say sauced. I think its really lame. So I say it. I think its funny to say. Then I meet new people. I do not realize that these new people do not know that I am not fir real and then the new people run away. Whatevs.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I really like to drink lots of cocktails in a row.&lt;br /&gt;I do not like when people are so drunk that their eyes are all over the place.&lt;br /&gt;I never want to be too old to drink Sparks.&lt;br /&gt;I do not find it funny to get an animal drunk, however, if the animal is drunk naturally by a fermented pumpkin for instance, I will laugh.&lt;br /&gt;I hate being on the bus and hearing other peoples drunk stories.&lt;br /&gt;I hate it more if its a freshman saying it.&lt;br /&gt;I hate it more that I am that person sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;Think of how awkward life would be without booze. I wouldn't be able to socialize with anyone! jk lol.&lt;br /&gt;I only don't drink beer because the ratio of drunkness to how often I have to pee is too far off.&lt;br /&gt;I only order vodka tonic because I do not know what else to get.&lt;br /&gt;Shots cause weird faces and can't be done in public.&lt;br /&gt;I know I am drunk when the shot I took was easy or if I become a hugger.&lt;br /&gt;Overall, its a nice time till you make yourself look like a fool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6622245239430906059?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6622245239430906059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6622245239430906059&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6622245239430906059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6622245239430906059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/11/getting-wasted.html' title='Getting Wasted'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-3011354218139837315</id><published>2007-11-16T14:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T14:57:15.399-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Breath</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/1809496/2/istockphoto_1809496_bad_breath.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/1809496/2/istockphoto_1809496_bad_breath.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ew. Cant stand it. Ok. We all have it sometimes. But when I have it, I either a. brush my teeth b. chew gum c. dont talk to people unless I'm at least 5 feet away. Why do I do this? Out of respect. I'm pretty sure you can always tell when you have bad breath, so take out a piece of orbit and chew you dumb fool.&lt;br /&gt;Scenario: We are talking and I pull out a piece of gum and offer it to you. TAKE IT. Maybe I'm doing it to be nice and offer a friendly piece. OR maybe it's a nice hint that your breath is rank. Either way, take the stupid piece of gum.&lt;br /&gt;If we are talking and I act uninterested its either because a. you're really boring. b. you're dumb c. i hate you d. you have bad breath and I really can't stand being near you.&lt;br /&gt;The worse is when a bad breather is into whispers. EW PLEASE DONT GET CLOSE TO ME.&lt;br /&gt;If you notice I am holding my breath every time you inch closer to me, realize your breath is unbearable.&lt;br /&gt;Take a hint and brush your teeth sometime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-3011354218139837315?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/3011354218139837315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=3011354218139837315&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3011354218139837315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3011354218139837315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/11/bad-breath.html' title='Bad Breath'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-4105846827767789283</id><published>2007-11-16T14:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T14:41:48.188-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Eye F*ck</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ppleyard.org.uk/postimages/weddingcrashers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://ppleyard.org.uk/postimages/weddingcrashers.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I got this term from the movie Wedding Crashers. Did I like that movie? No, not really. I mean, it has some sort of maybe but not really potential but it was long as f*ck and I think that ruined it completely. But what I did get out of this little movie was the term "eye f*ck."&lt;br /&gt;It's funny to say. It's funny to do. It's funny to have done to you. It's funny.&lt;br /&gt;Eye Effing can be very creepy when done incorrectly. I am very good at doing this incorrectly. Never have I successfully eye boned a hottie.  Have I tried? Of course. I think it has worked toward my disadvantage. I believe they think "ew, who is that creepy creepster glaring weirdly at me?" But in reality, I'm nice. Not creepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty sure no one has ever realized that I attempted the eye f*ck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-4105846827767789283?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/4105846827767789283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=4105846827767789283&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4105846827767789283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4105846827767789283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/11/eye-fck.html' title='The Eye F*ck'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-3179404968346429598</id><published>2007-11-03T10:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T12:00:59.924-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dick Quiz</title><content type='html'>There are a lot of dicks in the world. You may be one right now and not even know it. Here is a quiz to see if you are classified as a dick:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do you only like a girl of she if considered hot?&lt;br /&gt;2. Do you search "fat girl fall" on youtube?&lt;br /&gt;3. Do you keep a list of girls you have boned and rate them?&lt;br /&gt;4. Do you "forget" hanging out with someone that you do not want to hang out with?&lt;br /&gt;5. Do you lead girls on and do it until they accidentally find out about the other girls?&lt;br /&gt;6. Do you pop your collar and/or gel your hair?&lt;br /&gt;7. Do you laugh at ugly people?&lt;br /&gt;8. Have you been quoted saying, "I'm not cocky, just confident"?&lt;br /&gt;9. Are you a male?&lt;br /&gt;10. Are you in a fraternity?&lt;br /&gt;11. Do you pretend to be compassionate when you made a girl cry, but then laugh about it to your friends?&lt;br /&gt;12. Do you enjoy watching Bum Fights?&lt;br /&gt;13.  Do you text message breakup?&lt;br /&gt;14. Do you have a "Support Strippers" bumper sticker on your car?&lt;br /&gt;15. When lying in bed, do you fart and shove the girls face under the covers?&lt;br /&gt;16. Are you selfish?&lt;br /&gt;17. Have you cheated &lt;span&gt;more than once&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;18. Do you have a restraining order against you?&lt;br /&gt;19. Do you luv 'em 'n' leave 'em?&lt;br /&gt;20. Has a girl ever stabbed you with a fork?&lt;br /&gt;21. Have you ever pushed a lady over the age of 60 when in a hurry?&lt;br /&gt;22. Have you been called a dick?&lt;br /&gt;23. Have you ever said "bitch, please" and meant it?&lt;br /&gt;24. Do you own a hummer?&lt;br /&gt;25. When at the gym, do you spend more than 30% of the time looking in the mirror?&lt;br /&gt;26. Did you vote for Bush?&lt;br /&gt;27. Do you enjoy listening to Nickelback not as a joke?&lt;br /&gt;28. Do your dress shirts have a logo under the collar?&lt;br /&gt;29. Are you shirtless in your facebook/myspace picture?&lt;br /&gt;30. Do you have a Young Jeezy ringtone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you said yes to any of these, CONGRATS you're a dick!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-3179404968346429598?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/3179404968346429598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=3179404968346429598&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3179404968346429598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3179404968346429598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/11/dick-quiz.html' title='Dick Quiz'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7691781324290208518</id><published>2007-11-03T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T10:43:06.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Runny Noses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.metaphorname.com/images/verbal/kleenex.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.metaphorname.com/images/verbal/kleenex.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I don't like being around people when they have a runny nose. If you are my friend and you have a cold, do not get mad at me when I don't like you for a few days. I just really do not like listening to you sniffle your snot back in your nose. It really makes my stomach hurt and I get a bad feeling all over my body. I, too, get colds, but I am referring to when other people get colds and not myself.&lt;br /&gt;When I am taking a test and you are sitting next to me with the nastiest case of the sniffles: I hate you.&lt;br /&gt;When I meet you and you shake my hand and I know you have a cold: I hate you.&lt;br /&gt;When I meet you and you shake my hand and I don't know you have a cold but find out later that you do: I hate you more. I hate you more because if I know you have a cold and I shake your hand, I am able to just give you the tips of my fingers and make it last .5 seconds. But if you trick me and I see you blowing your nose all over the place later and I gave you a real deal handshake: F*ck you. Who shakes hands when they are sick? Dont.&lt;br /&gt;I have not been to church in quite some time, but when I did and it was time for the "Peace be with you" handshake, I specifically avoided people with colds. I would do an extra long one with the healthy ones and avoid all eye contact with anyone that had anything resembling a cold. I felt like that was really bad of me, but I also just think that when the handshake and peace be with you part was included in the mass, people did not know much about germs. Then we learned about germs, but tradition was too important so they had to keep the handshake. I think traditions are silly so I dropped that one.&lt;br /&gt;It's so gross to hear someone blow their nose. Its weird because its so gross, yet I do not leave the room when I need to blow my nose. I just let loose.&lt;br /&gt;If you have a cold and use the computer in the library right before me: I hate you. I understand that you cant help it, but understand that I can't help hating you.&lt;br /&gt;I think colds are a huge bummer. I hate having to think about my nose in addition to other things. I hate sleeping with a stuffy nose. Actually, I hate not sleeping due to a stuffy nose.&lt;br /&gt;I do, however, enjoy taking Nyquil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7691781324290208518?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7691781324290208518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7691781324290208518&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7691781324290208518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7691781324290208518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/11/runny-noses.html' title='Runny Noses'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-1740997408210256071</id><published>2007-10-25T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T08:55:20.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a poem</title><content type='html'>i wish i was just a little shorter&lt;br /&gt;since im taller than a tree&lt;br /&gt;i cannot wear any heels&lt;br /&gt;no boy would talk to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i could eat ice cream all day&lt;br /&gt;but our freezer is too full&lt;br /&gt;i should not have it anyway&lt;br /&gt;it makes my stomach roll&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i did not have homework&lt;br /&gt;what a f*cking pain&lt;br /&gt;it takes up so much precious time&lt;br /&gt;but there is so little that i gain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i never had to work&lt;br /&gt;it makes me so f*cking tired&lt;br /&gt;i hate the world when my alarm rings&lt;br /&gt;thank god coffee keeps me wired&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i would exercise more&lt;br /&gt;but its just so hard start&lt;br /&gt;apparently i prefer to sit&lt;br /&gt;over having a healthy heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish cocky men did not exist&lt;br /&gt;they make me want to die&lt;br /&gt;i hate their big pecks and gelled hair&lt;br /&gt;it makes me want to die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish that people were somewhat nicer&lt;br /&gt;but they all just seem so mean&lt;br /&gt;i think we should think more like hippies&lt;br /&gt;and concentrate on green&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i would answer my cell phone more&lt;br /&gt;but i just do not have a choice&lt;br /&gt;i hate it so much because then i must&lt;br /&gt;hear that annoying lady's voice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i had some magic powers&lt;br /&gt;like a genie or a witch&lt;br /&gt;i would fly or be invisible&lt;br /&gt;and be such a sneaky bitch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish that boys weren't such dicks&lt;br /&gt;because they all kind of are&lt;br /&gt;even when you have some hope, you'll find&lt;br /&gt;he has been boning some slut from the bar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i had a billion dollars&lt;br /&gt;i would be everyones favorite friend&lt;br /&gt;i would probably move to NYC&lt;br /&gt;and start a fashion trend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish that everyone wouldn't smell&lt;br /&gt;why dont you people shower?&lt;br /&gt;at least refrain from raising arms&lt;br /&gt;cause B.O. has killing power&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i could constantly eat candy&lt;br /&gt;it just tastes so god damn good&lt;br /&gt;if it didnt turn into chubby fat&lt;br /&gt;i would eat it all i could&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish for many so things&lt;br /&gt;all of which wont happen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;note:&lt;/span&gt; i hate being in public bathrooms&lt;br /&gt;when someone else is crappin'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-1740997408210256071?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/1740997408210256071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=1740997408210256071&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/1740997408210256071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/1740997408210256071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/10/poem.html' title='a poem'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-5245543327254561445</id><published>2007-10-22T16:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T06:20:41.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrestling</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.blueridgeschool.com/uploaded/photos/sports/wrestling.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 195px;" src="http://www.blueridgeschool.com/uploaded/photos/sports/wrestling.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ewwww. Why? I don't get it. It's gross. I think everyone that attends a wrestling match just feels really uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;Girl wrestlers? What? Why? Congrats on doing something different, but thats kind of just weird. But I did like that one episode of Saved By The Bell when that girl wrestled. But that wasn't real life. If I had a daughter and she told me she wanted to wrestle, I would tell her that she is disgusting and needs to see a doctor. Actually, if I had a son that wanted to wrestle, I would first ask him if he was gay. If he was, I would tell him that he didn't have to wrestle just to touch other men. I am not sure how many wrestlers are in fact gay, and I actually think the number is pretty low, but I think if you were afraid of coming out of the closet you would maybe want to take it up. Wrestlers basically have sex.&lt;br /&gt;If he told me he was straight I would tell him, "No you cannot wrestle, you are just going through an awkward phase and you will thank me later."&lt;br /&gt;The True Life: I have an eating disorder with the wrestler was sad and made me hungry for him.&lt;br /&gt;Why can you spot a wrestler so easily? Short: check. Weird sort of muscley upper bod: check.&lt;br /&gt;AND CLEAN THE MATS YOU SICKOS. It is common for wrestlers to get staph infection. Gross. Really Really Grody.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure wrestlers are nice people but I am just confused where their heads at. Or maybe its their parents to blame because I know my child will never be one of them.  Or maybe I should be getting on the creator of wrestling, but I'm pretty sure he created it as a joke and someone didn't get it. Sports should have balls. ONE ball. (I actually can't believe I just made that joke)&lt;br /&gt;The WWF is actually entertaining to me. But please note that I am referring to high school and college style wrestling. Not entertaining professional.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-5245543327254561445?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/5245543327254561445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=5245543327254561445&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5245543327254561445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5245543327254561445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/10/wrestling.html' title='Wrestling'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6753677043716562030</id><published>2007-10-11T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T07:59:53.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks</title><content type='html'>Thanksgiving time is approaching us so I thought I would list some things that I am thankful for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;seinfeld. deodorant. spray butter. elimidate. chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. fleece sheets. convenience stores. youtube. scarves. feather beds. sparks. owl jewelry. stomp the yard. cell phones. tater tots. creepy staches on small men. internet. gnomes. casual fridays. britney spears drama. topsy tails. bottled water. parks. duff's chicken wings. the sunscreen song. witnessing awkward moments. roofs. NOW thats what I call music. wet hot american summer. green. musical beats. boxed wine. health. air conditioning. sour patch kids. smart people. americas got talent. french fries. art. those cards that play music. bob saget. the onion. benjamin franklin. yearbooks. reality tv. sappy love songs. hotties. nintendo. pizza. fake meat. bad dance moves. jason schwartzman, hoodies. larry david. kittens &amp;amp; puppies. abbreviations. red necks. opposable thumbs. 100 calorie packs. spice girls. girl scout cookies. that skateboarding dog. flowers. wikipedia. root beer brain fart. bikes. trends of unattractive radio djs. whispering sweet nothings. pain pills. lottery tickets. barbed wire tats. blue collar comedy tour. lasers. child proteges. the office. mashed potatoes. 90s. zoo books. britas. freedom. chapstick. fast facts. the sun. hanson hype. liberals. nick names. open communication. anti-lock brakes. hypnotism. gmail. dmx. friendship. being warm. boredom. towne restaurant. urban dictionary. glasses. doctors. kimya dawson. personal ads. ipods. humus. substituting the word "boy" for "boi". technology. death metal. landmarks. acronyms. cheese. magic johnson. funny last names. mr. show. traveling. magic.  indoor plumbing. nothing. soft bunnies. qwerty keyboards. zoos. guidos. guido dance moves. guido hairdos. guido gangs. guido accents. slutty halloween costume justification. tricks. thanksgiving. swedish fish. pull throughs. 4 seasons. jenny lewis. conspiracy theories.  flat shoes. corn bread. calculator watches. band aids. concealer. modest mouse. candid camera. the NEXT bus. not living in dorms. sunscreen. fresh fruit. being fancy. nyquil. chocolate. christmas time. language. trash collectors. handy snacks. playboy bunny accessories. clean dishes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6753677043716562030?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6753677043716562030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6753677043716562030&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6753677043716562030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6753677043716562030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/10/thanks.html' title='Thanks'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-484136442061850674</id><published>2007-10-07T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T12:14:51.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bums</title><content type='html'>I feel bad for them.&lt;br /&gt;I would imagine they have really good stories to tell.&lt;br /&gt;My grandma thinks that many of them are just crazy in the head and got on a bus that they did not really know where it was going and got off and were forever lost.&lt;br /&gt;A bum with a guitar should be really good because he has a lot of time to practice.&lt;br /&gt;People that own Bum Fights are going to hell.&lt;br /&gt;A bum asked my father for money and my dad replied, "no, thank you"&lt;br /&gt;I do not understand why Buffalo has bums. If you were a bum would you not make your way to somewhere warmer? Florida and California should have the highest populations of bums.&lt;br /&gt;Bums wear winter jackets all year long. I think I would bury mine if I had no where to put it rather than wearing it all summer long.&lt;br /&gt;If I were a younger bum, I would definitely live in a college.&lt;br /&gt;If I were a bum, I would spend my days thinking of a way to become successful, do it, and then make millions just for telling my success story because its always better if you start out poor. Look at Jewel and J.K. Rowling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-484136442061850674?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/484136442061850674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=484136442061850674&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/484136442061850674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/484136442061850674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/10/bums.html' title='Bums'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-359816981742918623</id><published>2007-10-03T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T16:46:03.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Police</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.tonychor.com/archive/bacon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.tonychor.com/archive/bacon.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Police are weird. I do not understand why anyone would ever want to be one.  What if you get into a huge gunfight for this one hostage and become paralyzed and then later find out the hostage is a huge dick. Who wants to save a huge dick? I see the good in being a police man, mostly from watching Superbad, Family Matters, and Garden State.  These are good examples which prove to me that they too are just regular people like each and every one of us.  I feel bad that I get annoyed when I see a police man though. They are just trying to save my life, but I don't like them still. I want to drive fast. I want to have wild rages in my house without worrying if the "popos" will show up. I want to drink my sparks on my way to my friends house. I want to pregame in the car trip down. I want to steal. I want to park in the fire lane. but noooooooo I can't because I do not want to pay extra money. So I live a life by the law.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think the whole police and donut thing is too funny. Actually, I do not think its funny at all.&lt;br /&gt;I would like to be a police person to beat people with that stick thing. I never tried to hurt someone with all my might because I am basically super strong, so I have fears that I would kill the person. But I would have a good excuse if I was a police woman.&lt;br /&gt;The reason this is my latest blog topic is because I was in a little hurry this morning. But actually not really, I just like driving the speed I feel like driving. Sometimes its slow and steady and sometimes fast as f*ck. So I chose the fast choice this morning and for the first time in my life, I got pulled over. I was listening to a sad song so I was already a little on the edge, but then I got pulled over and knew it was the best time to cry ever. I let him have it. He got tears before my license, therefore I got away with a nice warning. I like taking advantage of my gender. Crying when you get pulled over is one way to do it. A few more ways to take advantage of being a girl are 1. you can be a ditz just to get away with things. 2. free drinks 3. carry less 4. wear makeup to cover imperfections 5. get out of anything due to cramps 6. blame any freak out on pms 7. listen to kelly clarkson guilt free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-359816981742918623?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/359816981742918623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=359816981742918623&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/359816981742918623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/359816981742918623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/10/police.html' title='Police'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-2361312235801424393</id><published>2007-09-22T17:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T10:16:47.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Combos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.eatabq.com/wp-content/meal.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.eatabq.com/wp-content/meal.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently just tried this little combo and loved every second of it: sparks + vodka + champagne.&lt;br /&gt;My initial reaction was THATS AMAZING and I was correct. But then everyone I told this combo to made a gross face and told me im sick. Regardless of what others told me, I tried the interesting combo and there was no surprise. It was awesome. The most awesome thing about this combo was that you get wasted in no time. No longer will one need to suffer through a painful shot or a sick strong mixed drink just to feel the effects of alcohol. Just make this nice combo, enjoy, and you will be sh*tfaced in no time.&lt;br /&gt;Another combo that I just made up, but I am not taking credit for because I feel like its been done many times before but I just made up is: pancake batter + scrambled egg liquid = !!!&lt;br /&gt;I love pancakes. I love eggs. I always eat them together anyways, so why not just make it together. Take the scrambled egg liquid and pour it in the pancake batter and make one cute little delish egg pancake. Ketchup or Syrup...its up to you! I was also thinking about putting sauage chunks in it. I have not done this yet, but I think it would do nothing but make it more awesome.&lt;br /&gt;I also like the combination of Kid Rock +Sheryl Crow, Slim Shady +Elton John, Brit + Kev, purple +yellow,  summer + popsicles,  tall + dark + handsome, cheese + anything, chocolate + mint, chocolate + peanut butter, scarves + winter, milk + oreos, vodka + tonic, dolce + gabbana, ryan sechrist + am. idol, noodles + butter, myspace + stalking, and chips + dip.&lt;br /&gt;I would like to see the combo of Sisqo + Leeann Womack.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-2361312235801424393?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/2361312235801424393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=2361312235801424393&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2361312235801424393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2361312235801424393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/09/combos.html' title='Combos'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8877366866021876270</id><published>2007-09-18T18:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T18:20:02.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kid Rock</title><content type='html'>...is awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8877366866021876270?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8877366866021876270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8877366866021876270&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8877366866021876270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8877366866021876270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/09/kid-rock.html' title='Kid Rock'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-9010684007247048167</id><published>2007-09-16T04:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T11:34:23.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>txt</title><content type='html'>sexC btch. l8r g8r. wot R U EtN 4 dinr? kewl. ttyl. Phat Nassy MoFo. scuba. asl. xlnt. ttfn. bffae. gr8. lylasf. b4. bbl. bbialw. tbaaald. nbd. brb. btdt. cya. diku?. html. diy. faq. we. fcol. fyi. g2g. bibiqtpi. itigtbs. gl. nifoc. xing. laser. rofl. oic. ne1. lol. fol. luwamh. plz. hiv. ppl. igp. s^. sos. h&amp;amp;k. tgif. cd. jk. sn. aol. tm. nasa. stfu. usa. y2k. udmn2m. kfc. interpol. esw. BYOB. hshintmhm. jlo. ge. lmbo. xtc. 4eva. ImA*VinRtst. XmeQK. myob. rnr. sbd. omg. nato. foti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sexy bitch. later gator. what are you eating for dinner? cool. talk to you later. phat nassy mofo. self-contained underwater breathing apparatus. age/sex/location. excellent. ta ta for now. best friends forever and ever. great. love ya like a sister forever. before. be back later. be back in a little while. to be announced at a later date. no big deal. be right back. been there, done that. see ya. do I know you? hypertext markup language. do it yourself. frequently asked questions. whatever. for crying out loud. for your information. got to go. bye bye cutie pie. I think I'm going to be sick. good luck. naked in front of the computer. crossing. light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation. rolling on the floor laughing. oh i see. anyone. laugh out loud. fart out loud. love you with all my heart. please. human immunodeficiency virus. people. i gotta pee. sup. save our ship. hugs and kisses. thank god its friday. compact disc. just kidding. screen name. america online. text message. national aeronautics and space administration. shut the &amp;amp;^%$ up. united states of america. year 2000. you don't mean nuttin to me. kentucky friend chicken. international criminal police organization. engineers for a sustainable world. bring your own beer. he's so hot i need to make him mine. jennifer lopez. general electric. laughing my butt off. ecstacy. forever. I'm a starving artist. kiss me quick. mind your own business. rest and relaxtion. silent but deadly. oh my gawd. north atlantic treaty organization. fart on the inside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-9010684007247048167?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/9010684007247048167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=9010684007247048167&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9010684007247048167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9010684007247048167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/txt.html' title='txt'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-5967180619970097673</id><published>2007-09-09T19:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T19:29:43.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep</title><content type='html'>BEST THING EVER. One time, in a get-to-know-each-other group activity, we had to say our name and one thing about ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;Hi, my name is Jamie and my favorite thing to do is sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I pondered my response for quite some time. Is that depressing? If that is really my favorite thing, that is kind of sad. But no, because its so amazing how can it not? I am not saying that is the only thing I ever want to do. I like doing a few other things too. But when my head hits the pillow and I know its that time again, I get real happy.&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I am sure we all know how amazing sleep is so here is my least favorite thing: when my arm falls asleep during slumber. I am awkward and sleep on my stomach. I am not sure what I will be doing when I become prego some day but I will worry about that when the time comes, but I sleep on my stomach and usually on top of my arms. I often wake up in the middle of the night and both of my arms are asleep. I honestly freak. When they are asleep I sit up super fast and flail my arms wildly around for several minutes until I regain feeling. Its probably the weirdest feeling ever. I feel like my arms are two clubs and every time I get scared they will never feel normal again. Then finally I feel all the blood surge back into my arms and soon I am fine again. I hate it though. Truly hate that feeling. What if I was on MTV's Real World and it happened? They have cameras that can see you in the dark and would be able to see me when I awake to my arms being asleep and have a total tweak attack.&lt;br /&gt;It also sucks when you want to sleep in a car ride and your mouth is obsessed with being open.&lt;br /&gt;I have seen people sleep with their eyes slightly opened and it is extremely creepy.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.kevdo.com/roadtrip/Sites-Images/26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.kevdo.com/roadtrip/Sites-Images/26.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-5967180619970097673?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/5967180619970097673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=5967180619970097673&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5967180619970097673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5967180619970097673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/09/sleep.html' title='Sleep'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-737726554191857000</id><published>2007-09-09T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T16:24:55.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Work</title><content type='html'>I do not like work. I wish I never had to do it. Sometimes I think if I did not do it for a long enough time period that I would get sick of doing nothing and then I would want to work. But that is just silly. I could do nothing really well every day. It's not that I would do nothing, I would most likely go somewhere everyday. And I would appreciate the days I did nothing because thats very nice and relaxing. If I did not work, I would probably be a volunteer or work out a lot. Both of which are very beneficial. Or I would blog a lot. Also being very beneficial. My first job that I ever had was being a tennis instructor. It changed my life. I hated kids before that and lied to the guy that hired me and told him I loved kids and loved babysitting. Truth was that I hated all kids and babysitting was the worst times of my life. By the end of the summer, I grew fond of kids. I was 16 years old and was in charge of a million little kids between 6-18 years old. There were only 2 kids that were actually older than me and yes, it was very awkward. When I applied for the job, I thought there would be a pro tennis player actually teaching and I would just feed balls to the little stinkers and have a nice time. But the year they hired me they decided to not have a pro tennis player and have the stupid 16 year old person without any experience do the whole program. It was a free program so I guess it was not a big deal, but I felt it was a lot of responsibility. What if I did not go to work? All the kids would be dropped off by their parents and if I was not there only bad things would happen. I thought it was really weird for someone to give me that pressure.&lt;br /&gt;One of the kids I had was named Jamie. I did not know if Jamie was a boy or a girl. Longer short hair, 7 years old, named Jamie. No clue. There is a game called King of the Court that we would play. If you win 2 points in a row you are the King. For the girls, I would say congrats your the queen. It was really awkward when Jamie would win. I would always say "woo congrats youre.....wooo go to the other side!" Well actually, lets back track. In the beginning, it was no question I thought Jamie was a boy. So I would originally say YAY YOURE KING! Then one day his/her grandma picked Jamie up and I could have sworn she goes "she loves playing tennis". It was then that I questioned myself. Did the grandma just say she. omg Jamie could be a boy or girls name. omg i told Jamie he/she was king. omg i f*cked the kid up. That was my thought process. But then I thought maybe I heard the grandmother wrong. Maybe she said "he". It was then that I would never say king or queen but rather wooo go to the other side. God I hated that. Note to readers: if you have a kid and decide to name your child a boy/girls name, please at least dress and make the hair give away the gender of your child. Another interesting thing is that my name is Jamie as well and I just realized that that might have happened to me as a child.&lt;br /&gt;I think I just made myself depressed. Because think about it, if people question your gender: life sucks. But ok yes, its more sucky if you are an unintentional ambiguous gendered adult. Because once you are an adult, that is what you look like. All kids are kind of awkward and look funny so I guess I would not be super sad if I found out that people once questioned my gender, but that would be weird. I do not think it happened but I am just stating that my name is Jamie so its possible.&lt;br /&gt;My dad wanted to name me Kelly if I was a boy. WTF? I am thankful I am a girl for 2 reasons: If I was a boy, my name would be Kelly and I have super straight hair and I think its really hard for a boy with slick straight hair to have a good hair cut. I am not saying its not possible, but rare indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was a banquet server.  As a banquet server, I mainly just served at wedding receptions. I heard the cheesiest music every Friday and Saturday night. I feared dropping trays every second. I saw too many old drunk people dance worse than I can describe. One DJ told me that my white gloves turned him on. He was over 60. I said thank you.&lt;br /&gt;I also would laugh to myself at how much higher my voice would get when I spoke to these people.  I would say "Would you like more coffee, sir?" in the highest voice ever. I would not even try. I just automatically comes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those were the first 2 jobs of my life and this blog is rather lengthy so I need to wrap it up. In conclusion, working bites and I am not for it. The super annoying thing about it all is that I like money.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-737726554191857000?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/737726554191857000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=737726554191857000&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/737726554191857000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/737726554191857000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/09/work.html' title='Work'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8975912585434145515</id><published>2007-09-04T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T18:26:04.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheerleading</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.moeller.org/Portals/0/athletics/Cheerleading/2006-2007/2006-2007%20MOELLER%20CHEERLEADERS%20001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.moeller.org/Portals/0/athletics/Cheerleading/2006-2007/2006-2007%20MOELLER%20CHEERLEADERS%20001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am not for it. Too much pep. I understand people "think" its a sport, but it is not. Yes, congratulations, you compete, but I believe it is too annoying to consider a sport. I do not feel one's facial expressions should be considered in a sport. In fact, the more disgusting one can produce his/her face to be, the more respect I have for that sport. I enjoy looking at the sports page in the local newspaper to see the high schoolers faces. They are usually really embarrassing. I have been fortunate enough to have the absolute sickest face action shots in tennis printed in our newspaper which then was pasted on my high schools bulletin board to make sure everyone saw the sickness. A cheerleader has to constantly smile, so that is one reason why its not a real sport. Not only do you need to be smiling at all times, but you have to do it to the point of creepiness.&lt;br /&gt;Like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://boreddreamer.files.wordpress.com/2006/04/smile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 99px; height: 72px;" src="http://boreddreamer.files.wordpress.com/2006/04/smile.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://gravybread.files.wordpress.com/2007/04/annie-creepy-smile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 57px; height: 80px;" src="http://gravybread.files.wordpress.com/2007/04/annie-creepy-smile.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I also just do not think you can classify cheering for another sport as a sport. A sport is being played when there is a cheerleader present. The only people that classify cheerleading as a sport are cheerleaders and their parents. Not even parents, just moms. Yes, sometimes they get injured so one may think that helps make it a sport. No, they are just dumb. Or one may say but they do really good jumps and flips and twirls, but I really do not care. A sport needs a ball or something. A sport needs a sports bra. I do not consider dancing a sport either. I like dancing. It's nice to watch. It's not a sport. But cheerleading is super annoying so I wrote about that. Some of my friends were cheerleaders in their day. I am still friends with them, but only because I make myself forget they were once "one of them". Its nice to be cheered for when playing a sport. But a cheerleader probably does not know how to play the sport they are cheering for. Also a cheerleader is too busy falling from the pyramid to even watch the sport being played. How can you truly put your heart into cheering if you are not watching the game? Yes, ok, they are getting the crowd pumped up. But I get less pumped when I see a cheerleader shaking her pom poms to make me cheer louder. I do not like being forced to cheer. When something good happens I will clap. I am sorry for offending any cheerleaders. You have your opinion, I have mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8975912585434145515?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8975912585434145515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8975912585434145515&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8975912585434145515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8975912585434145515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/09/cheerleading.html' title='Cheerleading'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-2354613980073104648</id><published>2007-09-02T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T09:52:18.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheesecake</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://jimmartin.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/menu_cheesecake_dulcedelechecaramel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://jimmartin.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/menu_cheesecake_dulcedelechecaramel.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's super good. No, its SUPER good. I really love it. I really like The Cheesecake Factory. I kind of want to always eat there. I never order dessert at a restaurant but when I go there, I feel I have to because of its name. I really like ordering dessert but I never wanted to spend more money, but that place makes you feel like its necessary because why would you go to eat at a cheesecake factory and not get cheesecake? I think the name cheesecake is super sick. Never did I want to try it because it just sounds gross. I mean, I like cheese and I like cake, but together I don't like the sound of it. Kind of like chocolate pizza. I love chocolate and I love pizza, but I don't love them together. But I am referring to if the pizza consisted of dough, sauce, cheese, and chocolate chunks. One may take the term "chocolate pizza" and think sugar cookie crust, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles to which I would think would be amazing, ergo I would like a chocolate pizza. But I was referring to a real pizza with chocolate on top, which would not be tasty. But cheesecake, despite its interesting name, is sensational. I love rich things. Never have I ever come across something too rich for me to handle. I like it with strawberries, oreos, chocolate peanut butter cookie dough, and I like it plain. It makes me really happy and although it could lead to a heart attack if I ate it as much as I would prefer, it makes me real nice and happy at the moment and I'm glad its around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-2354613980073104648?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/2354613980073104648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=2354613980073104648&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2354613980073104648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2354613980073104648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/09/cheesecake.html' title='Cheesecake'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-4466546863268773356</id><published>2007-09-02T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T10:17:30.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Types of Friends</title><content type='html'>The loud one.&lt;br /&gt;The funny one.&lt;br /&gt;The slutty one.&lt;br /&gt;The one you dont consider a friend but more a person that's always there.&lt;br /&gt;The high-fiver.&lt;br /&gt;The rich one.&lt;br /&gt;The mooch.&lt;br /&gt;The mom.&lt;br /&gt;The bitch.&lt;br /&gt;The smart one.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.brookesidevet.net/Cuddles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.brookesidevet.net/Cuddles.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one that won't stop talking.&lt;br /&gt;The listener.&lt;br /&gt;The one that only likes talking about him/herself.&lt;br /&gt;The one you say, "lets hang out" every time you run into but never really do.&lt;br /&gt;The one you see is calling but never answer.&lt;br /&gt;The busy one.&lt;br /&gt;The one by association.&lt;br /&gt;The one you want to defriend on myspace because of bulletin overload.&lt;br /&gt;The drunk.&lt;br /&gt;The sketchy one.&lt;br /&gt;The attention seeker.&lt;br /&gt;The super nice one.&lt;br /&gt;The texter.&lt;br /&gt;The one that always completes the night.&lt;br /&gt;The side kick.&lt;br /&gt;The selfish one.&lt;br /&gt;The one that makes you buy them drinks.&lt;br /&gt;The one that buys you drinks.&lt;br /&gt;The one that is so happy that its weird to see sad.&lt;br /&gt;The responsible one.&lt;br /&gt;The one that is your really good friend but is in a relationship so you never hang out anymore.&lt;br /&gt;The diva.&lt;br /&gt;The ones you fart in front of.&lt;br /&gt;The ones you don't.&lt;br /&gt;The one you get deep with.&lt;br /&gt;The one that is always there for you.&lt;br /&gt;The quiet yet really funny one.&lt;br /&gt;The one that is exactly like you.&lt;br /&gt;The blunt one.&lt;br /&gt;The one with benefits.&lt;br /&gt;The one that you know before going out that if you go out with him/her that there will be drama by the end of the night.&lt;br /&gt;The temporary one.&lt;br /&gt;The ones from first grade.&lt;br /&gt;The smelly one.&lt;br /&gt;The one to discuss music with.&lt;br /&gt;The one that really bums you out if they are not there.&lt;br /&gt;The one that you always try and remember how you became friends because you are so different.&lt;br /&gt;The one that always makes you really happy.&lt;br /&gt;The one you know through people so you finally became friends.&lt;br /&gt;The one that is always tired.&lt;br /&gt;The wild one.&lt;br /&gt;The one that you call when you are sad.&lt;br /&gt;The one that you are only friends through myspace/facebook.&lt;br /&gt;The gross one.&lt;br /&gt;The Best Friend.&lt;br /&gt;The hippie.&lt;br /&gt;The one you use for rides/homework/drugs.&lt;br /&gt;The one you never hang out with.&lt;br /&gt;The one that calls just to chat.&lt;br /&gt;The weird one.&lt;br /&gt;The one with the good clothes.&lt;br /&gt;The one you wish you weren't friends with.&lt;br /&gt;The one that always eats.&lt;br /&gt;The one that only calls when his/her girlfriend/boyfriend is out of town.&lt;br /&gt;The caring one.&lt;br /&gt;The stupid one.&lt;br /&gt;The one that knows more about you than your family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-4466546863268773356?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/4466546863268773356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=4466546863268773356&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4466546863268773356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4466546863268773356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/09/types-of-friends.html' title='Types of Friends'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8468357598558630629</id><published>2007-08-25T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-26T08:05:22.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.2dayblog.com/images/2006_november/cool_feet_shoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.2dayblog.com/images/2006_november/cool_feet_shoes.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like them. Never have I ever considered myself to be one of those girls that die for shoes and although I still will not make a stupid squeal when I do come across a cute pair, I realized, ok yes I do like them a lot. I just realized because I noticed all the ones I own. I only wear about 3 of them. This is due to the fact that I hate blisters. They ruin my life. Every shoe I purchase I envision myself just dealing with the pain and breaking the shoes in but then when it comes time to actually do that I envision me hating my life for that night in those uncomfortable shoes and stick with my comfort zone shoes. I go from 0 to 100 on the bitch scale when a blister has formed. Its really annoying to walk with a blister. There are about a million things that could be happening worse to me at the moment I have to walk a few blocks with a blister in the most uncomfortable shoes such as being stranded on a piece of wood in the atlantic ocean surrounded by sharks with one leg bitten off but at that moment that I have to walk with that shoe and that blister, life seems to be at its max worst. (I know that is a horrible sentence and may take a few times to read before you understand how it works but I wrote it not jokingly and its so bad I had to keep it for the humor) I recently questioned would you rather have to be in the situation where you had to pee uncontrollably and were forced to hold it for 15 minutes before you reached a toilet (and there is no option of going before the 15 min) or have to walk for 15 minutes in the same shoes that caused you to have the worst blisters ever. Everyone but myself chose they would rather have to pee bad cause they hate blisters. I chose walk in the blisters because I hate needing to go to the bathroom. So basically what I just wrote earlier is contradicted and I do not know where I am going with this blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8468357598558630629?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8468357598558630629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8468357598558630629&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8468357598558630629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8468357598558630629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/shoes.html' title='Shoes'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-2334955113575435446</id><published>2007-08-23T07:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T07:30:30.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Honking</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flanimals.com/images/flanimals_honk_illustration.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.flanimals.com/images/flanimals_honk_illustration.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a funny reaction to see someone attractive and honk your horn.&lt;br /&gt;I get pretty mad when people honk at me when I'm on my bike because I'm being legit.&lt;br /&gt;I have used the honk for its actual purpose maybe twice.&lt;br /&gt;I prefer honking over going out and ringing the doorbell.&lt;br /&gt;I find it rude if a boy were to do that unless he used the doorbell and I told him a honk would suffice from now on.&lt;br /&gt;Mitch Hedberg has a good joke on honking: I think we should only get 3 honks a month on the car horn, because people honk the car horn too much. 3 honks, that's the limit. And then someone cuts you off, ffffft, you press your horn, nothing happens. You're like, "shit! I wish I wouldn't have seen Ricky on the sidewalk!"&lt;br /&gt;I think that joke is better if you heard him say it.&lt;br /&gt;What is the honky tonk? I hate every country song with that word in it. Actually I just hate every country song.&lt;br /&gt;If my car honk had a cute honk to it I would use it a lot more.&lt;br /&gt;If it had one of those mini little tune to it, it would be worn out by now.&lt;br /&gt;I should get a bumper sticker that says Honk For Peace so then whether they were honking because I did something wrong or honking for peace, I would assume it was peace and be more at peace with myself.&lt;br /&gt;I prefer the honk + middle finger. It adds a lot.&lt;br /&gt;I did that once. It was necessary. Then they were next to me for several minutes. It was awkward.&lt;br /&gt;Do geese honk? I think so.&lt;br /&gt;I have no opinions on a clown having a red nose that is honkable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-2334955113575435446?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/2334955113575435446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=2334955113575435446&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2334955113575435446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2334955113575435446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/honking.html' title='Honking'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-851037819147652785</id><published>2007-08-20T14:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T14:43:55.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Condiments</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://web.mit.edu/newsoffice/2005/unuse-catsup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://web.mit.edu/newsoffice/2005/unuse-catsup.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I think condiments are not that interesting, yet interesting enough to blog about. I just recently heard that Ketchup is considered trashy. I am not sure how I feel about that statement just yet. Let me think about it and get back to it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I love hot sauce, as a true blogging fan of mine would already know. Mustard is sicker than severed arms covered in butter. I do however like wearing the color mustard: very fashionable. Mayo couldn’t get any ghettoer. I think its equivalent to eating lard and I think that’s gross. Egg salad has mayo in it and I think that adds to the sick nasty factor of it all. I hate seeing people put relish on things. Its so gross and why would you ever eat it? Actually, I never ate relish. I know I won’t like it, ergo I will never try it because I am mature enough to know what I like and do not like without having to try it first. Please don’t tell me that I have to try everything at least once because I don’t.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Would you consider humus a condiment? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I like vinegar on fries. It’s a good change from ketchup. I think if I could only choose ketchup or vinegar for a lifetime of fry eating I would choose ketchup, but because vinegar is rare I choose it when given the opportunity cause it’s a nice taste. I love love love ketchup on my fries though and I eat a lot of it on every fry if given the opportunity. I would approximate my ultimate ketchup to fry ratio would be one packet to 4 fries. Yes, I know that fries come in all different shapes and sizes but I am referring to the average sized fry. Waffle fries are too good. Catsup on anything but fries is rank. I do not put it on burgers or hot dogs. I don’t like ketchup bread. Its really gross.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Steak sauce? I don’t see a need for it. I actually can’t recall if I have ever tried it but steak rocks on its own so why go overboard?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ranch dressing used to be so awesome to me. Now I look at it and get a little gross feeling in my stomach. Its just so heavy. I guess I still like it on chicken fingers but I’m a flexetarian now so I rarely come across that opportunity.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Putting ranch on a salad defeats the purpose of a salad. I’m gonna eat a salad only to be healthy, so if I put ranch on the stupid salad its most likely as fattening as eating something good so obvi I’m going to pick the something good.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There are more condiments, but I would prefer to stop talking about them now. I will leave you with this discussion topic: Is maple syrup a condiment? It is in Elf but I’m not sure if I would classify it as one. And also, do you pronounce it sir-up or sere-up or use them both interchangeably?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-851037819147652785?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/851037819147652785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=851037819147652785&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/851037819147652785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/851037819147652785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/condiments.html' title='Condiments'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-1650168398626068196</id><published>2007-08-11T08:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T09:27:52.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chunks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.engrish.com/image/engrish/bakedchunk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.engrish.com/image/engrish/bakedchunk.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chunky highlights are white trash.&lt;br /&gt;I named my car Chunk.&lt;br /&gt;The term "blowing chunks" is the worst way you can describe vomit.&lt;br /&gt;Chunk is the best character in The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Goonies&lt;/span&gt;, but I also am typical and have a love for Sloth.&lt;br /&gt;I did not like spaghetti for 13 years because I could not find a sauce without any chunks in it.&lt;br /&gt;I now buy salsa chunky style and I still do not understand how I like it.&lt;br /&gt;I would like Fat Joe better if he was called Chunk Master Flex/Chunk Nasty/Chunk This Dunk.&lt;br /&gt;Chunky boys are cute because they resemble a cuddly teddy bear.&lt;br /&gt;Chunky shoes should never be worn.&lt;br /&gt;All ice cream with the word chunk in it is amazing UNLESS its describing nuts.&lt;br /&gt;There is a town called Chunky, Mississippi and I kinda want to live there.&lt;br /&gt;When your hair comes out in chunks in the shower you should change your lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;Chunky Kong in Donkey Kong 64 is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;When the first part of lotion to come out is a chunk, I find it gross.&lt;br /&gt;Typing "chunk" in urbandictionary.com and reading every term with chunk in it will make you laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate chip cookies are better when they have double chocolate chunks in them.&lt;br /&gt;In the world of hard metal, guitarists may sometimes be found "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;chunking&lt;/span&gt;" out heavy, low-end riffs.&lt;br /&gt;I like the word chunk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-1650168398626068196?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/1650168398626068196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=1650168398626068196&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/1650168398626068196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/1650168398626068196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/chunks.html' title='Chunks'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8618930530147826761</id><published>2007-08-08T11:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T09:31:14.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cornercrafters.com/trickortreat_halloween_ghost_wreath45.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 115px;" src="http://www.cornercrafters.com/trickortreat_halloween_ghost_wreath45.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is an interesting holiday. Did you know that candy at Wegmans is not most popular at Halloween time? What time is it most popular you ask? Christmas! Stalking stuffers I would assume. But I am glad I know that because if I was on a game show and my question was when do grocery stores stock up on candy the most and I 50/50ed it down to Christmas or Halloween, I think I would have said Halloween final answer. So, I consider myself lucky. How did I get this exclusive information you ask? The head of the candy department at Wegman's told me. Moving on, yeah I like halloween. It's my one chance to be a super slut and dress it too. Actually, to tell you the truth I have not really taken advantage of this holiday for that reason yet. But I am still young. Maybe if it was warmer the thought of dressing like that one day maybe would cross my mind. But I get really mean when I'm at an uncomfortable temperature and so I like to be comfortably warm. It's hard to be warm and slutty at the same time. Here are things that I have been for halloween: mermaid, witch, miss ugly america, statue of liberty, genie, native american, asian lady, old lady, bee, grapes ..but every year I went trick or treating, no matter what I was when I dressed up for school, I was a hobo at night. It was always too cold to wear my real costume, so my parents made both me and my sister pretend we were hobos. All we did was put on my dads old hunting jackets, put brown make up on our face to look dirty and tell people we were hobos. My statue of liberty costume got me in second place for best costumes of the 5th graders. Morgan won being a giant piece of cheese. It was a good costume.&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember those M&amp;amp;Ms costumes? When my friend was in 4th grade she wore a white one and made it say Tylenol. I always thought she was really funny for that. Then the next year she was a snickers bar but she really was just a giant piece of poop.&lt;br /&gt;My most recent costume was grapes. I wore all green and pinned purple balloons on myself. We went to a show (Deerhoof and Fiery Furnaces) that night then to a party. Being grapes is a bad idea when you go to shows. Being grapes is a bad idea when you have to get in a car. Being grapes is a bad idea when you want to reach your hand to your mouth to drink anything. Being grapes is a good idea when you want to bounce in peoples faces.&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, Halloween is a nice day and I hope I never have that awkward moment at work where I am unsure if they dress up or not so I do and no one else does and then I have to sit in my office with my tinkerbell costume all day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8618930530147826761?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8618930530147826761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8618930530147826761&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8618930530147826761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8618930530147826761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-4408517726618555266</id><published>2007-08-08T06:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T06:13:30.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair Gel</title><content type='html'>just don't do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-4408517726618555266?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/4408517726618555266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=4408517726618555266&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4408517726618555266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4408517726618555266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/hair-gel.html' title='Hair Gel'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6785283833318407335</id><published>2007-08-06T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T14:20:38.691-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming Soon...</title><content type='html'>water beds. happiness inside nilla wafers. cripple rape. 7th grade chat rooms. edible underwear. Mike Tyson. pros and cons of sarcasm. party pooping 101. purple M&amp;amp;Ms. wet farts. magic tricks. air pounds. cinnamon butter. thick dicks. ugly fruit. clone high. makeovers. so you wanna be a hermit part II XXX edition. severed arm obsessions. the art of spooning. skanky hoes. Sarah Jessica Parker. mooning in the dark. pounding beers. whispering sweet nothings. sensitive plants. pouring hot wax on Ricky Martin. crustpunks. biting the bullet. bum fights. honky tonk. blood rags. tmnt green. jumanji. Korn and heroism. wigi. andy dick's scissor hands. Dance TV. dogs in wheelchairs. tickling. pounders. comfort zone.  stomach issues. last resort: eHarmony. white trash: buffet style. dick move prevention. the white ninja. organ donations. caressing skills of nerds. types of farts. jokester wannabes. attractive women gyrating on awkward men. hair gel. druggies. eye f*cking. geek gods. breathtaking scenery.  eye patch and cape styles. definition of a loser. annoyance of stupidity. cher. why tall people don't necessarily play basketball. what its like to rock out. shimmy techniques. silverfish. emolicious. true life: my boss has a tramp stamp. kirby. the hopeless romantic. look whos barfing now. the official diss guideline. never eat soggy wheaties. eye contact. what not to eat.top 10 reasons why dogs eat poop. how to remove embarrassing walnut stains. tom green. worst way to die. what i like about plinko. life changing lyrics. crotch kicking. downfalls of living the techno dream. menu formatting. the pity laugh. jonesing for beef patties. reba.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6785283833318407335?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6785283833318407335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6785283833318407335&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6785283833318407335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6785283833318407335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/coming-soon.html' title='Coming Soon...'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-2260468425474826914</id><published>2007-08-06T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T05:44:02.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Buffalo Hipsters</title><content type='html'>indie music. off the wall. flats. ipods. side ponytails. black eyeliner. biking. SPoT coffee. tight black pants. deuces. parks. sparks.white vneck ts.wes anderson movies. straight leg jeans. tofu. scarves in the summer. macs. opinionated. big ass sun glasses. chuck taylors. thick framed glasses. kit's face stickers. being pale. death to mainstream. hair so styled. clothes so dark. amvets. myspace. sweet n dirty. being vegetarian. mohawk. calculator watch. skinny. ferngully. bacchus movies on wednesdays. vegan cupcake parties. amy's place. html coding skills. not taking showers. vans slip ons. having dreams of moving to chicago/nyc/portland/toronto. doom metal castle. supernaut booking. drinking wine in arlington park. sound lab. sugarfree redbulls. allentown. blogz. rolled cigs. tattoos. reading hemmingway. drawing anchors. zines. plaid. humus. kitchen dist misser. music snob. creepy staches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-2260468425474826914?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/2260468425474826914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=2260468425474826914&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2260468425474826914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2260468425474826914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/buffalo-hipsters.html' title='Buffalo Hipsters'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7426063371485065037</id><published>2007-08-05T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T10:05:24.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rudenosity</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.bluehatseo.com/images/middle_finger_flame.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://www.bluehatseo.com/images/middle_finger_flame.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's rude to call people stupid dicks without meeting them.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to think all girls are sluts.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to burp a smelly one and blow it in someone's face.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to mooch 24/7.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to make the gross face at people when they are not trying to be gross.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to write a blog about being rude when you know someone hates when you say rude.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to watch broccoli in someone's teeth and not say anything.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to not shower when you know you will be flying in a plane.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to blog about stereotypes.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to stare at ugly people because they are ugly.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to play the "how many beers does it take to hook up with him" game&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to throw bang drops at people you do not know.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to use the phrase "I'm just being honest" when you know its hurtful.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to make fun of pale people when you are with pale people.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to not accept someone because they like egg salad.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to pull someone's pants down in public when the person has low self esteem.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to always pick the shy kids of the class to read.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to not be a gentleman.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to hire midget strippers.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to order grilled cheese at fancy restaurants.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to overuse the "I was drunk" excuse.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to ask people what is on their face when its clearly a zit gone wrong.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to keep your nolongerloved one around so he can buy you things.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to have a huge party and talk about it in front of people that are not invited.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to throw up on the person shoes's that is holding your hair back and not offer to clean it up the next day.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to make fun of people for things they cannot help.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to tell someone that crisco is frosting to trick her into eating it.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to point at the girl that likes your brother and laugh that she actually thinks she has a chance.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to love 'em and leave 'em, unless its mutual.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to force someone to open their mouth and close their eyes and stick your butt in their face and fart in their mouth.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to wear cowboy hats when its not halloween.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to throw meat at vegetarians.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to taunt wannabe vegetarians with meat.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to use someones computer when you have sticky fingers.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to tell a bum to get up from a bench so you can sit there.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to swear and yell at a tired old man eating an ice cream cone.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to give your roommates belongings away.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to ask someone to prom as a joke.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to wipe your boogers on someone you do not know.&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to go to a meditating class and fol (fart out loud).&lt;br /&gt;It's rude to stain someone's couch and flip it over before they notice its stained.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7426063371485065037?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7426063371485065037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7426063371485065037&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7426063371485065037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7426063371485065037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/rude.html' title='Rudenosity'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-1211109719511774739</id><published>2007-08-05T11:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T19:51:21.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ghetto</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://llamabutchers.mu.nu/Cheetos.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 200px; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://llamabutchers.mu.nu/Cheetos.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bling. booties. shopping at rainbow. Cheeto's. iguanas as pets. air force ones. phat pharm. using cell phones on bikes. chains. dembitches. hoop earrings. purple drink. drama. gun shot wounds. man whores. bratz dolls. plain white tees. -izzy. clubs. clock necklaces. bailey. sponge bob paraphernalia. newspaper wrapping paper. long nails. bartons. tooth accessories. nextel. mayo. snail mail. beef patties. geico. sparkling letters in myspace comments. barrettes. bacon. slushies. grilled cheese. text language. spray painted looney tunes Ts. big mac. grindin'. throw away cameras. th = d. mesh shorts. talent shows.Buck Wild. talking to the hand. duct tape. South Pole jeans. genny light. corn dogs. blue eyeshadow. talk boy. gap between teeth. air drying. "baby". ballin'. whistling. fish smell. fabreeze. fish smell covered up with fabreeze. molson xxx. stray cats. faucet water. atlanta. construction paper. stained thongs. side mouth chat. boppin'. butter. swamp porn. hotmail. never using "ing". brit spears from '04-present. ass pads. belly jewelry. multicolored braces. cherry coke. slanted skirts. using a toilet scrubber. impalas. smokin' n ridin'. pitbulls. smack down. dollar tree shower curtains. signature dance moves. cheesy potatoes. wearing "ice". bubble jackets. exotic nature scenes. snow cones. band aids on cheeks. hankies. roller skates. bath and body works body spray. walkman. pimps. controlling the movement of your pecs. portable fans with water sprayer attached. pit stains. weekly steaks. dry humping. fox news. fake purses. middle fingers. saggy boobs. radios. alleys. mazda mvp. giving pennies for halloween. lice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;please note: ok, not all of these are ghetto but it was funny to me calling some of the things ghetto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-1211109719511774739?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/1211109719511774739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=1211109719511774739&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/1211109719511774739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/1211109719511774739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/ghetto.html' title='Ghetto'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-3701817235512023149</id><published>2007-08-05T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T09:34:13.691-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boogers</title><content type='html'>Boogers are not the best thing in the world. When people have unknown boogers in their nose, I feel really uncomfortable. Uncomfortable to the point where I need to get out of the convo asap. It's a lose-lose situation because if I tell the person he has a boog in his nose, then its just awkward of what to do next, but if I don't and he goes to the bathroom and discovers the nasty unknown boog then it's really awkward when he comes back and knows I've seen it all along. Or if someone else joined the conversation and takes the initiative to mention the boog then I look like an ass. So as soon as I spot the unknown boog, I get out.&lt;br /&gt;It's kinda funny when its so cold out that people cant feel their nose and they have snot running everywhere. It's funny but super sick and I wish it did not happen. I just hate runny noses. I hate when people sniff it up in class. Makes me upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7yju4KdXG_w/Rr3k8ExrVyI/AAAAAAAAABk/HSCEoIJq4kE/s1600-h/jkn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7yju4KdXG_w/Rr3k8ExrVyI/AAAAAAAAABk/HSCEoIJq4kE/s200/jkn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097482073978656546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;An exfriend I had in preschool told me she put her boogers in her nails and eats them later. I stopped our friendship right then and there cause I couldn't handle her touching my things. I think thats a very legitimate reason for ending friendship.&lt;br /&gt;Also, please don't look at your tissue in public when you blow a load out your nose.&lt;br /&gt;Boogers are for the birds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-3701817235512023149?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/3701817235512023149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=3701817235512023149&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3701817235512023149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3701817235512023149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/boogers.html' title='Boogers'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7yju4KdXG_w/Rr3k8ExrVyI/AAAAAAAAABk/HSCEoIJq4kE/s72-c/jkn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-397903415044386910</id><published>2007-08-02T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T12:55:34.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Voicemails</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.ringcentral.com/i/pics1/features/voicemail.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.ringcentral.com/i/pics1/features/voicemail.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first got a cell phone my senior year of high school, receiving a voicemail was super exciting. Now, it just pisses me off. Ok, not crazy mad, but just annoyed. Ugh, I have to listen to my voicemails. Maybe I find it annoying because they are never actually important. Or maybe I don't like them because I listen to them when I do not have the time to call them back. Or maybe because most are just a waste of time. I do however like drunk voicemails. They bring the lonely smile out in me. But I guess people that see me doing the lonely smile think I am talking on the phone so its alright. I prefer drunk voicemails over drunk phone convos because they are quick and to the point. "Hi im drunk so I wanted to say hi". Whereas, if I answer, they tend to drag out the convo and I have no idea what they are even saying. Amusing though.&lt;br /&gt;But there are several voicemails I like. Nice happy ones brighten up my day. The truly painful part of a voicemail is taking the time to open up my phone and call it. Cause I do not like that lady that talks to me and tells me how many voicemails I have. It takes longer for her to do that than for me to listen to them. It's annoying and unnecessary. I do not see why I cannot skip over that intro if I so choose. Dumb.&lt;br /&gt;I also think the voicemails that start out slow, drag on and on, and then get real speedy at the end are funny because you took long enough why not just talk at a normal pace and finish it. But the only reason I bring this up is because I do it every day. I just have a lot to say in voicemails and talk way too much. It's a huge problem and I feel really bad because for someone that doesn't like voicemails, I should not be leaving them. But I do.&lt;br /&gt;The other part of voicemails is your own recording. I dislike people that make it long. My sister has the worst one. She has George Costanza's. The "Believe it or not, I'm not at home, pleeeease leave a messssssage at the tone, I must be out, or I'd pick up the phone...where could I beee?etc....." It was funny when she first made it. I laughed. I'll admit. But, its 2 years later and she has not changed it. I do not laugh anymore. I get really annoyed. I have to leave her a voicemail or I will forget what I needed to say. So, things like that are pretty annoying as well.&lt;br /&gt;I also hate when someone calls and I know its news I do not want to hear so I put the voice mail off for as long as possible. But that little icon is there on my phone annoying me that I have to listen to it.  How annoying.&lt;br /&gt;I was always opposed to the just leave your name and the lady does the rest, but they are somewhat efficient. And professional. When starting new careers, one needs to remember to keep a professional voicemail. And call back tones are important as well. But at the same time, if I was an employer and I called someone to set up an interview and that person's callback tone was Tommy Lee "Get Naked" I would hire them right on the spot because that is funny. So it could help or hurt you. If I were to call and it was anything that has to do with country, I would hang up and never call them again.&lt;br /&gt;There is a lot to consider when making and leaving voicemails. Short and snappy is key. Most people are good with calling their missed calls back even when the people do not leave voicemails and for that I am thankful because that saves a lot of time. If it weren't for the people that say, "well I didn't call you back because you did not leave a voicemail" then the problem would be solved.&lt;br /&gt;Basically, there needs to be a change to the voicemail world. I do not want to hear that lady's voice. That is a good start to the change. I want it to be a norm to call back missed calls that did not leave a voicemail. And I want everyone with a long voicemail to change to just their name or something snappy. And I will do my part and work on not leaving extremely long voicemails.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-397903415044386910?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/397903415044386910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=397903415044386910&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/397903415044386910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/397903415044386910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/voicemails.html' title='Voicemails'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7470952143749926847</id><published>2007-08-02T05:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T12:48:00.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Catch A Predator</title><content type='html'>I think this show is good. It's very funny and it's saving our world from gross people. I appreciate it. I do not understand the people that have been on the show twice. Are they actors? Because thats too good of television I think. TWICE? ON THE SAME SHOW? gosh. That's awesome. The naked guy made me laugh. I mostly hated the guy that wrote about messing around with the girls cat the most. I think they should give him the death penalty. I dont believe in the death penalty, but since its still around, why not. jkjk zlozl I dont wish death upon anyone. But if I were to, he would be in my top 10. Because I like cats. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://trae.traeblain.com/wp-content/files/images/Image/predator.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://trae.traeblain.com/wp-content/files/images/Image/predator.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ok so on to the show... When I first saw it I thought, " I would never let my child be that girl!" cause thats scary having her all around sickos and talking to them, but then I heard shes old.  So thats ok.  Shes one of those andy milenokis people: looks 13 but is 30. weird. I dont know how I feel about that andy show. I thought it had potential till I found out he wasnt 12. Then I thought it was not funny especially cause I was struggling to find the humor when I did think he was 12, but I will admit I did laugh at it a few times.  I am not sure if I like or hate the song in the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;so about tcap, its really good. reality tv at its finest.  I like shows that do good for society but are interesting as well. That one show that builds houses (Extreme Makeover Home Edition) for people is really nice, but ty pennington makes me not able to watch it. but im still glad its a popular show because its a nice thing. but I chose to write about tcap and not that one cause tcap is really funny in addition to the benefits it provides. Is this bad: sometimes I feel bad for the person. yes yes yes hes super sick freak and I hate his guts for what he is intending to do, but they get so sad, for good reason cause their life is over, and I cant help but feel a little sorry for them. like the ones that say please dont tell my wife please dont tell my wife.  I guess I dont pity the man as much as the family. cause thats so horribly embarrassing for the wife. and kids. and friends. ew yick yuck. moving on, another part that I loooove is when they catch him. I am not sure if its necessary to be dressed like a bush. but its completely awesome that they do that. aAll in all, to catch a predator gets two thumbs up in my book!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7470952143749926847?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7470952143749926847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7470952143749926847&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7470952143749926847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7470952143749926847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/to-catch-predator.html' title='To Catch A Predator'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-2079749239242201973</id><published>2007-08-02T05:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T05:55:42.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wink</title><content type='html'>I once fell victim to overdoing the wink. I thought it was really funny and couldn't control the lid of my right eye and just winked the shit out of people. I would do it all the time and yeah it was funny for a while but I just went too far with it. I got to thinking about the wink because this one man that I pass every day in the hall at work always looks at some fake horizon off in the distance so he does not have to say hello to me, but today he finally looked and not only that but he gave me a nice little wink. Not so much that was it creepy, but just a gentle "hi" wink. That's when I realized that winks are actually funny. Not when you overuse them like I had once done in my earlier, more immature, years, and not how that man used it to say hi to me, but using a wink for the actual original purpose of a wink. The wink is really funny if you use it correctly.&lt;br /&gt;Example of winking for its orignal purpose: I am with my two friends, Hank and Wendy. We are in math class. I say to them both, "I'm really nervous for the test we have today." Hank freaking out responds, "WHAT! A TEST! I didnt know we have one!" Wendy nervously looks at me. I give her a subtle wink. That's her clue. She says, "HANK! You didn't study?!?! I've been studying for days!"...like that.&lt;br /&gt;I dunno. I was just thinking about it and using a wink for the hint is good. But not if you overdo it. You have to be very sparing with your winks, thats the key. It's not really funny anymore if u use it to say hi or to be fake creepy. Well maybe a little, but the real humor comes from using a wink for what its meant to be used for. I have yet to actually do this, so in my head I think it would be good, but who knows if I would actually laugh if someone did that to me. But I think I would be amused.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-2079749239242201973?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/2079749239242201973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=2079749239242201973&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2079749239242201973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/2079749239242201973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-once-fell-victim-to-overdoing-wink.html' title='The Wink'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7653533369903757876</id><published>2007-07-30T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T20:31:24.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Response</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lileks.com/institute/publicity/zero.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lileks.com/institute/publicity/zero.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I get a new hair cut, for example, and its noticeable and no one says anything, its very sad/embarrassing. It means that its so bad that they can't even mention it. They think they are playing it up like they do not notice, but they do and I know and I get sad. I used to use that as my approach to not having to mention things, but I realized its rude because we all know I noticed and its just rude. It's even better to say its not THAT bad than to say nothing at all. But when someone says its not that bad, that means its pretty bad and that is sad. I also don't like when say for example when I did get that hair cut and someone stares at it for so long that they say they like it. No, you do not like it, you were just looking at its ugliness for so long you had to say something. In conclusion, when I get a bad hair cut:&lt;br /&gt;a. if you do not say anything, I am sad&lt;br /&gt;b. if you say its not that bad, I am sad&lt;br /&gt;c. if you say you like it, I am sad&lt;br /&gt;So, I now try to get less noticeable haircuts so I can just hope that they truly do not notice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7653533369903757876?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7653533369903757876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7653533369903757876&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7653533369903757876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7653533369903757876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/dont-say-anything-response.html' title='The Response'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7629745004040704183</id><published>2007-07-30T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T20:20:08.777-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sticky Buttons</title><content type='html'>Why is it so miserable to use a computer with sticky buttons? Why is it always the most important button that is on the keyboard that is sticky. I guess since its the most used its the most prone to be sticky. But its really annoying because I rarely use x. It actually could be sticky and I wouldnt really know because I never really use it. I dont like it. Or the stupid F_ buttons. I dont really care about them. They can be sticky and my life wouldn't be too bad, but when the space bar is sticky my world gets a little gloomier. In addition to the gloom, its gross cause what caused that stickiness? &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.inmagine.com/168nwm/comstock/kcd00147/kcd00147033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 105px; height: 160px;" src="http://images.inmagine.com/168nwm/comstock/kcd00147/kcd00147033.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When I'm at the computer in the library and its sticky, I just think ewww some gross smelly person was eating some caramel popcorn and sticking his fingers all down his throat and then  touching  his dirty hands all over the place on the keyboard. Most likely staying away from the x or F_ buttons because it would be too convenient to let the stick fall on those ones. No he has to save all his stick ick nasty fingers for the space bar. Not only are sticky keyboards the pits, but don't even get me started on sticky controllers for nintendo. My little cousins love ruining my controllers. I don't know if its physically possible for them to play without having sticky sick hands. Maybe it helps them play? But I find it really annoying cause I have gotten into actual arguments with my sister for who gets the sticky controller. No one wants it. If you lose you blame it on the controller. If you win you boast the hell of it saying how amazing you are winning &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with &lt;/span&gt;the sticky controller. Its just no fun all around. Some kids just look sticky. They are always the ones that try to hold my hand. And the ones with colds. They are obsessed with holding hands. I would probably buy a new cell phone if it had a sticky button. The buttons are too few to be having one be troublesome. A pound I would consider not getting a new one but then again its the space bar for my texts so its very necessary. I do not like letting sticky looking people borrow my calculator either. The last thing I need during a test is to have a sticky button and be getting annoyed at that in addition to the fact that all tests are pretty annoying. I did let someone borrow my calculator once and it came back sticky. It was very annoying. But I just pressed the button about 1,000,056 times till it got sick of sticking and back to his old self. In conclusion, sticky fingers annoy me and I wish people would try a little harder to rid themselves of the stick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7629745004040704183?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7629745004040704183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7629745004040704183&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7629745004040704183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7629745004040704183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/sticky-buttons.html' title='Sticky Buttons'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-5081142542105602794</id><published>2007-07-30T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T17:39:29.237-07:00</updated><title type='text'>People</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="text"&gt; I like nice people because they make me happy. I like people that care about the environment because it gives me hope. I don't like cocky people because no one needs 'em. I like funny people because they entertain me. I don't like boring people because they make me tired. I like weird people because they make me think. I don't like jerks because they make me frown. I like cultured people cause they teach me things. I don't like animal haters because they piss me off. I don't like smelly people cause they hurt my nose. I like optimists because they are uplifting. I like pessimists because they bring me down to reality. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.nri.ucsb.edu/images/people.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.nri.ucsb.edu/images/people.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;I don't like insensitive people because they make me cry. I don't like gross people because they gross me out. I like nerds because they make me smarter. I like players because they tend to have a chin strap. I don't like people that say, "I know right", because I find it annoying. I don't like d&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;icks because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;they perform dick moves. I like people that share my interests because it creat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;es good conversations. I like people that are good at puns because they are awesome. I don't like bitches because they are rude dudes. I like tennis players because its a good sport. I don't like brown nosers because they are the worst. I don't like muscular people because it comes with an attitude. I like people that are witty because its clever. I like smiley people because they cheer me up. I like musicians because I think they are cool. I don't like people that ask too many questions because they don't try to think. I like x-treme people because everythings more exciting that way. I like people with odd talents because its impressive and humorous at the same time. I like creative people because they have good brains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also like cats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-5081142542105602794?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/5081142542105602794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=5081142542105602794&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5081142542105602794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5081142542105602794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/people.html' title='People'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-3217402993503790440</id><published>2007-07-28T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T08:00:15.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lonely Smile</title><content type='html'>When a person is walking all by him or herself and they are smiling its really nice. You know that that person is just so happy at that moment in his/her life. I really want to know what they are so happy about. I thought of this because I just did it. Its really nice and happy and then you notice someone spots you smiling to yourself and then its not as happy anymore because you just feel weird. But its really funny to be all alone and just walking, yet so happy that you can't hide smiling. Sometimes I am so close to reaching laughter but I try so hard to hold it in, cause who laughs to themselves? That would actually be scary. But I feel that funny things happen to me and then I will be walking down a long hallway and boom it pops into my head and I really need to laugh. So there I am walking alone and smiling my face off. Then people look at me and I wish I wasn't. But I really like when I see people doing that so I guess it is ok that I do it. It is kinda a day brightener. If I see someone smiling all to their lonesome, I start smiling cause they look so funny.&lt;br /&gt;The worst is when people would ask what you are smiling about. Because it could be something so random. Something most likely from last night, but I have been caught to be smiling at a childhood memory. Then when they ask, I just feel weird saying, "Oh I was just laughing when I was 4 and my sister took my face and smashed it on our coffee table cause she was mad at me and I have a scar from it but now I was just thinking what my parents were thinking when it happened cause thats so violent so I decided to think about it as I'm walking from English to Differential Equations". So the lonely smile is a lot better when you see people you don't know doing it, or people you don't know see you doing it because when you have to talk about it, it ruins all the fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-3217402993503790440?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/3217402993503790440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=3217402993503790440&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3217402993503790440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3217402993503790440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/lonely-smile.html' title='The Lonely Smile'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-9012367732246748453</id><published>2007-07-28T07:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T07:44:57.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rat Tails</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Rat tails are amazing. Seriously amazing. Who thought of it? What was going through their head when they decided to go for that look? "I want all of my hair short except for one sick string of hair in the back...kinda like a tail on a rat". Yes, good idea. Very good idea. I once made my friend take a picture of a man with the best rat tail I ever saw. I was at cedar point and there it was. He fit the perfect stereotype of your typical rat tail supporter. The cutoff&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jort_%2528apparel%2529"&gt; jorts&lt;/a&gt;, the john deer hat, and the t-shirt shirt that said&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/56/179484163_47af84a17b_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/56/179484163_47af84a17b_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; something about America. The best was his rat tail was through the back hole of his john deer hat and that his rat tail exceeded past his butt. It couldn't have been more perfect. I needed a pic of it. But how can we take it without being really rude? I needed to capture this memory for the rest of time but I didn't want him to know! I guess I'm rude. ok so what we did was I stood near him with some thumbs up, so my friend made it look like the pic was being taken of me, but really he captured a perfect snap shot of the rat tail in action. When composing this blog I had all intentions of putting that pic up as the pic for the blog, but then I felt like that was wrong. So forgive and forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;A kid that I went to grade school with sported a nice rat tail from first to 4th grade. It was pretty awesome. I feel bad cause it haunts him for the rest of eternity. I just recently reminded some old friends of how he used to wear it and I cannot see him without asking him if he remembers when he had one. I'm not sure if he likes that or not. If I was a boy, I def would be proud that I had one if it was not as a joke but because I thought it looked cool. I mean I had weird fashions as a child, not as extreme as the rat tail, but I would def have in my myspace about me: I had a rat tail and thought it was cool for 4 years of my life. Because that sums up everything. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I love when rat tails are braided. Its great. I think its a really good idea. I think when I have kids, I will give them rat tail hair cuts. so I can just laugh at them a lot. Even if they are girls. Why not? You only live once. I think a few of my friends that are girls had mini ones growing up. poor kids. &lt;/div&gt; All in all, mullets are overdone and rat tails are way better anyways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-9012367732246748453?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/9012367732246748453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=9012367732246748453&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9012367732246748453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9012367732246748453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/rat-tails.html' title='Rat Tails'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/56/179484163_47af84a17b_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-9095097422725820260</id><published>2007-07-26T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T16:08:37.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Pillow</title><content type='html'>My pillow makes me extremely happy. I am very sensitive about it. I get really annoyed if it touches anything that it should not. I think it is slightly weird yet I cannot not feel that way. The worst thing in the world with my pillow is when a foot touches it.  It is meant for heads. Not feet. Feet are the worst part about humans. I hate them. They are gross in every way. When a foot touches my pillow I can go from being super happy and loving life to super sicked out and worrying about how gross that is.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.germes-online.com/direct/dbimage/50130373/Pillow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.germes-online.com/direct/dbimage/50130373/Pillow.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I feel like a brat changing the cover for every foot that touches it and I try to brush it off like its no biggie, but inside I want to scream/shrivel up into a sad little ball. I think that is really weird, but it is the truth. I really hate a foot on my pillow. I hate anything but my face on the pillow, but a foot really gets me.&lt;br /&gt;My pillow makes me so happy because sleep makes me so happy. But sleep without my pillow makes me less happy. When I am without my pillow I just think about the better sleep that I could be getting with my pillow if I had it. There are a few occasions where I am pretty content with the pillow that I am sleeping on that is not my own and I am very thankful for those days, but for the most part, I need my pillow to reach maximum happiness.&lt;br /&gt;It's ironic because my pillow is barely a pillow. It lost its fluff and now it is just a few feathers in a sack. But it is most comfortable to me spiritually, physically, and mentally. I am complete with my pillow and I appreciate all the times we share together.&lt;br /&gt;I so want to get one of those &gt;$100 pillows. They look nice but I'm not sure how the parting of the pillow I love so much would go over. I think it would be a slow transition where I have my loved one next to me and the new one in front of me. I will start with the new but end up on the old. Then the new will be pushed in the corner and I will realize that I can never part with my first true love, my pillow.&lt;br /&gt;I think I love my pillow so much I should name her. Her or him? I'm not sure what is more normal. If I decide a girl is more normal I will name her Trista. If I decide it is more normal to say my pillow is a boy then I will name him Philip. Well I think I will name my first dog Philip. I just think that is funny. But if I never get a dog, then I will make it my pillows name. But I do plan on getting a dog, actually 2, one huge one and one little one and they will be best friends and it will look really funny, but besides that I will name one Phil, so then I think I would name my male pillow Terrance.&lt;br /&gt;I think a fleece pillow cover would be really comfy. I'm going to look into that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-9095097422725820260?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/9095097422725820260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=9095097422725820260&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9095097422725820260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/9095097422725820260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-pillow.html' title='My Pillow'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8228611502291524013</id><published>2007-07-25T14:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T14:35:38.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Napoleon Dynamite</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thecia.com.au/reviews/n/images/napoleon-dynamite-8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://thecia.com.au/reviews/n/images/napoleon-dynamite-8.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon Dynamite is funny. This is why I am mad at America for overkilling it. I can't watch it. When it first came out, I loved it. I liked so many parts of it, I wanted moon shoes, tator tots tasted better, and I loled every time I thought about the steak hitting Nap on the bike. I don't think I could watch it again though because it was the most overkilled movie I ever experienced. Stop saying you were "online looking at hot babes all day". That WAS funny, till YOU ruined it, America. If I ever watched it with someone and that certain someone quoted every quote they could including singing every lyrics to the "yes i love technology" song, I would stab their arm with a moldy fork. (Can forks get moldy? It sounded better and more original than rusty.) Anyways, I'm just mad at the overkill because I would like to watch it again. Yet, I hate it double time because I know that if I were to watch it, I would be tempted to quote it. That just makes me sick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8228611502291524013?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8228611502291524013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8228611502291524013&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8228611502291524013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8228611502291524013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/napoleon-dynamite.html' title='Napoleon Dynamite'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-4896502967059580870</id><published>2007-07-25T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T13:40:21.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beefcakes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.victorydrive.com/images/sized/beefcake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.victorydrive.com/images/sized/beefcake.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really like using the terminology "beefcake". It's funny. But an actual man that is a beefcake, hes a lot funnier. Just because you take steroids you think people will think you are hot. Just because you workout more than you sleep, you think people will adore you. The sad thing is, yes, there are people to adore you which is why you continue to stare at yourself in the gym mirror, but for the most part I rate you a huge OH PLEASE.  Most beefcakes aren't even cute because they:&lt;br /&gt;a. wear wife beaters&lt;br /&gt;b. carry around gallon water jugs to be cool&lt;br /&gt;c. are too concerned about their looks&lt;br /&gt;d. gel their hair&lt;br /&gt;e. go tanning&lt;br /&gt;f. OD on cologne&lt;br /&gt;g. head knod&lt;br /&gt;h. 50% of their conversations are about protein,  45% about bangin hot babes, 5% just dumb&lt;br /&gt;ok but I will give them one thing. It is a common trend for the average beefcake to sport the hot and sexy chin strap. OH GAWD when I see a really good chin strap, it makes my day. The thinner the better. I want to know what they are thinking when they are shaving and they leave that tiny string on their face out. I don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;But I appreciate having beefcakes around because they make me laugh a lot. And I should befriend one when it comes close to moving cause that would be pretty convenient.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-4896502967059580870?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/4896502967059580870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=4896502967059580870&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4896502967059580870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/4896502967059580870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/beefcakes.html' title='Beefcakes'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-440204316711224331</id><published>2007-07-25T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T13:18:28.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Poop Pen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.andale.com/f2/110/117/6971635/1000542696101_Poop_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://images.andale.com/f2/110/117/6971635/1000542696101_Poop_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is the poop pen. A friend sent me a link to ebay that was selling this pen. My first reaction was "ew you're so sick" but then I decided to give it a chance. The header for selling the pen is: EWWWWWWWWW! IS THAT POOP? WHOA, ITS A PEN?? COOL. So, ya, that is kinda funny. But still, my first thoughts were just why. Why does this need to be created? But then after contemplating the poop pen for several minutes, I thought of ways that it could be funny. For example, I work in a very professional setting. I think if I used that as my pen at a meeting, but acted like it was normal, that that would be very funny. I would need to time when to pull it out though. I would have to wait till the actual meeting began so there was no time for someone to question it. Its better if everyone just sees it, but since the main person is talking you just stare at the pen and want to say something but can't. So for that reason, I think it would be funny to own this. Why is fake poop so humorous? I do not know. Maybe sometimes I wish i didn't find it funny, but the fact is, I do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-440204316711224331?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/440204316711224331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=440204316711224331&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/440204316711224331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/440204316711224331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/poop-pen.html' title='The Poop Pen'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6876464919028574689</id><published>2007-07-24T13:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T06:40:33.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alarm Clocks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.giftsonline.net/catalog/images/simpsonsal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://www.giftsonline.net/catalog/images/simpsonsal.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need an alarm clock that will wake me up but not put me in a horrible mood.&lt;br /&gt;The buzzing really makes me hate life.&lt;br /&gt;The beeping makes me want to pull out my hair.&lt;br /&gt;The cute little moving ones that crack stupid morning jokes make me want to puke.&lt;br /&gt;I need an alarm clock that will wake me up into a pleasant awakening with a happy attitude going into the rest of the day. I'm not sure that exists. I currently use my cell phone and I put it in vibrate mode and it has been working well until yesterday for the first time in my life I slept right through my double alarms that I set! So this morning I felt the need to use the alarm sound again. It was painful. Physically painful. I think purchasing a good alarm clock is worth coughing up some extra bucks but I do not know what is a good alarm clock. What about those ones that are jungle noises. I don't think that would be too bad. I used to think the ones that slowly get louder and louder would be good, until I used it and wanted to kill it in a harsher and more twisted way every time it raised a notch on the volume. The problem with that was I woke up at the slightest sound, so it just got worse every second. I think the actual rooster ones are the worst. I think I would accidentally kick real roosters because they reminded me of how mad they make me each morning and I'm not into harming animals. The worst alarm clock was my mother. In high school I let her wake me up. Bless her little heart for being so kind as to wake me up, but it just made me so mad at her! No scratch that, the worst was my little cousin. Whoever thought it was funny to tell little Olivia to wake up her cousin should be forced to eat egg salad because Olivia thought it was really funny to actually jump on me as a wake up call. I however, didn't find the humor in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the world would be a better place if we could all just wake up naturally and let our days begin naturally. We would be so much happier. I would really like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6876464919028574689?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6876464919028574689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6876464919028574689&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6876464919028574689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6876464919028574689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/alarm-clocks.html' title='Alarm Clocks'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6993253777922481054</id><published>2007-07-24T13:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T13:56:55.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Safety Glasses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.aclens.com/accessoryphotos/large-clear-safety-glasses-9108-v3b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.aclens.com/accessoryphotos/large-clear-safety-glasses-9108-v3b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to wear safety glasses while I am walking throughout the shop floor where I work. I recently made fun of a co-worker of mine for having the "nerdy" safety glasses. His are the kind that fit over glasses if you have any and if you don't they are just big and funny. The ones I wear are sleeker and fit my face better. But then after having a good laugh at his loser glasses, I thought to myself, Aren't all safety glasses pretty lame? I mean, there are different styles, but safety glasses are safety glasses: lame-o-rama. Anything safety is pretty dorky. It's a lot cooler to live on the edge and take risks. Dorks wear pocket protectors and safety glasses and knee pads and shin guards. I do however envy those cool enough to pull off safety as "cool". Cause its beneficial to themselves and they are cool. What a world!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6993253777922481054?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6993253777922481054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6993253777922481054&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6993253777922481054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6993253777922481054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/safety-glasses.html' title='Safety Glasses'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-6948621031683996159</id><published>2007-07-24T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T13:46:29.898-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nickelback</title><content type='html'>Wait, I don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th.interia.pl/20,b1f6621b71438090/Nickelback_Poster3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://th.interia.pl/20,b1f6621b71438090/Nickelback_Poster3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are they serious? Do people actually like this band? I mean ok not everyone likes the same music. But Nickelback? I really think they are just kidding when it comes to music. I think right after I finish this blog I am going to search Nickelback in my facebook friends and defriend anyone that I am friends with that has them under favorite music. Unless its a joke because I have been very tempted at times to write: NICKELBACK ONLY!!!!! in my profile for some good laughs. But come on, people actually like this stuff? I'm confused.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-6948621031683996159?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/6948621031683996159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=6948621031683996159&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6948621031683996159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/6948621031683996159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/nickelback.html' title='Nickelback'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-7888544374746346586</id><published>2007-07-24T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T20:48:36.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Egg Salad</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.jammed.com/%7Emlb/blogpics/2006/07/egg_salad/eggsalald.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.jammed.com/%7Emlb/blogpics/2006/07/egg_salad/eggsalald.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/pre&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;WHO NEEDS IT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Lets get hard boil&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;eggs, moosh the crap out of them, add mayonnaise and more sick shit and call it a salad. GOOD ID&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;EA! sike&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pre face="arial"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I recently came across the disgustingness of egg salad&lt;br /&gt;at a meeting &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;that provided "lunch". For trying out new&lt;br /&gt;things, I decided to not eat &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;meat for a summer. So far,&lt;br /&gt;my life has been pretty fine and normal. I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;often dream&lt;br /&gt;about chicken wing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;s and their magical wonders, but&lt;br /&gt;besides &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;that, I've been holding pretty stron&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;g. Until&lt;br /&gt;yesterday...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Yesterday was one of the first times I swore at my&lt;br /&gt;nonmeat eating &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;habits. Why? Because these were&lt;br /&gt;my options: turkey wrap, roast beef &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;wrap,&lt;br /&gt;chicken salad, or EGG SALAD. What was&lt;br /&gt;I thinking when I grabbed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;that dreaded egg salad,&lt;br /&gt;I cannot recall, but it had become a disaster. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't look that bad, I thought to myself. Who was I kidding? It's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;EGG SALAD.&lt;br /&gt;There was a reason why I lived 21 years of my life without &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;trying it. I knew there was, but in my 2&lt;br /&gt;seconds I had up at the table &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;making my decision of sticking with my vegetarian goals, I chose that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;horrible egg salad wrap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The First Bite: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. just swallow and dont puke just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;swallow and dont puke just swallow and dont puke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The Swallow: OHHHMEEEGOOOOOSHUUUUUGHHHHHHHski If I puke, it will be the most disgusting yarf a person &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;could puke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are things such as alright puke and bad puke.&lt;br /&gt;Alright Puke -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; doritos, marshmallows, shamrock shakes&lt;br /&gt;Bad Puke - pulled pork, refried bean burrito&lt;br /&gt;Unimaginable-disgusting-hope-i-never-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;have-to-puke Puke - egg salad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I puke and it gets in my nose, but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;its too far back that i cant blow it out so I will have to live&lt;br /&gt;with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;the smell until it goes awaynaturally? I would rather be skinned &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;alive. I believe egg salad was&lt;br /&gt;first created as a method of torture and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;some sick freak jokinglyestablished it as a "food" and...actually&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;have no idea how it is still around today. Its horrible. I hate it. I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;wish it was never created.I wish I&lt;br /&gt;lived my whole life without ever &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;trying it. I don't understand people that will comment to this and say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;EGG SALAD IS GOOD!How can you possibly think its bad? If you feel like commenting that I would&lt;br /&gt;prefer you just go to hell or at least another planetcause you're not human. I wouldn't feed my dog that.&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't feed my neighbors dog that! The only way I would feed that pieceof junk to someone is if my&lt;br /&gt;job title was Cruel and Unusual Torturer. ew the thought of it makes me want to DIE. I hate everything&lt;br /&gt;about egg salad and I hope it becomes extinct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-7888544374746346586?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/7888544374746346586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=7888544374746346586&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7888544374746346586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/7888544374746346586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/who-needs-it-lets-get-hard-boil-eggs.html' title='Egg Salad'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-8586561679415960319</id><published>2007-07-23T21:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T21:22:56.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>warts</title><content type='html'>Not only are warts really really gross, but I think its one of the grossest words ever. So good job to whomever gave a wart its name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I will save my blogging fans from having to look at a picture of my topic)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-8586561679415960319?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/8586561679415960319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=8586561679415960319&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8586561679415960319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/8586561679415960319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/warts.html' title='warts'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-5019036713408784661</id><published>2007-07-23T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T21:05:52.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Sauce</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://grenadamarket.com/catalog/images/hot-sauce.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://grenadamarket.com/catalog/images/hot-sauce.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never ate hot sauce before I was 21 years old. I was never interested. For some reason, I tried it this year. Now, I feel like I can put it on anything. I have a hot sauce and humus wrap every day. When I was out at the Pita Pit, I ordered hot sauce, humus, spinach, and feta cheese. I got weird looks and my friends told me I was really gross, but I often wish I was back at that Pit because it was very delicious. I recently realized how much I liked hot sauce when I made some eggs and put it on that. I think its normal, but for someone that never used it before this year, I think I'm overdoing it. I really like it hot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-5019036713408784661?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/5019036713408784661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=5019036713408784661&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5019036713408784661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/5019036713408784661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/hot-sauce.html' title='Hot Sauce'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-3091017700358082200</id><published>2007-07-22T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T14:25:06.472-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sour Patch Connectors</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.groovycandies.com/uploadmedia/images/3372.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.groovycandies.com/uploadmedia/images/3372.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sour Patch Connectors are an amazing candy. They come in so many flavors such as: Bubble Gum, Cotton Candy, Blue Raspberry, Tangerine, Strawberry Cream, and more! They are shaped similar to a horse shoe so you "connect" different flavors together! You can twist and connect more than 28 flavor combos! You can make it sweet AND sour, double sweet, or extra sour! The options are limitless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Beginning: I first came across this beautifully tasting goodness at the movie theater. I rarely ever buy candy, but fate pulled me over to the counter. "What are connectors?" my friend and I questioned. "They look amazing", we thought. So we purchased what we later realized was the best thing that ever happened to us: The discovery of Sour Patch Connectors. My life has been changed ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The downside: Sour Patch Connectors are very rare in this world. The ratio of connector to store that sells candy is about 1:56. After putting lots of thought into it, I look at it as a good thing. If they weren't so rare, maybe I wouldn't appreciate them as much. When I do finally stumble upon a bag of them, it then leads me to the question of when is it reasonable to eat it? You can't just eat it any time you want because they are too important. One needs to wait until its the perfect moment to consume such a glorious wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The OTHER downside: Cotton Candy is my favorite flavor. It's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; delicious! In my findings, I have realized that besides Connectors being rare in general, the cotton candy flavor is the rarest of them all! In a typical box you will find about 35 connectors. On average, 5 are tangerine, 5 are lemon, 5 are cherry, 3 are blue raspberry, 4 are strawberry cream, 6 are tropical punch, 5 are bubble gum, 2 are cotton candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion: They are basically a huge deal and the best thing that ever happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recommendation: I know after reading this blog your first thought may be, "I need to try these!!1!", but please be aware, once you try them, you will be hooked. They are so rare, it might not be worth trying this amazing glorious wonder because then, you too, will end up like me and be a slave to the Connectors, living your life each day hoping that today could be the day you strike it big at the grocery store. Is it worth it? For me, it is. You need to ask yourself if you are prepared for this new lifestyle. Good luck in the decision process.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-3091017700358082200?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/3091017700358082200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=3091017700358082200&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3091017700358082200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3091017700358082200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/sour-patch-connectors.html' title='Sour Patch Connectors'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-3446567302550964836</id><published>2007-07-22T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T17:41:41.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>meetings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.embassysuiteskci.com/uploadedImages/Meeting-RoomLG%281%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.embassysuiteskci.com/uploadedImages/Meeting-RoomLG%281%29.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel there is no need to hold meetings at work. Everything can be done via internet. How come every time i suggest a chat room instead of meeting in an actual room I get weird looks/laughs? It's more efficient. Unless it's something major to discuss, why is it so uncalled for to meet in a chatroom?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-3446567302550964836?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/3446567302550964836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=3446567302550964836&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3446567302550964836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/3446567302550964836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/meetings.html' title='meetings'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857296216579026539.post-615979285806497341</id><published>2007-07-22T17:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T17:27:45.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cell phones</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7yju4KdXG_w/RqPzkUxrVnI/AAAAAAAAAAM/fDZ2JrsFiAw/s1600-h/tiny_phone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7yju4KdXG_w/RqPzkUxrVnI/AAAAAAAAAAM/fDZ2JrsFiAw/s320/tiny_phone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090179809236702834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think people should try to limit their use of the cell phone when they are out with other people.&lt;br /&gt;I think people should try to limit their use of the cell phone when they are in the car with other people.&lt;br /&gt;I think people should try to check their voicemails in a timely manner even though its annoying to do so.&lt;br /&gt;I think texting is beneficial.&lt;br /&gt;I think T9Word is efficient and if you say you are against it but you are really only against it because you don't know how to use it you should learn how to use it.&lt;br /&gt;I am confused how I lived my life before I had a cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;This bothers me.&lt;br /&gt;I am not concerned about a cell phone giving me cancer.&lt;br /&gt;I hate when cell phones heat up after a long chat.&lt;br /&gt;I like getting new ring tones yet I always have my phone on vibrate.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder when home phones will no longer exist.&lt;br /&gt;I always want to save my phone's contact list in case I lose/get stolen/break my cell phone, but I never will.&lt;br /&gt;I thought the mini cell phone in Zoolander was really really funny.&lt;br /&gt;At first, I thought camera phones were overdoing it, but I really appreciate my camera and have printed pics that came out very nicely.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I want to get the Iphone, but its not verizon.&lt;br /&gt;I do not understand why everyone doesn't have verizon. ITS THE BEST..right?&lt;br /&gt;I tend to think people with the pink razors are bitches, but I know really nice people with them, but I can't not think that even though I have proof its not true.&lt;br /&gt;Are extended batteries nerdy?&lt;br /&gt;I really like my LG.&lt;br /&gt;Don't carry a cell phone in your back pocket if you are prone to falling down stairs.&lt;br /&gt;What is more important small length or small width? It seems that width is a big deal but I think a small length would be cute.&lt;br /&gt;I think its gross when I see kids under the age of 15 with a cell phone, but I guess its becoming normal?&lt;br /&gt;I used my EZ Tip Calculator and got made fun of.&lt;br /&gt;I think checking email on cell phones is overkill. Are you really that important?&lt;br /&gt;I like when phones ring in class.&lt;br /&gt;One time I had a teacher that answered the phone.&lt;br /&gt;As long as people follow cell phone etiquette, I look forward to seeing the future of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6857296216579026539-615979285806497341?l=roxyjme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/feeds/615979285806497341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6857296216579026539&amp;postID=615979285806497341&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/615979285806497341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6857296216579026539/posts/default/615979285806497341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roxyjme.blogspot.com/2007/07/cell-phones.html' title='cell phones'/><author><name>Jme</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06611384838994806748</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_7yju4KdXG_w/RqPzkUxrVnI/AAAAAAAAAAM/fDZ2JrsFiAw/s72-c/tiny_phone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
