<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343</id><updated>2009-12-26T11:40:24.150-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Cute Beach Girl</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default?orderby=updated'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;orderby=updated'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-6059451644615657289</id><published>2009-12-25T17:29:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T17:44:47.000-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLwdjZa1I/AAAAAAAACCg/nm6zxNHlNak/s1600-h/PC230091.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419321022549158738" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLwdjZa1I/AAAAAAAACCg/nm6zxNHlNak/s320/PC230091.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Okay, here's the photo I promised from yesterday. How sickly does he look? And by the way, he got up this morning all better and vacuumed the whole house. I hosted Christmas breakfast at my house this year and it went great. I even got up early enough to make everyone cards with my new Cricut machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLmRh8LyI/AAAAAAAACCY/SKYpDc6lT5Y/s1600-h/PC230094.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419320847523131170" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLmRh8LyI/AAAAAAAACCY/SKYpDc6lT5Y/s320/PC230094.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here's my favorite gift, it's the print with our names etched in the sand. If you double click you can see the actual print and I'll be really big on your computer which is always a plus...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLfohvxEI/AAAAAAAACCQ/ewaBgWRzvWw/s1600-h/PC240102.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419320733437248578" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLfohvxEI/AAAAAAAACCQ/ewaBgWRzvWw/s320/PC240102.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is my brother Jerome and my sister in law Stephanie with their card. After I made it I realized that Jeromes paperdoll hand is groping her paperdolls boobs. Only me people...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLPUvUkWI/AAAAAAAACCI/S0xXI2FVZ1I/s1600-h/GEDC0002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419320453247570274" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLPUvUkWI/AAAAAAAACCI/S0xXI2FVZ1I/s320/GEDC0002.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And this is me and Chandler on Christmas morning wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.....Love y'all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-6059451644615657289?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6059451644615657289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=6059451644615657289&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/6059451644615657289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/6059451644615657289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas...'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzVLwdjZa1I/AAAAAAAACCg/nm6zxNHlNak/s72-c/PC230091.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-2095881561256655154</id><published>2009-12-24T17:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T17:05:17.847-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Eve from Hell.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzP7e0Z4RbI/AAAAAAAACB4/Ceqb9BHHyv8/s1600-h/alamitosbay4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 242px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418951283538675122" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzP7e0Z4RbI/AAAAAAAACB4/Ceqb9BHHyv8/s320/alamitosbay4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I go to work this morning at 6:45 and I'm all sitting there minding my own business and feeling pretty &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;pissy&lt;/span&gt; because I'm awfully sure that I'm the only person in the free world that actually had to go to work today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then my boss comes by to tell us that, the ones of us that did come in, could go home after working six hours, then they'll pay us for the last two hours out of the kindness of their pea &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;picking&lt;/span&gt; hearts. So I hunker down and start playing on the Internet cause as luck would have it we can't get into our payroll system due to the fact that it's &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;calcing&lt;/span&gt; the upcoming payroll. Fat lotta good it's doing us to be here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At 9:30 my mom calls and the day really gets going, she's all, "Um, I came down to run to Kroger and Kenny has Vertigo." Holy baby Christ, are you seriouslt shittin me right now?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's had this about three times in the 12 years that we've been married so I know all too well what to do. I called him, told him to get ready cause I'd be there in about 30 minutes to drive him to the doctor, who was kind enough to be open today and taking walk ins till 2:00 pm. As I walk in the front door, I see him stagger down the steps, trip into the cat, stumble out the door, and to the van sliding door all the while holding his mouth to catch any groceries that might fly out due to his dizziness. Now for those of you that don't know me, my child is totally spoiled and I actually have a futon mattress in the very back of my extended cab family &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hooptie&lt;/span&gt; van. What can I say other than I'm a fabulous mom. Chandler even has his &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DS&lt;/span&gt; video game charger already plugged in back there so he's ready to go in any gaming emergency. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I ask Kenny if he'd actually blown his groceries this morning since he'd been up and realized that the room spins whenever he stands up. He assured me that he hadn't thrown up.....yet. Against my better judgement I open the sliding door for him, he crawls in the back into my childs hide away. and I mean I no sooner got the door closed and waddled to the driver door before he hurled all over my baby's 'on the road' lounging station. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;, I wanted to beat the living shit out of him. But I didn't I just grabbed one of the bags I had in the front seat, dumped all the Christmas presents out of it and threw him the bag screaming, "Next time try to aim at this." Way to go, supportive wife.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We get to the doctor and I go to the receptionist to let her know that he needs a bed pretty quick cause whenever he stands up, he usually blows chunks on everything in sight. A nurse must have heard me blurt that shit cause out she came running out with a wheelchair. Yep, my weak ass husband had to be wheeled into the Donald Duck &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;peds&lt;/span&gt; room of the doctors office. I got a photo and will post it tomorrow. The nurse was a little shocked that I was using this has a photo op, but after I explained that I'm a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;scrapbooker&lt;/span&gt; and always, always have a camera on me for just such an &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;opportunity&lt;/span&gt;, she stood back and let me snap away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They came in, ask a shitload of useless questions, drew some blood, then came back in to inform us that he had water behind one of his eardrums, that they needed to give him a shot in the ass, and that they were putting him on some drug that makes you sleep all the time. I was like, "Um, are you telling me that he will virtually sleep through the Christmas holidays?" She was all, "Yes, Ma'am." Then I blurted, "There is a God and he is glorious!" The nurse just looked at me and said, "That was out loud."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry, when the spirit hits you, you have to shout it out. I want you to know that he slept in the van for the next four hours as I went to three different places to make some returns, I also used this time to have my nails and toes done, I picked up my precooked turkey from Kroger, and I picked up his &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt; from &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Walgreens&lt;/span&gt;. And he never made a move.....not even to pee, or throw up. I did open the back door once and poked him in the back of the head to be sure that he was still alive. I'm actually pretty glad that I have that comfy place to relax in my Mexican &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hooptie&lt;/span&gt; van. It came in handy for something other than Chandler relaxing and playing games with his spoiled ten year old ass.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I finally made it home around 2:00 and the present opening commenced. I got a 10 inch digital photo frame, a killer new 12 mp camera, a 15x mag make up mirror, some Pandora beads for my bracelets, and I got the most killer gift of all, which has a framed print/painting of two peoples feet on the beach and right out beside them written in the sand is 'Tina and Kenny'. I love it, course Kenny looked up from his sleeping stupor and had a 'that's not our feet' look on his face, he totally didn't get why I loved it so. He a man, that's all I can say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I hope everyone has a great Christmas....and I hope you get what you really want. Now I'm going to enjoy a couple of quiet days while my husband sleeps away his Vertigo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-2095881561256655154?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2095881561256655154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=2095881561256655154&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2095881561256655154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2095881561256655154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html' title='Christmas Eve from Hell.....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SzP7e0Z4RbI/AAAAAAAACB4/Ceqb9BHHyv8/s72-c/alamitosbay4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-5997227318081383673</id><published>2009-12-19T19:54:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T20:58:05.201-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that happened today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sy2D6NSBGmI/AAAAAAAACBw/75NHhpvt9Yg/s1600-h/PC180062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417130962817456738" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sy2D6NSBGmI/AAAAAAAACBw/75NHhpvt9Yg/s320/PC180062.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;** My little sweet baby boy......wait for it.........used deodorant for the first time ever. I'm both excited for him and sad for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** These three boys have been playing the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; off and on cause has Kenny puts it, it's hurt his arms to box for too long. Great I'm so looking forward to doing this crap and I know my time is near. And &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; Kris or Chan do better than you, they have to do this stupid 'I'm better than you' dance which just makes me want to slap the shit out of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** Lick it, dip it, shake it, and lick it again. Oh yeah, it's sounds dirty but it's really the song for the Baby Bottle Pop commercial and Kris sang it for so long that mom and I, who were sitting in the next room busted out hysterically laughing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** My scrapbook room has now become the computer room. That would be because mom had to one up me and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;purchase a 17 inch laptop. And Chandler got an &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Acer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; mini laptop. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Soooooo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; that means that all three of us are set up at my scrapping table. It looks like a redneck IT department in here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** Kenny and I found out that the Walgreen's pharmacy on our side of town freaking closes at 6:00 pm. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wtf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is up with that? We had to drive across town to fill his &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.....I mean damn way to go Walgreen's for not at least staying open till 9:00 pm. I mean shit even Goodwill stays open till 8:00 and I'm damn sure gonna need something from Walgreen's at night before I'll need something from the Goodwill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** Kris has come down the steps with half his ass hanging out of his jeans. His pocket seems to be ripping off the jeans and he seems fine with the fact that I could Simpson's boxer shorts. What has the world come to when you're okay with one of your buttocks hanging out for everyone to see. God, when I was a teenager I totally wouldn't have worn my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jordache&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; jeans if they had a hole in them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** Chandler and I went to Chuck E Cheese for Kendall's sixth birthday party. And can I just say that damn them selling some beer they need to sell Valiums or &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Darvacets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in order for me to spend more than ten minutes in that joint. And don't even get me started on the damn machines they have that eat up your tickets, then print you out a ticket to go trade some of the dumbest and most inexpensive trinkets ever produced cause there were three little kids in front of me putting one fucking ticket in at a time while I stood there watching my life tick away. It took everything I had not to just kick the street urchins in the kneecaps, steel they tickets, and run for the door. But Kendall had a great time and that's all that counts. Course Joni went across the street to Best Buy which left Chan and Kendall with me in the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hooptie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Van for about twenty minutes of, 'I got more &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;tokens&lt;/span&gt; that you.' and 'I'm getting to lay down in the back and you're not.' So clearly the two months that we've not let them be together hasn't done a damn bit of good, they just slipped right back into their competitive ways. At one point, I found myself screaming, "Do not compete! Do not compete!" To which Kendall was all, "What's compete mean?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** In the middle of this post they talked me into playing tennis.  Can I just say that after about ten minutes I've pulled something in my groin, have a raging case of carpel tunnel in forearm, and have an &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;agitated&lt;/span&gt; lower back.  I can't wait to trying boxing which I will do right after I take a long hot shower and two weeks physical therapy. Who invited this moving around shit and what ever happened to Pong, you know two straight lines and a dot? I miss Atari....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-5997227318081383673?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5997227318081383673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=5997227318081383673&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/5997227318081383673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/5997227318081383673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/things-that-happened-today.html' title='Things that happened today...'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sy2D6NSBGmI/AAAAAAAACBw/75NHhpvt9Yg/s72-c/PC180062.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-5185833086964563761</id><published>2009-12-17T20:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T20:21:14.262-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thirteen Thursday....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SyrlolTV1nI/AAAAAAAACBo/esHYTJ7WbwA/s1600-h/me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416393987237205618" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SyrlolTV1nI/AAAAAAAACBo/esHYTJ7WbwA/s320/me.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Yep, this is me in the second grade.  Is it me or do I look exactly like Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird? And what's up with the shirt being buttoned to my chin?  Boy times have changed......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;** Reflect on the characteristics of your best friend. What makes him or her so special? She's funny, she listens to my problems without judging, and I think we could probably overcome anything together.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** Describe an activity that you think is truly romantic. Anything that can be done on the beach. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** You have won a prize. The prize has two options, and you can choose either (but not both). The first option is a year in Europe with a monthly stipend of $2,000. The second option is ten minutes on the moon. Which option do you select? Can anyone say Europe? I'd have a damn ball there. The moon doesn't excite me that much.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** If you had to pick one place in your town to bring a tourist, where would you go? The battle of Franklin. KimmyK has been there and really it's just a hill next to the Target but if you grew up here, it's pretty cool.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** When you travel away from home, do you miss it? I miss my damn bed, cause I've spoiled myself with some stupid memory foam and now every other bed fails in comparison.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** What is the main thing that makes you unique? My personality and my smile. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** What is your main source of news? My mom, if the world comes to an end I'm certain she would call me. And she knows where all the pedophiles in my neighborhood live.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** What is the longest time you've gone with your Internet not working in your home? Three days when we moved, I was fine but my mom didn't know that Michael Jackson and Farrah &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Fawcett&lt;/span&gt; had died. When I called to tell her, she was all, "Shut up, that is not true!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** What was the most recent movie that made you cry? My sister's keeper. Do not watch that shit without tissues. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** Would you rather be stranded on an island alone or with someone you hate? With someone I hate, I can become friends with anybody if given enough time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** What would be harder for you, to tell someone you love them or to tell them that you do not love them back? To tell em you don't love em back. That's some harsh words and the look on their face is usually heartbreaking.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** What fashion trend do you just not get? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;, daisy duke white shorts over black leggings. What? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;** If you could had to be trapped in a TV show for a month, which show would you choose? Grey's Anatomy. Paging Doctor Shepard to the supply closet. Stat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-5185833086964563761?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5185833086964563761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=5185833086964563761&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/5185833086964563761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/5185833086964563761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/black-friday.html' title='Thirteen Thursday....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SyrlolTV1nI/AAAAAAAACBo/esHYTJ7WbwA/s72-c/me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-3259076304939837609</id><published>2009-12-12T07:28:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T07:43:26.887-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pizza Christmas party weekend....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SyOahIt9ndI/AAAAAAAACBY/0pAfPpy_iiU/s1600-h/036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414341071096094162" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SyOahIt9ndI/AAAAAAAACBY/0pAfPpy_iiU/s320/036.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this weekend is Kenny's company Christmas party.  They actually fly 650 people in from all the surrounding states and put us all up at the Sheraton this year. (Which by the way is the hotel Kenny and I met in. No, not on a hooker/pimp thing but we met in a nightclub that used to be here called Coyotes.)  We spent &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of last night trying to figure out what they did with the nightclub, we finally figured out that they turned it into a ballroom they call &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;McGavock's&lt;/span&gt; which was also once the name of that nightclub.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any how, this year I met a boat load of people that I really like, we had a grand buffet at 4;30 with sirloin, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;barbecue&lt;/span&gt;, mash potatoes, and all the desserts you can eat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once we got to our room, Kenny instantly went into a five year fit over the fact that instead of a king bed we have two queens.  I was all, "Glory B to Jesus I get to sleep all by myself for two whole nights. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Hallelujah&lt;/span&gt;!" Of course that went off in my head and not &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;out loud&lt;/span&gt;. Once he got over being a giant baby over the bed thing we went down stairs for a meeting which last from 6 till 8.......&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of it was totally interesting and some of it I found myself sort of dozing off.  I'm not sure what it is with meeting and me but two minutes in and I'm ready for bed.  I tried to call mom at some point to tell her about the bed things and to be sure that they were okay.  And wouldn't you know it, she and my child did not answer the phone cause they were all out playing.  When the moms away the mice with play.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the meeting me decided against Karaoke and went to our room to pig out on Cheetos, Pretzel, powdered donuts, and Coke Zero.  Shit I just realized that either we're high on marijuana and have some serious munchies or we're just fat teenagers who like to eat.  I assure you it's the latter of the two.  We also spent some of Chandlers college money to rent a movie off the hotel TV...um, 14.99 plus tax to see some stupid Halloween Rob Zombie 2 movie.  Like one wasn't bad enough.....needless to say, we lost interest in about 45 minutes and went to sleep....in our separate beds. I'm surprise he didn't want me to hold his hand across the gap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning we're going yard &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;saleing&lt;/span&gt;. Yep, I made him get up early to go in a area that we never get to go to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have to be back by tonight in our Prom attire and downstairs for Prom photos at 5:00 pm....I can't wait since my photo from last year totally sucked asses.  Wish me luck bitches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-3259076304939837609?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3259076304939837609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=3259076304939837609&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/3259076304939837609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/3259076304939837609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/pizza-christmas-party-weekend.html' title='Pizza Christmas party weekend....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SyOahIt9ndI/AAAAAAAACBY/0pAfPpy_iiU/s72-c/036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-1596049034771117450</id><published>2009-11-26T16:38:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T17:23:45.568-06:00</updated><title type='text'>blind side, black friday, and marshall's stuff...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sw8MyygYnyI/AAAAAAAACBI/Piv2y0ANa58/s1600/Picture+351.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408555744185851682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sw8MyygYnyI/AAAAAAAACBI/Piv2y0ANa58/s320/Picture+351.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sw8D5Dj8jvI/AAAAAAAACA4/0Olhd-Mqktc/s1600/Picture+124.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay, so Kenny and I were talking about the movie 'blind side' telling mom, who wants to see it too, that they had actual footage of Michael &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ohr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; while getting drafted by the Ravens in 2009 at the end of the movie. When I swear to you, she blurted out with, "He plays pro football? How can he do that blind?' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kenny, Kris, and I just looked at each other for about two seconds of disbelief before we freaking fell about the van laughing......&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;omg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, such a blond moment for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;VOD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. She actually thought it was about a blind boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night we were walking through &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; when I stopped to ask an associate how&lt;br /&gt;Thursday night/Friday morning was gonna go. I mean last year they were closed from Midnight till five am, then it was a mad dash to the electronics department. But this year they are not closing and I want one of the 198.00 laptops they have, so I was all, "Are you just gonna have a thousand angry shoppers standing back in electronics all damn night?" Needless to say, she was clueless and didn't know or care what was gonna happen then cause she off on that night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As we were walking off she said, "Good luck on Black Friday." Well, Chan looks at me and says:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chan: Mom, are you going?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Where?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chan: To black Friday?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Well yeah, your dad and I are gonna be there at three in the morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chan: But we're not black.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: (trying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;desperately&lt;/span&gt; not to bust out laughing.) Honey, what do you think black &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt; is?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chan: It's where black people get a lot of stuff on sale and white people have to pay a higher price.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, what just fell out my baby's pie hole. I think he's been spending too much time around mom....you know after the whole blind thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I swear today we're eating thanksgiving dinner and at the table was me, my nieces Kari and Lyndsey, my sister in law Stephanie, and my nephew, Marshall. And this went down:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kari: So Lynsey just remember a sissy has a 24 hour limit before it needs a bath. So be sure to bathe everyday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ya'll&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; are nasty. That's some nice talk at the dinner table.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kari: We're just trying to help. She's young and needs to know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Lyndsey the only thing you need to know is that boys will hump a tree if it were to stand still long enough, never believe a boy when he says he loves you during the act of sex, and not only does a dirty sissy expire after 24 hours, but some big people have areas that chafe down there and that creates an odor too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stephanie: What?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yeah, fat people have skin on skin down there and if not properly cared for they can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;chafe&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marshall: Yeah, men get that too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Marshalls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; a big dude.) Oh you know this from experience? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marshall: No! I'm not big down there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was at that very moment that he stopped and said, 'shit!' under his breath, cause he knew that we were all about to give him the lashing of a lifetime. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, I swear to the you I peed in the chair I was in, I couldn't stop laughing long enough to stop it. We were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;screaming&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then as luck would have it thirty minutes later we ran out of turkey and Marshall actually said, "Nana, I guess you were right, it is too small." Just know that twenty people fell about the kitchen. Poor Marshall, he will never live this down. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's 24 now and he's not lived down the time his mom caught he counting all three &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;pubics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; he had at the age of 12. I've ribbed him for 12 years on that one, now I can move on to him 'not being big down there.' Bah, ha, ha, ha, ha......&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;What'd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; you guys talk about during dinner?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-1596049034771117450?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1596049034771117450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=1596049034771117450&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/1596049034771117450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/1596049034771117450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/blind-side-black-friday-and-marshalls.html' title='blind side, black friday, and marshall&apos;s stuff...'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sw8MyygYnyI/AAAAAAAACBI/Piv2y0ANa58/s72-c/Picture+351.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-4254883163076142799</id><published>2009-11-21T08:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T08:17:44.884-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Our new baby...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Swf2akB2vhI/AAAAAAAACAw/R8oqqfg3iFs/s1600/Dexter17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406560813890059794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Swf2akB2vhI/AAAAAAAACAw/R8oqqfg3iFs/s320/Dexter17.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So back in June our indoor/outdoor cat, Katie (you remember the one I caught with one paw in the fish bowl and one paw chasing the fish?) ran out our front door one morning and never came home.&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday we decided to adopt a cat off &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Craigslist&lt;/span&gt;, after searching for over two weeks I finally landed on this cutie, his name is Dexter. And yes, he is named after the HBO series dude, Dexter. He was so cute I emailed and his owner called back to set up a time to meet him.&lt;br /&gt;He emailed me an address, so off Kenny, Chandler, and I went on Friday afternoon to a small town about 44 miles away. Thank God I have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;TomTom&lt;/span&gt; or we would still be there trying to find our way back home. Course at one point, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;TomTom&lt;/span&gt; bitch was all, ‘In 100 yards, turn left.’ So I did onto this dirt road complete with pot holes and creepy trees on either side. After about a mile on what I thought was a serial killers driveway I called Dexter’s owner and was all, "Do you have a really long dirt driveway?" He replied, "Um, no." At this point, Chandler says, "Mom, I’m scared." Well join the club little dude so am I at this point. We did manage to turn around and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;TomTom&lt;/span&gt; bitch rerouted us to the correct address.&lt;br /&gt;His parents were a cute young couple that had a really noisy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cocker&lt;/span&gt; spaniel which is why they had to find Dex a new home. We fell in love with him immediately, paid the adoption fee, gathered up all his cat belongings, and headed to the house. Now I don’t know if you’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; ever been in a car with a cat, but they usually meow like your probing them in their furry ass with a bat for the entire time their in there. It’s torture for the cat and its torture for you. But not Dexter how bout little cat dude just curled up in his carrier and went to sleep. I mean never made a peep.&lt;br /&gt;Once we got him home, he set up camp in my scrapbook room and settled nicely under my desk. We went to bed about 10:00 so he could tour the house by himself. At 2:00 am, Kenny went down to find that he’d made his way out and was hiding under the dining room table. And at 4:00 am, I got up to find him in the living room. I stayed up and played with him. You could just say that I was smitten with him from the get go.&lt;br /&gt;He was really on his best behavior for the first three days, I think cause he thought there was a dog living there.&lt;br /&gt;But on Monday night, he decided there really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t a dog to keep him in line so he proceeded to stand out in the hall right outside our bedroom door and scream like a girl cat in heat. That’s the first time I’d heard him actually make a noise, but 2:00 am is not really the most fabulous time to voice it. Then at some point, that same night he managed to jump up on mom’s bed about four times and landed on her little pitiful old people legs.&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday, he started scratching at the floor around is food bowl sort of like he was covering poop in his dirty box. We moved that to the hearth onto some tile so he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;couldn&lt;/span&gt;’t hurt the carpet. Last night went a lot better as he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t scream, but this morning I got a call from mom: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: You know how you always do a pros and cons list to everything you do?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Well, your cats con list is growing by the minute.&lt;br /&gt;Me: What’d he do?&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Well for starters, I was walking through the living room and he came flying across the room and ran right between my legs……&lt;br /&gt;Me: (Bah, ha, ha, ha……)&lt;br /&gt;Mom: It’s not funny! Then he nearly took Chandlers head off trying to jump onto the back of the chair he was playing in to get to the fish. (Mind you this is a giant fish that a neighbor dropped off at our house as they were moving out of state. So his ginormous fish ass is really not my concern.)&lt;br /&gt;Me: I think we should just flush the fish. So do that today.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: I can’t flush that fish, I feed him, he looks at me everyday, in my eyes while I feed him. My conscious will not let me flush him.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Mom, just flush him. Just think of it as returning him to the sea.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;! Now he’s on the back of your couch trying to knock your seashells off the wall.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Okay, do you want me to call the little couple and give him back.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Naw&lt;/span&gt;, he’s just a kitten. Besides Chandler and Kenny love him.&lt;br /&gt;Me: He tripped you? That’s hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: It’s not funny. My knee is swollen!&lt;br /&gt;Me: (At this point, my coworker Travis offered to keep our fish on his desk.) Hey, Travis said I could bring the fish to him and he’ll keep him on his desk.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Y’all are gonna flush that fish &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;aren&lt;/span&gt;’t you?!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Mom, no! We’re not gonna flush him, I swear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know she don’t believe me. As soon as I got off the phone with her, I email his previous owner to fill him in on all the cat nastiness he’d been up to and he was appalled at that baby’s behavior. I’m gonna give it a couple more days to see if he calms down a bit…..good Lord I’m cool with all his catness, but the keeping me up while I’m sleeping thing. I went through that when Chandler was an infant and I don’t miss that a bit…..wish us luck.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I almost forgot this cat can do some of the coolest back flips in the air…..he actually went running through the room and back flipped into our 56 inch big ole box &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;. He slammed into that thing like a cartoon character and then slid down the screen on his face. I’ll try to video tape it for ya….&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-4254883163076142799?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4254883163076142799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=4254883163076142799&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/4254883163076142799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/4254883163076142799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/our-new-baby.html' title='Our new baby...'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Swf2akB2vhI/AAAAAAAACAw/R8oqqfg3iFs/s72-c/Dexter17.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-4017667297529676018</id><published>2009-11-11T17:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T17:22:50.181-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah bitches....it's up already.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SvtFDstNpgI/AAAAAAAACAo/ZWtIWVjT5Y4/s1600-h/Picture+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402988107803764226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SvtFDstNpgI/AAAAAAAACAo/ZWtIWVjT5Y4/s320/Picture+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;. this is my yard sale tree that I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;freakin&lt;/span&gt; dug back from Mt. Morgan, AL. And  can I just say that it's the best 25.00 dollars I've ever spent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And this year mom and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;compromised&lt;/span&gt; on the decor and went with a pink beach theme.  I love the beach and she needed some color....so what better color than pink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Course I'll be beating the damn UPS dude down for ruining my mom Christmas surprise for mom.  Yeah, he put a note on our door saying that he would deliver the TV this afternoon. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;WTF&lt;/span&gt;?  She called me all upset cause she can't afford to spend that type of money on us.....um, okay but I don't wash you clothes, take care of your child, or cook all your meals either so shut up and enjoy that fact that we have jobs and can get it for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also scored a mini &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Acer&lt;/span&gt; computer for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Chandler&lt;/span&gt; today to.....so I'm Christmas fabulous.  Now I have to think of something for Kenny.  Peace out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-4017667297529676018?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4017667297529676018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=4017667297529676018&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/4017667297529676018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/4017667297529676018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/yeah-bitchesits-up-already.html' title='Yeah bitches....it&apos;s up already.'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SvtFDstNpgI/AAAAAAAACAo/ZWtIWVjT5Y4/s72-c/Picture+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-3025915621550332025</id><published>2009-11-09T18:38:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T19:03:22.355-06:00</updated><title type='text'>what the hell?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Svi7xlO_PrI/AAAAAAAACAg/CfD0I7xQ7Ns/s1600-h/Picture+168.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402274213513871026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Svi7xlO_PrI/AAAAAAAACAg/CfD0I7xQ7Ns/s320/Picture+168.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so today &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; at work minding my own damn business and that of all the people's paychecks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; in charge of when hot husband calls me to tell me that he has shattered the damn screen on his mobile phone. the very mobile phone that i purchased for him not two months ago cause he had busted the damn screen on his old one. i was really just glad that he didn't shattered the car of his legs. note to self, run by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Verizon&lt;/span&gt; and get me a stylish new cute phone and give &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kenny&lt;/span&gt; my old phone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;then not an hour later my off spring calls me from my moms mobile to say, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;omg&lt;/span&gt; mom, everybody at school has these bracelets that turn into a animal when you talk them off and i really have to have some! please, can we go get some tonight? i have to have them, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; the only one that doesn't have any. please? you're the best mother ever!" oh yeah, he's got my number.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;picturing&lt;/span&gt; this cute little furry slap bracelets that have an animal head on one end and can i just say that i was way off. course so was chandler, when he told me they were one dollar for a pack of twelve. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i spent the last thirty minutes of work calling every specialty toy store and parent-teacher store in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Franklin&lt;/span&gt; only to be told that, 'we're sold out, we'll have another shipment in a few days.' what?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i finally found one store with 24 boxes of them, but of course they couldn't hold me one as every bitch in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Franklin&lt;/span&gt; was calling to get them, so it was first come, first serve. i nearly killed 4758 people on the interstate rushing to get the one thing my child didn't have just so he wouldn't feel left out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i get there only to find out that they are in these cute little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Chinese&lt;/span&gt; plastic cases and their full of brightly colored animal shaped rubber bands. no, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;shittin&lt;/span&gt; you......and they were at the low, low price of 8.99 a box of about 20. um, dude am i gonna get to see someone naked and the rubber bands for that price? shit! yes, i just threw down 19.86 of my hard earned money for some fucking tiny ass neon animal shaped rubber fucking bands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;but my child was totally stoked that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; such a fabulous mom and i got a cute phone to boot.....oh, and after he sat there and put all of those bracelets on his arm he actually turned to me and said, 'i don't like the rubber feel of em.' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;home&lt;/span&gt; schooling that little street urchin starting tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;then i walked in the door and handed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Kenny&lt;/span&gt; my old phone and he actually had the giant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;balls&lt;/span&gt; to say, 'where's my new phone, my birthday was yesterday and i should get a new phone.' fucker you should just be glad that you have a phone that doesn't have a shattered screen just like your last two phones.....one of these days, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Assjacket&lt;/span&gt;.....straight to the moon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-3025915621550332025?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3025915621550332025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=3025915621550332025&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/3025915621550332025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/3025915621550332025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-hell.html' title='what the hell?'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Svi7xlO_PrI/AAAAAAAACAg/CfD0I7xQ7Ns/s72-c/Picture+168.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-547458407117275864</id><published>2009-11-01T14:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T15:06:03.874-06:00</updated><title type='text'>pumpkinfest 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Su34A-p2vDI/AAAAAAAACAQ/fcp_bRvt0Kg/s1600-h/PICTURES+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399244223989333042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Su34A-p2vDI/AAAAAAAACAQ/fcp_bRvt0Kg/s320/PICTURES+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our small town has a cute little thing downtown on Halloween called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pumpkinfest&lt;/span&gt; each year. Can I just say that the Franklin Heritage Foundation is gonna hear from me tomorrow morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't complain last year but this year it's gonna be hard for me to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;zjp&lt;/span&gt; it. This festival attracts around 6000 people to main street each year and the businesses and vendors that are down there are reaping the benefits of that crap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over half the businesses and vendors that were there this year couldn't be bothered to buy a couple bags of candy to pass out to the kids. I mean what kind of decent bitch can stand there an tell a bazillion kids that are dressed all cute that, 'We don't have any candy.' I told one woman, "I hope you enjoy saying that cause you got a long day of ahead." This was at one of the stores that had a sofa table made out of seashells that was on sale for 3000.00 dollars. What? You sell shit for that much? And you can't afford to shell out some candy one day a year? You &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;going straight to hell ho.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And while I'm bitching at you, don't place the Pumpkinfest flyer in your business window that specifically states that there will be trick or treating if you're not gonna pass out candy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then as if that wasn't fun enough, we took Chandler to 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; avenue which is lined with historical homes that were built in the 1800's. It was awesome other than the 47859 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mexicans&lt;/span&gt; that were dressed up like tiny hookers and the woman than told Chandler that he couldn't have a twirling light up ring cause, 'oh, these are only for the little ones.' What! Girl you should be totally glad that my child isn't old enough to roll your historical yard, soap your historical windows, or egg your historical car. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Believe it or not, my little man did have a great time dressed as Clark Kent and he scored a ridiculous amount of candy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-547458407117275864?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/547458407117275864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=547458407117275864&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/547458407117275864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/547458407117275864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/pumpkinfest-2009.html' title='pumpkinfest 2009'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Su34A-p2vDI/AAAAAAAACAQ/fcp_bRvt0Kg/s72-c/PICTURES+003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-6515184515680208634</id><published>2009-10-22T17:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T18:09:22.112-05:00</updated><title type='text'>13 things Chandler and Kendall did.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SuDmFtCKlnI/AAAAAAAAB_o/CAJ5wXaKYAQ/s1600-h/Picture+337.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395565339252266610" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SuDmFtCKlnI/AAAAAAAAB_o/CAJ5wXaKYAQ/s320/Picture+337.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On vacation that should have gotten them an ass whopping….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Kendall poking Kenny in the jaw&lt;/strong&gt; - Okay, Kenny had the privilege of sitting next to Kendall during the ride and every time he would fall asleep, Kendall would poke him in the jaw with three of his little digits hard enough to scare the be Jesus out to Kenny. I think his butt scrunched up a couple times.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Chandler answering "No."&lt;/strong&gt; – It got to a point where every time Kendall would call his name, Chandler would just say, "No."&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Beating each other down to be the first to push the damn floor button on the elevator&lt;/strong&gt; – I mean how much pleasure can one person get from pushing that fucking button? I mean do they aspire to doormen?&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Chandler being on high alert so that Kendall could not ‘copy’ him &lt;/strong&gt;– He made sure to order this drink with a whisper to our waitress so that Kendall &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;couldn&lt;/span&gt;’t ‘copy’ him. Then I wanted to beat my child for even caring that someone thought enough of them to want to copy them. He didn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Kendall nearly falling off the eighth floor balcony&lt;/strong&gt; – Okay, this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t really happen but, Joni went next door for something and we were all in the kitchen when we hear one of the balcony chairs hit the glass door. Now in my head, Kendall had gotten his punk 5 year old ass up in that chair, leaned over the side, and had fallen to his child death which resulted in my screaming his name at the top of my lungs. This child came back in that door with a ‘what the fuck are you screaming my name for lady?’ look on his face. Then I yelled at him that Kenny ask him not to go out on the balcony alone but he ‘wanted to’ was how he put it.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Chandler throwing a bitch girl fit&lt;/strong&gt; – Kendall had accidentally erased the memory on one of Chandlers &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;DS&lt;/span&gt; games and you would have thought that he caught dude sleeping with his woman. Okay? The world will never be the same now that that game has been erased. Lord have mercy, glory be.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Kendall giggling like Ernie from Sesame Stree&lt;/strong&gt;t – Okay, about a mile from the house on the way home, I realized that Mom and Kenny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t bring their key sets with them, so our house key was with Tanya at work in Nashville. So I called her and we had to unload the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hooptie&lt;/span&gt; van in from of our house and wait. When Kendall saw how upset we all were he decided to go into an Ernie giggle fit and then absolutely refused to stop laughing. Then some neighbor kid came by to ask if we were having a yard sale, in his defense I did have a eight foot Christmas tree sitting out there that I picked up at someones sale at the beach.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Kendall not saying ‘I’m sorr&lt;/strong&gt;y’ – Okay, he said something really crazy to me in my bathroom but when his mom ask if he’d said, "I’m sorry." His reply was, "I did in my heart, but she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t hear it." Then this lead to Kendall and I having a 30 minute argument over that fact that he has to say the words out loud for it to count. It ended with me sitting him in front of me and saying, "Do not let any other words exit your face other than the words, "I’m sorry." This took several attempts but he finally got it right.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Them competing for the ‘best’ title of fucking everything.&lt;/strong&gt; – I mean who cares who can walk faster, or pee faster, or run faster, or eat a hot dog the quickest, or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;who's&lt;/span&gt; feet smell better, or who can find the most shells, or dig the deepest hole. I was right before digging the deepest hole and putting both their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;trifling&lt;/span&gt; baby asses in it. Then just acting like they came up missing.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Them running &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;amok&lt;/span&gt; on the beach during our first beach family photo&lt;/strong&gt; – It was like the sand was kiddie crack and these two were addicts from way back. They freaking took off running and falling over in the sand which resulted in Kendall filling his hair full of sand. And he's got black people hair so it sticks.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Kendall taking his fist and cold cocking Chandler in his wedding tackle&lt;/strong&gt; – &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;, I saw this happening but it was like it was in slow motion and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;couldn&lt;/span&gt;’t stop it before the blunt force trauma to my child’s pebbles happened. Chandler feel over, then once he regained his composure, jumped up, screamed, "He is evil and I hate him!", then tried to take off up the boardwalk back to the condo. Um, I had to stop him by saying but I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t get my family beach photo yet. Priorities people. Photos trump balls any day.&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Chandler &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;finding&lt;/span&gt; his brute strength and hurling Kendall down the beach&lt;/strong&gt; – About five minutes after the ball incident we were standing out on the beach talking to a couple and we see Kendall literally go falling past us through the air and landing on his shoulder. I mean he flew by so fast that Joni’s hair moved. Okay? Turn about is fair play I guess…&lt;br /&gt;** &lt;strong&gt;Kendall commenting that the van smelled like old people.&lt;/strong&gt; - I tried to ignore the comment in hopes that no one heard it, but it was too late. My mom had already heard it with her super bionic old people ears. I'm not sure what he was smelling cause I sniffed her up and down and I didn't smell any Rose Milk lotion or Ben Gay. She smells pretty normal to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-6515184515680208634?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6515184515680208634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=6515184515680208634&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/6515184515680208634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/6515184515680208634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/13-things-chandler-and-kendall-did.html' title='13 things Chandler and Kendall did.....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SuDmFtCKlnI/AAAAAAAAB_o/CAJ5wXaKYAQ/s72-c/Picture+337.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-6874780524680455361</id><published>2009-10-18T07:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T07:23:07.959-05:00</updated><title type='text'>day three....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/StsFCZTmxiI/AAAAAAAAB_g/64sOhyYpVjM/s1600-h/Picture+278.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393910517417297442" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/StsFCZTmxiI/AAAAAAAAB_g/64sOhyYpVjM/s320/Picture+278.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;my family is three shades of color.....&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;kenny&lt;/span&gt; tans like a biscuit in a day, i look like a giant lobster, and chandler looks like vampire boy what with all his 2 whiteness.  and he was out there all day with us. so go figure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;we decided to skip the beach yesterday as the first day resulted in us having sand in places you can't imagine. it was like sitting in a wind storm, not only did i have it in my hair, and my ears, but when i woke up this morning i had a good ounce of it in my eyes that had made it's way out while i slept.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;we tried a new restaurant last night it looked promising from the outside but then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;kenny&lt;/span&gt; and my mom bitch up blue blazes about the salad bar which they were being charged 2.99 for.  as it turned out, it only had four items on it.  i could have put out a bigger spread at my house and i don't like salad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but once the meals showed up, everyone totally forgot about the couple pieces of lettuce they had earlier.  my chicken &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;alfredo&lt;/span&gt; was sick, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;kennys&lt;/span&gt; steak was great, and all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;joni's&lt;/span&gt; seafood was fabulous.  so i might suggest that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;gordan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ramsey&lt;/span&gt; show up and teach these people a thing or do.  cause there was only ten people in there at six pm on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;saturday&lt;/span&gt; night.  no good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;we ended the day by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;souvenir&lt;/span&gt; shopping, which if you know our kids is a trip all in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;itselfs&lt;/span&gt; cause &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;kendall&lt;/span&gt; being five thinks he can just zoom through the store like chandler who is ten does.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;oh and i might have gone yard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;saleing&lt;/span&gt; on my way to the scrapbook store yesterday morning and scored a seven and half foot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;prelite&lt;/span&gt; tree brand new in the book bitches for 25.00 dollars. so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; off the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;walmart&lt;/span&gt; to purchase some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;bungees&lt;/span&gt; so that none of us have to hitch a ride on a bus to get home, i mean the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;hooptie&lt;/span&gt; van can only hold seven peeps and some luggage but a tree? and now &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;kendall&lt;/span&gt; had to have a giant boogie board? not gonna happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-6874780524680455361?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6874780524680455361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=6874780524680455361&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/6874780524680455361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/6874780524680455361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/day-three.html' title='day three....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/StsFCZTmxiI/AAAAAAAAB_g/64sOhyYpVjM/s72-c/Picture+278.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-6498883043626298237</id><published>2009-10-17T07:19:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T20:42:44.049-05:00</updated><title type='text'>fall break 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/StpySPYfJRI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/cZ7kYGrygt8/s1600-h/Picture+264.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393749161422038290" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/StpySPYfJRI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/cZ7kYGrygt8/s320/Picture+264.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;this would be before i got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;crappin&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;blistered&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;yesterday&lt;/span&gt; with my sunglasses on which now means that with them off i look exactly like a giant raccoon. And I think Kenny is totally molesting me right as this was being taken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;we left &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;thursday&lt;/span&gt; morning at 5 am, but can i just say that the drive to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;florida&lt;/span&gt; freaking sucks compared to the drive to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;alabama&lt;/span&gt;. way too many turns and small towns to get through but we made it in record time after we got past all the rain. not to worry, my mom was in the back of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;hooptie&lt;/span&gt; van praying for our lives. and telling the kids that everyone has two angels and that all twelve of them were crammed in the van with us. totally funny conversation with children,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;kendall&lt;/span&gt; and chandler have a whole new thing to fight over this time, seems now it's cool to see which one can do everything better than the other. 'i can put mayo on this piece of bread better than you.' 'so i can wipe my butt better than you.' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;omg&lt;/span&gt;, will it ever stop. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;we even tried the points chart thing this time where they can earn a point for every hour of good behavior. they both only have five after 48 hours, so you do the math. i hope no one out there has a ten year old and a five year old cause the combination is like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;satan&lt;/span&gt; on wheels. okay?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but on a funny side i at entirely too much sugar free ice cream &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;thursday&lt;/span&gt; night and i sat up wind of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;joni&lt;/span&gt; so she got blasted with some really bad air biscuits all day yesterday. i think she'll pick her chair a bit more carefully today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-6498883043626298237?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6498883043626298237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=6498883043626298237&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/6498883043626298237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/6498883043626298237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/fall-break-2009.html' title='fall break 2009'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/StpySPYfJRI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/cZ7kYGrygt8/s72-c/Picture+264.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-7275161627768999395</id><published>2009-10-08T18:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T19:10:57.414-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Ss58DTrgF4I/AAAAAAAAB_A/ZMnHi4y46es/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390382200273246082" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 252px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Ss58DTrgF4I/AAAAAAAAB_A/ZMnHi4y46es/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;If you could &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;uninvent&lt;/span&gt; one thing in the world so that it would no longer exist, what would you choose?&lt;/strong&gt;  Pantyhose, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;wtf&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;Do you find it easy to ask for help?&lt;/strong&gt; If I need it.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;If you lived a hundred years ago, what job would you have had?&lt;/strong&gt; Head mistress at a brothel.  Don’t laugh, you know it true.&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;What are some of the most persistent and challenging obstacles in your everyday life?&lt;/strong&gt;  Keeping up with where Kenny might end up as he is out in a car.  He is totally directionally challenged and I usually get calls a couple times a week for directions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;If you met your clone, someone with your exact personality traits, likes and dislikes, etc. Would you want to be friends with him/her?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;, yes. I love me.&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;strong&gt;What is your biggest challenge in life right now?&lt;/strong&gt;   Not making out with a donut.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. &lt;strong&gt;If you had to be famous for something, what would you choose?&lt;/strong&gt;  For being the most fabulous organizing bitch ever.&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;strong&gt;What surprises you most about your life so far?&lt;/strong&gt; That Terri thinks it never really gets better, cause it can’t go on like that forever. This too shall pass.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. &lt;strong&gt;How would people who knew you in high school describe you?&lt;/strong&gt;  Funny as hell.&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;strong&gt;What’s your favorite meal of the day, and why?&lt;/strong&gt;  Lunch cause I get to argue with Billie.&lt;br /&gt;11. &lt;strong&gt;What is the one thing you would really regret not doing at some point in your life?&lt;/strong&gt;  Going to Hawaii.&lt;br /&gt;12. &lt;strong&gt;If you had to, how would you describe yourself in a personal ad?&lt;/strong&gt; Big hot girl looking for next husband.&lt;br /&gt;13. &lt;strong&gt;What is the one thing that you “know for sure”?&lt;/strong&gt;  That the minute you think every is fine, something totally fucked up will happen to you. So don’t get comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;14. &lt;strong&gt;When is the last time you got lost and what happened?&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t get lost. I’m a woman.&lt;br /&gt;15. &lt;strong&gt;Have you planned your funeral and/or written your will? &lt;/strong&gt;No. And that’s just stupid cause I’m sure there are some people would like to kill me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. &lt;strong&gt;Do you carry an umbrella when rain is forecast or do you just risk it?&lt;/strong&gt; No, never have an umbrella with me; I’m not sugar so I won’t melt.&lt;br /&gt;17. &lt;strong&gt;How bad is traffic in your town?&lt;/strong&gt;   In the 80s it was great here you could jog across town in five minutes, but now it’s grown so fast that you have to pack a cooler just to get to the other side of town during rush hour. Fuck little town traffic.&lt;br /&gt;18. &lt;strong&gt;What is your most despised household chore?&lt;/strong&gt; All of them.&lt;br /&gt;19. &lt;strong&gt;Pick out the most important item in your wallet/purse and tell why it’s important to you.&lt;/strong&gt; My make up bag. The world &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;’t ready for me without make up.&lt;br /&gt;20. &lt;strong&gt;What was your first car?&lt;/strong&gt; 1983 Toyota &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Tercel&lt;/span&gt;, baby blue with a moon roof.&lt;br /&gt;21. &lt;strong&gt;When listening to music, do you tend to focus more on the lyrics or the melody?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Depends on the song really.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. &lt;strong&gt;If you had to pick a theme song to sum up your life right now, what would it be?&lt;/strong&gt; Joy and Pain by Rob Base&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. &lt;strong&gt;What celebrity crushes did you have when you were growing up?&lt;/strong&gt; Donny and Shaun. &lt;br /&gt;24. &lt;strong&gt;What cartoon character best describes you?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Tigger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. &lt;strong&gt;Complete this statement: “I recommend…..”&lt;/strong&gt; taking regular trips to the beach. &lt;br /&gt;26. &lt;strong&gt;How do you learn best?&lt;/strong&gt;  Hands on Baby.&lt;br /&gt;27. &lt;strong&gt;Is one of your senses more highly developed than another?&lt;/strong&gt;  Touch&lt;br /&gt;28. &lt;strong&gt;What says summer to you?&lt;/strong&gt;  Bitch, get go to the pool.&lt;br /&gt;29. &lt;strong&gt;What’s your favorite food item in your refrigerator right now?&lt;/strong&gt;  Strawberries.&lt;br /&gt;30. &lt;strong&gt;What one item in your kitchen best describes your personality?&lt;/strong&gt;  A clear tea jar filled with shells. &lt;br /&gt;31. &lt;strong&gt;What is the best thing about the city in which you currently live?&lt;/strong&gt;  That old school Franklin people wave at you and transplant bitches don’t. That way you can tell the folks that really belong here.&lt;br /&gt;32. &lt;strong&gt;What do you love most about yourself?&lt;/strong&gt;  It’s a toss up between my personality and my hair.&lt;br /&gt;33. &lt;strong&gt;Is it easier for you to forgive or forget?&lt;/strong&gt;  Neither. But I’m working on both. I do live by ‘screw me once, shame on me, screw me twice, you’ll end up dead in the woods somewhere’.&lt;br /&gt;34. &lt;strong&gt;Do you believe people can change?&lt;/strong&gt;  No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;35. &lt;strong&gt;Have you ever attended a high school or college reunion?&lt;/strong&gt; What was it like? Ten year and it was so long ago I don’t even remember anything other than the hottest guy in school was in the corner crying over his wife leaving him.&lt;br /&gt;36. &lt;strong&gt;Do you keep in regular contact with anyone from high school and/or college?&lt;/strong&gt;  I do until they say something totally fucked up and out of no where and then they gone.&lt;br /&gt;37. &lt;strong&gt;What new course would you like to see added to the nation’s school curriculum?&lt;/strong&gt; Checkbook balancing, paying bills, and/or Taking care of yourself financially.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;38. &lt;strong&gt;Where is your favorite place to sit when at home?&lt;/strong&gt;  On my bed.&lt;br /&gt;39. &lt;strong&gt;If you could spend a year in perfect happiness but afterward remember nothing of the experience, would you do it?&lt;/strong&gt;  No, memories are great escape from the norm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;40&lt;strong&gt;. If your house was burning and you only had time to rescue three non living things, what would they be?&lt;/strong&gt;  My 2 carat ring, all 7 ginormous scrapbooks, and all 10 of my new off the shoulder tops.&lt;br /&gt;41. &lt;strong&gt;What or who encourages the child in you to come out and pla&lt;/strong&gt;y? Chandler and Kenny.&lt;br /&gt;42. &lt;strong&gt;What flavor of ice cream best describes your personality?&lt;/strong&gt; Strawberry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;43. &lt;strong&gt;Which of the seven dwarf’s best personifies you?&lt;/strong&gt; Happy.&lt;br /&gt;44. &lt;strong&gt;If you had to describe your disposition with meteorological terms, what would a typical forecast be like?&lt;/strong&gt;  Sunny with a chance of severe thunderstorms if needed.&lt;br /&gt;45. &lt;strong&gt;What breakfast cereal best describes your personality?&lt;/strong&gt; Fruit Loops&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.46. &lt;strong&gt;What do you think is the biggest waste of time?&lt;/strong&gt;  Meetings. My workplace is the most meeting having place I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; ever been.  And as soon as the damn thing starts I get sleepy…..everytime.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;47. &lt;strong&gt;Complete this statement: “If I knew then what I know now, I….”&lt;/strong&gt; would gone away to college.&lt;br /&gt;49. &lt;strong&gt;Do you generally take the high road or the low road?&lt;/strong&gt;  Some of both, mostly high but no one ever notices when I do that.&lt;br /&gt;50. &lt;strong&gt;If you had to name the worst song to wake up to in the morning, what would it be?&lt;/strong&gt;  Afternoon Delight. Fucking hate that song.&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/5496557538788417343-7275161627768999395?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7275161627768999395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=7275161627768999395&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/7275161627768999395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/7275161627768999395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/10/1.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Ss58DTrgF4I/AAAAAAAAB_A/ZMnHi4y46es/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-4870277382241271037</id><published>2009-09-29T18:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T18:55:57.437-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SsKeg32MeNI/AAAAAAAAB-4/EWyP87xl2dw/s1600-h/Picture_124.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387042391872796882" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 285px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SsKeg32MeNI/AAAAAAAAB-4/EWyP87xl2dw/s320/Picture_124.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SsKXCXg1-4I/AAAAAAAAB-w/UF-hudirtUA/s1600-h/Picture+124.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;I look perfectly rested and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;relaxed&lt;/span&gt; in this photo, don't I? Well, that's because it was taken &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yesterday&lt;/span&gt; and today I'm suffering from sleep deprivation. I usually go to bed between eight and nine &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;o'clock&lt;/span&gt; each night. Yeah, I know I'm loads of fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;Anyway I didn't get to bed last night till shitting ass ten cause my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;OCD&lt;/span&gt; wouldn't let me miss 'Hoarders' which is on A&amp;amp;E at nine. So this morning at four am I'm working on my sixth hour of beauty sleep and I'm dreaming about me and Derrick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;McDreamy&lt;/span&gt; rolling around in the sand while straight up eating each others faces off when I keep hearing this freaking loud ass beep which is going off every five seconds. So in my dream I'm all looking around for the garbage truck that is surely backing the fuck up on the beach in middle of my love fest with Doctor Derrick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;Then I wake up to find that it is the damn fire alarm that is located directly over my bed on my bedroom cathedral ceiling. Oh yeah, and it just happens to be attached in highest point of the damn thing, like ten feet over my head. And I don't own a fucking ladder. Kill me now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;First I decide to close both doors, gathered up my blanket, and go sleep in Chandlers room but I could still hear the some bitch. Then I go down stairs and retrieve a six foot boat oar that not only goes with my beach decor but can be used as a weapon for intruders or fire alarms. Let me just tell you that I was swinging at this thing like a Mexican at a pinata and the only thing that did was leave some pretty ugly spots on my ceiling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;Now it's time to pull out the big guns damn thing has woke me out of a dead sleep and has kept me up for the last fourteen minutes? Fuck this shit. Mind you all this time the damn thing is putting out one of those loud short screams every five seconds so I'll do just about anything to get the damn noise to stop. It was at that moment that I remember my mom purchasing one of those long arm things with the grabbing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pincher's&lt;/span&gt; on the end, like old people order. Yeah, we made pretty hard fun of her for that one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;So I set off back down the steps to find said grabbing thingy, once I looked under ever cabinet in the kitchen I got my hands on it. Stomped back up the steps, stood on my makeup chair, grabbed that damn thing and twisted it. It came down and was hanging by the cords, still couldn't reach it to replace the battery so I grabbed it and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;hanked&lt;/span&gt; down on it like my life depended on it. Bitch ass thing went crashing to the floor. And I swear it beeped like two more times which was enough to send my mouth into straight up sailor mode. I made up some new cuss words. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;As I was getting down off the chair I realized that my windows were up and my blinds were up, my bedroom is on the second floor so if anyone was walking their dog that early I'm pretty sure they saw a part of me that they won't soon come back from cause in true dirty girl style I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt; 't wearing any panties. Just my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;shortie&lt;/span&gt; gown and my arms were up over my head which would leave my old people stuff hanging out out for the world to see. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;How'd&lt;/span&gt; you sleep last night, I sure hope better than me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-4870277382241271037?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4870277382241271037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=4870277382241271037&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/4870277382241271037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/4870277382241271037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-look-perfectly-rested-and-relaxed-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SsKeg32MeNI/AAAAAAAAB-4/EWyP87xl2dw/s72-c/Picture_124.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-8799949308194237769</id><published>2009-09-27T19:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T19:43:40.355-05:00</updated><title type='text'>things i learned this weekend....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SsACyihy38I/AAAAAAAAB-k/Wh5NnvJ9ecg/s1600-h/Picture+122.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386308221620379586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SsACyihy38I/AAAAAAAAB-k/Wh5NnvJ9ecg/s320/Picture+122.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;** my stepson is awesome - not only is he cute, but he is totally handsome in his football uniform. and can i just say that this was my first high school football game since 1982, i learned that i can't stand to be around dumb, screaming, teenagers. and that black leggings with white daisy duke shorts worn over them is the new thing.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wtf&lt;/span&gt;? i thought the first girl just had really bad taste but then i counted 37 other girls with the exact outfit on. oh and i actually saw not one, but two naked babies out in the damn rain, one had a wash rag on his head.  so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sure than helped keep him dry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** my child can get to the very end of a sixty dollar video game in a day and a half. - learned a very valuable lesson, to not actually purchase the stupid game just rent it and save myself 55.00 dollars.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ronald&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;McDonald&lt;/span&gt; is on crack. - course with what he charges for food he certainly can afford that habit. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt; night after the game the manager of the one in my stepsons small town hadn't taken into account that every redneck at said game would show up at 10.30 pm to eat and she couldn't be bothered to move quickly must less pick up her feet so she was making a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;shwooooshing&lt;/span&gt; sound with her big fat feet.  she must have won that damn job.  then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt; night the boy taking my order couldn't explain why they charge 5.90 for two fries.  yeah, two twenty piece nuggets was ten, then he added 5.90 which i thought was two fries and two drinks.  but no, he added another 2.00 dollars for two drinks. when i ask why two fries was 5.90 he suddenly became a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;stuttertard&lt;/span&gt;.  i freaking hate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;McDonald's&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Walgreen's&lt;/span&gt; can suck it. - the same damn one i had a run in with last week was closed today because as the sign they hung in the drive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; window read, 'we don't have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;pharmacist&lt;/span&gt; on duty'. what? are you kidding me?  i will be emailing corporate about this location first thing in the morning course that is if my husband doesn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;spazz&lt;/span&gt; out and kill all of us in our sleep cause he couldn't pick up his mood medicine. some bitches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** movie popcorn is the only reason to go to the movies.  - we went to see '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Jennifer's&lt;/span&gt; body' this afternoon and i know that popcorn isn't on my low &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;carb&lt;/span&gt; diet but i couldn't resist movie popcorn. i even in my head was all, 'well it's good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;carbs&lt;/span&gt; cause corn is totally good for you.' whatever, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; have to do way better the rest of this week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-8799949308194237769?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8799949308194237769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=8799949308194237769&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/8799949308194237769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/8799949308194237769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/things-i-learned-this-weekend.html' title='things i learned this weekend....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SsACyihy38I/AAAAAAAAB-k/Wh5NnvJ9ecg/s72-c/Picture+122.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-9045969316232941861</id><published>2009-09-23T19:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T20:06:31.155-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New neighbors and Walgreens,,.,</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SrrF_hUcNcI/AAAAAAAAB-c/5EfQbJFuJds/s1600-h/Picture+526.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384833999541384642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SrrF_hUcNcI/AAAAAAAAB-c/5EfQbJFuJds/s320/Picture+526.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, I’m sitting in my living room watching yesterday watching ‘mission: organization’ when I hear a big boom noise. Yep, I get up and look out the window to find new neighbors moving it. At first glance, it is a little short Mexican man, a tall ill &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;shapened&lt;/span&gt; white woman, and a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;gothic&lt;/span&gt;, skinny jean wearing, mascara and black nail polish wearing teenage boy. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wtf&lt;/span&gt;? Yeah, my mother feels that Satan’s spawn has moved in next door and from this point forward as she puts it, ‘this place will be locked up tighter than Dick’s hatband.’ What? Who’s Dick? And what’s a hatband?&lt;br /&gt;I went over to meet them in person and the parental units seem fine, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Satantard&lt;/span&gt; sat just inside the door and never spoke a word, he probably plotting how he can kill and cut up my fat ass all by himself. The parents inform me that they have five children. Really? I’ll be calling ya’ll the Brady/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Clampetts&lt;/span&gt; family. I’ll keep you informed on that development.&lt;br /&gt;Second, the pharmacist down at the Walgreen’s is right before getting a bitch slap from big momma. Okay? So the school nurse calls me to tell me that she is out of Chan man’s medicine and that she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;doesn&lt;/span&gt;’t even have one for that day. What? Way to keep a bitch parent inform nurse whore.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily I had a prescription in my purse for said medicine. So off to the Walgreen’s I go, I went inside with the intent to wait on it. But after being told it was gonna be a thirty minutes I opted to run by the house and wait. Now I had to be at work at noon, I dropped off the prescription at 10:15, I came back at 11:05. So I gave them 40 minutes to get the shit done.&lt;br /&gt;I pull up to the drive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ching&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ching&lt;/span&gt;, china girl comes to the window:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Chingy&lt;/span&gt;: May I hep you?&lt;br /&gt;Me: I’m here to pick up a prescription that I dropped off an hour ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Chingy&lt;/span&gt;: Hold peas.&lt;br /&gt;Now I sit there for over five minutes watching her type on the computer, like she’s really doing something. Then she starts shuffling through some papers. And I’m all, ‘oh shit, if they haven’t done this shit I’m gonna come unglued. Now believe it or not, bitch never came back to the window but she did walk back and forth in front of it about a bazillion times. Then a sister comes to the window:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Sista&lt;/span&gt;: Have you been helped?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Chingy&lt;/span&gt; was trying to help me but all she’s done is tell me to hold on and then go running back and forth in front of the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Sista&lt;/span&gt;: I’m sorry, let me see what I can do. (Fake types on computer.) Um, our pharmacist has been spread really thin due to all of the flu shots being given. I’ll have it in a minute.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Great! I’m gonna be late for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Sista&lt;/span&gt;: Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;I’m not lying when I tell you that I fucking sat there for 40 minutes waiting on my damn prescription. At some point, I cut the car off and then the heat set in. Then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;sista&lt;/span&gt; come back to the window:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Sista&lt;/span&gt;: Again I’m really sorry. She’s with the last patient now.&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;, you’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; got to be kidding me right now! When you say thirty minutes, you need to have the shit ready in thirty minutes. I’m gonna be fucking late for work right now from sitting here and waiting on you people to do your jobs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Sista&lt;/span&gt;: I know, I’m sorry. But she’s been giving flu shots…..&lt;br /&gt;Me: Okay, I don’t give a rats ass about someone’s flu shot. I needed my prescription ready at eleven. Is the prescription even filled yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Sista&lt;/span&gt;: Well she has to approve all of the prescription orders before they go out.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Is the damn pills in a bottle at least?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Sista&lt;/span&gt;: The prescription has been ready all this time; we’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; just been waiting on her to approve them.&lt;br /&gt;Me: This is ridiculous! Please, I’m begging you to get my shit ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now mind you, I actually sat for over twenty of the minutes watching said pharmacist fake type on the fake computer. She &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t giving flu shots or filling orders; she was standing there in front of a computer…..typing. What?&lt;br /&gt;I notice they had their store hours and phone number in the window, so now I pick up my cell and call the store manager to see if this is normal. If he says yes, I swear I’ll go in there and light a fire under someone’s actual ass.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily right before he came to the phone, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Sista&lt;/span&gt; puts my med bag in the little drawer and waves…..that’s right, she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t want to hear me bitch anymore.&lt;br /&gt;So I’ll be adding Walgreen’s to my list of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;dumbshit&lt;/span&gt; companies to not frequent. Good God October 15th cannot get here fast enough,,,,,,I'll be sitting my fat ass on the closest beach.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-9045969316232941861?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/9045969316232941861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=9045969316232941861&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/9045969316232941861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/9045969316232941861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/new-neighbors-and-walgreens.html' title='New neighbors and Walgreens,,.,'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SrrF_hUcNcI/AAAAAAAAB-c/5EfQbJFuJds/s72-c/Picture+526.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-1257984775159787096</id><published>2009-09-16T20:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T21:17:38.544-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thirteen of my favorite people...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SrGTlGIinyI/AAAAAAAAB-U/22MmfvRk3Xc/s1600-h/WEBKINZ+531.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382245295195332386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SrGTlGIinyI/AAAAAAAAB-U/22MmfvRk3Xc/s320/WEBKINZ+531.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Joni is gonna kill me for putting up this photo, but I love it. It was taken about one month before I met Kenny and like a true dumbass ran to the alter after only knowing him for 6 weeks. In this I was single and carefree, now I'm married and a mom. I've not had a good nights sleep since the day I met Kenny. He tends to be like a child most of the time and gets bored if you don't entertain him. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;Now onto my 13 favorite peeps....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;Kenny&lt;/strong&gt; - I'll let him be first since he does see me naked on a daily basis. He is one of my best friends and there is nothing I can't talk to him about. When the day comes that we aren't married to each other, I will still hang out with him as a best friend. We just won't be sleeping together.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;Chandler&lt;/strong&gt; - I couldn't have ask for a better child. He is so me it's a little scary. And he does manage to make me smile at least once a day. He terrorizes my mom on a daily basis so I consider myself lucky.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;VOD &lt;/strong&gt;- Omg, I can't imagine my life without her. She cooks my meals, washes my clothes, and takes care of my offspring. She rocks and tomorrow is her 165th birthday. Damn, she old. But I love her.&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;Joni&lt;/strong&gt; - We have been friends since about 1992, Joni sorry is that's not correct. I met her while we were both young and looking for some love. We've been through a lot together including the four years that I was acting like a total dillhole and I didn't talk to her. The day we got back together, was as if we'd never been apart. And if I were to ever pull a gay card I wouldn't be able to get to her house fast enough for some big girl booty.&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;Terri&lt;/strong&gt; - Terri and I totally get each other. She's my drinking on the beach, singing on the balcony, and wash your titties in the sink friend. I wouldn't trade anyone for her. I know that if I'm sad she can cheer me up just by referencing her last funky 'explosive diarrhea' having boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;strong&gt;Billie&lt;/strong&gt; - Okay, seriously when I first heard that a woman name Billie was coming to work for us I was all, "Omg, anyone named Billie is probably old and crazy." Well, crazy was right. But she isn't old and that bitch can blurt out some of the funniest shit. I actually got publish on 'overheard in the office' with one of our conversation.&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;strong&gt;Angelia &lt;/strong&gt;- Her name is really Angela, but she got to spell it all reflicted to through off some white people. What am I saying? She is white. She's pregnant right now, she says she's only about 9 weeks along. But if so, she having a bazillion babies cause I noticed today that she has giant cankles. And her bellybutton looks like a doorknob. Oh and she's planning on naming her baby girl, Isis. Which is a damn Power Rangers name and you know I'm gonna call that child, Is Is. If it's a boy it's gonna be Ochean, which is just Ocean with an H thrown in. I'm calling the baby Emma right now and I hope to God it sticks in her mind, course its gonna be pretty confused if it's a boy named Emma. Love you B.&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;strong&gt;Kerrie&lt;/strong&gt; - I worked with her at O'Charleys and now at FMC. She seems all creepy and supervisorish, but in real life she is hysterical. Her husband pretty funny as well. She's been with me through a lot of crap I've had going on in my life and she stuck by me. Hell, she even went on one of my beach vacations, course she brought along that short fat lady from Poltergeist. When I ask what her friend looked like, she was all, "Well, she a big girl." Um Kerrie, no amount of you explaining would have gotten me prepared for that lump in a swimsuit you came walking down the boardwalk with. Oh and Kerrie has this creepy 'no feet' policy, so I like to stick my toes on her right after I've had them painted.&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;strong&gt;Kris&lt;/strong&gt; - I married his dad when he was 3. He's now 15 and I love him as a teenager. He has stopped fighting with Chandler now and is actually a gob of fun to have around. Love, love, love my teenage stepson. You rock Kris.&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;strong&gt;GOF&lt;/strong&gt; - She has been my mom since I was nine. And she took on a man with three rugrats to take care of. And it's not so bad that she is Old Franklin and she can get the low down on just about anyone that lives here. She can even get the dirty details on most folks with just one phone call. I wonder who she calls.&lt;br /&gt;11. &lt;strong&gt;Summer&lt;/strong&gt; - We've never actually met but I'm certain that I could be fabulous friends with this woman. We have a lot in common and she needs me to make her laugh and to remind her that everything in life really does have a funny side if you just search for it. I pray everyday that she will kick DH to the curb, pack up Baby, and move to Tennessee.&lt;br /&gt;12. &lt;strong&gt;KimmyK&lt;/strong&gt; - I have met her and she is fantabulous. She has this great curly hair that I used to pay 150.00 dollar a pop to get, she has the sweetest disposition, I love the pictures that she takes and I love to read about her life. Now if she'd only start writing again. Oh and her hubby's not too shabby either, he cracks my shit up.&lt;br /&gt;13. &lt;strong&gt;Aunt Charlene&lt;/strong&gt; - She's always been my favorite aunt and I've always looked up to her. That is until my mom told me that she was a sex toting, pole dancer before she hooked up with Jesus. Now I see her in a whole new light. And she's a lunch lady so I always have that to joke on her about. Not that theres anything wrong with lunch lady's, I just think it's funny that she is one. I totally wish she lived here too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-1257984775159787096?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1257984775159787096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=1257984775159787096&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/1257984775159787096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/1257984775159787096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/thirteen-of-my-favorite-people.html' title='Thirteen of my favorite people...'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SrGTlGIinyI/AAAAAAAAB-U/22MmfvRk3Xc/s72-c/WEBKINZ+531.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-2077940385941157627</id><published>2009-09-08T20:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T20:48:25.488-05:00</updated><title type='text'>luke is the man....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqcIwKuH6AI/AAAAAAAAB-M/ychBgmePyug/s1600-h/hildabike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379277903521900546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqcIwKuH6AI/AAAAAAAAB-M/ychBgmePyug/s320/hildabike.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;okay, the love of my life, i mean dude from 'more to love' is down to three big girls to become his wife. first, i could totally do without the recap at the beginning of the show not just cause it sucks time out of my life but because i watch this shit religiously so i already know how many bitches you made out with last week. the other people who have not kept up shouldn't get to see a recap. recaps are for bitches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;second, i got a glimpse of his feet tonight and he sort of has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;flintstone&lt;/span&gt; feet. yeah, his big toe is totally resembling a GE &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lightbulb&lt;/span&gt;. and yes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;i've&lt;/span&gt; had to kick some people to the curb for having unattractive feet. i'm shallow, i can't help it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;he's got all of these girls in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;hawaii&lt;/span&gt;, and i think he's just toying with them now cause i called the girl he was gonna pick on the first stinking show when these girls were getting out of the limo. he is gonna pick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;malissa&lt;/span&gt; cause she's blond with huge boobs and she has the cutest personality. if he picks one of the other two, i might have to email him with a few choice words. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i also had a run in and had to throw yet another bitch fit at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;walgreens&lt;/span&gt; today, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; tired and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;i'll&lt;/span&gt; have to tell it tomorrow.....love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-2077940385941157627?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2077940385941157627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=2077940385941157627&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2077940385941157627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2077940385941157627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/luke-is-man.html' title='luke is the man....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqcIwKuH6AI/AAAAAAAAB-M/ychBgmePyug/s72-c/hildabike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-2423095691759279132</id><published>2009-09-07T17:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T17:45:09.015-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another useless meme.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqWIWr6MivI/AAAAAAAAB-E/UUPn-856rEc/s1600-h/100_1135.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378855253289241330" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqWIWr6MivI/AAAAAAAAB-E/UUPn-856rEc/s320/100_1135.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Charlene, this is my short bus hair that I actually wore all day on Sunday, even went to the damn Walmart like this and by the way I have two of these puffy pony things, one for each side of my head, but when I took the photo from the front you couldn't really see both of them....now onto some useless info about me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. First thing you wash in the shower? Hair, armpits, sissy…..sorry, got carried away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. What color is your favorite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hoodie&lt;/span&gt;? I don’t own anything with a hood attached, just another of my fashion no-nos for big girls. I don’t need any extra weight added to my man neck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Hell to the yeah, I would.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Do you plan outfits? No. I do have a butt load of black and white Capri’s, so I just have to pick one of my many tops to match. Another way to keep your life simple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. How are you feeling RIGHT now?  Sleepy, it’s early in the morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. What's the closest thing to you that's red? My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sansa&lt;/span&gt;, cause I played it so much this weekend that the battery died and I have to recharge on my computer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? I’m not sure but it had Kirk Cameron in it due to the fact that the last show I watched that night was The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Duggers&lt;/span&gt; and dude just happened to be on it. Yes, I’m a freak.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Did you meet anybody new today? Not yet, it’s still early.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. What are you craving right now? A Gigi’s cupcake and just so you know, that carving never goes away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Do you floss? Sometimes with the little stick thingies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. What comes to mind when I say cabbage?  My grandmother standing in front of the stove cooking that smelly shit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Are you emotional? Like an open nerve ending.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Have you ever counted to 1,000?  If I did I was drunk and on the balcony at the beach with Terri. She and I do lots of dumb shit when we’re tanked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?  It it’s on a cone lick, if it’s in a bowl bite.  Damn, now I feel sort of dirty for the lick word.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Do you like your hair? I loved it till I got a wild hair up my ass a couple of weeks ago and cut 4 inches off.  Never do that again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Do you like yourself?  Sometimes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush?  If Patrick Dempsey went too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. What are you listening to right now?  The noise of my fan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. Are your parents strict?  My parents were great, I thought they were strict back in the day, but now I know that I had a great childhood with little rules. Actually I think my dad gave me just enough rope to hang myself a few times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. Would you go sky diving?  Fuck no.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;21. Do you like cottage cheese?  No. I don’t even have anything nice to say about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. Have you ever met a celebrity?  Larry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Gatlin&lt;/span&gt; and he was a Jackass. And the dark haired girl, Karen from Little Big Town in the nail salon but she was fabulously nice. Reba &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;McEntire&lt;/span&gt; in the ladies room of a local nightclub and she splashed freaking water all over me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. Do you rent movies often?  From &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Redbox&lt;/span&gt;. Who can resist a 1.00 a day rental.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. Is there anything sparkly in the room you're in?  A couple of my scrapbook layouts that are hanging on the wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25. How many countries have you visited? The one I’m in now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;26. Have you made a prank phone call?  In my teens I lived for that shit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;27. Ever been on a train? No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;28. Brown or white eggs?  Either, I’m an egg bitch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;29.Do you have a cell-phone? It’s like an extra arm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;30. Do you use Chap Stick?  No, but Joni uses enough for about 20 people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;31. Do you own a gun? Yes, but I don’t like to look at it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;32. Can you use chop sticks? Yes, just one of the many talents I learned in high school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;33. Who are you going to be with tonight? Our cute little family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;34. Are you too forgiving?  Oh my Lord, no. I can carry a grudge till dooms day or until you drop off the face of the earth.  However, my momma says that if you don’t forgive, then you won’t be forgiven.  Good plan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;35. Ever been in love?  Yes and some people never get the chance to really fall in love. I consider myself very lucky in that sense. I've had the 'slow, smooth, lifetime love' and the 'no air, sloppy, soul mate, butterfly in your stomach' love. Both are great&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;36. Who is your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;BFF&lt;/span&gt;?  Joni and Terrie. Shit, I’m lucky in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;BFFs&lt;/span&gt; too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;37. Ever have cream puffs?  I don’t know, but if their loaded with sugar I’ll give them a try.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;38. Last time you cried?  I can’t remember. That’s a first.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;39. What was the last question you asked? 'are you hungry?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;40. Favorite time of the year? Summer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;41. Do you have any tattoos?  Oh yeah, Ivy vine and Angel wings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;42. Are you sarcastic? Oh, no. Not at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;43. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect? Freaking fabulous movie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;44. Ever walked into a wall? While intoxicated, yes. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; walked into a lot of things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;45. Favorite color? Pink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;46. Have you ever slapped someone? No. Never been in a fight in my life. But I’m ready in case the opportunity comes up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;47. Is your hair curly? No, my brothers got the great curly hair, I got stick straight hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;49. Do looks matter? Yes, I’m shallow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;51. Is your phone bill sky high?  No, not really. It’s pretty much the same every month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;52. Do you like your life right now? I’m disappointed in my body what with the facial surgery and I think a Breathe Right strip broke my face out this weekend, it’s like I have great facial skin until I hit 45. Now it’s a free for all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;53. Do you sleep with the TV on? No. Just a sound machine and a fan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;54. Can you handle the truth? Yes. Sometimes the truth is more fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;55. Do you have good vision? No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;56. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people? No. But there are a couple at work I could do without.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;57. How often do you talk on the phone?  Not as much as most woman. Joni and I do have an afternoon talk pretty much everyday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;58. The last person you held hands with? Chandler.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;59. What are you wearing?  Black Capri’s, a super cute baby doll top, and black flip flops.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;60. What is your favorite animal?  Cats.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;61. Where was your default picture taken? At the beach.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;62. Can you hula hoop? God no, and I tried this weekend in front of Chandler and his little girlfriend.  They laughed hysterically.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;63. Do you have a job? Yes and one that I love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;64. What was the most recent thing you bought?  A damn &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Hooptie&lt;/span&gt; Caravan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;65. Have you ever crawled through a window? Yes, my niece and her friends were having a boy/girl party at my house for her 13&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday and she wanted me to stay out of sight.  So me and my girlfriend crawled out the window and perched ourselves in the trees behind my house to watch them through the sliding glass door.  At one point, I have to climb back in cause some boy was pulling his pants down to show everyone his Tommy Hilfiger boxers. He went home shortly there after.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-2423095691759279132?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2423095691759279132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=2423095691759279132&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2423095691759279132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2423095691759279132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/another-useless-meme.html' title='Another useless meme.....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqWIWr6MivI/AAAAAAAAB-E/UUPn-856rEc/s72-c/100_1135.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-2051641776743434493</id><published>2009-09-04T20:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T20:13:36.074-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Late thirteen thursday....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqG6qCOd_wI/AAAAAAAAB98/PvQ0MKud3Hc/s1600-h/Picture+196.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377784661371911938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqG6qCOd_wI/AAAAAAAAB98/PvQ0MKud3Hc/s320/Picture+196.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** What is the first thing you notice about people? Their appearance….hair, clothes, even down to the shoes. Yep, I’m shallow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** What song always makes you happy when you hear it? Good Vibrations by Marky Mark. Freaking bust a move everytime I hear it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** What fashion trend do you just not get? Jeans hanging down on boys hips so that I have to be subjected to looking at their underwear. Chandler better not ever think about doing that, right now he pulls em up like white Erkel.&lt;br /&gt;** Would you rather go a week without bathing, but be able to change your clothes, or a week without a change of clothes, but be able to bathe? Without a change of clothes but you'd be able to bathe, so you can wash the funk off whenever you feel the need.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** If you had to be trapped in a TV show for a month, which show would you choose? Omg, Big Brother. I’d have a few choice words to say to some of those assholes.&lt;br /&gt;** What is one thing that you would change about yourself if you could? My weight.&lt;br /&gt;** What do you think the secret to life is? Laugh at everything you possibly can and forgive others.&lt;br /&gt;** When and with whom was your first kiss? EJ, a boy that lived in Nashville but drove to Franklin just to see me. I’m not sure what the EJ stood for, he was tall, heavy set, with red hair. I was sixteen and we were standing outside my sister in laws daycare center. It was horrible and I hated it, as soon as I started to enjoy kissing him, he broke my 16 year old heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? I have to keep telling myself that or else I would have to blame me for the way things turn out. And who wants to do themselves down?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** What would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? Girl, we been waiting on you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-2051641776743434493?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2051641776743434493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=2051641776743434493&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2051641776743434493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2051641776743434493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/late-thirteen-thursday.html' title='Late thirteen thursday....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SqG6qCOd_wI/AAAAAAAAB98/PvQ0MKud3Hc/s72-c/Picture+196.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-74554328454810004</id><published>2009-08-30T16:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T17:14:34.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my weekend...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sprw8jR7Y9I/AAAAAAAAB9s/gxP-dNqg2kI/s1600-h/Picture+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375874028273361874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sprw8jR7Y9I/AAAAAAAAB9s/gxP-dNqg2kI/s320/Picture+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;don't you love it when an angry whining child sticks her little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Muppet&lt;/span&gt; head in your seemingly cute &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Nashville&lt;/span&gt; shores photo? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Addy&lt;/span&gt; was not happy in this photo, but brandy and i were. we decided to take in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Nashville&lt;/span&gt; shores for the day on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Nashville&lt;/span&gt; shores is like redneck &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;riviera&lt;/span&gt; in our area, it has a couple of pools, a couple of massive water slides, and some damn 4.75 burgers. the last time i went was last year on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt; but i made the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;colossal&lt;/span&gt; mistake of getting there at noon which meant that all the fucking chairs were taking. but yesterday i was way smarter and i showed up the damn minute they opened. and um, where the hell was all the rednecks this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;? i mean they damn sure weren't having yard sales or at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ns&lt;/span&gt;. was there a redneck convention out of town that i wasn't aware of? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i did teach &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Addy&lt;/span&gt; some fun and happy sayings go back to daycare and repeat, while taking their photo i was yelling out, every say____________________. some of the great things i taught her and that she blurted out in front of the fifty people that were at the pool was, 'hookers and hos!', 'panties and poles!', '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; a future pole dancer!'. Um, the last one she continued to repeat all the way home, so brandy will have a nice little teacher meeting to attend this week &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Kenny&lt;/span&gt; and i took in 'final destination' 3D this weekend. and i found out very quickly that it is identical to the last three where some dorks left a situation where they were gonna die, then one by one death came back for them. enough already! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;today was fun but on the way home from a family get together my husband blurts out that someone decided that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; in my 'own little world' recently. um really? cause &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; be sure to stay in my 'own little world' from this point forward. so yeah. keep talking bitches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;then on the way home from a party that my child refuses to eat at, i have to stop at the local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;McDonald's&lt;/span&gt; to give them yet another ten dollars of my hard earned money. let me explain, i think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;I've&lt;/span&gt; bitch about them before but today topped the shit and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; be sending the corporate office an email tomorrow. now in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Nashville&lt;/span&gt; the all the other 4556 location of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;mcfuckalds&lt;/span&gt; have .25 cent &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;mcnuggets&lt;/span&gt;, but not the two in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;frankvegas&lt;/span&gt;, they have to suck every cent right out of the rich bitches wallets. the cashier was this little tiny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Gothic&lt;/span&gt; sucking teenage bitch, we'll call her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Mortisha&lt;/span&gt;. she rang up a ten piece nugget meal deal, the chandler decided he just wanted the ten piece nuggets and a drink, no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;frys&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;mortisha&lt;/span&gt;: that's 5.43.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: for a ten piece and a drink?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;mortisha&lt;/span&gt;: oh, no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;frys&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;mortisha&lt;/span&gt;: that's 5.33.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: what? it's ten cents less and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; out the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;frys&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;mortisha&lt;/span&gt;:l yeah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: okay, what happened to the .25 cent nuggets? all the ones in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Nashville&lt;/span&gt; do that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;mortisha&lt;/span&gt;: um well, we did that but not for long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me: um, that's because you're located in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Franklin&lt;/span&gt; and your company thinks that all the people out here are rich.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;mortisha&lt;/span&gt;: um, no we did cause we were losing money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;wtf&lt;/span&gt;? um, shouldn't you be worried that no one is ever gonna ask you out with that get up on? damn little bitch, you have no idea the shitting ass money that your company nets each year, so don't try to talk to me about why you bitches think it's okay to charge an arm and leg for some fried chicken parts and a fucking coke. i wanted to just slap the shit out of her and scream, 'knock it off! oh, and tone down the eyeliner you look like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;broom&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Hilda's&lt;/span&gt; daughter!' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so after i left and told chandler that he better enjoy his last meal from there, i came home to find that some jack hole from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Alabama&lt;/span&gt; is in my damn parking spot. okay, in our neighborhood you get two parking spots then each section has a guest spot. there is about fifty empty spaces out front but this person thought it would be great fun to park in my spot and they even had the nuts to back in, like they plan to stay for a little bit. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;wtf&lt;/span&gt;? after knocking on some of my neighbors doors &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;I've&lt;/span&gt; decided to set up camp in in my reading &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;nook&lt;/span&gt; that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;i've&lt;/span&gt; set up in my bay window and when they resurface, i will explain the parking situation around here. and now that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; on that, two doors down some hookers that have two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;BMW's&lt;/span&gt; have decided that it would be a good idea to use both of their spots with one of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;beemers&lt;/span&gt; and park the other one in a guest spot. some people just have ball sacks the size of basketballs, but one of them is from new york so that explains a lot about them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; going to bed now as not to get anymore ticked off at unsuspecting people......love y'all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-74554328454810004?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/74554328454810004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=74554328454810004&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/74554328454810004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/74554328454810004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-weekend.html' title='my weekend...'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Sprw8jR7Y9I/AAAAAAAAB9s/gxP-dNqg2kI/s72-c/Picture+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-5267362003092202181</id><published>2009-08-24T20:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T21:24:18.231-05:00</updated><title type='text'>what's happening hot stuff?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SpNEpjdYinI/AAAAAAAAB9k/wwN6WN1UXsk/s1600-h/Picture+419.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373714261066943090" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SpNEpjdYinI/AAAAAAAAB9k/wwN6WN1UXsk/s320/Picture+419.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;** Chandler is in a new school this year and he went to first of many birthday parties this year. Can I just say that this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;child's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Mommy&lt;/span&gt; lacked just plain and simple social skills. There is no way she is from what I like to call 'old Franklin' cause I know her mother would have brought her up a with a couple of manners. She answered the phone on Saturday at one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;o'clock&lt;/span&gt; in the afternoon like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;cracked&lt;/span&gt; out stripper who just got home from a long nights work.  I actually ask if I woker her up, she was all, "Naw, I guess I should be up by now." I had to resist the urge to ask who was watching her children. None of I business is what kept going off in my head.  Her house and her appearance weren't much better, but Chandler wanted to stay at the little Indian boys party. I came back after two hours and was ask if he could stay as the father had to run out and get candles. Um, Crackhead bitch, next year come down off the pole a couple of hours early and actually be prepared for your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;child's&lt;/span&gt; party. Get your priorities straight girl. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Geez&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** I freaking love, love, love my job with the exception of three people, I'm totally crushing on all of the others. Let me just tell you that it would be no love lose to anyone in there if these three left to explore bigger and better things. All three have shitty attitudes and two of em mumble under their breath about everything that goes on in the room. Girls, can't we just all get along. People with crappy attitudes just get stuck in my craw.....okay?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** Joni and I have locked down our condo rentals for fall vacation. First I got me a killer deal on a two bedroom at killer resort and then I called a owner that I've rented from before and got Joni an even better deal at the same resort. I can't wait for October. Four days and five nights of beach time. I think I should become a travel agent instead of doing payroll. Where do I sign up to be an agent?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** I'm sitting here wondering what the fuck happened between third grade and fourth grade with the homework bullshit. Third grade was a freaking breeze, and now two weeks into fourth grade and the stupid math homework is four pages long. I know that tiny fat girl teacher does not want me up her ass this early in the school year, But damn B, their in the fourth grade not medical school, one page of each subject should get the job done without sending my child into a stressed out episode. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;** &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;, I almost forgot the best part, my momma bought me a damn &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;scrap booking&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Cricut&lt;/span&gt; machine for Christmas. It came today and she let me open it to play for a little bit. I swear to you I came a little when my first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;paper doll&lt;/span&gt; came out all cute. For those of you who have no idea what a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Cricut&lt;/span&gt; does, it's a machine that has different &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;cartridges&lt;/span&gt; you can purchase with different things it can cut out for you.....like alphabets, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;paper dolls&lt;/span&gt;, shapes, and it even cuts the vinyl sticker things you can decorate your home with. Joni has a giant toothbrush in her bathroom that says, 'you don't have to brush all your teeth, just the ones you want to keep' my machine can do that without having to pay the man 19.99 for it. Love this machine and my momma.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-5267362003092202181?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5267362003092202181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=5267362003092202181&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/5267362003092202181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/5267362003092202181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/whats-happening-hot-stuff.html' title='what&apos;s happening hot stuff?'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SpNEpjdYinI/AAAAAAAAB9k/wwN6WN1UXsk/s72-c/Picture+419.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-2786227534193545637</id><published>2009-08-18T19:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T20:05:39.601-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor bunny.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SotEzRZZ8hI/AAAAAAAAB9c/_ZmPKVuxkMs/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371462628203426322" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SotEzRZZ8hI/AAAAAAAAB9c/_ZmPKVuxkMs/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So tonight Chan had an assignment for school all about picking an animal and answering questions about how to take care of said animal. Well, he picked a damn bunny. So I sit him across from me at my scrapbook desk and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;VOD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; comes into the room, she leans over him and he tells her all about the assignment and that he picked a bunny. Then this went down:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chan:&lt;/strong&gt; Meme, you ever have a bunny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;VOD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt; No, but I've eat a rabbit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chan&lt;/strong&gt;: (blink, blink.) (Then turns into a middle aged woman having a panic attack and dashes up the steps crying.) (After we talk him into coming back down, he runs and jumps on the sofa still crying.) That poor bunny!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;VOD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;: Honey, it wasn't any ones pet, okay. Poppa John always brought home rabbits. So it wasn't some child's pet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: It may not have been their pet, but that bunny was some other bunny's child. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;VOD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt; Tina! You are not helping.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: He probably had brothers and sisters that are still out there posting those little missing bunny posters on those little bunny light poles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After trying some pregnant lady breathing techniques, Chandler finally calmed down long enough to return to the scrap room and got back in his chair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Chan really, it she actually ate a really dirty stripper bunny, that was strung out on crack, and dated a dirty bunny that rode a motorcycle. So it wasn't so bad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chan&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Omg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, I can't believe she ate a bunny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;img class="gl_bold" alt="Bold" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" border="0" /&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt; Hey, one time she and Poppa John treated me into eating Bambi's daddy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chan:&lt;/strong&gt; Meme! A deer?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;VOD&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;: Chandler, you eat chicken. (and by chicken, she meant chicken mcnuggers cause that's the only type of meat we can get him to eat.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chan:&lt;/strong&gt; Momma says nuggers ain't real chicken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;VOD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt; Okay, it was a rogue bunny that was in a very bad gang who rode the streets terrorizing all the bunnies in town, so he was going to bunny jail anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;An hour later, we finally got the stupid paper filled out. Oh, and I got the damn code to my cute breast cancer check card which is black with a giant pink ribbon through it, so girlie and cute. I ran right down to the bank ATM and I was really ready for this shit to not work, so that I could call customer service and throw yet another fit. But it worked like a bitch, and I'm back in business and not having to use cash for everything. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And one more thing, that damn &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Geico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; commercial with the stupid ass stack of money that is staring at you singing, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Somebodys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; watching me." Makes me want to vomit, I'm not sure if something totally traumatic happened to me back in the eighties while that song played but it brings back some creepy memories and it's just a fucking stupid ass commercial. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Geico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, bring the damn gecko back, at least he was cute, that stack of money is dumb. That is all people, carry on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-2786227534193545637?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2786227534193545637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=2786227534193545637&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2786227534193545637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/2786227534193545637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/poor-bunny.html' title='Poor bunny.....'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/SotEzRZZ8hI/AAAAAAAAB9c/_ZmPKVuxkMs/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496557538788417343.post-3968138182695028528</id><published>2009-08-16T20:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T20:32:45.884-05:00</updated><title type='text'>our weekend...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Soit9CrAMMI/AAAAAAAAB9U/OTZWIJcNdlw/s1600-h/Picture+675.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370733819840180418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Soit9CrAMMI/AAAAAAAAB9U/OTZWIJcNdlw/s320/Picture+675.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday night I swear we were in the bed at nine pm.  Hold back people, we're are totally party animals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saturday morning, we went yard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;saleing&lt;/span&gt; only to find that no one in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Frankvegas&lt;/span&gt; had one damn thing that we would want. Chandler and I went to the mall at around ten to get my highlights done.  He only went to see me get my moustache waxed for some reason Chandler just loves to see me in pain, he really likes it when I scream out, "Kelly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Clarkson&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I went for my nails and toes which I love to do, I guess that's a total girl thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, I almost forgot that I had to throw a big girl bitch fit in the bank before my hair appointment. Long story short, I reported my check card lost last Saturday, then ten minutes after I ordered a new one, I found mine in my damn makeup compartment of my purse.  Any &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;, they sent me a new one, I called to activate it, then tried to use it at the ATM only to be told that my old code was incorrect. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;WTF&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I waited till they opened at nine and barreled into the bank, then after standing in one line, I was told that I would have to have an officer reset my password.  After waiting behind three people who were wanting God knows what, I was told that I'd need to go into an empty office to call customer service because due to the incorrect code being put in, I had to call to let them know it was me.  What? I'm standing right here looking at you bitch, you call and tell em I'm me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The hold time for the call was gonna be eight minutes so I said a few choice words to the bank officer lady and told her that I had an appointment and would have to come back if the person on the phone couldn't help me.  When the girl finally answered the phone and after she called me sir twice.  I had to speak up, "Okay, first I'm a girl not a sir.  And second I need my password reset for the damn check card I got in the mail yesterday."  She told me that she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; be glad to reset it and it would take five to seven business days to get.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Listen to me very carefully, I scream, "The fuck it will take that long! I need to use the fucker right now! I'm not getting off this phone until you get my shit reset. This is ridiculous. Send somebody a card and then don't send a damn code with it.  What? Am I just supposed to guess what the fuck it is?"  I know, I would have hung up on me too. But she didn't she just transferred me to the second person of the five I spoke with that morning. The last girl, I was all, "Thanks for nothing."  She made sure to tell me to have a good day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't need to use the card that day but do you  know what it's like to have to use cash for everything? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Geez&lt;/span&gt;, it's sucks. And I feel pretty naked without a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;checkcard&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saturday night we went to see 'the perfect getaway' and can I just say, go see this movie it was great and had a great twist that we didn't see coming. It was fabulous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sunday I got up and just wanted to spend the day reorganizing my scrapbook room, but Kenny and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;VOD&lt;/span&gt; got me hook on the fourth season of 'hell's kitchen'.  First I hate Gordon Ramsey, he is an ass that can't seem to speak one nice word to anyone and he can't complete a sentence without ending it with, 'piss off.'  The whole season was on, back to back, so I sat there all damn day today watching this crap.  Damn it, if it's not a Lifetime movie it's a stupid reality show.  I didn't accomplish one good thing today other than munching on granola, which my mom warns me is good for me which might mean I won't be addicted to it for long......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5496557538788417343-3968138182695028528?l=bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3968138182695028528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5496557538788417343&amp;postID=3968138182695028528&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/3968138182695028528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496557538788417343/posts/default/3968138182695028528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bigcutebeachgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/our-weekend.html' title='our weekend...'/><author><name>Tina...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18033013739444223205</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04363828631682187005'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Bj_Tz_6HiZU/Soit9CrAMMI/AAAAAAAAB9U/OTZWIJcNdlw/s72-c/Picture+675.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry></feed>