tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82072860686549822862024-02-18T23:09:02.000-08:00Megan SquaredMeganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-66699146886980719982016-09-19T21:12:00.003-07:002016-09-19T21:26:07.990-07:00This is why I don't craft, or write tutorials, or handle hot glue.If you know me you know just how very *~CrAfTy~* I am. I love crafting with my daughter: giving her stickers and telling her to go play, giving her crayons and telling her to go play, sometimes even giving her glitter glue and telling her to go play when I'm feeling particularly desperate to be left alone for three seconds. See? CRAFTY.<br />
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So the other day I was at Target (which is basically where I always am) and I saw a sort of cute Halloween wreath. Normally I would chuck it in my shopping cart and call it good but lo, not on this day. On this day, I was struck with a thought: <i>I can make a cuter wreath.</i> <i>And it would be cheaper! This one is twenty bucks! I can DIY it and make it for PENNIES compared to that! Probably. I don't actually know, but Pinterest will.</i> It was at this point that I ventured into Pinterest, and that website is essentially a collection of unrealistic projects presented through a lens of can-do attitude. "You can do this! All it takes is yarn, glue, and a little love!"<i> </i>And I started thinking, <i>hey, I have yarn and glue! My heart is cold and dead but glue, I have.</i><br />
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The wreath itself turned out pretty cute:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4itmHS6vOlukauJKL1NqIsnhtzvNODMZ8jLIr_QW4-rSkrz4mEdyDcO1rNSiEp2sL1zH-GasYue9ZKDh8mgLEFLNG53YrVhepbQD-RogZ7MsxUvHclYXYk8Uo7jBVKwdBBlvHa7v2sYU/s1600/Halloweenpost3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4itmHS6vOlukauJKL1NqIsnhtzvNODMZ8jLIr_QW4-rSkrz4mEdyDcO1rNSiEp2sL1zH-GasYue9ZKDh8mgLEFLNG53YrVhepbQD-RogZ7MsxUvHclYXYk8Uo7jBVKwdBBlvHa7v2sYU/s320/Halloweenpost3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So fancy. Much impressive.</td></tr>
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Pinterest also inspired me to make a little guide to help others on their crafting adventures, because Pinterest is just chock full of cute stay at home moms wearing a size two and wielding glue guns with a finesse that I didn't know was possible in the world of crafting, and I REALLY WANT TO JOIN THIS CLUB. So without further ado...<br />
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<b>What you'll need:</b><br />
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-A foam wreath<br />
-Yarn<br />
-A glue gun<br />
-A lobotomy, depending on the number of kids in your home<br />
-Glitter<br />
-Extra glitter for your two year old to throw at the dog<br />
-Black paint--make sure it's black so that you'll never get it off of your white dining room table<br />
-Decorative items of your choice<br />
-A wooden cut out in a spooky Halloween theme<br />
-Clothing you don't mind getting really sweaty<br />
-Coke. You'll need it. But do I mean the delightful beverage or the hard drug? It's a mystery!!<br />
(I mean the drink. Please don't call CPS.)<br />
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If you're like me, you may have a half empty bottle of glitter in a drawer somewhere, and you may search your house for 40 minutes before deciding to just head to Hobby Lobby. Bonus points if you decide to bring your two year old and three week old! LIGHTNING BONUS POINTS if it's your first outing with both kids on your own! You can go to any craft store, but I like Hobby Lobby because the carts are tiny and designed to simulate the seventh circle of Hell while you navigate the tiny aisles with a whining toddler.<br />
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I recommend bribing the toddler with M&Ms. I also recommend opening the M&Ms in the middle of the store, begging your kid not to spill them, and then practicing your deep breathing when you hear the cascade of flying M&Ms behind you exactly 3.6 seconds later. Crafting is relaxing so you'll want to increase your stress levels to maximum before starting your wreath. If you can induce a tantrum in the checkout lane by refusing to buy a Nemo piggy bank while your newborn screams bloody murder, you'll have LOTS of relaxation to look forward to. Just, so so much.<br />
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Oh also, you'll spend like two and a half times more than the stupid Target wreath would have cost, but at this point you've COMMITTED so it's really too late to back out.<br />
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Now that you have your supplies, it's time to begin!<br />
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<b>Step 1:</b><br />
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Using your extremely hot glue gun, glue a piece of yarn onto your foam wreath randomly. Look at the Pinterest tutorial and realize you glued your yarn incorrectly. Quickly remove the yarn, burning your finger on the aforementioned extremely hot glue gun. Begin to cuss before realizing that your two year old is staring at you intently. Feel a sense of foreboding that she's no longer watching Bubble Guppies and has focused her attention on your relaxing crafting corner. Slowly move the glitter behind your back.<br />
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<b>Step 2:</b><br />
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Wrap the yarn around the wreath, like, 2 million times. Get super annoyed that it's taking so long to wrap this stupid wreath with yarn and consider just leaving half of it unwrapped, especially because you are having a really difficult time wrapping yarn while simultaneously nursing a baby and playing "Doc McStuffins princess tea party check up" with your two year old...over and over again.<br />
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<b>Step 3: </b><br />
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After two days of yarn wrapping, give in and let your toddler play on your iPad for like two hours straight while you CRAFT RELAXINGLY. THIS IS FUN AND RELAXING, DANGIT. Finally finish wrapping, and secure the yarn with more hot glue, which ends up on your fingers again because it seems like a good idea to push the yarn directly into the bubbling hot glue with your unprotected fingers. Thumbs up to you.<br />
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<b>Step 4:</b><br />
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Utilize nap time to paint your wooden sign. Prepare your paint, get out your brush, break out the glitter, neglect the pile of laundry that desperately needs washing in order for your husband to have pants to wear to work tomorrow, and begin painting and glittering. Get about halfway done before your kids both wake up waaaaay earlier than they usually do. At this point, you can't move your wet paint project so you'll need to accept that the two year old is going to see paint and glitter. So you'll need to simultaneously work on your crafting, and guide your kid through painting her own project with as little mess as possible. You'll probably also need to strap your baby to your chest because chances are she's going to cry nonstop if you aren't bouncing her up and down and enveloping her with your body warmth. Babies are needy like that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorBXw7P1eJ68qnV_YkjKmKaxBDt0ukCqw9d54AyjidcJBNoabqhEA_kI0YvdDj71bDx6ws8w3ZPrWrqgUgwvZ9QssDKfTumV-0pUwbzHQFl4cQulXAQcjENmgQSNuaH-RzZRlPui_m98/s1600/Halloweenpost2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorBXw7P1eJ68qnV_YkjKmKaxBDt0ukCqw9d54AyjidcJBNoabqhEA_kI0YvdDj71bDx6ws8w3ZPrWrqgUgwvZ9QssDKfTumV-0pUwbzHQFl4cQulXAQcjENmgQSNuaH-RzZRlPui_m98/s320/Halloweenpost2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow, Ava, that's beautiful. No, NO! STOP EATING THE PAINT.</td></tr>
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<b>Step 5: </b><br />
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Once your crafting area is an utter disaster, get annoyed that this project is taking 3 days and bribe your kid with a bowl of sprinkles and an otter pop to get her to leave you alone for one nanosecond. Haphazardly glue the wooden sign to the back of the wreath, hoping that it won't just fall off because it really won't be attached that well since you sort of made this part up and Pinterest isn't there to help you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TVtVnSkyk58ySTH9QQWf481Jz3otwATgxm49LWO2A7_SgprX1cLfVCA_Bg7KAE8qh9V667Z5dI566p4Cm5iiGOax59vAnyLQ60U7BCZliPYs8O3eKLKF2NW9cY_My181oBWVhgOg-gc/s1600/Halloweenpost1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TVtVnSkyk58ySTH9QQWf481Jz3otwATgxm49LWO2A7_SgprX1cLfVCA_Bg7KAE8qh9V667Z5dI566p4Cm5iiGOax59vAnyLQ60U7BCZliPYs8O3eKLKF2NW9cY_My181oBWVhgOg-gc/s320/Halloweenpost1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's really cute but that otter pop is about to become a stain on my couch.</td></tr>
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<b>Step 6:</b><br />
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Arrange your cute little decorations on your wreath. Note that you'll only use like 5 of these, but you'll have to buy a package with about 50. Spend 20 minutes staring at your configuration wondering if it looks better with a felt spider a centimeter <i>this</i> way or <i>that </i>way before being like OH WHATEVER and just gluing them down randomly because this is taking way too long and your kid has started making sprinkle and popsicle soup and you should probably stop that before it goes too far even though that sounds delicious. Attach a ribbon to your wreath and hang it up outside. Take 17 pictures of it because you worked hard and you need to instagram this ASAP.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9FqhWn7oq2Vw93p2WIPahQcgS3KYimOnaKGGUqUWzBJ0OG-2XGUT-sCuV8q7T0nnzLJ_JN21teNOS4rmvk5Aed-It9nvHUxJzTH9zpE5mYvHmNbFF5A9cigsSAnssVZvsfdqL8MMlyg/s1600/Halloweenpost4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9FqhWn7oq2Vw93p2WIPahQcgS3KYimOnaKGGUqUWzBJ0OG-2XGUT-sCuV8q7T0nnzLJ_JN21teNOS4rmvk5Aed-It9nvHUxJzTH9zpE5mYvHmNbFF5A9cigsSAnssVZvsfdqL8MMlyg/s320/Halloweenpost4.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This photo is not artful enough for instagram, so there's really no point to it at all, right?</td></tr>
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Congratulations, you're done! At this point, take a blood oath to never ever make your own stupid decor project again. I also decided to hand my wreath in September because after that much effort, it needs to be appreciated. In fact, I'm seriously considering inviting people over just so they can compliment my dumb wreath. I plan to yell "APPRECIATE MY WREATH" through the door before allowing anyone inside of my home for the next month and a half. Then I'll probably hang it up above my dining room table for the rest of time because <i>this is as much as I ever intend to do</i>.<br />
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From here on out it's the Target dollar section for me.<br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-48634445713099667472013-10-10T10:34:00.003-07:002013-10-11T10:45:57.603-07:00Second trimester recap. It's all downhill from here.First, I'm feeling awesome. I mean, like, as awesome as you ever feel during pregnancy. Sure, my back aches and my hips feel like they're being beaten with hammers every night, but after the first trimester that's like comparing a bee sting to being hit by a truck. <br />
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Except maybe that's a bad example because I'm irrational enough to rather be hit by a truck than stung by a bee. Well that's unsettling. It may be time to look at my priorities.<br />
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Anyway.<br />
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Taken at about 26 weeks</div>
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<strong>Thoughts: </strong>I'm almost 27 weeks pregnant, which means the second trimester is drawing to a close. This is super weird because on the one hand, I can't wait to meet Baby Girl. On the other hand, I feel totally unprepared. Yes, we've got a crib and a changing table and a diaper bag and a bunch of other things, but what about BURP CLOTHS and BOTTLES and a STROLLER?!? I'm also getting pretty paranoid. I've always thought I'd be a relaxed first time mom, but everyone keeps warning me about having a baby in the winter and how every human in the world is basically just a walking disease waiting to infect my newborn. The doctor recommended that everyone close to baby get their vaccines updated. I'm now going to be that annoying mom that's like, "Sure you can hold her, IF YOU GOT YOUR FLU SHOT."<br />
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<strong>Symptoms</strong>: My nausea is pretty under control, but I do still have a bad day occasionally where I throw up at work. I take a half a Unisom at night along with half a B6 vitamin in the morning and evening and that seems to generally control my nausea. The doctor says this is normal, so I'm not too worried. I'm also starting to ache quite a bit, which means I take lots of baths to soothe my muscles. I'm also experiencing mood swings, meaning I'm annoyed just at everything all the time. Eric will be like, "Hey can you cand me the remote right next to you?" and internally I'm all, "HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME THAT WAY??" I find myself mentally controlling my reactions to people, because it isn't their fault that everything is unbearably irritating lately.<br />
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I've never had heartburn before but now it's a pretty regular friend, along with gall bladder pain. Which is super, because I didn't know what a gall bladder was before and now I'm an unwilling expert. People are like, "Why are you grimacing?" and I'm all, "Oh, don't worry, just my GALL BLADDER BEING SHOVED INTO MY RIBS." I do also have to say that pregnancy comes with a variety of...strange symptoms. For example, my abs hurt now because they're separating. I mean SEPARATING. If I flex and bend in just the right way, you can see the gap in between them where they used to meet. This is just because baby is busy taking up more and more space and is apparently normal. It's still mildly horrifying.<br />
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<strong>Movement:</strong> This girl is a wiggler. She's constantly rolling, kicking, and punching, and I can tell when she's awake and when she's asleep because if she isn't sleeping, she's practicing karate. I can see it now and it's kind of weird because my whole stomach will roll around in waves. She also likes to stick body parts into me, resulting in an awkward lump that I have to gently pat back in. I've also noticed that she gets the hiccups a few times a day. Also, if I'm resting something on my belly, she'll kick it off. It's pretty cute unless I'm trying to read or use my laptop while lying down. She responds to music and light, and sometimes I'll shine a flashlight on my stomach or play some quiet music through an earbud held up against my stomach, and she'll go nuts. We went to an Imagine Dragons concert the other night and I was really worried because she was so obviously reacting to the loud music, but the doctor said everything would be fine.<br />
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<strong>Cravings/aversions/eating: </strong>I crave weird stuff. Last week I ate a can of olives for dinner every night for like 5 days. I've also had a pomegranate almost every night. Usually I'll get hit HARD by a craving randomly, and not be able to stop thinking about it until I get it. Fortunately my doctor okay'd as much sushi as my little heart desires, so I indulge in that craving sometimes. As far as aversions go, it really comes down to smells. Particularly, the smell of cheese really grosses me out, and thus anything cheesy has become absolutely disgusting. I've definitely noticed my appetite growing as my nausea decreases. My doctor says my weight gain is great, I've gained about 6 pounds in the last month which is good because I lost 15 in the first trimester due to sickness. But with the holidays coming up, he did warn me to be careful about eating too much or eating too many treats. This should be impossible, considering food is possibly my favorite thing in the whole entire world.<br />
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<strong>Workouts:</strong> With all the bustle of getting moved and preparing the nursery, I haven't been working out much since I'm so tired at the end of every day, but I've tried to do yoga once in a while. Honestly I think I'm getting enough activity in, though. It seems like every day there's a new project to finish.<br />
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<strong>Sleep</strong>: I wake up 3-5 times a night to go to the bathroom, and I'm having trouble getting comfortable. My right hip has started to tingle nonstop at night, especially when I lay on it, and it's not my favorite sensation ever. I also have crazy dreams, so when I do sleep it isn't particularly restful. <br />
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<strong>Clothes:</strong> I used the rubber band trick on my regular jeans for a while until even that started to hurt, and then I finally broke down and invested in a few pairs of maternity jeans. They're awesome. And thrifting is my best friend, because did you know that maternity pants, like, never go on sale? What the heck is up with that?? So either I shell out absurd amounts of money or I walk around naked, is that it? WELL THEN NAKED IT IS, SIR. Except no, I bought the pants because I'm aware of societal expectations.<br />
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<strong>Doctor appointments:</strong> Today I had a regular check up and baby had a perfect heartbeat of 160 bpm. After two miscarriages, I think the sound of her heart beating is probably the most beautiful thing in the world, and I'm sure Eric agrees with me. I also got my flu shot today, which is recommended for all pregnant women before Halloween. Eric is getting his on Tuesday, and I'll be asking grandparents to get them too. I told you, crazy paranoid lady. Also, my doctor said that I should probably enjoy the enxt 3-4 weeks because I am pretty short, meaning that my uterus is almost to my ribs already. That means that, since baby is going to quadruple in size by birth, my uterus will have nowhere to go but forward and out. He said that I'll be getting pretty huge at that point, and my center of balance will be really thrown off so I'll need to be careful. Which is just great, because if you know me, you know that I have a hard time remaining upright when my center of gravity is normal.<br />
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<strong>Random:</strong> I get to take my glucose test sometime next week at my discretion, which basically means I have to chug a bottle of orange sugar water and then get my blood drawn to make sure I don't have gestational diabetes. There's not much you can do to prevent GD and it can happen to anyone, so here's hoping I'm lucky. Although, the other day I managed to sit directly on top of the only ant hill in our yard, so I'm going to go ahead and assume luck isn't on my side.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">We also bought a tiny sweater for my tiny dog:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><strong>Doesn't he look overjoyed?!?! We're going to be heading to Gardner Village for some Halloween fun this weekend, which will probably make for an interesting blog post next week. And if it doesn't then I'll write a poem or something. I don't know. STOP PRESSURING ME.</strong></span>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-70868131000227590122013-09-05T11:32:00.000-07:002013-09-05T12:51:44.087-07:00How my mountain made me betterPregnancy is scary.<br />
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It's incredible and uncomfortable and a gift, and it's scary.<br />
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The past few days have made this all seem real in a way that it never has before. This morning Eric and I were surprised and kind of amused to look at my belly and see that it was lopsided. Baby Girl was sitting curled up right by my belly button, and when I put my hand on her, she gave an almighty kick before squirming back into a less awkward looking position.<br />
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I've been thinking about that all day. I used to have a playlist of songs that comforted me after my miscarriages. I was in a sad place and a scared place, and I was hearing all sorts of frightening things from doctors. I tried to be optimistic, but in the back of my mind always was a little voice constantly whispering to me. <em>What if you will never carry to term? What if you can't have children? What if something is wrong with you? What if this is forever? What if the tests find something? What if the tests don't find anything at all? What if there's never a reason?</em><br />
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I horrified myself a lot. In those times, I listened to my playlist and let my spirit soak in all the comfort it could. Music is important to me. I've always heard God speak to me through music when no other way could reach me. It has a way of softening my heart, of breaking through the anger and the bitterness that I sometimes have found myself lost in. I know when I feel resentment, I need to go listen to my music, because that's the surest way to heal my heart, or at least to help me listen to God's messages for me.<br />
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These days, I haven't listened to my playlist much. But today, after seeing such a clear indication that my baby is alive and well and thriving and demanding my attention, I decided to go back and listen to those songs, and to see if they would still touch my heart in the same way that they did when I was struggling.<br />
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It's interesting how easy it is for me to forget all the comfort the Lord has brought me in the past, when I finally get what I asked for.<br />
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I think those songs touched me more now than they ever have, because I look back and see them from the perspective of someone who has climbed <em>that</em> mountain. It's different to see your struggles from the peak. I can look down and see the places where I hurt the most, where I almost gave up, where I felt like I couldn't take another step. And I can see, from up here, that all of those tough places where I cried and prayed and continued on despite my pain were the places where I became <em>better...</em>and all of those places were where I found a foothold, even when I thought there was none. I look at myself from up here and I remember who I was at the bottom of the mountain, and I see all that has changed. I see all the rough edges I once had that are now softened. I see the new abilities I have now that I learned during my climb, even though at the time, it just felt like I was breaking apart. All that shaping and smoothing and <em>becoming</em> felt more like crumbling. But now I see that I'm stronger than ever, but I'm more, too. I have new places in my heart that I didn't have before, pockets of compassion and peace and hope that I didn't even realize were taking hold of me until they were there.<br />
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I listened to my old comfort playlist and I remembered being the girl who felt so small and so breakable and so alone, and I realize that she has changed. I'm proud of that girl, though. I'm grateful to her for trusting herself with Heavenly Father, even though she felt so completely fragile. She didn't know, the way I do now, that she would be so much better for her pain. In fact, she felt sort of betrayed by God sometimes. I'm sort of in awe that I was ever that person who felt so tiny and still trusted Him to take this pain and make it into something better. I look back on that and I feel a conviction that He doesn't leave us alone, even when we feel alone. Even when it is terrifying to say, "I will go through the fire if You want me to."<br />
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This little girl growing inside of me is getting a better mother, because of the simple fact that my Savior did what He always does: He saved me. He was my balm, and He was my friend, even when I was so hurt that I couldn't see Him. He was my Comforter.<br />
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I don't know what happened to the babies growing inside of me before this little one. I don't know if they were separate little spirits and if I will see them again, but in my heart I think that I will be able to raise them one day. I am eternally grateful for eternal families, because I know that one way or another, my family will be whole.<br />
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So yes, pregnancy is still scary. Sometimes it ends tragically, and sometimes there is no reason for that. I'm not safe from that pain. But whatever storms come, I know I can stand.<br />
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<em>"And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon with ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall."</em></div>
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**For those interested, this is the playlist mentioned above. They aren't all "church" songs, as a wide variety of music touches my heart. If you have any to add, please share!<br />
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<li><em>Where Can I Turn For Peace?</em> -Katherine Nelson</li>
<li><em>Better Than I</em> -David Campbell</li>
<li><em>If You Want Me To</em> -Ginny Owens</li>
<li><em>Nearer My God To Thee</em> -The Mormon Tabernacle Choir</li>
<li><em>Be Still My Soul</em> -Jadon Lavik</li>
<li><em>I Know That My Redeemer Lives</em> -Linda Rowberry</li>
<li><em>After The Storm</em> -Mumford and Sons</li>
<li><em>Stand </em>-Rascal Flatts</li>
<li><em>Where Can I Turn For Peace?</em> -Katherine Nelson</li>
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-13069914576811961342013-08-05T13:33:00.002-07:002013-09-05T11:39:56.628-07:00Baby Nielsen is a girl!! And I am a terrible psychic. (UPDATED BECAUSE I'M AWFUL)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you're like me, ultrasound pictures are entirely indecipherable, so let me explain. What you're looking at above is a picture of Baby Nielsen's bum. I think. I'm pretty sure. Anyway, the arrow is pointing between her legs, and the three little white lines indicate lady parts. Oh how embarrassing.<br />
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On Friday I was exactly 17 weeks pregnant. Eric and I were getting a little antsy to know whether we had a little miss or mister on our hands, probably mostly because we had a bet that whoever was right would get 50 dollars to spend on whatever they wanted. I was going to use this as a clever way to force Eric to buy me baby clothes with me, but it didn't quite work out because I was positive that Baby was a boy. And now I'm getting no end of "I told you so's" from Eric.<br />
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Actually, I'm just wrong in general as far as the whole baby guessing thing goes. Since learning of my pregnancy, my maternal instincts have apparently taken a nosedive off a cliff because I'm about as clairvoyant as a rock. We've had a bunch of friends find out baby genders, and I've been wrong EVERY TIME. I swore up and down that baby<br />
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<em>Apparently I hit "publish" instead of "save" on this one before finishing it. </em><br />
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<em>OH GOOD.</em><br />
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<em>I don't even remember where I was going with this. I guess I'll just finish this post now, since it's already been up for an embarrassingly long time. I'm a very reputable writer, take me seriously!</em><br />
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<em>I think my point was that I have a 100 percent failure rate at guessing baby genders. Which, if you think about it, is actually pretty accurate. That's like a perfect succes rate, in a way. So maybe I am kind of psychic. Like, "my gut says you're having a boy, so it must be a girl."</em><br />
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<em>By the way, I was positive Baby Girl was actually Baby Boy. In fact, just last night I had TWO DREAMS in a row that she's a boy. I'm still not 100 percent convinced that this isn't the case. </em><br />
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<em>Welp. That about does it. Let's chalk this up to pregnancy brain and forgive me, kay guys? *Womp womp*</em><br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-70834211791585044422013-07-11T11:51:00.000-07:002013-07-11T11:58:16.275-07:00PREGNANCY! TIME WARPS! SPAM COMMENTS ABOUT BLORN!Let me first start off this post with a heartfelt thanks. I've been off the internet for a while dealing with life (AND ALSO WORKING ON ANOTHER PROJECT BUT SHHH) and I returned to find some very comforting and kind comments about my miscarriage. I read every single comment and they brought a very special tear to my eye.<br />
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That tear quickly evaporated, though, as I realized that my comments section has been entirely taken over by robots posting about...naughty things. SPAM, guys. I have a feeling that <a href="http://megansquared.blogspot.com/2012/08/that-one-time-when-particularly.html">this post</a> may be what drew the sharks (or should I say, <i>alligators</i>. HA. Funny.) to the waters of my humble blog. As such, I don't think I can type certain words without drawing more. As this is generally a family friendly blog, I think it's safe to say that those words are not likely to make an appearance. But most of the comments were about something that rhymes with blorn. And blex. And blebcams. I think I've spent about 300 hours deleting them all, because <i>sacrifice.</i> Although some of the comments are just cruel because they'll start out with, "How do you manage such a fantastic website? You are truly a wonder! Very soon you will be famous!" and I'm like, FINALLY THE CREDIT I DESERVE until I read the rest of the comment which just devolves into, "Free chat blorn at spammypage.com!"<br />
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It's a cruel blow to my ego. The spambots are getting revenge for my harsh treatment of Jenny. Apparently they hunt in packs. Hide.<br />
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Please, know that despite the claims of these robots, I do not visit blorn websites and blebcam websites. Nor do I have any family members working in the blorn industry spamming my comments section. <i>That I know of</i>. If you are my family member and you have something you'd like to tell me, I'm all ears. And please stop spamming my blog. I love you but no, I do not want to direct my friends to your blebcam.<br />
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...Everyone knows what "blorn" means, right? We're all on the same page? Good. On to happier and more appropriate subjects.<br />
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I'm pregnant! As of today I am 13 weeks and 6 days along, and officially out of the 12 week "danger zone" associated with high rates of miscarriages. </div>
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If you're particularly observant, you'll notice that we are having a time traveling baby. This is in no way related to the fact that I have trouble remembering my own age these days. Maybe I meant 2014. Maybe not. In either case, I announced with this picture and it caused some confusion as people wondered whether I was announcing that I currently have a 6 month old baby, or that in 6 months I will have a newborn baby. <i>MYSTERIES!</i></div>
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<i>But the correct answer is newborn baby in 6 months.</i></div>
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In thinking of ways to get this blog up and running again after my regrettable hiatus, I decided I might as well take you all along on the sweaty, uncomfortable journey that is the miracle of creating new life. I also will probably overhaul my blog design again...when I finally get to it. Now the only question is how do I make a visually appealing grown-up blog while still shoving unicorns into every illustration? So far, the answer escapes me. </div>
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Without further ado, here is how the miracle of life has developed over the last 14 weeks.</div>
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<b>Thoughts:</b> It's a strange feeling. After two unexplained miscarriages, Eric and I (or should I say mostly I) were feeling a little down about the whole thing. I conceived this baby right after my second miscarriage, which surprised everyone. I didn't have much hope that things would progress normally, and it hasn't been real until this week. We announced yesterday because we finally got in for a Doppler appointment and were able to hear baby bean's heartbeat. I was incredibly nervous, because we'd had an ultrasound at 6 weeks, and the heartbeat was only at 90 BPM. If that number doesn't mean much to you...well it's not good. It's really low. As far as we can figure, the heart had just started beating that day, which is why it was still so slow and picking up speed. At our appointment yesterday, the baby had a very healthy 165 BPM. It's feeling more real every day. </div>
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<b>Doctor appointment: </b>I have had a million appointments. Because of my unexplained miscarriages, I had to take many unpleasant tests. I can pee in a cup with my eyes closed now. No big. Also, I'm pretty sure my doctor might actually be a vampire because she ordered more blood drawn than I think is probably healthy. At every drawing I was like, "I see you have five tubes filled with my blood now. Are we almost done?" and the answer was always NO. NOT EVEN CLOSE. Still, I'm very grateful to have access to medical care and testing. It gave me huge peace of mind to know that, somewhere, a lab tech was looking at my pee through a microscope to make sure I'm healthy. That's what they do, right?</div>
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<b>Baby:</b> Beanie baby is now about the size of a lemon. He/she has a cute little face and can squint, grimace, smile, and suck his/her thumb. My baby can also pee. That's fun, considering the urge to pee dominates my entire life. Mother-child bonding time. We enjoy the same activities. Awwwww.</div>
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<b>Weight:</b> Since the beginning of pregnancy, I've probably lost about 10 to 15 pounds. That's what happens when the only appetizing foods in the house are pickles and pretzels, I suppose. Also, when you immediately throw up said pickles and pretzels. YUM.</div>
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<b>Symptoms:</b> I've had pretty much every symptom in the book. I'm ridiculously sick many days, and battle constant nausea. The toilet and I have a very close relationship these days, both because my stomach enjoys the whole throwing up thing, and because my bladder has decided to fill itself every hour. I've also been enjoying regular migraines and fatigue. You know that sick, weak feeling you have after battling the flu for a few days? I feel like that most of the time. I'm taking Zofran, unisom, and B6 to control the nausea because I was losing too much weight and getting dehydrated. The medicine helps control things, but I still have pretty bad days. I also have insanely vivid dreams. They're so realistic that I often can't figure out whether events have really happened or whether I just dreamed them two days earlier. I think Eric's least favorite symptom is the mood swings. I get irritated more easily than ever in my life...I also cry more easily than is mentally sound. The other day I sobbed because our new Monsters, Inc. Blu Ray had three discs instead of two inside. Logically, I realize this is no reason to cry. However, that doesn't stop my eyes from tearing up every time I think about it.</div>
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<b>Movement</b>: Baby is apparently performing acrobatics inside of me, but I can't feel it yet.</div>
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<b>Cravings/aversions/eating:</b> I have an aversion to just about every food on the planet. Occasionally those aversions will go away long enough for me to experience an insane craving for something, at which point I'll go to the store and buy 17 of them. After about two servings, though, the aversion returns full force and I have to throw the rest of the food away. I am having a big problem struggling to control my craving for doughnuts this week. I haven't been able to eat too much, unfortunately. I can't really imagine ever enjoying food again. It's kind of tragic.</div>
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<b>Workouts:</b> HAHAHAHAHA. HA. HAHAHAHA.</div>
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<b>Sleep:</b> I could sleep for days. Unfortunately, I have to wake up every two hours to go to the bathroom, so my sleep is pretty interrupted. Also, those dang DREAMS...</div>
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<b>Clothes: </b>Since getting pregnant, my clothes fit better than ever before, what with the whole weight loss thing. But as I head into the second trimester here and my symptoms get better, I'll probably have to say goodbye to my skinny jeans. I hardly knew thee.</div>
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<i> </i><b>Random:</b> Now that I can finally talk openly about this pregnancy, I'll probably be posting a lot more about it. If you want to see all my baby-related adventures, follow me on instagram. There's a handy little link in the right column. Or you can just search "megansquared" on your phone. I also take lots of pictures of my puppy, Sherlock. </div>
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Again, thank you for all of the support and kind words over the past few months. I'm excited to share this new journey with you all! And please don't send me links to blorn. Thank you.</div>
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-4328041339421953112012-12-19T10:38:00.000-08:002012-12-19T10:38:41.091-08:00Three days without Facebook. Because I haaaate myself.This morning I checked Facebook. Then I went to work. Then I checked Facebook again. I spent the first hour of the day working and checking Facebook until I read something that made my heart twist. See, I have several Facebook friends who are pregnant and who got pregnant around the same time I did. However, their babies are healthy. I had a miscarriage. I would have found out whether my baby was a boy or girl this month...and that means that THEY are all finding out and excitedly posting their news to Facebook. Meanwhile, I'm torturing myself by obsessively reading their updates and looking at pictures of their cute bellies and the sweet baby socks and clothes and books that they're receiving as gifts. I am not even <em>close</em> to being over my miscarriage. I feel like a mother without a child. I am jealous, angry, empty, and sad every time I see one of those updates. It's hard, REALLY hard to be happy for people who are getting what I thought I'd have. I lost it, seemingly at random, seemingly by chance, seemingly for no reason, and arbitrarily they didn't. But I digress. Because the point is that after I saw this girl's update and felt that familiar sinking, empty, drowning-in-a-well-filled-with-my-own-emotions-blaaaaah feeling, I got PISSED.<br />
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I'm mad! WHY am I doing this to myself?! Is this REALLY how I want to feel?? No one is forcing me to look! I sat there, staring at the computer screen for at least five minutes, realizing that I am torturing myself. I have a wound that's trying to heal, and I keep ripping it open and examining it. What is wrong with me? I'm not a jealous person. I'm not a person who doesn't rejoice in the happiness of others. I'm not a wallower. In the past I've always been able to muster up enthusiasm and joy for people who have what I want. <br />
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See, without Facebook, I wouldn't even know that these friends are all having girls so far. They could tell me or I could find out on a better timeline, one where I don't have to crumple into a pathetic pile of sadness in secret and they don't have to feel guilty for sharing their good news. I actually am not sure if they all even know, but I don't <em>want</em> them to feel bad when they post a picture of an ultrasound. <br />
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I've realized that being a part of every single thing that every other person does is a responsibility. If we're going to have that much knowledge about the lives of one another, if we're going to give ourselves so much freaking ability to be connected at all times, then we have to learn not to abuse it. Torturing ourselves with Facebook is NOT responsible behavior. It's insane. It's kind of sick. I do it all the time. It's not just the miscarriage, either. I can't count how many times I've felt awful after comparing myself to other people, particularly other people I hardly even know. And when was the last time I argued for hours on end over some stupid political opinion in real life? Facebook is the perfect forum for that, unfortunately. I get to watch some awesome things happen in the lives of my friends, but I also get to feel just sick to death because of all the negativity. It's negativity I force upon myself. <br />
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Not everyone needs to know what I'm thinking! I don't need to know what everyone else is thinking, either. I don't need to hurt over someone else's baby when I'm not even finished hurting over mine. Seeing other women's pregnancies work out so up close and personally makes me forget the peace that God has given me after hours of prayer and thought. It makes me forget that sometimes I need to focus on my own personal tragedies before I can heal enough to face the world. After my miscarriage, I shut myself into my apartment and took a week of alone time, some of it with my husband, some without. It felt good to just deal on my own. But I wasn't ever really alone with my grief, because I was on Facebook. Because even when I was weighed down with my own suffering, I was still involved, however indirectly, in the affairs of other people. Their lives just went on while mine was utterly halted for a while and watching that makes a cynic out of anyone. I have enough stress in my life without everyone else's on top of it.<br />
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This post was originally supposed to be a lighthearted humor piece about how much Facebook sucks. I even had ms paint up to draw some hilarious pictures of myself curled up in a deprived ball on the floor. I probably should have written this after the anger subsided and I may even go back and delete it because I'm not sure I'm ready to share yet, but I've gotta say, it feels good. I cannot believe it took me this long to figure this crap out.<br />
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So here's my plan to start getting my Facebook habit under control: I'm not going to be on Facebook until Saturday at the earliest, longer if I can handle it, just to see how it feels. Then I'll have to come up with some sort of battle plan, because this sucks and I'm not letting a stupid website control my emotions anymore. Who knows? Maybe I'll even be able to come to terms with my feelings on my own without interference, however indirect or unintentional, from anyone else. Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-55355816401786158862012-11-27T11:14:00.000-08:002012-11-27T11:14:57.888-08:00In case anyone forgot how unproductive I am<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1p4eDhMPSZRtM4fV82ZxRYvHDBXOJ9y0IPQYB2QbpmzZRkiY27tGSAFduBaTCwW-GJO8qMzf9PdajJ0f260QPtzkkXt8genp4Q__od_j2iaCtCz4a_a-r37k7BSWCVdDrbzf5IS4sto/s1600/workday.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1p4eDhMPSZRtM4fV82ZxRYvHDBXOJ9y0IPQYB2QbpmzZRkiY27tGSAFduBaTCwW-GJO8qMzf9PdajJ0f260QPtzkkXt8genp4Q__od_j2iaCtCz4a_a-r37k7BSWCVdDrbzf5IS4sto/s640/workday.png" width="640" /></a></div>
Technically this chart is now inaccurate, since I also spent a significant amount of time making this chart.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-73982057387987880252012-08-29T13:55:00.001-07:002012-08-29T14:04:04.755-07:00That one time when a particularly voluptuous robot swindled me out of some alligatorsToday I was checking my email on Hotmail because I signed up for an email account at the age of 13 and I don't like change so HOTMAIL IT IS. Little did I know that the MSN messenger chat service I also used at the age of 13 was up and functional, and I was totally signed in to it. Then a little chat box popped up on my screen from Jen+Lova. Now, I'm not entirely sure who she is, but I'm positive she's a robot. So I guess I am entirely sure who she is.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">heya</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hello, who is this?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">hello to you too</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You don't know who I am.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I mean it's possible,
but I doubt it.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hey hun, How ru doing
today? Wanna chat for a little ?!? Im bored and wanted to meet new people... </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ooooh I see. This is a
spam bot. I GET YOU NOW.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">nah, I am a
vegetarian... no spam for me! haha</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh okay, so you're a
spam bot that automatically sends a negative response whenever I type the word
"spam."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">a what?</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">SPAM</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">SPAMMY SPAM SPAM</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cool... Well, I am
Jenny Im originally from S.Florida... Let me ask you a question?</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Okay, but first let me
ask you one. Is it fulfilling, being a spam bot? I mean, do you get a sense of
accomplishment from your work?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I once considered being
a spam bot, however I'm not a robot.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was a poor career
choice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">bot? like a robot? lol</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yes, like your people,
Jenny from South Florida.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">i LOVE florida, my
best friend Becky lives in Boca Raton, I visit down there all the time</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I've been to Florida
twice, but I was quite disappointed by the lack of wild alligators roaming the
streets.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Which kinda women u in
to ? r u in to NICE TITS or a NICE APPLE BOTTOM ?</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes;">:)</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Well, as a heterosexual
female, I'm not really into any women, regardless of their varying physical
assets. I AM however, into alligators. Why did I not see more alligators,
Jenny?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">yes im real</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ah, well that settles it
then. You MUST be real.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">good question, huh?
lol.. I have a lot of both!! </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></b><b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">:) would u like to see? I
have some free time now... </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A lot of alligators? Or
a lot of physical assets? I'd be very interested in seeing the alligators.
Could you please email me some photos of said alligators? And could you please
name one Pixie McGillus for me? And could you tell her she's the prettiest
alligator of them all?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">pics are old skool
hehe, i like to do cam 2 cam </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></b><b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">:) i'm online right now <span style="color: blue;">http://www.reddit.com/tb/y90pm/</span>im
the main girl u see there, type to me on the right hand side of my video</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh, I don't mind if the
photos are old school. Alligators do well in all types of photography genres, I
think. Very timeless, alligators. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">pics are old skool
hehe, i like to do cam 2 cam </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></b><b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">:) i'm online right now <span style="color: blue;">http://www.reddit.com/tb/y90pm/</span>im
the main girl u see there, type to me on the right hand side of my video</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh, I think you resent
that, robot.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I MEAN DEFINITELY REAL
GIRL.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">i dont think so</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">...I think you did. In
fact I can see that you did.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You definitely did,
Jenna.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yay... let me set up
my cam n u can watch me shake my booty!! LOL.. brb </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm starting to suspect
that you're not from South Florida AT ALL.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ok! Click here <span style="color: blue;">http://www.reddit.com/tb/y90pm/</span>and
we'll have a PRIVATE 1on1 chat..There's plenty pix of me in there, if you like
click the "join free" on top, then register and it'll take you
straight to my webcam, I'll be there in a minute.. </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes;">:)</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Is Booty the name of one
of your alligators?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">jennifer is my real
name but all my friends call me jenny</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hey Jennifer, I'm
totally online on your website thing. SHOW ME THE GATORS.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">hey whats up sweetie?</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You know, I'm trying to
have a conversation with you, but you're so disjointed that I'm starting to
think you don't really know what's going on.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Like you're distracted,
or something.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It might say that im
offline, just start signing up.. im getting on now.. </span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh, oh so you're NOT
online?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Wait, I thought you were
DEFINITELY online.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I thought we were going to do this alligator thing. Am I being had, Jenny?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There is no charge to
sign up, but its gonna ask you for your credit card. Im wearing almost nothing
and I dont want any kids watching me!! lol.. </span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">All I have to do to
verify my age is give you all my credit card information? Sounds legit.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Once you've completed
that, it'll automatically redirect you to my webcam page.. u better give me
some "gold" when you're on the site lol..it's like a flirt and I'd
love some from you ..k? </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes;">:)</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Okay I'm a little stuck.
Should I also include my social security number, just to make ABSOLUTELY sure
that I'm not under 18?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">24/f/Houston</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I THOUGHT YOU WERE FROM
FLORIDA.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don't know what to believe anymore. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says: </span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">k u in?</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">...Well I guess so. I
must admit, my faith in you is a little shaken, but as you now have my credit
card information and my social security number, who can I trust if not you,
right? LOL.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jen+Lova says:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="color: #8000ff; font-family: "Microsoft Sans Serif","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">my cell is
206-222-1648, please dont give that out! lol</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">megan prietzel says:</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm totally posting this
to my blog, you know.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JESSICA, WHERE DID YOU
GO?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I mean, Jennifer.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jenny.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Whatever.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">...There are no
alligators, are there?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Segoe UI","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I never did get to see Pixie McGillus. But I am now fighting the irrational urge to call that number and continue on our conversation about alligators. I could be like, "Oh yeah, no really, I TOTALLY want to see your apple bottom, but first answer me this: do alligators <i>really</i> live in sewers, or is that just an urban legend?"</span></div>
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Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-77659104477807380112012-06-23T16:53:00.000-07:002012-06-23T17:19:14.260-07:00If I only had the right voodoo dieting spellA couple of mornings ago I walked downstairs expecting to have a bowl of Special K cereal. I bought the Special K because I'm positive it has magical weight-loss powers, mostly because of the commercial with the lady walking on the beach. You know. The one where she's covered up in a gauzy little shawl but then oops! The wind blew my shawl away! And then she sassily struts her Special K bod because she's black and skinny and holllaaaaa. That one. Anyway, I'm like Regina George, in that I really want to lose three pounds because my wedding dress, which fits, but I'm convinced that I need to lose three pounds, and until I do nothing is okay and I am a hideous beast and Special K. I had one bowl of it the morning after I bought it and I thought the results should be a bit more noticeable, but then I reasoned with myself and was all, "Maybe you have to eat two bowls. Or perform a voodoo ritual." Point is, I needed more of it.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhixOap46os4hh_Xu-MsYrl3UcUZgsbTiNerYmv-hSfNAuIc52gG7dIjQjysl0PKV_Le7NY84yqKT_HFw3L-wtf00pGNPRiHrOgXY1YqQnRYMbL1ERVzyPEJsE11Gwr_PUhVOdkWJ2GmeQ/s1600/special+k.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhixOap46os4hh_Xu-MsYrl3UcUZgsbTiNerYmv-hSfNAuIc52gG7dIjQjysl0PKV_Le7NY84yqKT_HFw3L-wtf00pGNPRiHrOgXY1YqQnRYMbL1ERVzyPEJsE11Gwr_PUhVOdkWJ2GmeQ/s400/special+k.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I walked downstairs and my younger brother was eating my Special K. At first I was like whatevs because how much cereal can a 17 year old boy eat? But then I grabbed the box and the answer is "all of it." There were crumbs left at the bottom of the Special K box. I immediately lost my mind.<br />
<br />
<b>Me: </b>WHERE IS ALL MY SPECIAL K?<br />
<b>Brother: </b>I ate it.<br />
<b>Me: </b>WHY. THAT WAS MINE AND I BOUGHT IT.<br />
<b>Brother:</b> It's my favorite cereal.<br />
<b>Me: </b>I DON'T CARE IF IT'S THE ONLY KNOWN CURE TO YOUR LIFE-THREATENING DISEASE. THIS IS MY SPECIAL K.<br />
<b>Brother:</b> Oh. Sorry.<br />
<b>Me: </b>WHAT KIND OF HIGH SCHOOL KID'S FAVORITE CEREAL IS SPECIAL K?<br />
<b>Brother: </b>Well, mine.<br />
<b>Me:</b> I BOUGHT THIS YESTERDAY. I NEEDED IT TO PERFORM A VOODOO BODY RITUAL.<br />
<b>Brother:</b> Eh.<br />
<b>Me: </b>BUY ME MORE.<br />
<b>Brother: </b>No.<br />
<br />
And I spent the rest of my day fuming. The Special K is only one part in my many part plan to completely alter everything about myself in the month before my wedding. For example, I went to the dermatologist the other day, because I had this weird, dangerous looking bump on my arm. No big or anything. But when I got there, a supermodel wearing a doctor's coat walked into the room and was like, "Hi, what's the problem?" and I was like, "Supermodel, you're in Utah. I think you're looking for Milan. This isn't even the right country." But then she was actually the doctor. And she was like 20. And beautiful. And according to her degree on the wall, she graduated with honors in biochemistry from NYU. I was like, "I WANT TO BE EVERYTHING THAT YOU ARE" but I only said that in my head because it's difficult to express that sort of sentiment while wearing a hospital gown with any amount of dignity.<br />
<br />
She zapped the arm thing off because I'm white like Elmer's glue. Except that if you leave Elmer's glue out in the sun for 20 minutes, it has a 78 percent chance of developing skin cancer, whereas I have like an 86. The good thing about this is that I've been able to alternate between wearing sparkly bandaids and Avengers bandaids all week.<br />
<br />
I don't even like Special K all that much. If Cookie Crisp or Captain Crunch or Lucky Charms had the ability to make me skinny, I'd do that. But only Special K has that power. Apparently you're supposed to follow some voodoo diet where you <i>don't </i>eat utter crap for lunch and dinner, but one step at a time, amirite? Besides, today I ate like, half a bag of organic cherries after working out, so I think I'm set for a while. Because cherries are good for you. I looked up the nutritional information on the internet.<br />
<br />
The point of this entire post was to introduce my new blog project, but I honestly have no idea how I was going to segue into it so how about a jarring and completely misplaced sentence? <a href="http://rslikeyeah.tumblr.com/">The new blog is a Tumblr called Relief Society Like Yeah</a>, which is hilarious, but probably only if you're Mormon or go to BYU or are familiar with the culture of one or the other. I can only make so many jokes that are not about BYU parking. <br />
<br />
I should probably also tell you that I'm engaged, because I just mentioned a wedding dress and half of you are probably like, "The eff is she talking about?" and the other half are like, "Isn't she like, 19?" Coincidentally, I just did an interview with <a href="http://community.sparknotes.com/2012/06/15/what-its-like-to-be-19-and-engaged">Emma of SparkLife about being 19 and engaged</a>, so if you'd like to berate me about my wasted life, read that first. Anyway, photographic evidence:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidq0xFq2jl_Fpmh5Yp3-ArYqGKljg-WI3sQG0F2eKx1XyHEib53xP2LIRjzSEn7zaaV5xT4_tuDmuLdB227gwtBvLXRLn4JAMZ9KF5gQvRiAsA3gXUAWhM7rNTKLWagg7Qj6tuWCPYyjY/s1600/422959_10150709184800379_721015378_11594265_1405271457_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidq0xFq2jl_Fpmh5Yp3-ArYqGKljg-WI3sQG0F2eKx1XyHEib53xP2LIRjzSEn7zaaV5xT4_tuDmuLdB227gwtBvLXRLn4JAMZ9KF5gQvRiAsA3gXUAWhM7rNTKLWagg7Qj6tuWCPYyjY/s400/422959_10150709184800379_721015378_11594265_1405271457_n.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxguLUIyUQsxteVap7EjqIjhpNjGMpCiyF1AgNCpZAe920hbyqJdX-kG1Y5uD2Hl3NkJMzl1k5KfDHfsVOnHEslELEaPlMAz-DZkuKEaVSN5h4DAyG7jsLNgjH42kPTEc8OcyeLz-DsVU/s1600/576493_10150936262780379_877481966_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxguLUIyUQsxteVap7EjqIjhpNjGMpCiyF1AgNCpZAe920hbyqJdX-kG1Y5uD2Hl3NkJMzl1k5KfDHfsVOnHEslELEaPlMAz-DZkuKEaVSN5h4DAyG7jsLNgjH42kPTEc8OcyeLz-DsVU/s400/576493_10150936262780379_877481966_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
Look at us! Look at how blissfully engaged we are! His name is Eric and I'll probably write about him all the brickin' time now because we spend every waking moment either annoyed with each other or totally kissing. Notice how I chose a picture that doesn't show his face. That's because here is his face:<br />
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Now if only I can drag myself to the grocery store for more Special K, maybe he won't leave me for my dermatologist.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-35605943632818445422012-03-05T15:37:00.002-08:002012-03-05T15:37:59.435-08:00Girls, please live by these words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Lemme tell you a 'lil somthin' somthin'...pretty lasts. Hot is an expendable commodity.<br />
<br />
GIRLS. BE PRETTY.<br />
<br />
I just had to share this because it's currently the best video on youtube.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-19414728251927494272012-02-15T19:57:00.000-08:002012-02-15T19:57:22.257-08:00Mostly I can't choose a team. I'm leaning toward unicorns because they sparkle.I bought this book called <i>Zombies VS. Unicorns.</i> And when I say "I bought" I mean "someone in my family gave me a gift card to Barnes and Noble" and when I say "someone in my family" I mean "I can't remember who."<br />
<br />
So, yeah, hey family. I'm totally grateful for your gifts that enable me to buy zombie-unicorn books.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfqiaS3NNK5xZM419zVJQsujvVFDi9YBa8Q2ZpMQEsth4-QP1p_EwGzwASHvJ0p7DkeUJzqFXRKMk8GD8dvXuoPqlQh3U-shE-ImuAHZV4fFTsVH3p1CDfKWOe7Bmn97c8ArKWammLqM/s1600/zombiesversusunicorns.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbfqiaS3NNK5xZM419zVJQsujvVFDi9YBa8Q2ZpMQEsth4-QP1p_EwGzwASHvJ0p7DkeUJzqFXRKMk8GD8dvXuoPqlQh3U-shE-ImuAHZV4fFTsVH3p1CDfKWOe7Bmn97c8ArKWammLqM/s400/zombiesversusunicorns.png" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the bird-man on top. Trivia: it's actually a poorly drawn zombie being eaten by a bird. Awesome. </td></tr>
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That is what this book looks like. Only better. And...more realistic. Although I don't know how that's possible, because it would appear that my MS Paint skills have only improved with time.<br />
<br />
OMG FINE. Here. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Zombies-vs-Unicorns-Holly-Black/dp/1416989536">Click this link. </a>I HOPE YOU'RE SATISFIED.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I was at Barnes and Noble with my boyfriend, just spending the crap out of all my unused Christmas gift cards when suddenly, a shiny black cover gleamed from the recesses of the "Paranormal Teen Novel Fantasy Whatever" section. Being who I am, I instantly screamed "ZOMBIES VERSUS UNICORNS!!!" I then brushed my fingers lovingly across the cover and whispered solemnly and with all the reverence I could muster, "I must have this."<br />
<br />
The great thing about my boyfriend is that he just expects things like this.<br />
<br />
When I showed my step-dad he rolled his eyes and said, "Well at least you didn't waste your money," and I was like "I know! What a buy, right?!" and he rolled his eyes again. In retrospect, I think he may believe I've wasted my money.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I thought this book would be the best purchase I've ever made in my life, and in some ways I was right. In others...I was so, so wrong. The book is basically a collection of short stories from various authors on two opposing teams. I've enjoyed most of the stories so far. However, there has been bestiality, homosexual naked special hugs, and curse words. The BAD kind of curse words. <br />
<br />
I'm a prude. I don't swear. I'm easily shocked. But this book is about zombies and unicorns! It was MADE for me! But it's so SHOCKING. But some of the stories are SO GOOD. But THE PARTIAL NUDITY.<br />
<br />
I don't know what to believe anymore.<br />
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<br />
I think I'll just go get a hot dog.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-19880454289373933202012-01-24T22:04:00.000-08:002012-01-24T22:04:41.386-08:00That one time I got punched in the face by a bird in MexicoMexico is a place, a place that I had never been to until recently. And by that I mean that I went on a cruise there and I really thought there would be more to tell you about that but there isn't. There IS, however, a little to tell you because I was attacked by rabid birds.<br />
<br />
I was just strutting down the market-place in Ensenada, buying such trinkets as seashell earrings and cheap Mexican cocaine, when WOULDN'T YOU KNOW IT, there was a churro stand! And the churro guy was like, "Here, have a free sample of a churro!" and I was like "May I kiss you passionately, old Mexican churro man?" <br />
<br />
I love churros. Churros are the only Mexican food that I love. They're like little fried tubes of joy. And cinnamon sugar, which is equivalent. My mom sometimes makes churros and I remember why I love my mom. Not that I wouldn't love my mom if she didn't make me churros, it would just be significantly harder and also I might call her by her first name.<br />
<br />
What?<br />
<br />
Churro man handed me my free sample of Mexican magic and I, exuding the joy of a woman with a fresh churro and veins full of cocaine, bit into it immediately. Unfortunately, when an object has pulled from a vat of bubbling oil moments before you place it in your mouth, it is still scalding hot. I was like "MOTHER OF SWEAR WORD" and then held the churro out so that the Ensenada wind might cool it slightly. <br />
<br />
I continued to walk down the road of the ocean-side market, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air when, all of a sudden, I saw birds! Look at 'em, they're everywhere! They're so cuuuute! And then I continued walking and didn't think about them again. <br />
<br />
Until, not two seconds later, I felt something slam into my face with the force of a small missile. I felt seagull feet tangling in my hair and saw, to my horror, a snapping beak lunging at my churro, over and over. And I wish I had been like, "NOT MY CHURRO. YOU'RE GOING DOWN BIRD. PREPARE YOURSELF" and then popped a homie in the face, but instead I was more like, "eeeuuuughghhghgGGGHHHEIEEIEIE!!! MOMMMMM!!!! HELP MEEEEEEE!!!" And the evil bird just kept punching me in the face until it snapped up my churro and flew off. <br />
<br />
Those Mexican seagulls aren't afraid of anything. I hope the churro burned it's tongue on the way down and I hope that every stolen bit of food tasted like rubber for weeks and I hope that that bird never gets married and dies alone.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-4432228312136628792011-12-07T00:16:00.001-08:002011-12-07T09:33:30.269-08:00I should just live in CostcoThe other day I was in Costco (again, because everything happens to me in Costco, for some reason) (I think Costco should really pay me for all the times I've mentioned them on this blog) (well, I'm not materialistic. I'll settle for their support in my bid for Supreme Dictator of the State of Utah) (or they could give me a gift card. I'd like that too.)<br />
<br />
What?<br />
<br />
Anyway, I was in Costco. I had to go to the pharmacy because my body suffers from a little thing I like to call "complete inability to function and be not-dumb" and I was pretty sure this was the correct Costco, the one where I fill all my prescriptions. Except no it was not and being me, the only person in the history of the world to forget where her house is after living there for five years, I turned up at the wrong Costco. BUT NEVER FEAR, said the pharmacy woman after I had waited a mere 30 minutes behind an old lady who kept hacking loudly and apologetically muttering, "Sorry, must be a tickle...I'm not sick...it's a...tickle" to no one in particular, as if all of us in line were keeping our distance based on her coughing and as soon as she explained the reasons behind it we would be like <i>well that's a relief</i> and hug her forever.<br />
<br />
So the pharmacy woman was like KAY WE'RE JUST GONNA TRANSFER YOUR MEDICINE and I was like...um...kay. Because in my mind she was saying that she was going to physically transfer my medicine from the other pharmacy to this one and I was trying to figure out the logistics but as it turns out I was, in fact, at another pharmacy where they also have medication on hand. I had to wait 20 minutes and in that time I basically ran around Costco like a woman possessed because <i>why not</i>, that's why. I was like, "You can't throw me out, Costco! I have my mother's membership card with me! And I've written about you like FOUR TIMES. And that's just so far!"<br />
<br />
25 minutes later I was standing in an aisle seriously considering purchasing a collection of John Wayne movies even though I don't like westerns. Such is the power of Costco. Then I remembered that oh! Yeah! Prescription. And I ran over to the pharmacy just in time to watch my pharmacy woman walk out with her lunch and I was like "HI WHAT ABOUT MY MEDS, LADY. THIS BLOODSTREAM AIN'T GONNA MEDICATE ITSELF" but she just ignored me and went on her break. So I stood awkwardly, trying very hard to both make eye contact with the other pharmacists and NOT make eye contact with the other pharmacists because I don't know how to handle myself in adult situations. And so I waited for another 10 minutes. And that's when I met a man.<br />
<br />
He was walking around, muttering with a smile on his face, and every once in a while he would walk up to someone waiting in line and start a loud, apparently hilarious conversation with them. Then he would walk away, shaking his head and laughing, and resume his muttering and pacing. Then came the time when he decided to talk to me. I didn't mind. I like people. Years of being socially inept have taught me to just embrace the awkwardness and I'm very good at it.<br />
<br />
The man walked up to me. His hair was sticking up at odd angles. He was old enough to be my father. One of his shoes was untied and his shirt was only half tucked in.<br />
<br />
Man: Well hey there! How ya doin'?<br />
Me: I'm great, thanks!<br />
Man: You sure do look great, I'll tell ya that!<br />
Me: Why thank you!<br />
Man: My wife left me when I got this.<br />
Me: When you got...what?<br />
Man: Alzheimer's.<br />
<br />
He stared at me very seriously as I choked on my own tongue. I literally squeaked and sputtered as my brain ground to a stop and was like "Sorry, you're on your own with this one." The man stared at me solemnly for about twenty seconds while I tried desperately to regain the function of my mind and say something appropriate. I have never been rendered so utterly and unexpectedly speechless in my life. But then everything was suddenly okay as he picked up the conversation, jubilant.<br />
<br />
Man: SO I GOT MYSELF A NEW ONE!<br />
Me: A...new...huh?<br />
Man: I got a new wife. She's from Bulgaria. Also, she's a rocket scientist. That's what she <i>does.</i> Welp, bye!<br />
<br />
And then I watched him walk away and I didn't know whether to laugh or not, but then I did because honestly? I don't even have Alzheimer's and I will probably never marry a Bulgarian rocket scientist. This guy's got me beat. FOREVER. Besides, he just seemed like the kind of man who would want me to laugh about it. <br />
<br />
I kind of wondered, then, whether or not I should have called someone. <i>Should this man be at Costco by himself? Where's his Bulgarian rocket scientist? How long until he trips on his untied shoelace? </i> But then he was gone, having done his job and done it well.<br />
<br />
I think I'll just move into Costco.<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-63739569775235750862011-12-02T14:42:00.001-08:002011-12-07T00:45:24.035-08:00And so it begins...Did you know that Utah is freezing? Freezing enough that I would seriously consider stealing a homeless person's only blanket if I thought it would do any good? Freezing enough that if you wait too long between blinking, your eye lubrication quickly turns into ice? SO COLD that the only words I can get out through my chattering teeth are "OHMYGOSH WHY WHY WHY I HATE THIS NO WHY"? Point is, I don't like it. Other point is, I'm pretty good at exaggeration.<br />
<br />
Well today was one of those probably-colder-than-the-Arctic kind of days. Luckily for me, I had a crucial test that I had to take for Biology (or as I like to call it, "Bio-dumb-ology." I never said I was clever) and parking at BYU is God's way of reminding me that those stumps of flesh attached to my butt are legs and are, in fact, capable of mobility. So there I was, making the long and freezing trek back to my car from the testing center when I began to wonder why it was so dark. I looked up at the sky. It was filled with menacingly fluffy clouds. Naturally I gave it a warning look, a look that said "You'd better just STAY clouds. I don't want any precipitation out of you."<br />
<br />
One miserably freezing walk later, I was finally, finally, FINALLY about to open my car door when I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING, a tiny, delicate, beautiful snowflake landed on my sleeve, pristine and perfect. I blinked once and then immediately squished it in horror. Waves of disgust rolled through me as I looked around and realized that. it. was. snowing. It was very light snow, the kind that you might just mistake for a giant with dandruff scratching his head only you know, giants aren't real. Probably. I looked up at the sky and I was MAD.<br />
<br />
"No. NO. DID YOU HEAR ME I SAID NO. SERIOUSLY, STOP. I HATE YOU, YOU HEAR? I HATE YOU."<br />
<br />
And I stood there shaking my fist above my head, yelling in the middle of the parking lot. And now everyone who happened to be nearby (hint: many people) think I have a mental disorder or anger management issues. <i>If only they understood.</i><br />
<br />
This is no exaggeration, the snow actually began to fall harder and thicker AS SOON AS I EXPRESSED MY FURY. I don't understand why no one believes that the Universe hates me. It's taunting me. It's taunting me and there is no reasonable outlet because <i>you can't just punch the Universe.</i> I guess I could punch the snow, but that would be <i>awful</i> because HELLO it's cold and wet. The Universe has found the perfect weapon against me.<br />
<br />
I was willing, maybe even hopeful, for a truce between myself and the snow. I wanted to enjoy its sparkly beauty just like everyone else but, just as the white man and the Native American couldn't reconcile their differences and contagious diseases some 10 odd years ago (right?), I see no hope for peace here. Except the likelihood that a holiday revolving around food will come from this feud is slim to none so THIS IS EVEN WORSE.<br />
<br />
And you'd better believe I just said that this was even worse than that time Pilgrims settled America and virtually everyone died. I don't know how I managed to end this post on an offensive note, so I guess I just have a talent. Please send hate mail accordingly.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-20171025627025270402011-11-26T00:10:00.001-08:002011-11-26T00:59:11.873-08:00Anything stronger than baby aspirin is a problem for me because I start personifying my inuries and they're never niceThe night before Thanksgiving I was feeling charitable so I gave the dogs a bath which was fine until I had a terrible reaction to work. About twenty minutes after the dogs were dry, I was minding my own business, googling pictures of clothes I will never be able to afford, when all of the sudden my leg was like, "HEY I ITCH BAD." I scratched my leg absent-mindedly for a while when, would you look at that, I noticed skin underneath my fingernails. Doesn't that sound totally not disgusting?<br />
<br />
<i>Huh!</i> I thought to myself. <i>Where did all that skin come from? </i>And then I looked at my leg and was like <i>OH.</i> Because my thigh was covered in some particularly attractive red welts. Like, the mothership of all welts. Wherever a welt exists in the world, my welts birthed them. THOSE KINDS OF WELTS.<br />
<br />
It took me a minute to figure out that I ought to blame the dogs, but I got to that soon enough. Then I kicked them both and yelled "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE" directly into their little, innocent faces. This being before I mixed rat poison into their dinners, of course. And by kicking, yelling, and poisoning, I mean snuggles and baby talk, but I don't really know which is worse from their perspective.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I quickly put my brain to the task and deduced that I had two options: first, I could put some lotion on my legs and go to sleep. Second, I could wake up my mom at 1:00 in the morning and ask her to cure me. See, I occasionally wake my mom up in the middle of the night when I want to inform her that I'm dying of some awful allergic reaction. I do this partly because my body really does itch, but mostly because I just like the attention. This time, however, she just sort of tossed me some Benadryl and went back to bed, and now I think I may have overdone it a little bit because no one even feels bad for me anymore when I itch.<br />
<br />
The point of this story is that on the night before Thanksgiving day I took Benadryl at 1:00 am. I think a normal person would probably be fine and just go to bed once the drowsiness kicked in, but since I'm an idiot, I chose instead to fight the power of modern medicine until the last possible moment. Basically I was completely out of it, and while some might be like "MEGAN YOU FOOL, YOU CAN'T GET HIGH FROM BENADRYL" I maintain that these people clearly do not know me and anything stronger than Advil will turn me into a bumbling idiot. This is further proven by the fact that I am a clumsy fool with a weak immune system, so I always get sick or injured and require heavy duty cough medicine or some sort of pain killing narcotic for something or other. I try not to take those prescriptions because <i>I can't ever really remember anything that has ever happened to me while on them.</i> I have low tolerance for every single chemical, is what I'm saying. You should see me on Red Bull.<br />
<br />
So picture, if you will, me. I'm sitting on my floor in the middle of the night insisting to myself that I am NOT tired. (I totally am tired.) I send a few mispelled texts (phone becomes "poo hone" when autocorrect hates me) and eventually settle into a sort of drug-induced haze of fatigue. I cry a little bit, because that's what I do. That's when I notice a freaking HUGE bruise running up my thigh. How did it get there? I don't know. I still don't know. Did I run into a table? Did a midget beat me with a crowbar? Did I punch myself repeatedly and then forget about it? Anything is possible. And that's when The Bruise and I started to have a conversation.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Me: </b>Hey. Whatcha doin?<br />
<b>Bruise:</b> OMG, mind your own business.<br />
<b>Me:</b> I would, it's just that you hurt and stuff.<br />
<b>Bruise: </b>And your point?<br />
<b>Me: </b>Well, you're huge and green. Bruise, why are you green?<br />
<b>Bruise: </b>Kool-aid. Now go away.<br />
<b>Me: </b>They make green flavored Kool-aid?<br />
<b>Bruise: </b>Green isn't a flavor, idiot. It's apple.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Oh. You should just drink apple juice then. It makes more health sense.<br />
<b>Bruise: </b>Could you, like, shut up? I'm trying to bleed into your soft tissues.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Sorry. I'm just confused. I don't remember running into anything lately.<br />
<b>Bruise:</b> Are you kidding? You've fallen over 17 times since I've been here. You just bought a pack of glitter band-aids two days ago.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Oh yeah. I guess I did do that. Do you think you would go away if I stuck a glitter bandaid on your face?<br />
<b>Bruise:</b>...No.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Why not<br />
<b>Bruise:</b> I'm an internal pool of blood caused by ruptured capillaries.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Sounds like a job for glitter bandaids.<br />
<b>Bruise: </b>No, nitwit, bandaids only work to protect external abrasions, such as minor scrapes and--WHAT ARE YOU DOING, STOP IT, GET THAT OFF OF ME.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Shh, bruise, sleep now. Everything is going to be okay.<br />
<b>Bruise:</b> NO IT ISN'T, YOU ARE THE DUMBEST GIRL IN THE HISTORY OF THE EARTH.<br />
<b>Megan:</b> Hey, so I just googled you and the internet says you could solidify under my skin and become permanent. Are you going to do that?<br />
<b>Bruise:</b> No.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Oh. Well...you could, if you wanted.<br />
<b>Bruise:</b> No.<br />
<b>Me:</b>...Will you be my friend?<br />
<b>Bruise:</b> No.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Okay.<br />
[awkward silence]<br />
<b>Bruise: Stop poking me.</b><br />
<b>Me: </b>But you hurt.<br />
<b>Bruise:</b> Stop. Seriously.<br />
<b>Me: </b>Owww, why do you hurt? The harder I poke, the more you huuuuurt. Oh my gosh, this is so paiiiinful.<br />
<b>Bruise: </b>I hate you.<br />
<b>Me: </b>OWWWWW.<br />
<br />
<br />
My bruise is still there but it isn't talking to me. I don't know if it's just mad or if it was inanimate all along, but I will cherish the memory forever.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-67030078313283638782011-10-08T00:45:00.000-07:002011-10-08T00:45:35.030-07:00A post about how much high school sucks and how important it is to be a decent human being.When I was in high school, I used to be really, incredibly, insanely, and PAINFULLY jealous of other girls. I was insecure and more than a little awkward. I was a total dork but pretended to be into school dances and shopping for expensive dresses and gossiping.<br />
<br />
And you know what? I failed. I failed <i>hard.</i> I failed so hard, in fact, that I became absolutely silent at school. Seriously, if one of these girls who I wanted to be friends with so much as talked to me, my brain would freeze up and I would try so so hard to think of anything to say. Anything at all.<br />
<br />
<i>Hi, self. It's me again. Say something. Anything. Say that you agree. Or like her shoes. Or...I don't know. Say "hi"? That's acceptable, right?</i><br />
<br />
And then I would try to say "hi" and it would come out as a nervous squeak and I would feel shame for the rest of the day.<br />
<br />
I eventually became friends with all the boys because, well, boys are chill. They play Halo. They high five. They don't feel the need to bash every person not within hearing range. Being friends with boys in high school, though, means that every single girl is going to call you names. Mean names, horrible names, and sometimes they're going to blame you for things you didn't do just because blaming you is easier than facing problems themselves. And sometimes they're going to do that in the middle of lunch in front of everyone and it's going to be accompanied by swear words and you're going to cry and get mascara all over your face. And then you'll go sit in your car and cry some more for a few hours and wonder what's wrong with you and then you'll go back inside and pretend like nothing happened, because that's what you do when you're in high school. And believe me, I feel for you. It's a complex, messed up system. <br />
<br />
High school was this miserable time for me. But I learned some freaking important lessons. Such as...<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Sometimes, life is a five year old's birthday party.</b><br />
<br />
What do I mean by that? Well, some days you're the pinata and some days you're the blind little kid dangerously swinging a baseball bat. In high school, I think I focused a bit too much on my pinata days. I was angry, SO angry at the people who gossiped about me, hurt me, pretended to be friends with me, humiliated me in front of classmates, ignored me when I was standing right there, and called me a slut every five seconds. So angry, in fact, that I still would cry about it well after graduation.<br />
<br />
Funny thing though. It's hard to be angry about that sort of thing when you understand something. I was the punching bag a lot in school, but I'm often the blindfolded kid too. Sometimes, people are blind. They hurt you and they hurt you a lot but they don't understand what they are doing. They learn from hurting you. But, you have to remember, you learned from hurting someone too at some point in your life. We don't always get to be the victim, sometimes we're the bad guy and honestly, that's actually <i>good</i> for us. A decent person will learn from it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Those people are NOT worth your tears.</b><br />
<br />
I spent a few really creepy hours on Facebook recently stalking some of the girls who I used to be so insanely jealous of. You know how I felt? I didn't feel better than them, or equal to them, or included or vindicated or anything. I just felt free. I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing. I've embraced the Star Wars loving, video game playing, pokemon obsessed girl that I am and that is beyond <i>awesome</i>, you guys. <br />
<br />
When you're doing what you love to do, it's hard to be jealous of anyone, even the people you enjoy and respect. It isn't about feeling superior. It isn't about feeling like you're the bigger person. It's just about being so happy with yourself that they can't do anything about it anymore. They just become unworthy of your tears, not because they are bad or fail-tastic people, but just because it isn't worth your time to cry about it anymore.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>It is so so so so important to be kind.</b><br />
<br />
I've grown up and I'm not going to give a verbal butt-kicking to the next mean girl I encounter from those days. But I know how it feels. I know what it's like to dwell on painful, hurtful memories. I get the anger, the resentment, the depression. I understand what it's like to feel like there is something immensely wrong with you. I know that there are certain memories that just won't unstick themselves from you and that you can't wish away no matter how hard you try. That's why I never ever EVER want to make someone feel that way.<br />
<br />
Promise yourself right now that you will never be that person. Don't make someone feel worthless. Don't let a lonely kid fall through the cracks. Be everyone's friend. Be everyone's support. You don't know what someone's life is like in reality. Remember that indifference can be just as painful as outright cruelty to someone who feels alone.<br />
<br />
Don't let anyone look back at you and see only what you did to them. Don't even let them look back and remember you as the person who stood by and watched.<br />
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In the words of Jesse Jackson, never look down on anybody unless you're helping him up.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-28026487034619626032011-09-30T01:09:00.000-07:002011-09-30T01:09:40.798-07:00A really awful explanation complete with horrible pictures.Oh, hello! This...is a blog! And...wow look at that, it's MY blog! It's all dusty from disuse. And bad ms paint drawings. <i>But that's never going to change, let's be honest.</i> The second part, I mean. It will be tidied up due to...use. THERE WILL BE NO MORE FIGURATIVE SPIDERWEBS IN MY BLOG. Mainly because there are no figurative spiders here. Unless my total lack of dedication these past few months are symbolized by spiders.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry. It's 2:00 in the a.m.<br />
<br />
As an absolutely HORRIBLE and BORING apology, here are a bunch of pictures. AND AT THE END OF THE SLIDESHOW YOU WILL HATE ME. Probably. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWWQFMjGVmXhzYgl48sh3bcT8Ja6rdDr3HQArXa-qr-MGu_4tDfE_biUYmXDm9JoilZj625LdTrKYLS9SeI_qkAf8RTR7sekwuIg_uAig778E3LP9PUSq22-wJPOZCuPBcdFjeKYhkXU8/s1600/WebCam_20110215_1543%25283%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWWQFMjGVmXhzYgl48sh3bcT8Ja6rdDr3HQArXa-qr-MGu_4tDfE_biUYmXDm9JoilZj625LdTrKYLS9SeI_qkAf8RTR7sekwuIg_uAig778E3LP9PUSq22-wJPOZCuPBcdFjeKYhkXU8/s320/WebCam_20110215_1543%25283%2529.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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One time I had horrible bangs but awesome taste in clothing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjokFkTDmlYBG0grNz1ujgJHeOXpT3e-u6-ww3XiEFqVH82AYV_FsNipzGu9Ej_gw4E4Vr4Bkzi1A2eJHgWPMTH7CfbgQ-JWMavYVySVh7Wa3aiwQRqa3olVloLQhHIyBsQj1LCkLm6Me8/s1600/WebCam_20110425_0006.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjokFkTDmlYBG0grNz1ujgJHeOXpT3e-u6-ww3XiEFqVH82AYV_FsNipzGu9Ej_gw4E4Vr4Bkzi1A2eJHgWPMTH7CfbgQ-JWMavYVySVh7Wa3aiwQRqa3olVloLQhHIyBsQj1LCkLm6Me8/s320/WebCam_20110425_0006.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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And then I had awkward growing-out bangs and somewhat less awesome taste in clothing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVevB_y_ennMiXnR8eaLIj5AQEKJPBCLcbjojns9lL559cn8dtMOQBFoilnHC7BQZOQnswkzY8kl5v6_r1i-xsorf6SHi0sHH5KYn-vYCMQOhVjPNd0O4Y1yxYleSOfGo3coBuPqCgwM/s1600/WebCam_20110425_0007%25281%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVevB_y_ennMiXnR8eaLIj5AQEKJPBCLcbjojns9lL559cn8dtMOQBFoilnHC7BQZOQnswkzY8kl5v6_r1i-xsorf6SHi0sHH5KYn-vYCMQOhVjPNd0O4Y1yxYleSOfGo3coBuPqCgwM/s320/WebCam_20110425_0007%25281%2529.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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And always I have Sullivan Jones and William Howard Taft "Mega William Mojawk Joe"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH9a4NxzW3ix-T4aNtOnxaRdnlkyW0LSyU4-P7gRluPgxcwjczzHJMXzbcA928eSCK2wGPdSqUZ1a_I7hZ7WVL-GjP8uxW7IQOcrG7NsNEASoeFuZWsJ4aZGFyjJTEL8U9fjdfaFPUYKg/s1600/WebCam_20110425_0007%25282%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH9a4NxzW3ix-T4aNtOnxaRdnlkyW0LSyU4-P7gRluPgxcwjczzHJMXzbcA928eSCK2wGPdSqUZ1a_I7hZ7WVL-GjP8uxW7IQOcrG7NsNEASoeFuZWsJ4aZGFyjJTEL8U9fjdfaFPUYKg/s320/WebCam_20110425_0007%25282%2529.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Who I love.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWdldWmGoI3tHVnZOJ8eKn0J3KetbMmmRS7T5Wld_Wj-aDHK9v7jeERsXc71CUc3UJthYSLgZ9yFyB2mpYNMFDtQbIw9bg54lzJEMmzRe9fJnaiHk8lGu_QnnwS84f-AyTu_BDcjIHf04/s1600/WebCam_20110425_0007%25283%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWdldWmGoI3tHVnZOJ8eKn0J3KetbMmmRS7T5Wld_Wj-aDHK9v7jeERsXc71CUc3UJthYSLgZ9yFyB2mpYNMFDtQbIw9bg54lzJEMmzRe9fJnaiHk8lGu_QnnwS84f-AyTu_BDcjIHf04/s320/WebCam_20110425_0007%25283%2529.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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In a weird, green-skinned kind of way.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaoQExqudtnotUVjvR_gYOpqfDGYWo0vOf_HsJDGI1Lc6uA6cWVpU1USqFHRQzdhX3rQe6_s0bCG7gQ7OUzeIJpQ1q33Zkj9FoG7ldANT5xWcvlp2owNntB3dr4m21iiCB5eppko48wI/s1600/WebCam_20110817_0200%25281%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaoQExqudtnotUVjvR_gYOpqfDGYWo0vOf_HsJDGI1Lc6uA6cWVpU1USqFHRQzdhX3rQe6_s0bCG7gQ7OUzeIJpQ1q33Zkj9FoG7ldANT5xWcvlp2owNntB3dr4m21iiCB5eppko48wI/s320/WebCam_20110817_0200%25281%2529.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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Also, did you know that I have an incredibly sexy kissy face? It's so hot.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgfzlZggTcLAuWTX2v4WGnWcD0GNjp4jn740SC_TuFwlnOWrUPuT4eQ3Lq7HdhTX7BY55Q-b2vAuT9sCr4Un-c5cMKthLTcoOmWmjhymk99mKNzP8ldtYbA9a3O-3acxsm-iaEFeWYlw/s1600/WebCam_20110817_0200%25283%2529.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgfzlZggTcLAuWTX2v4WGnWcD0GNjp4jn740SC_TuFwlnOWrUPuT4eQ3Lq7HdhTX7BY55Q-b2vAuT9sCr4Un-c5cMKthLTcoOmWmjhymk99mKNzP8ldtYbA9a3O-3acxsm-iaEFeWYlw/s320/WebCam_20110817_0200%25283%2529.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
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But not NEARLY this hot.</div>
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And then there's this...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4xyN1j3XmdfrNrAQ9Hh66MRHyGZv0PQDkpTejBbs4sV2O2nVJWwt7AkOJ1yAiYtTtcWK6WLHGLfBGG-Y-HdMfaUTYixykBTkJgbRWVgzObHx3iWmc6tZbNN3HZefnutv18rfBklTbf4/s1600/281645_10150329899345379_721015378_9919972_3000358_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4xyN1j3XmdfrNrAQ9Hh66MRHyGZv0PQDkpTejBbs4sV2O2nVJWwt7AkOJ1yAiYtTtcWK6WLHGLfBGG-Y-HdMfaUTYixykBTkJgbRWVgzObHx3iWmc6tZbNN3HZefnutv18rfBklTbf4/s320/281645_10150329899345379_721015378_9919972_3000358_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Now my whole point here is that I have a depressing amount of school work. Also that I I like pictures wherein awkward men just barely make it into the frame. Don't pretend you don't like it, too.</div>
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I have some posts planned. I do for realzies. In the meantime, keep up with me on the Twitter machine, my facebook page, and Sparknotes.com where they still haven't fired me for reasons unknown to myself and virtually every other person who knows me.</div>
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-80874806991056693872011-08-15T16:57:00.000-07:002011-08-16T14:13:44.746-07:00This is your own fault. YOU ASKED FOR IT.I've been getting emails and comments and messages from people asking me if I have any other talents. Other than drawing velociraptors. Yeah. Because that's a talent. Anyway, usually I say, "NOPE. NOT A ONE." Except a few of you have been very specific. "Do you sing?" they ask. Well...the answer is sort of.<br />
<br />
I sort of sing. I have taken a couple classes. I've been in a few musicals. I'm just not pursuing singing, so it's kind of something I don't do much, unless I'm alone, in my room with a hairbrush and underpants. Because that's what pop stars do.<br />
<br />
I thought I ought to share this with you since A. you seem interested, B. I really enjoy looking at/listening to/generally talking about myself, and C. it's been asked a surprising number of times.<br />
<br />
So! This is me singing "Just You and Me" by Zee Avi. It's one of my favorites and I don't do it justice, but that's okay because SO WHAT, that's why. My webcam sucks so you'll need to PUMP UP THA VOLUME! It gets easier to hear after a couple lines, I think. Also, I mess up a lot. SO SUE ME. Or sew me. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.<br />
<br />
Also, I have to just link you to YouTube where I have it because Blogger hates me more than anything and is trying to save you from watching this, I guess. You have been warned. By me and by blogger. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b9ZVs89M4hU">HERE IS THE LINK TO THE MELODIOUS SOUNDS OF MY VOICE THING.</a><br />
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<br />
P to the S: disneyaddict326 is the youtuber who uploaded the instrumental that I sang to because I have no instrument-type skills. GO HER! <br />
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<br /></div>
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-34328647687667754242011-08-07T18:10:00.000-07:002011-08-07T18:11:41.498-07:00MORE STATII!<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">I'm going to Florida on vacation for a few days. On a scale of one to ten, how jelly are you? (Not the fruit kind. The jealous kind.) It's 8, right? I thought it would be.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Anyway, here is something to prove that I am still a living human being while I am gone! Facebook Statii part deux. Since I will be in an airplane and at the airport tomorrow, perhaps some crazy mishaps will result in another traveling story! Or maybe I'll just finish the first one...YOU NEVER KNOW. Miracles do happen, people. </span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-A
bee flew into my room. It is banging against the window, unable to
find the open half. What an idiot. However, I now have to decide
whether it is more important to protect my room from the pouring rain or
get the killer death insect outside. I'll probably just end up falling
asleep.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Don't pretend like you never wanted to be a marine biologist. Every kid wanted to be a marine biologist.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-When
I die I want you guys to cremate me. Then shove my remains into a
bunch of shotgun shells and use me to fight crime. Okay? Either that,
or I want to be made into a firework.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-My problem is that I don't ever want to go to bed. And then I don't ever want to get out of bed. So....</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-The surest way to get me to touch something expensive or fragile is to put a "do not touch" sign up.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I cannot sleep because my brain is pissed at being awake. Makes sense.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Ways to impress a hobbit number 14: climb over things.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Looking at the Super Moon:<br />"Wow that is super bright"<br />"JIMMER GET DOWN FROM THERE!"</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Sprite and Costco cookies for everyone!!! #PartyLikeReliefSociety</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Tavia's Words of Wisdom: Obama, please make a law that says people can't call me a freak.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Tavia: "We can only have three ounces of liquid through airport security. The terrorists have won."<br />Me: "...Why are they letting the terrorists have one of anything?? Wait, WHY ARE THEY LETTING THE TERRORISTS ON PLANES?!?!"</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
drank a lot of caffeine. Also, I'm getting married. Please RSVP so
that I know how many chicken nuggets to order for the reception.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-My finger is stuck in the plastic wrap part that is supposed to go around the chapstick lid. Huh. Didn't expect that.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I am unabashedly and somewhat disturbingly interested in all of your relationships.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME. EXCEPT FOR FRODO. But he's a whiny brat, so that's disheartening.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
would never PURPOSELY jump out my window, but if it ever happened
accidentally then I bet Hayward would feel bad and he would kiss me. So
if it ever happens on accident and I don't die, I have something to look
forward to.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I ate like 20 gummy bear vitamins. Am I going to die?</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I have elbows.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Mentally reviewing my debilitating list of embarrassing moments. They're all just as humiliating in retrospect.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I don't even know what that means but I disagree completely.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Girl just knocked on my door:<br />Girl: I have a presentation.<br />Me: ...Okay.<br />Girl: (Talks about cellular respiration and photosynthesis for ten minutes using a chart filled with complicated illustrations.)<br />Me: Oh. Awesome.<br />Girl: Okay. Have a nice day.<br />Me: ...Kay bye.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-It takes talent to so thoroughly deny the obvious. And let me tell you, I am talented.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I like to say things, especially if I haven't thought about them first.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Tavia: "Is this a remix?"<br />Me: "I don't know I'm watching a video of a dog taking a bath."</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-It's like speaking to a brick wall. Or a small child. A very young wall made of bricks and children.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I want to be inside your personal space.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Tavia's Words of Wisdom: "You can buy a flamethrower for 230 dollars. Actually, 229.99."</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
wish Facebook was more specific: "Sarah is now friends with Mary
because she wants to go through all of Mary's pictures and convince
herself that Nick is crazy to date her because Mary is totally not that
hot."</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Never
look up symptoms online. So far I've found that I have Swine Flu,
breast cancer, Lyme Disease, and a cerebrospinal fluid leak.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I am singing the pokemon theme song VERY passionately. This feels right.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
resisted the urge to buy chocolate at the vending machine for 25
minutes. I decided to reward myself for my perseverance by buying
myself two chocolate bars at the vending machine. I'm teaching myself self-control with positive reinforcement.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I fail at consistency so much that sometimes I even win at consistency.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Furiously trying to memorize the Pokemon Rap. I'm pretty sure this is a sign that I need a hobby.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Just googled nine times seven. I'm a sad excuse for a human being.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Oh you're sorry? We'll see how sorry you really are. Give me your monetary resources.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
have serious issues with this whole "keeping FAQ/ABOUT/CONTACT" pages
current. I'm going to post the words "Salami makes people happy" on all
of those pages and call it good.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I'm rooting for you, really. It's just that your failure is really funny.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-The bottom of my bowl says it's not microwave safe. Whatever, bowl, you don't own me.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-What
I should be doing: writing a rhetorical analysis paper. What I am
doing: taking a quiz to find out which mythical creature I am. Oh boy!</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I wish I were half as deep as everyone else thinks they are.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Coke for breakfast. But it's okay because it's caffeine free coke, so basically it's like juice.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Sometimes
my brain says to me "Hey, you're never going to be successful if you
don't actually post on your blog" and I say "Well, brain, if you weren't
so easily distracted..." and my brain says "SILENCE! Let's think about
space pirates" and I'm all "THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT."</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I bought juice. I cannot open the juice. Conspiracy.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-If
you like free food, you should read my blog. I'm not really giving
away free food, but I like free food too, so I assume we have something
in common.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-September resolution: have eyelashes and fingernails. DONE. I'm freakin' accomplished.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-"Do
you remember me?! I haven't seen you since you were a baby!" ...Of
course I remember you. Good thing I was a super intelligent memory
advanced baby or you would look really stupid right now.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Sometimes
I look back and I'm all "...oh dang. In retrospect, maybe that wasn't
such a good idea. Oh well. I wonder if we have dinosaur chicken
nuggets in the freezer."</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-New law: if you find any gold, it's mine.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Nothing
feels better than showering after a week of camping. Except maybe
showering after two weeks of camping, but I'll never know because I
would NEVER go camping for two weeks.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
love posting my most personal, emotional struggles on facebook. It's
very private, kind of like a virtual diary! And the best part is it's
only accessible to 686 friends!</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-The perfect Ramen isn't made on a stove. It's made in your heart.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-A
friend of mine informed me that my status updates make me seem weird.
If the only thing that makes me seem weird are my status updates, I
think I'm doing pretty well.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Google has a sad lack of scorpion puns. I checked.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-My life is exactly like a romantic comedy, except without the romance, or the comedy parts.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I've worked out TWICE in a row. I had better wake up smokin' hot tomorrow, or SO HELP ME...</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-A psycho stalker AND freezing rain? Oh boy, Christmas has come early this year!</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-My shampoo spells amazing. I think it's made out of fairies.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-You
know when you finish a project, and you spent a ton of time on it, and
you're super proud, and then you show people and you're all "LOOK HOW
AWESOME" and they're all "yeah cool" but they don't really care because
it's not their project, and then you're all "whatever, screw you guys"?
Well yeah. Screw you guys, this project is the bomb-tastic.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Apparently
her name is K-e-dollarsign-h-a, not K-dollarsign-s-h-a. Sorry, girl.
The procunciation of the dollarsign throws me off.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-If
I could punch pop culture in the eye, I would. And then I would hug it
and tell it I was sorry, but I wouldn't mean it, and I'd probably get
drunk the next night and punch it again. Because that's how I feel
about pop culture.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I almost punched him in the mouth with my brain. But I didn't, because the Jedi believe in peace.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Oh Elton John. I wish you were here. You'd know what to do.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-My
thought process goes from "man I should be doing homework" to "How many
internet contests would I have to win in order to get Obama to make a
guest appearance on my blog?"</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I know I'm full...I mean really full...but there's cake and I'm bored.</span></span></h6>
Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-12988729031823989972011-08-04T00:16:00.000-07:002011-08-04T00:18:18.339-07:00It's surprising that I don't have more friends than I do.Sometimes I sit in front of my computer for a while and it makes me say idiotic things. These things manifest themselves in my Facebook statuses. Oh, that sounded weird. Facebook stati? Statii? Capitalization, maybe?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Facebook Statii. Yeah, that looks about right. Anyway, if you read all of these you will notice that I am a brat and also I think I'm incredibly clever. Feel free to use any of these Statii, so long as you cite me and send me a royalty check every week or so. I'm flexible.</span><br />
<br />
Enjoy. I will write a real post about how I suck at music, complete with fancy drawings. BEGIN!:<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I'm
going to steal my neighbor's mail because I'm in a bad mood. But I'm
not going to open it, because that would be a felony. Also, I'm going
to return it 2-5 minutes later. Ha!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">I really enjoy being an insufferable know it all.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I like to stand out in the rain. But not because I'm deep, more because I'm an idiot.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Look, I don't judge, but you're entirely wrong. And I'm right. And also you're ugly. And you have weird hair.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Hey, race car guy, I can hear you driving your race car outside my window in a suburb and I just want you to know that shut up.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I wish facebook would tell me who is actually online. Or give me a million dollars. I'd be happy with either.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Hey look at my status.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-The doctor says I'm going to live. Whatever, doctor. Clearly you've never had a migraine before.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I wonder sometimes if my actions are actually consistent with my personality or if they're just a product of sleep deprivation.</span></span><br />
<br />
-"Have you ever made anything happen, anything you couldn't explain?"<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">"Well, my hair IS quite unruly..."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I've
spent the last hour trying to figure out where I can live without dying
of poisonous animals. Apparently, no matter where I go I am going to
be murdered by demon spiders. Also, Australia is a land of horrors.
Never go there.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Happy birthday, George Washington. And Abraham Lincoln. And Walker Texas Ranger. And also America.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-"Conceded" and "conceited" are not the same thing. You're welcome.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Who else is going to Kid Cudi? I'm going, because I like to go to concerts when I don't know the words to any of the songs.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-A
search that found my blog: "People legitimately don't like me" and I'm
all OH HONEY. You must be in high school. I'm so sorry.</span></span><br />
<br />
-"Your cute."<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">...My...cute? My...WHAT?!?!</span></span><br />
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Rain
outside+watching that one scene from the Hunchback of Notre Dame where
Esmerelda sings "God Help the Outcasts" in the cathedral=me sobbing
uncontrollably. I'm embarrassing to myself.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-"Why aren't you wearing pants?"<br />"Why ARE you wearing pants?"</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
don't have insomnia, I just don't allow myself to go to sleep because I
need to update my status regularly. Otherwise you wouldn't know all
the details of my life. You're welcome.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> -My face hurts on the inside.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-...Everyone
needs to stop getting engaged without telling me. You may get engaged
if I am aware. OTHER THAN THAT, NO. I INSIST ON KNOWING ALL THE
INTIMATE DETAILS OF YOUR LIFE.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> -Blogging means that you constantly get spam emails with this in the subject line: "MY HEART CHOOSEN TO BLESS YOU."</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-AM I CLOGGING UP YOUR NEWSFEED YET??</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
have done absolutely nothing of any value today. I'm not sure if I'm
overtly pleased with myself or if I'm experiencing self-loathing.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Actually,
I think my body is just rebelling. I imagine that it was all, "WTF is
this, Megan? Seriously? MORE french fries? What about an apple every
once in a while? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT AN APPLE IS? Could you maybe
throw a couple vitamins my way occasionally? IDIOT."</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
really don't think I've been up this early since way back when I
actually cared about being to time on school. So, like, the first three
weeks of senior year.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-By
this point I seriously doubt the existence of global warming, but if it
will help Summer come any faster I will buy 300 aerosol cans of
hairspray and empty them into the atmosphere myself.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I'm
going to go through and systematically like a bunch of three week old
statuses. That way I can remind you all just how much of a creeper I
really am.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Sometimes I re-post a status I've already used if I think it needs reiterating.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Sometimes I re-post a status I've already used if I think it needs reiterating.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Playing Super Smash 64 with Ryan, who is playing as Captain Falcon.<br />Me: You are stupid.<br />Ryan: No, I'm CAPTAIN stupid.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I
love my momma, who happens to be in Hawaii getting tan and swimming
with dolphins and, like, whatever else you do in Hawaii. Worship
volcanoes? Yeah. My mom is worshiping volcanoes today. Happy Mother's
Day!</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-"Megan is a really awesome girl. -Aristotle"</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Hey guys. I just wanted to let you know that Osama Bin Laden is dead. You heard it here first.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-It's
completely silent in my neighborhood. I don't think my neighbors read
my status. I'm going to run up and down the street yelling "USA! USA!"
and then set fire to an Osama-shaped pile of leaves. That ought to do
it.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-Like my status and I'll tell you absolutely nothing of value. But I might tell you what time it is, so there's that incentive.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-I don't know half of you people.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Huh. That was a lot of Statii. Oh well, now you all know exactly what kind of a human being I am. THAT. I'm THAT kind of human being, guys. I'll post more Statii later. MORE STATII, YOU SAY? Yes. More Statii.</span></span></h6>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></span>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-28076999958533322662011-07-14T14:13:00.000-07:002011-07-15T02:19:45.007-07:00Yes, it is a big dealSome people don't understand how important today is.<br />
<br />
Harry Potter. It's ending.<br />
<br />
I'm just going to come out and say this: if you weren't part of the Harry Potter movement, you missed one of the most important and generation-defining events of a lifetime. I feel bad for you.<br />
<br />
Seriously, these books and these movies aren't just books and movies. This isn't just a story. This is something that has made people who they are. A story about strength and about love and about loyalty and courage in a world where all of those qualities seem useless against an unstoppable evil. That's how the world is today, though. We forget the power of love and friendship and Harry Potter supported those ideals all through our childhoods. All through our lives. We grew as Harry grew. We struggled as he struggled. Our stories were different from his, but they were so much the same as well. Anyone who underestimates that does themselves a great disservice.<br />
<br />
It isn't just a craze. It isn't just something limited to nutty fans. It's a community, a whole story built around those who love it. This story has changed us and made us who we are. It's a part of us. I know it's a part of me. I think that people underestimate the real power of a story. Something like this, something that really connects with people on such a deep and strong and emotional level leaves a lasting imprint, and not just on individuals but on an entire society...something like this shifts the future because it defines the people who will create that future. Our generation will always remember these books and these movies because they made us this way. And those who didn't read them and didn't watch them and didn't like them...well, that's part of who they are as well. And that matters.<br />
<br />
Hogwarts was a home, a home that was always there. The characters faced seemingly insurmountable challenges but they still struggled and fought and refused to be defeated, even when it was impossible to go on, even when there was no hope. The message that there is always a reason to keep fighting is ingrained in my mind and on my heart, just as it is for all of us who love this story. It really is this big of a deal. It really is bittersweet and you will see people expressing that. It's because Harry and Ron and Hermione and Dean and Neville and Seamus and Luna and Fred and George and so, so many more characters were my friends. I learned alongside them. Dumbledore was my teacher. I can honestly say that parts of who I am are because of his character.<br />
<br />
It IS just this important. It will always be this important. It's not just a story. It never was.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>"Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home." -J.K. Rowling</b></span></div>
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Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-81169158227957631772011-07-08T18:18:00.000-07:002011-07-08T18:19:07.638-07:00Anonymous is back!I received this LOVELY comment on <a href="http://megansquared.blogspot.com/2010/12/should-i-be-upset.html">this post</a> (which I find strangely ironic. It's like anonymous is going for the gold!)<br />
<br />
"dude, f*** this blog. I
Mean
Everything about
This blog sucks
Hardcore
And
Nobody, no
One,
Likes you."<br />
<br />
First of all, why is grammar such a big problem for this person? It's getting predictable. I don't know who Nobody is, or who One is, but I'm assuming they are people because I don't know why else they would be capitalized. Unless this comment is a cleverly worded code. It's like a game! An insert-your-own-punctuation-marks-game!<br />
<br />
"...dude, f*** this blog. I. Mean. Everything about. This blog sucks. Hardcore. And. Nobody, no. One,. Likes you."<br />
<br />
When you read it that way, it's <i>much</i> nicer.<br />
<br />
Secondly, people like me. My mom likes me. My mom <i>loves</i> me. So take that, anonymous. I think we can both agree that you stand CORRECTED, my friend.<br />
<br />
I'm assuming this is your response to my offer to hug you. I'm sorry. Maybe you don't like close personal contact. I can see that we're going to continue to have problems, you and I. In the future, please send all complaints to my house handwritten on 4x6 colored
cards. Fuchsia is preferable, but not required. If you can name all
the countries in Africa, you get bonus points. Can I borrow your pen? I
left mine in the car.<br />
<br />
I love you, anonymous. I love you so much. Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-52819115487101546242011-07-01T13:46:00.000-07:002011-07-01T13:47:24.733-07:00Entries from my journal part deuxI've posted some of my journal on this blog before. I wonder why I did that. However I clearly do not learn from past experience, because here is some more.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>June 2, 2010 (At least I think that's the date, but I wrote that last night was May 31st, so I really have no idea. Obviously)</b><br />
<br />
-I have a theory about people who actively seek me out. People are really looking for the other Megan Prietzel. There must be another one. She's reasonable and normal and knows how to do laundry. She also is part of a super team that fights crime and can shoot fireballs from her eyebrows. (I like to think my alter ego has skills.) Anyway, they think they are going to get an awesome super person but instead they're all, "Oh dang. CRAZY." and I'm all, "Let's go roll down a hill in a cardboard tube." That's probably why I both do and do not have friends.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>June 22, 2010</b><br />
<br />
-I went to Lake Powell for my senior trip. I felt just like Indiana Jones, only less masculine. And coordinated.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>June 23, 2010</b> [<i>Hi, it's present day Megan. I don't know what the following is about. I think I was thinking about how to tell if someone is a zombie. Just...I don't know.]</i><br />
<br />
-I'm not <i>saying</i> you're a zombie. I'm <i>implying</i> it. There's a difference.<br />
<br />
-You could be a zombie. Let me check your pulse. If you try to eat my brain, you're probably a zombie.<br />
<br />
-Or you just like brains. That's cool. I don't judge.<br />
<br />
-But I'd like to point out that I would judge if I were paid to. I'd be like Simon Cowell only without an accent and a black shirt. So, in other words, lame.<br />
<br />
-But still cooler than a zombie.<br />
<br />
-Who am I kidding. Not cooler at all.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>June 24, 2010</b><br />
<br />
-I try not to be rude but then I'm all drunk and stuff.<br />
<br />
-I meant to write "blunt" and accidentally wrote "drunk." That tells you a little bit about me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>July 2, 2010</b><br />
<br />
-Jordan just told me that my status updates me seem weird. If status updates are the only things making me seem weird, I think I'm doing pretty well.<br />
<br />
-You know, I find that mispronunciation is really the only way to go.<br />
<br />
-I would like to inform the authorities about you but then the police would arrest you and I couldn't so openly stare.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>July 4, 2010</b><br />
<br />
-The housing market is pretty bad, so I think I should live in a house made out of legos and rubber cement.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>July 30, 2010</b><br />
<br />
-99% of what I write is junk. 1% is actually probably useful. Not that I've ever written about anything useful exactly, but I'm sure that something, somewhere could be misconstrued as helpful. It would probably be disguised as a unicorn or something though.<br />
<br />
-I think the world would be a better place if I were in charge of it. Or at least parts of it. I hear Switzerland is doing pretty well without me.<br />
<br />
-I just don't want to live in a world that requires I wear pants in public.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>October 22, 2010</b><br />
<br />
-Some mail came for you today. It looked fairly important, so I threw it away.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>March 15, 2011</b><br />
<br />
-There just isn't much dialogue written out for real life. And the stuff there is sucks.<br />
<br />
-I think that if you're enough of a nerd, people will just love you.<br />
<br />
<br />
Hello! It's Megan again. To answer some questions that haven't been asked but that I can guess will come in emails after this post, there IS a reason why I write and why I write like this. These little thoughts and snippets of internal conversations lead to things. Bigger things. A lot of my journal has just been skipped in this post because so many of the entries turned into full posts or articles and since you've already read those, why write them here again? So I guess this is a behind-the-scenes look for you. I'm sorry that there is nothing more exciting to report. I know that a lot of you are writers and I suggest that you guys get yourself a cute and whimsical journal (<a href="http://www.chroniclebooks.com/index/main,book-info/store,gifts/products_id,7675/">mine is made up of a bunch of different illustrated pages</a>) and jot down every weird thought that comes to your head. <i>Because we all have them and anyone who says they don't is a liar.</i> <br />
<br />
So there are some glimpses into my crazy brain. If you're still confused and don't understand any of it, then I'll just leave you with my last entry, which is just this: <b>It just feels so good to write for no specific reason.</b>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-78308355046037228922011-06-19T23:00:00.000-07:002011-06-24T10:14:16.137-07:00This is why teachers never expect much out of me.<div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I go to Brigham Young University. College! I am the most collegial, college-esque, mature, college-er ever. I go to school like it's my JOB. I participate in class and I make comments and provoke thought regularly. Occasionally (read: usually) I say something that makes my teacher make The Face. You know. The one where he/she internally debates whether something should be done about my behavior or whether we all should just collectively move on. Usually it's followed by a head shake and classroom snickers. Not the candy kind. The laughing kind.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Below are a few examples of this. My advice: do not do these things. Although sometimes it makes your teacher love you. But usually, no. No it does not.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Example 1:</b> <b>The Time I Turned In A Two Page Essay About Velociraptors</b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">In my very first college writing class, we were given an assignment to write as many words as we could about a topic. Any topic. The teacher actually told us to write about anything. The only requirements were that we keep completely on topic and be clear about our topic. In addition, she promised a candy prize to the essay writer with the most words. THIS IS THE FIRST SIGN OF NAIVETY. Clearly, Prof. Larsen didn't know that I was in her class. Most kids wrote about their hobbies or dance class or a historical event that would take up a lot of words easy-peasy. I, however, felt a competitive fire burn in my veins and said to myself, "Hey, I know what will win and also make Professor Larsen love me. DINOSAURS."</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is the result:</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Megan Prietzel</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Prof. Larsen</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Writing and Rhetoric 150</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">10/25/10</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Velociraptors and Why They are Really Cool But Should be Avoided at all Costs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Velociraptors were a type of dinosaur that lived during the Cretaceous Period. Velociraptors lived during the later part of the Cretaceous Period, and they were very, extremely, incredibly awesome. There were two species of velociraptors that were discovered, but both of them were astonishing, so it doesn’t really matter. Velociraptors were discovered because they left fossils, probably because when they were dying they were all “We’re really cool and humans need to know about us so we’re going to throw ourselves into mud and wait until it hardens around us so that our majesty can be preserved.” Velociraptors would do that, because Velociraptors were just good dinosaurs like that. Velociraptors also were smaller than depicted in Jurassic Park, but that’s okay because they were still super awesome to the infinitieth degree. They were sometimes as small as a turkey, which probably means they were good at sneaking up on people and killing them, so basically velociraptors were the ninjas of the dinosaur world. They were the terror of the other dinosaurs, and they would probably have killed the whole world, except they were too noble for that and decided to preserve their dead bones in fossils so that paleontologists could dig them up and stand in awe of their majesty and nobility and magnanimity. Velociraptors were a species called a dromaeosaurid, and even though spell check says that that is not a word, it totally is, so shut up spell check. Velociraptors had teeth that were a lot sharper on the back than on the front, and I’ll tell you why. The reason for this was because Velociraptor teeth were specially designed to catch and hold prey, and the serration on the back of their chompers allowed velociraptors to efficiently kill things. Velociraptors were killing machines, obviously. Velociraptors had the serrated teeth because some prey was really fast, and since velociraptors were really fast, they could catch the fast wimpy dinosaurs and then the serration would kill them dead, so no matter how fast they were, they couldn’t escape. Velociraptors had hands, y’all. Velociraptors were extremely deadly in part because of their hands which had three insanely killer-ific claws that tore into prey. Velociraptors used their second claw, which was the largest, to pierce the vital organs of the throats of weakling dinosaurs, including the carotid artery, trachea, and jugular vein, because velociraptors didn’t care if their prey was bleeding all over the place. The velociraptor would hunt by embedding its claws into the throat of another dinosaur, and then biting the crap out of the rest of the prey’s poor and defenseless body. Velociraptors also had talons of this sort on their feet, as if they needed any other awesome weapons. Velociraptors used their feet to deliver fatal blows to lesser dinosaurs, which was every dinosaur besides velociraptors. Velociraptors also had a long tail that was really good at helping them to balance, allowing velociraptors to run at incredibly fast, neck breaking speeds. Velociraptors were so freaking awesome, it’s hard to accept. Velociraptors also had feathers, and some people say that these feathers make velociraptors less awesome. I would like to point out that velociraptors were actually MORE awesome because of these feathers. Velociraptors could probably fly, although paleontologists and other science people say that they actually couldn’t and that the feathers were more like a jacket, but I don’t believe them and I’m pretty sure velociraptors could secretly fly AND stay warm at the same time. Velociraptors could destroy all the scientists in the world if they were still alive, so if I were the scientists, I would go ahead and praise velociraptors as the most awesome ever because the velociraptors will probably figure out a way to time-travel and they will come into our reality and massacre us all in our sleep if we don’t recognize them as supreme overlords, JUST SAYING. If velociraptors came into the world via time machine, scientists who doubted their abilities would be the first to go. Velociraptors weren’t very smart, according to paleontologists, but obviously that is not true and the scientists had better shape up, John Travolta style. Velociraptors will probably be benevolent overlords, but I doubt they will tolerate flagrant disrespect. Velociraptors were still even more awesome than I have as of yet described, and I will tell you why. The velociraptor was named for its awesome nature, and the word velociraptor is derived from the latin words “velox” and “raptor” which literally translates to “swift plunderer” or “robber” and that is probably one of the best names ever, even better than Mohawk Joe, which is a very good name. Velociraptors were so cool that in Mongolia, a fossilized velociraptor was discovered locked in combat with a lone protoceratops, which was another dinosaur that no one has ever heard of because it was not as astonishing as the dreaded velociraptor. The velociraptor was so incredible, in fact, that Mongolia totally freaked out when the fossilized battle of epic proportions was discovered and the country declared it a national treasure which makes the velociraptor Mongolia’s most precious thing ever. Velociraptors are similar in anatomy to adorable little birds called kiwis, so it’s safe to say that not only were velociraptors wreakers of havoc, but they were adorable wreakers of havoc. Velociraptors were very cunning, thus supporting my theory that they will soon be here as time traveling mega-predators, so you really ought to learn how to protect yourself, in case they decide to kill you. If a velociraptor decides to make you dead, you probably don’t stand much of a chance, but if we all band together, there is probably a safe way to defend yourself from velociraptors. Dying by velociraptor would be extremely painful and agonizing, so it would be a good thing to avoid. If you don’t want to die by velociraptor, you must master every martial art available. To avoid getting killed by these agile hunters, one must follow some simple steps. In order to remember the way to not die, I have created a simple mnemonic in order to make these steps easier to remember. To not die, remember ROY G BIV, which stands for Run Or Yell Greatly Blue Indigo Violet. As you can see, not dying is highly dependent on how greatly you can run or yell. Try really hard not to die, also run and yell as loudly and fast as you possibly can, and then the velociraptors will get bored with your pathetic and feeble attempts at life and will probably return to the Cretaceous period where things are awesome. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">The outcome: I won the contest. No one got my Dan Bergstein reference. I used the word "velociraptor" an obscene amount of times, if that's even possible. My teacher had already awarded the prize to someone else since I was late but I didn't care because my victory was so obvious so she got me another prize. She appeared confused, but also slightly amused. Little did she know. Oh, how little did she know.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Example 2: The Time I Tried To Use Methamphetamine As An Example In A Grammar Lesson.</b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were all sitting in Prof. Larsen's class learning about grammar. That is to say, we were "reviewing" grammar, which meant learning it because we were all really bad at remembering high school. I'm not quite sure what principle of grammar was being discussed, but the teacher was trying to get us to participate in class by supplying our own sentences to be discussed.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Prof. Larsen: </b>It was a lovely...</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Student: </b>Day!</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Grammatical discussion)</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Prof Larsen: </b>Unfortunately, it was time...</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Student: </b>To go home!</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Grammatical discussion)</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Prof. Larsen: </b>She sat quietly... </span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Student:</b> in church!</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Grammatical discussion)</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Prof. Larsen:</b> The air shimmered with...</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Me:</b> METH FUMES!!!</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Awkward moment of silence)</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The outcome: Grammatical discussion didn't ensue. Rather, the class burst into laughter and poor Professor Larsen shook her head, wondering what was happening to the rising generation. I didn't MEAN to say it. IT JUST SEEMED SO REASONABLE AT THE TIME.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Example 3: The Time That This Was Our Final Project</b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">We had to make a video. About food. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3NPX0KDJ7g">HERE IT IS.</a> (Note<a href="http://www.coffeeflavouredsatire.blogspot.com/"> that Rae played the role</a> of "prestigious medical expert.")</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Outcome: Exactly what you'd expect. We did not get the A that we so CLEARLY deserved.</span></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8207286068654982286.post-57134699165347583112011-06-09T11:59:00.000-07:002011-06-09T14:22:43.293-07:00This is sad. Legitimately. *Updated*<b>Quick update on this post: I've deleted a few hateful comments already. I'm not so much concerned about what you say about me, but I won't tolerate anyone who says anything about this girl or her family. If you're one of those who would like to leave a hateful comment, feel free. Just know that it will be deleted within seconds. </b><br />
<br />
I'm really disturbed. Yesterday a fifteen year old girl was <a href="http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=15888698">hit by a train near my house.</a> Her name was Shariah Casper and she was the cousin of a friend of mine. This morning I spent an hour or so reading articles about the accident, which I won't recap here. There are plenty of recaps elsewhere. I found out that there was a facebook page dedicated to this girl and<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/RIP-Shariah-Casper/178589512197699#%21/pages/RIP-Shariah-Casper/178589512197699"> I "liked" it. </a><br />
<br />
I can't remember the last time I've felt this revolted by human beings.<br />
<br />
There are people on this page posting horrible, cruel, heartless things. Someone has made a fake facebook account of Shariah and keeps posting on the page. How disgusting. How sickening. I feel for this poor family who would undoubtedly do anything to have their little girl back.<br />
<br />
<span data-jsid="text">"Your friends saw it? Lucky them. I always wondered what would happen, does the body like, explode? Or does it rip into two pieces?"</span><br />
<br />
<span data-jsid="text">"</span><span data-jsid="text">The dumb b*tch was dumb enough to cross a train track. Thank god she died."</span><br />
<br />
<span data-jsid="text"> "</span><span data-jsid="text">I don't have a problem, it's funny to rip on a dumb dead girl."</span><br />
<br />
<span data-jsid="text">"</span><span data-jsid="text">rest in piss"</span><br />
<br />
<span data-jsid="text"> "That "poor" slut</span><span data-jsid="text"> </span><span data-jsid="text">"</span><br />
<br />
"Miss Casper, you and your tits will be missed."<br />
<br />
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That's really just the beginning of the pile of garbage overflowing out of that page. That alone makes me angry and sickened, but these trolls (and I know they are trolls) have the standard defenses in place. They cite "The Rules" and specifically Rule #20. In case you aren't familiar, Rule #20 of the internet is that "nothing is to be taken seriously." <br />
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As one commenter so aptly and simply put it, there <i>is no rule #20.</i> It only exists because people like this exist.<br />
<br />
They say "don't feed the trolls." They say "if you stop commenting on my post, I'll stop." They say "this is the internet, get over it."<br />
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I love the internet, really I do. Most of the time I find awesome things and awesome people here. But this is what I really hate. This idea that anonymity and a computer screen make it okay to say whatever you want to whoever you want. It is so false. These "Rules" and internet memes and phrases that get used to harass this girl's family are nothing more than a flimsy pretense that allows cruelty to go unchecked in this situation. You can cite the rules all you want, but anyone who tries to use them as a free pass openly displays that they don't have a shred of human decency. This isn't primarily about what is the norm on the internet. It's about a tragedy, a horrible accident, and the way some people react to it so...heartlessly. I don't understand. Just because the internet offers a sense of anonymity, does that really mean that we should all become monsters? How can you consider yourself a nice person or a good person or any kind of decent person, really, if this is your reaction to such a sad event?<br />
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I have always had a problem with using the internet as an excuse for spreading hatred and pain because I know that it can do <a href="http://thebloggess.com/2010/12/my-heart-grew-three-sizes-and-now-i-have-an-enlarged-heart-worth-it/">SO MUCH BETTER</a>. <br />
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Today I am disgusted, sickened, shocked. I find it difficult to "not feed the trolls." That phrase implies that the hurtful comments of a troll are not their fault. No. Not true. It's a TROLL'S fault if he or she posts cruel, heartless things. No one else bears the responsibility for it. Citing these internet excuses marks these people as cruel. Cruel, cruel, cruel. It's a lame defense and a callous defense. <br />
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I don't know what other word to use.<br />
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Words can't express the disgust I feel today. The sadness, the shock, the anger that instead of offering support and kindness, the internet community offers hate and cruelty.<br />
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It's days like these that I'm ashamed to be a part of it.<br />
<span data-jsid="text"> </span><span data-jsid="text"> </span>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11590496920894443612noreply@blogger.com20