<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447</id><updated>2011-07-07T20:58:29.602-04:00</updated><category term='jelly'/><category term='peanut'/><category term='butter'/><category term='banana'/><category term='time'/><title type='text'>Caffeinated Thinking</title><subtitle type='html'>Mindless caffeine influenced ramblings of a coffee addict with no life. Who also has really great hair.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>65</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5381794728748170897</id><published>2008-02-29T11:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T11:12:53.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ENOUGH</title><content type='html'>I hate blogspot. Truly truly. It frustrates me to no end.&lt;br /&gt;I'll be switching sites as soon as I find one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5381794728748170897?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5381794728748170897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5381794728748170897&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5381794728748170897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5381794728748170897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/enough.html' title='ENOUGH'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-7585081696098839279</id><published>2008-02-26T10:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T10:47:58.355-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I finally picked out my cloud</title><content type='html'>Bleh. Need to print a paper. And probably fix it when it decids to tranfer all jumbled and whatnot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZOMG. It's parents nighttt I hate when that happens. They just sit there blaming us because their children suck. Never have I come across denser children...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nachos grande last night. Taste really good, but I'm still in pain from them =( I let frank eat the left over cheese and meat, he had a good time with that. He was orignally taking one chunk at a time of the dresser then I decided he was likely to knock stuff over so now its on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I doing...&lt;br /&gt;Ha. Prinitng a paper. RIght, I should go do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyy second now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My downloads are slow. It's sad. I'm trying to reaquire my music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-7585081696098839279?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7585081696098839279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=7585081696098839279&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7585081696098839279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7585081696098839279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-finally-picked-out-my-cloud.html' title='I finally picked out my cloud'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-1440468434967134543</id><published>2008-02-25T14:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T14:46:12.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sing us a song ♥</title><content type='html'>My paper is... somewhat coming along.  It's a page so far. But it'll be longer once I add an opening and a closing paragraph, and elaborate on the others.&lt;br /&gt;Someday I' gonna be famous on teh interwebs. Just wait and see, it'll happen! =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s75.photobucket.com/albums/i301/lemonsryellow/?action=view&amp;amp;current=cbc2cd8f.gif" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i301/lemonsryellow/cbc2cd8f.gif" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if I'm famous enough, people will give me money...I love money. I desperately need money. I miss my money =( Yeahdeeyeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My left ankle is NOT weak. It can't beee.&lt;br /&gt;Sure, I endlessly suck with balance and turning, but..it shouldn't be weak. So all my efforts are in vain and I'm destined to be weak and progressless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really really miss my mp3 player. So much wonderful music. . .Gone..gone gone..........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-1440468434967134543?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1440468434967134543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=1440468434967134543&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1440468434967134543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1440468434967134543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/sing-us-song.html' title='Sing us a song &amp;hearts;'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-2980236677591907857</id><published>2008-02-23T12:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T12:06:53.165-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Just how sick are dogs?"</title><content type='html'>Sick. Horribly so. I can't stand up, and lack the strength for even opening a bottle of pills. I had a fever of 104.2. Right now it's down to 102.something. My legs ache so badly, all the way up through my hips. Yes, I'm miserable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-2980236677591907857?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2980236677591907857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=2980236677591907857&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2980236677591907857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2980236677591907857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/just-how-sick-are-dogs.html' title='&quot;Just how sick are dogs?&quot;'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-2874680045565965713</id><published>2008-02-18T20:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T20:35:42.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BlogThingsss</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are Bare Feet&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindofshoeareyouquiz/barefeet.gif" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a true free spirit, and you can't be tied down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even wearing shoes can be a little too constraining for you at times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are very comfortable in your own skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are one of the most real people around. You don't have anything to hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Open and accepting, you are willing to discuss or entertain almost any topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a very tolerant person. You are accepting and not judgmental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should live: Somewhere warm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should work: At your own business, where you can set the rules&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofshoeareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Shoe Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEEEEE;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are Cilantro&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatspiceareyouquiz/cilantro.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bad news is that there are some people who can't stand you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is that most people love you more than anything else in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are distinct, unusual, fresh, and very controversial. And you wouldn't have it any other way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatspiceareyouquiz/"&gt;What Spice Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-2874680045565965713?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2874680045565965713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=2874680045565965713&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2874680045565965713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2874680045565965713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/blogthingsss.html' title='BlogThingsss'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3828160762960646506</id><published>2008-02-18T14:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T14:40:24.149-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Come with me. ..</title><content type='html'>Totally over yesterday. Albeit,  I did have a reaaalllyyy creepy dream last night...But it's over with. Moving on. Taking Lexapro. lawl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That stuff is ridiculously useless. The only change it's made is that I'm worse than originally when I don't take it. Damn it all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slept til nearly noon today. W00!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much to say really.. I should be doing JCC work... But I'm sleeeeppyyyy . . . . . .     . . . . . .&lt;br /&gt;Meh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3828160762960646506?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3828160762960646506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3828160762960646506&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3828160762960646506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3828160762960646506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/come-with-me.html' title='Come with me. ..'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-7724387556745827274</id><published>2008-02-14T22:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T22:44:33.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>[IMG]http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d123/TeeJay210/Special%20Occasion%20Icons/glitter_sentence_10.gif[/IMG]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I apologize for that^ outburst.&lt;br /&gt;I swear it'll never happen again.&lt;br /&gt;I admit, I may have melted a little this morning but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have  cough. It's annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi madre must be insane. She was in here telling me how rude I was to ignore the cards. She claims she gave them to me and I tossed them up on the monitor. . . No. Didn't happen. I don't even haven't the vaguest recollection of the idea of the incident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rehearsal was okay. Towards the end the flourescent lghting was starting to take over my brain and I got all shivery and sweaty but other than that, decent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ther ewas no comp class...yayyy All we had to do was turn in our papers. Simple enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm am sooo happy that Fiddler is almost over. It's just been a boring show with boring people. Well, a few people are okay. But the major majority...no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't stretch today. I'll likely do so before bed. I wonder if it's too late to take  bath..I need it..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-7724387556745827274?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7724387556745827274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=7724387556745827274&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7724387556745827274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7724387556745827274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/imghttpi34.html' title=''/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-9218576260648681437</id><published>2008-02-10T15:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T15:09:01.187-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You're Losing Yourself [Am I losing myself?]</title><content type='html'>What just happened?!? What's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;been &lt;/span&gt;happening??? I have no idea. I'll work it out in the next few days, I hope. Just everytime I look out my window and see the snow blowing I wanna cry. Not just cry. Fall down and scream until I'm carted away in an ambulence strapped down.&lt;br /&gt;Is it the snow, really? I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;It's stopped blowing around. I feel better with that fact.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should just stop looking out the window... No. I need to see if the snow is blowing.&lt;br /&gt;No, it doesn't make sense. It's absolutely ridiculous. But I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got back from Kira's house. I could've stayed. I wish I wanted to stay longer. But..I don't know what. Just this sense of misery and urgency to come back to my own bed. I'm here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The snow is blowing again, but it's okay right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I did feel pretty terrible. Very hyper. Me, Kira, and Ben went to see Adam's show. It was decent. Not nessecarilly 20$ decent, but whatever I went for free so it oh so kay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't wanna be in Fiddler anymore. No real reason either. I just don't.&lt;br /&gt;Just...&lt;br /&gt;No real reason.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-9218576260648681437?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/9218576260648681437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=9218576260648681437&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/9218576260648681437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/9218576260648681437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/youre-losing-yourself-am-i-losing.html' title='You&apos;re Losing Yourself [Am I losing myself?]'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-1029580479166049875</id><published>2008-02-06T22:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T22:57:22.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I &lt;3 Blogthings</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEEEEE;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How You Life Your Life&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/howdoyouliveyourlifequiz/faces.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a good sense of self control and hate to show weakness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say whatever is on your mind. Other people's reactions don't phase you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You prefer a variety of friends and tend to change friends quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tend to always dream of things within reach - and you usually get them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howdoyouliveyourlifequiz/"&gt;How Do You Live Your Life?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-1029580479166049875?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1029580479166049875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=1029580479166049875&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1029580479166049875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1029580479166049875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-3-blogthings.html' title='I &lt;3 Blogthings'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-4094867702787218415</id><published>2008-02-05T22:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T22:08:00.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting for this day to end</title><content type='html'>Wow. I'm still in  leotard and tights for TWO hours longer than need be. Simply because I'm too exausted to change. I'm almost tempted to fall asleep right now, in uncomfy clothes, face smothered in makeup, and contacts still in my eyes. Maybe....I really wanna play guitar hero, but my brain is too fried to follow the little colored things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY IS IT ONLY TUESDAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready for the  weekend.&lt;br /&gt;I could swear it's been at least a week since sunday. What is with my time perception?&lt;br /&gt;Nyah ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmmm  I dunno. It's weird. Everythings just been so weird but  i dont remmeber what. what.&lt;br /&gt;and these clocks keep on  winding and completely ignore&lt;br /&gt;everything that we hate or adore&lt;br /&gt;once the page of a calendar has turned its no more&lt;br /&gt;so tell me then what ws it for&lt;br /&gt;oh tell me&lt;br /&gt;what was it for&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-4094867702787218415?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4094867702787218415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=4094867702787218415&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4094867702787218415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4094867702787218415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/waiting-for-this-day-to-end.html' title='Waiting for this day to end'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-4508169257233683654</id><published>2008-02-02T17:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T17:55:03.211-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spare me just three [last] words</title><content type='html'>YAY! I'm finally leaving the house!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to Kira's in a few hours. We were gonna hang out sooner today, but she had stupid band practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been sooo bored. I really want eggs and..uh...warm crunchy bread. I can't believe I'm forgetting this... That white bread you cook and butter and eat with breakfast...never minddst&lt;br /&gt;I'm just in a really weird mood so my brain isn't function properly.&lt;br /&gt;AH HA.&lt;br /&gt;Toast. That's what I want. Toast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll make some and such in a little while.&lt;br /&gt;After I get my stuff togetherz. And do something about my hair lookng like crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EEK! YAY! BOO! HA!&lt;br /&gt;. . .&lt;br /&gt;yah. whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-4508169257233683654?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4508169257233683654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=4508169257233683654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4508169257233683654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4508169257233683654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/spare-me-just-three-last-words.html' title='Spare me just three [last] words'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-7444842469794855528</id><published>2008-02-01T21:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T22:07:00.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If tommorow never comes...</title><content type='html'>Today has been ridiculous. It's managed to really create a new, unadulterated contempt for the winter season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to have rehersal but it got cancelled due to the stupid icy roads.&lt;br /&gt;So then there was nothing to do.&lt;br /&gt;Contemplated going to Kira's, but no one would drive me there DUE TI THE STUPID ICY ROADS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been stuck inside all day with absolutely nothing to do and my plans thwarted by this curse from hell we call "winter".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've just layed around getting fat. I had a big make, fried, and a large vanilla milkshake all which I managed to down in minutes. I then watched clips from the Tyra Banks Show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AIM is being friggen annoying! No one is showing up on my list. It's ridiculous. I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate today.&lt;br /&gt;IT FREAKING SUCKS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would go on a mass killing spree just to pass the time, I really would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of that I joined 43 Things though. Maybe I should add "killing spree" to the list? Eh. To much effort.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-7444842469794855528?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7444842469794855528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=7444842469794855528&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7444842469794855528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7444842469794855528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/02/if-tommorow-never-comes.html' title='If tommorow never comes...'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-8407509038910529895</id><published>2008-01-31T21:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T21:44:06.834-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm so freaking tired. I think I could just crawl into bed and drift into a coma. Mmmm... coma..... I wanna sleep. Anxiety issues have been trying to make their way out. NO.  Tomorrow is a new month. I need to try again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU TOOK A COMA!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lol. Dane Cook joke. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comp class was suprisingly decent. The reading of the paper wasn't so terrible. I had a well balanced group.&lt;br /&gt;Algebra was...Algebra. That room freaks me out. I'm almost happy it's so unclean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got home I just had time to eat and make myself look decent. THEN OFF TO EFFING HINSDALE. Rehearsal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND I have to go back tommorow. Sadness. I just wanna sleeeeep. Can't sleep. Would love to. But can't. It's not because I lay in bed every chance i get MOTHER. So just shut up with that whole "this is why you don't sleep at night". NO. That's NOT WHY I DON'T FREAKING SLEEP AT NIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. I'm tired. It's making me cranky. Maybe I'll sleep in an hour or so. Maybe? We'll see how it goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-8407509038910529895?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8407509038910529895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=8407509038910529895&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8407509038910529895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8407509038910529895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-so-freaking-tired.html' title=''/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-4253738488461396371</id><published>2008-01-25T14:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T14:19:44.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello Love</title><content type='html'>Eh...Slightly concerned. Of course I always assume the worst. I kinda have an it's-always-my-fault mentality. I'm in a decent mood today, my cold is a little better. Only problem is I'm bored out of my mind. Dellayna just left, she should be back around 430/5. I need money. And someone to take me to WalMart. I need a shower but I have no soap. Ew. I might just have to scrape some remnants of old soaps together.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still slightly concerned. Because of course its me! I need to stop thinking like this. *sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-4253738488461396371?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4253738488461396371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=4253738488461396371&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4253738488461396371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4253738488461396371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/hello-love.html' title='Hello Love'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-1324419346113029305</id><published>2008-01-24T21:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T21:38:17.652-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All Natural Chunky Salsa</title><content type='html'>I dunno. I just needed a title,  so I picked something off the bag of tortilla chips next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like crap!! I've got a cold, and my lips are really swollen and chapped. It really hurts. =(&lt;br /&gt;Classes felt ETERNAL today. I just wanted to leave.  I was so out of it, when I went to ask how to get a parking sticker I asked how i get a parking ticket.... Gah. I'm a idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saaaave meeeee.&lt;br /&gt;I wanna curl up and sleep until I die. Or until I'm not sick.&lt;br /&gt;Whichever comes first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-1324419346113029305?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1324419346113029305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=1324419346113029305&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1324419346113029305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1324419346113029305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/all-natural-chunky-salsa.html' title='All Natural Chunky Salsa'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5084610400324792251</id><published>2008-01-21T21:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T21:20:41.882-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate this.</title><content type='html'>I cracked. They said I would, and I did. I couldn't even make it a month. I'm horrible. Absolutely terrible. I was already less of a person anyways, so I guess it don't matter. I suck either way. At the end of the month I was gonna go get my a helix or an industrial done to celebrate. So that my body art could have some sort of meaning to it. Nope. I guess I'll prolly just get bored and do it my self. With out any meaning except the sick satisfation of runing a needle through my self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate myself.&lt;br /&gt;Onward with the May Plan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5084610400324792251?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5084610400324792251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5084610400324792251&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5084610400324792251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5084610400324792251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-hate-this.html' title='I hate this.'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-2049868208632003622</id><published>2008-01-19T19:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T19:21:39.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And that's one body that'll never be found</title><content type='html'>I just realized how appropriate that title really is for the current predicament.&lt;br /&gt;Well, not exactly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;current &lt;/span&gt;but my mind is on said situation more than it ever had been. I've been ignoring it for almost 10 months (maybe more like 7? depends on how you look at it.) now, but I finally let myself linger on the subject.  Maybe I'm just tired. I always become all depressive when I'm tired.  And FYI, I know I said it was appropriate, but don't take the titles literally.. I haven't murdered anyone lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OR DID I?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been cleaning my room all day =( It's been very unpleasant. Now I've got a headache. I'd really like a shower or something but I don't wanna deal with the water right now. I should take my meds whilst I'm thinking about it.... Neh. Don't wanna get up. Of course, I'll prolly be getting up in a few minutes to hunt down some food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh. Hunt down food.&lt;br /&gt;Heh. Hunt down.&lt;br /&gt;Heh Heh Heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-2049868208632003622?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2049868208632003622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=2049868208632003622&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2049868208632003622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2049868208632003622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/and-thats-one-body-thatll-never-be.html' title='And that&apos;s one body that&apos;ll never be found'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-6501891683793672285</id><published>2008-01-17T22:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T22:21:29.857-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WE ALL KNEW IT!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Vocabulary Score: A+&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/howsyourvocabularyquiz/vocab.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations on your multifarious vocabulary!&lt;br /&gt;You must be quite an erudite person.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howsyourvocabularyquiz/"&gt;How's Your Vocabulary?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-6501891683793672285?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6501891683793672285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=6501891683793672285&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6501891683793672285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6501891683793672285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/we-all-knew-it.html' title='WE ALL KNEW IT!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5458881630689658966</id><published>2008-01-15T16:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T16:27:39.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Un-happy made.</title><content type='html'>Actually I'm just really tired. Really really tired.&lt;br /&gt;And I SO looked stoned on my student ID card LOLZ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was an okay day. I didn't get a good nights sleep because of my effing arm, and said arm also made getting dressed and showering a very painful task. I didn't really get anything done. I ate, if that counts for anything lol &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come noon I had to go to Rite Aid, I dropped off my script which was weird cuz the old guy there was all "Have you been here before?" Um..Yeah, I think so.. Right. I had notebook selection issues also. Once I got to JCC I found my class very easily, and it was a very easy class. I don't think I'll be exactly struggling after looking at the syllabus, because I aced all this stuff a year ago. I'm sure I'll be fine once my memory gets refreshed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding the english class was a little harder, but I followed this one guy who seemed to be going there too and he held the doors for me which was great because I had my annoyingly heavy bag on my left arm and it's painful using my right. He eventually asked me if I was going to english too, since I guess I was a little obvious in that I was following him for directions haha I'm glad I did though, because I never would have found it on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That class ended about 50 minutes early. Sweet! Getting out was a bit of a task, since I didn't wanna follow the same guy who had been standing there smiling at me because..well...yeah. I DID get out eventually, and then ate vending machine food and ended up talking to this one girl about how we were screwed over on books. She showed me were to go to get my photo ID and that went all well and good although I nearly dived back behind the desk because I saw someone I didn't want to see me... Then a few minutes later when I was wandering I saw chris and talked to him for a few minutes because he didn't know why I was there because he thought I was like 14 or 13..Uhm..no. Then I got lost in that building and just went out the front door and as fate would have it my mom was there because she had come early to go to that one building about that payment stuff and had parked there for whatever reason ( differnt place from where I was supposed to meet her). I then got complaining to her on the way back about how NOBODY can keep my age straight. I'm serious, they don't. To a degree where it's just really really stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm torn between the ideas of sleep and homework..Guess which one is gonna win ;D&lt;br /&gt;I really do need to rest, I have to go to dance tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CRAP! I never looked up that music! Okay. I'll do that THEN sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5458881630689658966?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5458881630689658966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5458881630689658966&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5458881630689658966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5458881630689658966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/un-happy-made.html' title='Un-happy made.'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-6866673567723237990</id><published>2008-01-12T14:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T14:51:28.164-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So Forgive Me Love...</title><content type='html'>Mmmm... I'm so tired. I really need to take a shower, but I'm so warm under the laptop! lol No one is home, it just occured to me they're prolly in Olean getting Isabel or something pertaining to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rehersal last night WOULD. NOT. END. My knees and back hurt soooo effing much from standing for so long. On the way back to Kira's I kinda started losing my voice, singing MCR song. She mouthed the words. I didn't. LOL. At least all that belting seemed to give me a nice ab workout haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got back and Adam was already there and I called Ben to let him know we were back then we all watched part of The Hot Chick then Kira got into a fight with her parents and that was kinda awkward. Then we watched Hook. Great movie that is, really. I hadn't seen it in so long, either!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep last night was terrible, for various reasons. But whatever. Me, Adam, Karen*, and  Kira's mommy all went to Kira's hip hop competition this afternoon and me and Adam were practically throwing up when the fat chicks were grinding with each other. Kira did pretty good, from what I saw of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards me, Kira, and Adam went to Mobil and bought food. It was good food. I had issues getting out of his car as usual and once we were back in I had been hitting him with my Moutain Dew and because I'm stupid like that I opened it without thinking directly afterwards and a crapload shot up my nose... =/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kira had to go to work afterwards and I really wanted to go home because I was tired but her parents weren't home and neither were mine so this guy names Omar brought me home. We had to turn around twice because I wasn't paying attention lol I'm like "Oh yeah..that road back there is where we should be..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just so tired now AH! Okay, I really need to go get in the shower. I'll crank my heater up during so my room will be all warm when I'm done and I can just put on my fuzzy red robe and lay in bed and be warm and sleep and listen to Alanis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds good!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-6866673567723237990?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6866673567723237990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=6866673567723237990&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6866673567723237990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6866673567723237990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/so-forgive-me-love.html' title='So Forgive Me Love...'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3512506888836676621</id><published>2008-01-08T23:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T23:36:33.660-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Joyous</title><content type='html'>I'm mainly obsessed with The Daily Plate now. It's so...useful...and motivating. Too bad you can't calculate in pica indulgences lol What do you think it would list as healthy alternatives, to say something like... pens? Or ice..mmm...ice. A fozen banana, maybe? hahahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't figure out if I'm tired or not. I suppose the solution would be just attempt going to bed, but I don't wanna get off AIM /\_ _/\       &lt;br /&gt;                                             &gt; v &lt;&lt;br /&gt;                                               ~ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;                                               ^ - Kitty =P &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe i'll retake some quizzes on blogthing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to dance tonight! For the first time in...how long? I dont wanna think about it. My muscles are mad at me though, for such an abrupt awakening from their slumber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really dont feel like saying much right now. PRolly because I'm tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3512506888836676621?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3512506888836676621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3512506888836676621&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3512506888836676621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3512506888836676621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/joyous.html' title='Joyous'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-4003946585080097086</id><published>2008-01-04T00:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T00:36:05.509-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heh heh heh Ima brownie!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEEEEE;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are a Brownie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatdessertareyoumostlikequiz/brownies.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decadent and intense, you aren't for the weakhearted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who can deal with your strong flavor find out how sweet you really are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatdessertareyoumostlikequiz/"&gt;What Dessert Are You Most Like?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-4003946585080097086?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4003946585080097086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=4003946585080097086&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4003946585080097086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4003946585080097086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/heh-heh-heh-ima-brownie.html' title='Heh heh heh Ima brownie!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-8909147772275754530</id><published>2008-01-02T00:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T00:26:29.624-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>We hadn't talked in a long while, but I never stopped thinking we could if we felt like it. If I got around to looking for her cell phone number, wondering why she hadn't signed on AIM. My thoughts of her, fading more and more each day.&lt;br /&gt;Until finally, months after the fact of it all, I get around to seeing what she's up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is one of those few times in my life I hope that there's a heaven. For her own sake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope she's found something better than what she found here. I knew her pain ran deep, and I hope that's not all her existence was meant to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there is a God, then please, I beg, give her the happiness she was never able to have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-8909147772275754530?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8909147772275754530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=8909147772275754530&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8909147772275754530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8909147772275754530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2008/01/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-8746670490788689124</id><published>2007-12-29T13:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T13:48:12.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It Starts In My Soul</title><content type='html'>Mmmm. I should be showering, getting dressed and whatnot. I'm babysitting at quarter after 4. Yay money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so tired. I had a terrible night. I was freaking out, I don't know why though. I just couldn't stop over thinking everything. I became convinced I was having a heart attack. When it all finally ended, I tried to sleep but was so hungry I couldn't. I wanted to go eat, but didn't for 2 reasons. First being that even the thought of food made my stomach burn, and second that I was too dizzy to even stand. I had my large glass of water I kept sipping over a period of 3 hours as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep. I was tired. I could feel it. When I finally did sleep, I dreamed I had been killed. I awoke about 3 hours after dozing off certain I was dead, and merely suspended in some form of purgatory I had condemned myself to. After about thirty minutes of this bizarre limbo, things became clear and I realized I was in my room. I could feel my bed, myself, I could think. All was well, and I fell back asleep. My mom woke me up about two hours later. That was unclear but I sent her away and started drifting back off when I got a phone call. Now I'm babysitting in a little while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel okay right now, mainly. I drank some coffee, choked down about half a cup of jello. I had wanted salad, but the lettuce was brown and wilted =( I thought about celery, but that'd take more energy than I can channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very dissapointed with myself. I bought awesome fishnets and I can't wear them. Nor can I wear the skirts, unless I wear dark leggings with them. It didn't occur to me until I got dressed and looked in the mirror. I don't remember the last time I was that upset with myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounds like I'm depressed right now, I'm not. Really truly not. Tired and restless, yes. But I'm not even really unhappy. I'm just stating fact of what's been going on as of late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if anyone reads this???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ow. Pain. Physical pain.  Random sharp stabbing pain. I'm glad I wasn't standing just then, I'd have been floored!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shopping the other day was okay. It might've been better if I didn't nearly lose myself stuck sitting in AE. I can't deal with that light. I cannot stand bright, florescent lighting.  WalMart is okay, even though I'm uncomfortable when the light first hits me it gets better as I feel the space.  I stay out of the smaller aisles and the crowded areas and I do quit well. I love the shoe department. It's nicely spaced, and always sees a bit dimmer. And no one ever goes there. Once there was a lady, who commented as I tried on some stilletos that she would wear shoes like that too if she had my legs. I never wore those shorts again in public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need water. Now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-8746670490788689124?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8746670490788689124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=8746670490788689124&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8746670490788689124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8746670490788689124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/12/it-starts-in-my-soul.html' title='It Starts In My Soul'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5625364736201078310</id><published>2007-12-26T18:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T19:17:38.182-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Time [was] Here</title><content type='html'>Wow. Christmas came and went, I hardly noticed. Seriously though, I've even been in bed for like days now. I don't entirely know why. I can't remember anything right. All my memories of even just the past couple days are hazy and dreamlike. I'm actually have trouble sorting through them, to separate what's happened and what hasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got everything I wanted and then some. Main things consisted of a Wii, Laptop, and Digital Camera. I love the camera. I have nothing better to do than take pictures of myself lol I got the standard checks and gift cards, my favorite being the $70 HT one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposedly going to the mall with Dellayna tommorow. Should be well and good. I'm really hoping that chinese place is still there, I was that chicken stuff..yummmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of these days I'm going to ruin my parents lives. I'm just waiting for the right moment to throw everything at them. Like I was gonna today...but then thought better of it. Maybe starting January or something. I dunno.. Like I know I have to do it, and I do generally get around to doing what I absolutely have to but I'm having trouble getting that little *push*. I'll work myself up to it..It's just gonna take a little longer than I intended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Borders was great. I bought fabulous books, and read the PostSecret book. I would have bought it, but I didn't have enough money with my brother's christmas present and all. Before I even did my shopping though I went over to their cafe and had a vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso. Then on the way home I went to Tim Hortons and got a cherry cheese danish and a vanilla mocha. *drool*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got off the phone with Dellayna, she's coming over in a little while for the night then we're just gonna hang here till chris gets us tommorow I guess. Hum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5625364736201078310?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5625364736201078310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5625364736201078310&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5625364736201078310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5625364736201078310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-time-was-here.html' title='Christmas Time [was] Here'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5657603263651313354</id><published>2007-12-16T14:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T14:57:21.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I built the growl in the voice I fear</title><content type='html'>Well well well. Not to long till Christmas, and guess what?&lt;br /&gt;I STILL have yet to do any shopping whatsoever!&lt;br /&gt;Bah! This is...ridiculous. Sometime this week, I'll have to get it done.. Hum..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleepy and restless and it sucks. And my coffee is taking much too long to cool down. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has been so boring lately, I hate it! I have nothing to do. I can't even get anywhere even if there was something to do. I'm stranded in my home. Grrness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's too much snow on the ground. It's bothering me. I had the weirdest mini-meltdown the other night regarding snow globes...Yes, snow globes. It was the kinda thing where if I had had a phone I would've called Frankie and sent her into a meltdown of her own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still need to get a hold of Libbie. She needs a good dose of reality knocked into her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhhhhh I have a headache!! =(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5657603263651313354?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5657603263651313354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5657603263651313354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5657603263651313354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5657603263651313354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-built-growl-in-voice-i-fear.html' title='I built the growl in the voice I fear'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-6894971088859273276</id><published>2007-12-13T15:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T15:58:58.952-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sandwich Maker</title><content type='html'>Sooo. Brion is home for Christmas. Joyous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really bored today. I need to pry my little brother from the Wii so I can play. Yes...Pry him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of this "slight" fever buisness. I should acquire some Tylonel actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I anihilated my knee last night in ballet. It really hurt. It still hurts, actually. =( Stupid landings!! I don't like falling. Blah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-6894971088859273276?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6894971088859273276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=6894971088859273276&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6894971088859273276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6894971088859273276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/12/sandwich-maker.html' title='The Sandwich Maker'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-197648510453011580</id><published>2007-12-10T20:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T20:49:11.447-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Slow Me Down</title><content type='html'>Dude. I've been sick for a month, complete with chronic fever and it SUCKS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally am figuring out FaceBook. I really hate the captchas (sp?) though. I can hardly see them and often have to reload for a different one. Stupid optical crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss OiNK. And I need an mp3 player that holds more than 5GB of music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-197648510453011580?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/197648510453011580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=197648510453011580&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/197648510453011580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/197648510453011580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/12/slow-me-down.html' title='Slow Me Down'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-2289136752092311547</id><published>2007-12-08T12:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-08T12:40:01.231-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shake It Up!</title><content type='html'>I swear, I did intend on lunch. And breakfast, too. It's just I get in the kitchen and go through the cupboards and realize everything looks absolutely revolting. I'm drinking some Fuze Slenderize though. Does that count for anything? Eh, I don't care today. I cared yesterday and did my best since everything tasted like cardboard then. But today? No. Much too drained at the moment to care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to bed sooo early last night, it's insane. I just didn't feel like doing much after I got home. The show was...cute.  I stole the cookies! I put them in my pocket BUAH HA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUAH HA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I want the laundry to hurry up! I need clean clothes, and I need to shower too. Then smother myself in lotion. My skin is disgustingly dry today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seem to have no middle register either. I'm also having issues talking. My voice just keeps dying out! Grrr. Not that I need to talk. I don't especially like to so I guess it's not that big of a deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tx1XIm6q4r4&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tx1XIm6q4r4&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a pipe bomb!" LOLZ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-2289136752092311547?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2289136752092311547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=2289136752092311547&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2289136752092311547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2289136752092311547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/12/shake-it-up.html' title='Shake It Up!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-8374300194294745755</id><published>2007-12-03T21:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T21:20:01.341-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep</title><content type='html'>I want to sleep! Sadly, it's much too early for me to make it through the night though.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so bored, it's insane.&lt;br /&gt;Today was insane actually. I really hope it's over now.  I never want to see or talk to any of them again. That should work out, right? Why wouldn't it? After all.... There's really nothing left.&lt;br /&gt;Not that I can think of anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Move on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-8374300194294745755?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8374300194294745755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=8374300194294745755&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8374300194294745755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8374300194294745755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/12/sleep.html' title='Sleep'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5078137562741041690</id><published>2007-11-28T17:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T17:43:06.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Have I Been?</title><content type='html'>My posts on here are becoming few and far between. Time to change that! I've mainly just been making pointless ramblings on MySpace. I need my brain back lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much going on right now... Headed up to Kira's Friday, should be enjoyable. Saturday is my mom's birthday day (38!) And that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In January starts Fiddler, and I start taking 2 classes in Olean at JCC.  Dear god.&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking Elementary Algebra and Composition 1 apparently. Not exactly what I wanted, but whatever. It works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of work, I refuse to! I simply don't have the time =P.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm officially broke. It's sad. I haven't had this little money since...a really long time ago. I need money, I wanna buy people christmas presents!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched Girl, Interrupted the other day. A few times. I need to call Frankie and tell her, she'd appreciate the fact.&lt;br /&gt;It's a great movie, it really is. Just vastly different from the book is all. They're both good. Remember, move=artistic adaption! (just gotta believe that lie...)&lt;br /&gt;Angelina Jolie didn't seem like Angelina Jolie. She was fabby as Lisa though. I found her character to be rather understandable, like her actions made sense.  Could be just me though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll end with this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i301/lemonsryellow/132-afe-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5078137562741041690?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5078137562741041690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5078137562741041690&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5078137562741041690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5078137562741041690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/where-have-i-been.html' title='Where Have I Been?'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5049838938389178880</id><published>2007-11-22T19:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T20:05:01.161-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Turkey Day, Suckas!</title><content type='html'>Mergh. I'm sleepy and sick and just...mergh.&lt;br /&gt;I'll hopefully get into the doctors tomorrow morning, then I'm supposed to make an appearance at my friend's birthday party. She's 18 now, kinda weird to think about... I don't know why I'm going if I'm sick. I'll just infect them all. Then again...MUAH HA HA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was amusing I guess. I call my nephew Matthew, who's almost 3, "baby". He walks in the kitchen so says to him "Hey baby!" and then he respond in a really low voice "Hey bay-bay". It was hysterical. He's adorable, he actually makes me like small children haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner me and Cucumber went up to my room and slept. Every time we started to fall asleep though her phone would go off. Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy is her ringtone. It was driving us mad, seriously. She FINALLY shut it off and we slept for like 2 hours. We only got up because we were thirsty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got down stairs I was whining about how much my neck and throat hurt so my mom made my take my temperature, despite me insisting I never get fevers. 100.3.  Fun fun fun. Especially considering my body temp. is generally lower than the average. &gt;=(&lt;br /&gt;I took some IBProfun and I WAS feeling better but then I took advantage of that and over did it with Wii Boxing. Now I'm back to feeling like I could collapse. Dammit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do NOT want to be sick right now! It's just a terribly inconvenient time.  Well, perhaps I can wake up in magically perfect health tomorrow... Dare to dream lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5049838938389178880?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5049838938389178880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5049838938389178880&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5049838938389178880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5049838938389178880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/turkey-day-suckas.html' title='Turkey Day, Suckas!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-2241813918543786997</id><published>2007-11-19T17:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T17:32:21.418-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay!</title><content type='html'>So I went to JCC today to take the placement test. And I didn't completely suck! I actually did pretty good on the reading comprehension, which is suprising considering the amount of doubt I felt whilst answering. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My lips are very very sore, and the chapstick isn't helping. I also just ate a crapload of hershey kisses. Yay me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew how to function Facebook. However, I just don't get it. Sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-2241813918543786997?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2241813918543786997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=2241813918543786997&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2241813918543786997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2241813918543786997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/yay.html' title='Yay!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-559892910486831484</id><published>2007-11-18T16:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T16:51:33.405-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fevers and Mirrors</title><content type='html'>We all make mistakes, just some more than others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And "that's all I have to say about that".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-559892910486831484?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/559892910486831484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=559892910486831484&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/559892910486831484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/559892910486831484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/fevers-and-mirrors.html' title='Fevers and Mirrors'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5918554174247571418</id><published>2007-11-14T12:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T12:37:12.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chea.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEEEEE;"&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are Paper&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/areyourockpaperorscissorsquiz/paper.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crafty and creative, you are able to adapt freely to almost any situation.&lt;br /&gt;People tend to underestimate you, unless they've truly seen what you are capable of.&lt;br /&gt;Deep down, you're always scheming and thinking up new plans. Your mind is constantly active.&lt;br /&gt;You are quite capable of anything you dream of. You can always figure out  a way to get what you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can wrap a rock person up in your sheet of trickery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A scissor person can sneak up and cut you to pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you fight: No one can anticipate your next move&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone makes you mad: You'll attack them mercilessly when they're unprepared&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/areyourockpaperorscissorsquiz/"&gt;Are You Rock, Paper, or Scissors?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5918554174247571418?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5918554174247571418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5918554174247571418&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5918554174247571418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5918554174247571418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/chea.html' title='Chea.'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-7448289868444859641</id><published>2007-11-13T13:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T22:16:51.468-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That is what my youth was for [[Sleepless long nights]]</title><content type='html'>I cleansed my room all day. It is very clean now. I actually cleaned off my dresser, for the first time in a year. I'd been pouring all my energy into keeping my bookshelf awesome. But after I nearly killed myself closing the drawer the other day, it occurred to me that it's finally time to clean it. I found SO much stuff behind it, seriously.&lt;br /&gt;I need to get my laundry done. I have no clean clothes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got to go back to dance tonight, assistant teaching. I did the whole wing it thing once again, went really really well. I was just too tired to focus on nit picking at each girls technique for the entirety of class. Their attitudes during tap class was bothering me so I made them do sautes for several counts of 8 with a changement on the eighth. It was satisfying to see their faces red and hear their panting breathe. But then after class I had them do some simple stretching and deep breathing on the floor. I'm really trying to get them moving faster while keeping their technique clean. I'd really like to have them do "They" for their recital dance, but if it's too fast I'll have to switch it to "Listen to the Rain". That one is a lovely song, but "They" is just...awesome. Not very ballet-ish but I don't care. I want them to dance to it, dammit! They need to pick up the pace. I'm giving them no choice.  They'll soon understand what it really means to have Miss Elizabeth Gilman teaching them ballet! MUAH HA HA!!!&lt;br /&gt;I've been going really slow with them all year. Well, now I have two weeks to plan my new style of classes. It seems logical to ease them back into it after Thanksgiving break, but...nah.  They all have potential, they're just not working up to it as much as they could be. But I must partly blame myself, since I do have a tendency to ignore their misbehavior when I'm feeling too lazy to deal.  But no longer! I really wish I could have been their these last couple weeks but it's too late to do anything about it. I'll just make up for it after break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, because I feel like it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUZZAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-7448289868444859641?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7448289868444859641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=7448289868444859641&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7448289868444859641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7448289868444859641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/that-is-what-my-youth-was-for-sleepless.html' title='That is what my youth was for [[Sleepless long nights]]'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-7300369816071136779</id><published>2007-11-12T20:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T20:51:00.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>1 2 3 4 5 6 9 &amp; 10</title><content type='html'>I have not had the time/energy to post anything meaningful.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even sure if I have anything of use to say right now.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to work at the Linger Longer Cafe. The application is very long and deters me from filling it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sanity is declining rapidly. Or perhaps it's always been lacking as it is and I'm just now noticing.  But in that light wouldn't that mean I'm becoming more sane, in the ability to recognize my insanity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr valign="top"&gt;&lt;td nowrap="true"&gt;insane&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="T1" nowrap="true"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(adj.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Of, exhibiting, or afflicted with insanity.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr valign="top"&gt;&lt;td nowrap="true"&gt;insane&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="T1" nowrap="true"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(adj.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Immoderate; wild&lt;span class="T1"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr valign="top"&gt;&lt;td nowrap="true"&gt;insane&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="T1" nowrap="true"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(adj.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Very foolish; absurd&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, by those definitions everyone exhibits insanity at some point in their lives. Perhaps the truly  insane are just those who are  persistent with the foolishness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr valign="top"&gt;&lt;td nowrap="true"&gt;sane&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="T1" nowrap="true"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(adj.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Of sound mind; mentally healthy&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr valign="top"&gt;&lt;td nowrap="true"&gt;sane&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="T1" nowrap="true"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(adj.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Having or showing sound judgment; reasonable.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By those definitions alone, I can honestly say I have not an ounce of sanity. I am not of sound mind or judgment, nor am I all that reasonable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to recall the last time I felt self-preserving. I really can't remember. As a young child? No, most deffinetly not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need money. I need books. I need more TIME. Of course, I say that now. Whenever I do aquire this so called time I never know what to do with it. I'm not sure time really exists, at least not as most people see it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel time was meant to be measured, harnessed. Everyone experiences time differently.&lt;br /&gt;Take a period of 60 minutes, for example.&lt;br /&gt;For some it could be comparable to 1. Other it could be comparable to 120.&lt;br /&gt;But for a few 1 minute could feel like 100, and for other 100 similiar to that of 1,000. Then we can take it back to some people experiencing 1,000 as though it was 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were to think about the last week of your life, how did it feel? Pertaining to length, I mean. Is it equivalent in feeling to 7 days? But what is 7 days meant to feel like anyways? 1 day seven times I suppose. But each day tends to be different from the last. I don't think it can really be defined, but really just depends on whether or not it *feels* right.  Time is something very abstract to me, and I object to the attempts to force it into something more concrete.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-7300369816071136779?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/7300369816071136779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=7300369816071136779&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7300369816071136779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/7300369816071136779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/1-2-3-4-5-6-9-10.html' title='1 2 3 4 5 6 9 &amp; 10'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5028330497284375063</id><published>2007-11-10T11:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T11:59:34.084-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Excellent!</title><content type='html'>Wow..life...just..wow.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I've been around Kira a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I have! haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The show is good. Opening night went well. yay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5028330497284375063?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5028330497284375063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5028330497284375063&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5028330497284375063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5028330497284375063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/excellent.html' title='Excellent!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5088856728286740647</id><published>2007-11-08T00:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T00:42:55.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gimme an 'Ef!</title><content type='html'>yeah. life sucks. that's all there is to it really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so only SOME people in life suck. And they can be totally shut down by people who don't suck. but I dunno. I'm so tired and stressed lately! I want to go to bed, but I have to do crap for tommorow..or technically 8 hours from now. Dammit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5088856728286740647?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5088856728286740647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5088856728286740647&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5088856728286740647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5088856728286740647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/gimme-ef.html' title='Gimme an &apos;Ef!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-8066083960155608756</id><published>2007-11-04T20:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T20:42:48.748-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How horrible.</title><content type='html'>Yeah, tonight totally sucked. Quite possible the most suckiest night all near, seriously.&lt;br /&gt;[sarcasm]But then again I am supposedly an over dramatic liar who just likes to mess with my life and others in my spare time because I have nothing better to do. Since obviously creating drama with people I hardly know is just so much fun.&lt;br /&gt;[/end sarcasm]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-headdesk-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-8066083960155608756?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8066083960155608756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=8066083960155608756&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8066083960155608756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8066083960155608756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-horrible.html' title='How horrible.'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-5371128844725219354</id><published>2007-11-03T00:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T00:06:43.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Helena</title><content type='html'>I was Helena for halloween! Yay for me.&lt;br /&gt;Life has been...insane. More than usual. Tonight itself was fascinating to say the least. It really was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should get to bed. I have to be at voice lessons in 9 hours. Then afterwards I'm being dropped off at BK as I wait to be picked up. Then off to auditions. Then who knows what. I'm staying the night at Kira's then sunday going to rehersal which I expect will be an all day affair. My note is brill. I'm quite content to it but I studpidly forgot it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay for music! I'm turning Libby emo and supposedly my cynicism and standard use of unnesarilly descriptive words is rubbing off on Adam.  Heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-5371128844725219354?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/5371128844725219354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=5371128844725219354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5371128844725219354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/5371128844725219354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/11/helena.html' title='Helena'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-6361575051045070083</id><published>2007-10-28T23:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T23:34:31.141-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Understand</title><content type='html'>I had a really long, horrid dream last night. I feel like everything was basically symbolic of my current life though. Does that mean my life is horrid? No, I don't think so. Just insanely screwed up. My fault though. I think... I don't know. I know what I want to do to figure this out, but then again... I just don't know what to say. And I'm using the end of my dream as an omen not to say anything. This isn't making sense, but oh well. I'm lacking in the caffeine area and am exausted. I don't have to make sense!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-6361575051045070083?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6361575051045070083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=6361575051045070083&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6361575051045070083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6361575051045070083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/dont-understand.html' title='Don&apos;t Understand'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-2690031005353515197</id><published>2007-10-28T02:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T02:51:33.187-04:00</updated><title type='text'>24 Hours</title><content type='html'>I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exausted&lt;/span&gt;! I probably should be in bed, actually. I just got home from babysitting (2:45am. Yay. Sarcasm.) and I could basically die this very second. I feel really sick actually, I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has just been crazy lately, I think in a few weeks I'm gonna have to just crawl into a cave and hide out a while. Actually, I'm ready to do that now my social skills are so worn! lol I ran into so many people today at the bowling alley, my nieces little sister happened to be having her birthday party there the same time as Andee. That place has really been redone! I kept envisioning weird MTV shows like "Pimp my bowling alley" and such...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The musical is a lot of fun, I will admit. It's kind of insane how much I've ended up doing in it considering I started with just sitting at a table in one scene. The song we (carolers) sing is really funny, but kinda hard because it gets so effing fast! Not to mention apparently everyone seem to have been practicing with slightly different versions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My CD player seems to be officially dead. It's sad, but should have happened long ago. I do admit to inflicting a mad amount of abuse on that thing. It was really sucktacular in its final days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm forgetting much, but it's 10 to 3, I'm exausted, I'm going to bed now. Later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-2690031005353515197?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2690031005353515197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=2690031005353515197&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2690031005353515197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2690031005353515197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/24-hours.html' title='24 Hours'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-4168186109490268898</id><published>2007-10-23T23:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T23:39:56.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Boredom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.nerdtests.com/nt2ref.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.nerdtests.com/images/badge/nt2/db704330e0ab7c26.png" alt="NerdTests.com says I'm a Kinda Dorky High Nerd.  What are you?  Click here!"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-4168186109490268898?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4168186109490268898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=4168186109490268898&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4168186109490268898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4168186109490268898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/boredom.html' title='Boredom'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-2218466433129240318</id><published>2007-10-23T23:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T23:30:43.244-04:00</updated><title type='text'>OiNK is dead!</title><content type='html'>No! It can't be! **sob**&lt;br /&gt;http://torrentfreak.com/oinkcd-servers-raided-admin-arrested/&lt;br /&gt;=(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-2218466433129240318?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2218466433129240318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=2218466433129240318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2218466433129240318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2218466433129240318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/oink-is-dead.html' title='OiNK is dead!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3359568564666615642</id><published>2007-10-22T23:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T23:30:00.293-04:00</updated><title type='text'>'Tis Life</title><content type='html'>Here I was, thinking without Jazz I'd have more time to get other things done.... Well, that doesn't work too well when something even more time-consuming fills its place! Bah. I was gonna get stuff done earlier, but I was falling asleep at the computer. So I went to lay down for a little while. I fell asleep and a little turned into a long while and I didn't wake up until I had to be out the door. I just got home a little while ago (11ish?) and am once again too exausted to use my brain. But I really do need to...So I'm blogging! ha. Someone ban me from these sites...!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still need to think about what I'm gonna have my girls do in dance tommorow. I would prolly just wing it (that's so become my motto lately) like before when I forgot about them but it's parents week and they freak me out so I need to have a plan of action so i don't completely space and stand there going "uhm...". Uhm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep is not an option! I need caffeine. I'm going to stay up until I am caught up or it's never gonna happen. What happened to my good 'ole insomniatic self?? I'd really like to slip back into a cycle of mania now... Bah. Humbug.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3359568564666615642?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3359568564666615642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3359568564666615642&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3359568564666615642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3359568564666615642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/tis-life.html' title='&apos;Tis Life'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3408224272167971053</id><published>2007-10-21T23:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T23:40:52.589-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The most exausting day of the year</title><content type='html'>Never in the last two years has a night of babysitting gone that horrendously. I've only ever had to call their mother twice.And only one of those times was because of behavior. The second time was because the little girl swallowed a quarter...erm..yeah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight?&lt;br /&gt;Oh dear &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lord&lt;/span&gt;...where do I begin with &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tonight&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, more like early this evening. The living room has been rearranged so that the couches are like right next to each other with a little gap. Andee (age 7) set a blanket across the gap held in place with weights and paint cans like a hammock.&lt;br /&gt;Ally (age 12) was trying to sit on it with her, but mainly for the purpose of antagonizing her sister. I reprimanded her several times but she would knock it off. I finally pulled her off the blanket and made her sit there. Eventually she got up and went off to her room to sulk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So I was sitting on the couch, and Andee decided the blanket needed fixing. I was holding the blanket in place while she screwed around on the other couch "adjusting" it. Then I hear "The paint can opened". Uhm..Whats that? I look up, and she sitting there with a look of complete horror on her face. I get up, the statement not quite comprehending...The paint can did indeed open. And spilled. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Everywhere. &lt;/span&gt;All I see on the cushion, couch, pillows, blankets, and Andee is white paint. I turn and head up stairs to get Ally. No way was just me and Andee cleaning that up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I knock on the door. It's possible she didn't hear me because she was playing her trumpet, but I believe she was just ignoring me because she was still kinda mad I yelled at her (I really NEVER do). I Say "Ally, there's kind of a crisis." Blank stare. "Ally, you need to come downstairs right now." She very slowly (and do I mean SLOWLY. Like, nearly going backwards slow.) sets the trumpet down. "ALLY, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;QUICKLY&lt;/span&gt;!!" She then picked it up to about a snails pace and I turn and head back down stairs. Momentarily she was right behind me, gazing in shock at the mess. We quickly transport everything to the sink, and I tell Andee to stay wear she is. She of course chooses not to listen to me and gets walking around for whatever reason. Spreading paint EVERYWHERE. I yell at her for doing so and send her upstairs to clean up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About half the can of paint was on the cushion (fairly new couch mind you)  and the other half spread among the blankets and pillows. There's globs all over the rug and floor, and various spots on the couch itself. While getting the stuff in the sink it managed to spread to a large amount of dishes. And of course the sink itself turned white. I call their mom to explain what happened and find out just how it should be dealt with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So me and Alley get the blankets and stuff in the washer, and get the cushion in the tub. Then we went through about 2 bottles of carpet cleaner. For two hours we were on our hands and knees with a sponge scrubbing. Exausting work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just about to lose it in general, and had lost it completely with Andee. She wouldn't stay in her room like both her mom and I told her to and neither would she clean. She was arguing with and contradicting everything I said and I was just about at my wits end. Even when she wanted to know why I was mad at her (WTF? You have to ask?) and I try to calmly explain, when I tell her she keeps arguing with everything I say she argued about that!!! **headdeskheaddeskheaddesk**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Eventually bedtime came, and when her mom called back I told her how she was behaving. Apparently she's not gonna get to go to Pumpkinville tommorow which I would feel bad about if my clothes were not now ruined. My favorite pants (jeans that actually fit right!!) have paint stains. My favorite jacket has paint on the sleeve, and I had even taken it off before getting into the stuff!! My shirt also has several paint stains. My arms are also nicely coated in paint. I have a strong feeling the cushion is mainly ruined. And I won't even dare to dream about saving the blankets...The couch itself is better though. And the rug and floor is back to happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left my bag there. April offered to go back and get it (she brought me home) if I needed it then but I told her it could wait. It really doesn't contain anything I need before morning. On the bright side (I know I did tell Ally don't even pretend to find any good in the situation but that was earlier!) I did get payed more than normal. Yay money!! I really should make a deposit one of these days...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, that's the condensed version of tonights events. It contained alot of scrubbing, screaming, and stress.  The paint wouldn't even end! I swear! Think its gone...NOPE! More more more!!! **shudder** Okay..it's over...going to bed now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3408224272167971053?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3408224272167971053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3408224272167971053&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3408224272167971053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3408224272167971053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/most-exausting-day-of-year.html' title='The most exausting day of the year'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-4166496174885203070</id><published>2007-10-19T17:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T17:46:26.756-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween Personality</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;What Your Halloween Habits Say About You&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatsyourhalloweenpersonalityquiz/halloween.gif" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bit of an introvert, you like the special occasions just as much as everyone else. You just have your own unique way of celebrating Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sneaky and devious, people should really watch out for you. You are usually underestimated and forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your inner child is open minded, playful, and adventurous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You fear those closest to you finding out who you really are. You dread people discovering your secrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're logical, rational, and not easily effected. Not a lot scares you... especially when it comes to the paranormal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are picky and high maintenance. If you wear a Halloween costume, it's only when you really feel like it. And it has to be perfect.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourhalloweenpersonalityquiz/"&gt;What's Your Halloween Personality?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-4166496174885203070?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4166496174885203070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=4166496174885203070&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4166496174885203070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4166496174885203070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/halloween-personality.html' title='Halloween Personality'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3658671967403008166</id><published>2007-10-17T21:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T21:44:01.650-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Selective Hearing</title><content type='html'>"Can you get a ride home from dance tonight?"&lt;br /&gt;"I dunno"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;*approx. 2 hours later*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So can you get a ride?"&lt;br /&gt;"I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;don't know. &lt;/span&gt;Prolly not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;**9pmish, after ballet. On Main St., w/ cell phone**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So is anyone picking me up?"&lt;br /&gt;".....No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't so bad, walking home. It was dark and misty with a sweet looking sky and I wasn't totally freezing because I was hot from dancing.  My face got a little numb, but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;There was a little unpleasantness a few moments ago over the communication break down. Apparently Daryl though I was getting a ride home. Who knows how he thought I was getting there. My mom thought he told her that he was dropping me off then I was gonna get a ride home. I just... expected someone to be there. Not wise, I admit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleepy now. I wish I could go to bed, but I really should get the work done I need to have done by tommorow that I should have started doing 2 weeks ago. Again, not wise. But I just feel so unmotivated! All I can do is sleep. My focus is shot. Although I'm getting all insomniatic again at nights. However, unlike the last episode of insomnia, I can stay asleep. As a matter of fact, I can't really get up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3658671967403008166?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3658671967403008166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3658671967403008166&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3658671967403008166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3658671967403008166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/selective-hearing.html' title='Selective Hearing'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-6560532622168932825</id><published>2007-10-15T15:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T15:46:56.761-04:00</updated><title type='text'>That's the way we became the Brady Bunch</title><content type='html'>My Diet Pepsi is gone. THERE WAS A MOUTHFUL LEFT IN IT!! There was no need for anyone to throw it out! I WANTED THAT LAST MOUTHFUL!&lt;br /&gt;And Daryl bought me the wrong tea. Although he did actually buy me various morning star foods, which is AMAZING for him. He thinks vegetarian stuff is "crazy people food" and he has this uh...theory... that they really aren't even healthier than meat, because your body doesn't absorb the nutrients in the same way it absorbs it from a good piece of meat.&lt;br /&gt;**nods**&lt;br /&gt;Right.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm certainly not a vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination (daryl put a stop to that...) but I prefer vegetarian alternatives because they're generally healthier...and...*dun dun dun* they actually TASTE better. I don't mind burgers, but Daryl just can't grill them right. They're like lumps of coal. My boca burgers heated up on the stove  taste sooo much better than burnt lumps. And while YES, I do very much LOVE the taste of various fast food burgers (*cough-big mac-sneeze*), there's no denying that they're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;insanely&lt;/span&gt; unhealthy.&lt;br /&gt;And meat is just overall a creepy concept. So I prefer to consume it only when necessary.&lt;br /&gt;I'm in love with sushi though. I tried some a little over a month ago and my god I can't believe I've been missing [b]that[/b] my whole life. Sadly, there's no sushi nearby so I have no clue when I'll ever be able to eat it again. Mmmm.. Sushi... **drools**&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to class tonight...That's what I planned to do a week ago, seeing as how I haven't got my money back yet and I may as well be there while I'm still paying for it and really get confirmation of my decision. I'm sad about quitting though, and I don't know if going is just going to make that worse. If it's a good class, I'll feel really bad. If it's like the other ones..then I can leave without a second thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sleepy. I need more caffeine. I'm tempted to go make some more coffee...WHY THROW OUT MY PEPSI???!?!?Aaaaaaaahhhh&lt;br /&gt;Not letting that one go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although..I could easily go to the store and buy some...eh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a creepy dream last night (well, all my dreams are creepy and unpleasant actually)  I was trying to find the best deal on pop, decide between coke and pepsi, and my hair was falling out all over the place.  Even though that is reality, I dreamt it though! And it was creepier due to that dream-like haziness of everything. Oh never mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-6560532622168932825?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6560532622168932825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=6560532622168932825&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6560532622168932825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6560532622168932825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/thats-way-we-became-brady-bunch.html' title='That&apos;s the way we became the Brady Bunch'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3888485587253753817</id><published>2007-10-12T22:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T22:17:30.170-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Wanna Hear It.</title><content type='html'>How do you end a conversation? When there's absolutely no break in the conversation to close it up? Or when there is, and you do, but two seconds later the person starts back in? I don't know how it started. I just know I was waiting desperately for it to be over. Those "talks" always get me worked up, frustrated, and feeling rather hopeless. A bit betrayed, too.  And when it does hit an okay spot, and I try to stop it there...Well I explained that at the beginning. I'm not entirely sure how I'm feeling at the moment. A bit blah. Just too many topics, so completely different from each other, linked with emotions that have absolutely nothing in common..I'm just not capable of feeling all that at once. Is anyone?  My best bet would be to sleep right now. So why don't I?  I don't even think I want to feel better, actually. What can I say, it would seem I'm just a glutton for misery. And that's not the only thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3888485587253753817?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3888485587253753817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3888485587253753817&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3888485587253753817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3888485587253753817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-dont-wanna-hear-it.html' title='I Don&apos;t Wanna Hear It.'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-8361606315913460892</id><published>2007-10-10T21:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T21:25:17.548-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You win some, you lose more</title><content type='html'>I talked to Sue tonight after class.  And she is willing to refund my money. I plan to stick with ballet, since I still want to teach my 4th graders (after seeing their improvement last night [and alyssa's enthusiasm!], how could I just walk out on them?) and there's less people (significantly) in ballet, and of course they keep their mouths shut there... I'll go to the next jazz class, just mainly as confirmation of my decision. It sucks, really. I do like the class itself. I like what we learn, I like being able to work more on jumps. I like being in the extra 2 dances (it can get very boring back stage if your doing nothing...).  But I just have no patience anymore. As I said, it sucks.&lt;br /&gt;I guess you win some, you lose more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-8361606315913460892?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/8361606315913460892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=8361606315913460892&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8361606315913460892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/8361606315913460892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/you-win-some-you-lose-more.html' title='You win some, you lose more'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3892429217919220345</id><published>2007-10-09T20:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T20:57:16.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This makes the list of Top Clutzy Moments.</title><content type='html'>Well, more than a moment really. About 10 minutes or so. Long enough for me to become hysterical.&lt;br /&gt;   So, I leave for dance early (walking) figuring I'll just wander Rite Aid awhile. My dance bag is heavy, and hurts my shoulders so I kept switching sides. I enter Rite Aid, and see a sale for reeses. Needless to say, there was no need for browsing and a bought a few packets. I decided I would just sit in the lobby of the theater and consume my candy to pass the time.&lt;br /&gt;   I start to go the regular way, when I realize there's construction blocking my path. I debate climbing through the ruckus, then figured I'd better not risk falling over and decide to just walk down the other side and go up through the parking lot (like I really am supposed to anyways). I do so, then coming up the alleyway I switch my bag again. But as I'm tossing it on my shoulder...well, I dunno wth happened but I missed and my bag went into the plants. Big plants, which are growing out of a hill covered with god-only-knows what. Bag is pretty close, so I set down my reeses and go over to grab it. See where this is going?&lt;br /&gt;    I end up falling head first onto the bag, and further into the plants and down the hill. Somehow in my frantic flailing, one of the giant stems of the giant plants becomes tightly entwined around my ankle. Couldn't move my leg. Couldn't pull hard enough to rip plant or uproot it, either. HOWEVER, the stems that I am clinging onto to be up forward a bit instead of laying in the dirt and yuck are very very close to uprooting. So I can't pull myself up with them. And I can't just twist around and climb normally due to my ankle being trapped.&lt;br /&gt;   I layed there contemplating my predicament, unsure what to do. I then hear buzzing.&lt;br /&gt;Bees.&lt;br /&gt;   Several bees had attatched themselves to me. Of course, I don't stop and look at what kind of bees they are and automatically assume the worst *GROUND HORNETS* I scream hysterically. And scream. and scream. I get sweater off (had leo on underneath) and chuck it away from me. There's another bee on my shoulder. I realize it's only a bumble, and flick it away but still continue yelling. I then realize there's the icky little beetle things crawling ALL OVER the ground. Then one got on my leg. I try desperately (while still screaming) to pull myself up yet again. Didn't work. Plant uprooted and I'm now practically completely laying down in the dirty beetle nastyness. I give up with screaming and begin to cry. Not little quiet silent tears either.  I sobbed and I swore and I was getting desperate. Then FINALLY people begin to show up! OH HALLELUJAH!  One of the mothers heard me, and long story short - saved me. Just as I'm pulled from my buggy grave ALL the little kids shows up with a happy "Hi Miss Bizzy!" Happiness turned to shock as they realized I was crying. I assured them I was fine, and then went into the bathroom to collect myself. I then lingered a little longer than normal alone in the lobby, still not quite ready to face people. Once I've got it together, got my dance shorts on (good thing I went out of the ordinary and wore sweatpants to change out of...they were all muddy!) and moped a bit,  I went up stairs. After class was over and Nicky was taking me home she had me explain what happen, which by that point I could do while laughing (the parents of course had felt the need to tell her then I fell in a hole).  It wasn't a hole, it was a hill! Of course, there's a nice hole there &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;now&lt;/span&gt; where I tumbled through the gigantical god forsaken plants. I think I'm going to uproot them all tommorow. Just you wait and see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that would be the story.  That's gotta make the top of the list of all the stupid things I've done. Why does this happen to me? Ugh. It sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3892429217919220345?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3892429217919220345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3892429217919220345&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3892429217919220345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3892429217919220345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/this-makes-list-of-top-clutzy-moments.html' title='This makes the list of Top Clutzy Moments.'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-1764208154351447425</id><published>2007-10-08T20:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T21:21:59.709-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Effing Dance!!!</title><content type='html'>I'm going to hurt someone by the end of the year. Think I'm joking? Just try me. I'd like to break one of those bitches faces, I swear.  Oh...wow...somethings hard, go figure!! Then you friggen LEARN, idiot! Feeling tight? Try STRETCHING. And NO, 3 minutes in class once a week is not gonna get you splits. Neither are those 10 second stretches you do before whatever sports event your partaking in. And those of you who apparently have medical reasons? Then you get the doctor to effing help you! That's what their for. To HELP. If they're just saying "Hey, guess what, your screwed!" Then they're simply &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;screwing &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and you should get a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; doctor&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;And another thing, teachers can wear whatever the hell they wanna wear!! They ARE the teacher. When you know enough to be teaching the class, you can where whatever you want too! Until then, get over it. You will NOT shrivel up and die from a leotard. Believe, I thought it once too. And guess what, I'm still alive! (Well, alive enough to be pissed out of my mind...) No one cares how big you are. Whether your wearing a tight leotard or a tight tanktop, your gonna look the same. And as a matter of fact, black is supposed to be slimming, so whats the problem?&lt;br /&gt;You don't like the stuff we do in ballet? Then &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DON'T TAKE THE FUCKING CLASS&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;And obviously if you can't move your feet like that clutching a piece of metal for dear life, then how do you expect to do it center?!?!? The little things make up the big things, dearie. And the reason your "big things" suck is because your basics are crap!!&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm perfect. God, no. I'm far from perfect. I am in fact a really bad dancer (I'll never have grace, and I've learned to except that.) But thing is, I'm at class NOT complaining, trying to make what improvement I can! Sure, I have issues with pointe and my shoes getting to soft in the middle of class..But hey, guess what, I work my ass off almost every friggen day trying to STRENGTHEN my feet and ankles, to overcome the disgusting currently uncontolled flexiness as to stop myself from dancing on the tops of my feet and not bending my shoes so much (which is why they die in the middle of class...) AND, LOW AND BEHOLD, My effort is paying off! Yes, I have a long ways to go, but I can now plie and still be staying on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pointe, &lt;/span&gt;not my ankles. I was beginning to think I could never do a right split. Yes, I'm serious!! For my entire life I could never do a FULL right split. So I finally buckled down and practiced everyday. Yes, it was hard, and a pain in the ass (and a pain in the hamstring..hahaha...) but now I have OVER splits on the right! And I KNOW your not sitting down for even 30 minutes a day to seriously stretch (and if you are, I can still tell from seeing you in class that your not doing it RIGHT) and there's not  a chance in hell, heaven, or earth that I'm gonna waste my time trying to help you if you won't bother to do a thing yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Thankyou&amp;amp;&amp;amp; G'Night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**EDIT**&lt;br /&gt;I've decided I'm not done.&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not perfect. But I am NOT that stupid. I am not that lazy, inconsiderate, and immature. Sure, I've always considered myself to be an childish, slothful, air-headed bitch. But I swear they've beat me out. They have totally out sucked me. Didn't think it was possible, but there are indeed crappier people in the world than me. Huh. Didn't see that one coming. I may take my moms suggestion and quit. I'll sleep on it, but if I'm this pissed off tommorow I'm calling Sue and asking for a refund. This can't go on every week. Every 3 days out of the week actually...Well, my little kids aren't that bad. I actually like them. So 2 days. Each of those two days, I come home madder and madder. I'm losing my patience (I.E. the ability to keep my mouth shut) and eventually at this rate I'm going to lose all self control (I.E. The talent of keeping my fist at my side)&lt;br /&gt;OMG.&lt;br /&gt;I just realized, I sound like my brother used to ranting about sports. EXACTLY like him. Kill me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-1764208154351447425?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1764208154351447425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=1764208154351447425&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1764208154351447425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1764208154351447425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/effing-dance.html' title='Effing Dance!!!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3062980583038792042</id><published>2007-10-08T17:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T17:57:02.409-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You know your from Salamanca when...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Some things just don't change, and this is for all the Sally people who love it...even if you don't want to admit it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You tell people where you are from they give you a blank stare. You try to explain ‘south of Buffalo’ and they still stare at you as though they never realized people actually live on this side of the state, or anywhere in NY besides NYC for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. You can name everyone you graduated with, and everyone who is a year above you and a year below. Hell, you know practically everyone who went to high school with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. There was never a snow day, ever. You got up in the morning just to watch the name of every other school besides yours roll across the screen. The best you could hope for was ‘all after-school activities’ being cancelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Your whole class partied together after graduation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You go for a walk and are passed by 10 people you know, 5 of which pull over to ask if you need a ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Your teachers taught your parents too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. You can figure out that you are somehow related to 5 or more of your friends. You also know your aunt dated your best friends dad in high school and your dad dated another one of your friends mom. Try not to be too creeped out, its what happens when you live in a small town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Napoli is the most expensive pizza you have ever had, and every time you order the price seems to have gone up even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. You have hung out at Parkview because everyone you know works there, and while you are there you know half the people who are going through the lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. You have done a can drive for every single sports team/club/activity you’ve ever been in. You also know that Parkview is the worse place to do it because they are so damn picky about sorting by every single brand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. You wanna go to a ‘party’, and its not hard to find because there is only ever one party going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. And when you go there, you see the same five people who are at every party. It’s all good though, because it’s not a party without them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. 24hr. McDonalds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Unidogs at 2:00 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. You drink pop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Half of your graduating class goes to JCC and the other half goes to Fredonia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. You need anything besides food, you have to go to Olean or Jamestown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. You made a trip to the top of the parking garage when it was first built; actually you still go up there when you get bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. You have been pulled over and questioned by the police while in the State Park at 12am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. You know who Bucky was and knew someone who ‘saw’ him while he was loose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. You listen to the Big Pig even if you don’t like country because it’s the only station that will come in. Chances are you are listening to it because you like it though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. You have been to a country concert at Darien and don’t need any help finding everyone because you know where our ‘spot’ is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Prom was the biggest and most expensive dance of the year, and yet everyone complains about how bad the food is every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. You know what Moving Up Day is. When you were in 8th grade is was the shit. When you were a senior it was the shit, and you cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. You are a regular at the Spoon and Shelly knows what you are going to order before you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. When subway opened it was the best thing to come to town since sliced bread. You ate there all of the time because it was subway, and because it was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. You remember the Spinning Wheel and the Deli (great pizza), and when Karen’s was Fat John’s. You may have even arm wrestled Fat John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. You remember the Big Chill most likely because you worked there, or visited all of your friends who worked there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. You are a regular for wing night at the Pyramid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. You have had beef on weck at every graduation party/wedding/ funeral or family gathering you’ve been too, and you still love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Friday fish frys are the norm, and if you have ever worked anywhere they serve them you realize that everyone and their brother orders one on Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. You know that the Falling Leaves Festival is also known as ‘scum fest’ (but you still go anyway).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. You knew who was going to be valedictorian when you were in middle school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. You have heard and still hear rumors of Wal-Marts, Timmy Ho’s, an outlet mall, and every other store coming to town. You also know the ten different places where they are going to put one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. You ‘Gotta Riggata’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. You know what Jim Town is, and have driven around there when you are bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. You have gone tanning at a gas station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. You have been to a party on old 17.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. You remember everyone having their birthday party at the high school pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. You played T-ball and soccer with sponsors like ‘The Big Chill’, ‘O’Rourke’s Monuments’, and ‘Movie World’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. You remember getting the ‘free ice cream cone’ cards from John after your game and everyone went to the Chill. You also may have gone to Tony’s after your game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Going to the county fair is one of the highlights of the summer, you see everyone you know there and a lot of people you would rather not see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. You know what the demos are, and you go hoping you see a car catch on fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. You have refered to the high school as ‘Sally High’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. You know what the Rez is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Gas stations and smoke shops outnumber all other business in town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. You use Gunat more than the finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. You actually know what the Gunat sign is and have seen it printed on a t-shirt or someones car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. You know what and where The Junction is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. You call Rt. 417 "Old 17".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3062980583038792042?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3062980583038792042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3062980583038792042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3062980583038792042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3062980583038792042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/you-know-your-from-salamanca-when.html' title='You know your from Salamanca when...'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-261385602489490200</id><published>2007-10-08T11:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T12:02:08.148-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No no no no!</title><content type='html'>NO! People are coming here. Dang holiday! Not even an exciting holiday. I don't want people bothering me. My mom told me that I had to be nice to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everyone&lt;/span&gt;. I simply told her not if they piss me off. And I KNOW they are. I'll try, I really will. I can't help but have the nagging suspicion I'm going to be putting most my energys into holding back the urge to smack Mel. I promised her I wouldn't harm her. But that promise is feeling harder to keep as her arrival draws closer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blah. I don't WANT sandwiches. I'm going to attempt to have a veggie burger instead. One can hope!!! Blah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-261385602489490200?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/261385602489490200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=261385602489490200&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/261385602489490200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/261385602489490200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/no-no-no-no.html' title='No no no no!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-861564439916420061</id><published>2007-10-07T23:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:06:07.993-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop by? Comment!</title><content type='html'>So my profile count randomly jumped up by like 10. Who are you people?!?!?!? Really, I wanna know whos stalking me. So leave a comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;What Your Pizza Reveals&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourpizzasayaboutyouquiz/pizza.gif" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a hearty appetite. You are likely to complain if a restaurant has small portions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a very picky pizza eater.  Not any pizza will do. You fit in best in the Northeast part of the US.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You like food that's traditional and well crafted. You aren't impressed with "gourmet" foods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are dependable, loyal, and conservative with your choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are adventurous and independent. You should consider traveling to Thailand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stereotype that best fits you is geek. You're the type most likely to order pizza to avoid leaving your computer.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourpizzasayaboutyouquiz/"&gt;What Does Your Pizza Say About You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-861564439916420061?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/861564439916420061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=861564439916420061&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/861564439916420061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/861564439916420061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/stop-by-comment_07.html' title='Stop by? Comment!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-1943872557213286776</id><published>2007-10-07T21:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T18:06:17.549-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Exercise the Demons!</title><content type='html'>Ha. Yeah. So I totally tortured my little brother this morning. I chased him around flicking water on him yelling "The power of Christ compells you!" until he was hiding behind the couch sobbing. Muah ha ha. I made it up to him by striking a deal- he could play my gamecube if he cleaned my room. That worked out suprisingly well.&lt;br /&gt;Went grocery shopping today. I don't want anyone touching my food!!! Or my laundry...&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Speaking of which, I just remembered I'm supposed to be doing that right now..damn..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-1943872557213286776?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1943872557213286776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=1943872557213286776&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1943872557213286776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1943872557213286776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/exercise-demons.html' title='Exercise the Demons!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-792927640376770715</id><published>2007-10-07T20:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:05:47.248-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop by? Comment!</title><content type='html'>So my profile count randomly jumped up by like 10. Who are you people?!?!?!? Really, I wanna know whos stalking me. So leave a comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;What Your Pizza Reveals&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourpizzasayaboutyouquiz/pizza.gif" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a hearty appetite. You are likely to complain if a restaurant has small portions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a very picky pizza eater.  Not any pizza will do. You fit in best in the Northeast part of the US.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You like food that's traditional and well crafted. You aren't impressed with "gourmet" foods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are dependable, loyal, and conservative with your choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are adventurous and independent. You should consider traveling to Thailand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stereotype that best fits you is geek. You're the type most likely to order pizza to avoid leaving your computer.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourpizzasayaboutyouquiz/"&gt;What Does Your Pizza Say About You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-792927640376770715?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/792927640376770715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=792927640376770715&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/792927640376770715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/792927640376770715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/stop-by-comment.html' title='Stop by? Comment!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-4876865853611119111</id><published>2007-10-06T20:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T20:24:41.521-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't look down,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't look into the eyes of the world beneath you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't look down, you'll fall down,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You'll become their sacrifice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Right or wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Can't hold onto the fear that I'm lost without you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If I can't feel, I'm not mine,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm not real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The only one" - Evanesence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-4876865853611119111?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/4876865853611119111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=4876865853611119111&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4876865853611119111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/4876865853611119111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/dont-look-down-dont-look-into-eyes-of.html' title=''/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-6692532909555534543</id><published>2007-10-06T20:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T17:13:18.484-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Peanut Butter Jelly....#2</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZLGbGyqjqNI"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZLGbGyqjqNI" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-6692532909555534543?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/6692532909555534543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=6692532909555534543&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6692532909555534543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/6692532909555534543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/peanut-butter-jelly2.html' title='Peanut Butter Jelly....#2'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-2632727828700572117</id><published>2007-10-06T20:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T17:06:47.274-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What a useless day.</title><content type='html'>I've slept and cleaned. That's about it. I tried practicing piano, but the song made me sad and sleepy so I went to take a nap. Apparently there's pork for supper tonight. I HATE pork. It's nasty. Supposedly these pieces of pork are better than normal pork chops. Uhm...sorry, but pork is pork. I'd really rather just have one of my veggie burgers, but I already had one for lunch and we're low on mustard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really should shower tonight. My hair is in desperate need of washing, it's disgusting. I wonder if there's any conditioner... I lost my toothbrush, it's sad. I've pretty much just been doing the floride thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm barely sick any more! w00! It's about time I got better... My voice isn't completely back, but significantly better anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have made a realization....I'm a Tyra Banks fan!! Aaaahhh nooo! Kill me! I'm fan to NO ONE. However, no matter how much I've been denying it lately...It's true. I love her show! Both of them. The best thing ever was in that season of Top Model where she screamed at that one girl. That was amazing. As is the Family Guy spoof where that lizard jumps out of her and eats the model. HA. I have watched that clip on YouTube an uncountable number of times. Sadly, they took it down due to supposed "copyright infringments" Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*yawn*&lt;br /&gt;I have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt; to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-2632727828700572117?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/2632727828700572117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=2632727828700572117&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2632727828700572117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/2632727828700572117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/what-useless-day.html' title='What a useless day.'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3486765661352408869</id><published>2007-10-05T13:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T13:31:44.742-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peanut'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jelly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='butter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='banana'/><title type='text'>Peanut Butter Jelly!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/s8MDNFaGfT4"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/s8MDNFaGfT4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3486765661352408869?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3486765661352408869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3486765661352408869&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3486765661352408869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3486765661352408869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/peanut-butter-jelly.html' title='Peanut Butter Jelly!!!'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-3079697524087390257</id><published>2007-10-05T13:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T13:02:21.812-04:00</updated><title type='text'>There's no need to fear me!.....All that much...</title><content type='html'>My mother just forced me to call Mel and tell her it was safe to come here monday. Apparently she was convinced I was going to harm her in some way. Me? Nooooo...never.... So I call her, tell her she "need not fear the realm of the Gilman's" she says she doesn't fear the realm of the Gilman's, but "the Bizzy residing inside." I understand how she could think that, based on past experiences. Let's recall one in particular...:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;*rewind, approx. 1 year ago*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One late afternoon we we're having a conversation on the phone. About what? As if I remember. So for whatever reason she says something to piss me off...Oh, wait, I remember the conversation. She was trying intentionally to make me mad because I was in a crisis about not being mad about anything...uhm..yeah. Whatever she eventually came out with, crossed a line and I was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;pissed&lt;/span&gt;. I told her I was going to show up at her house and totally kill her for that. She's basically all "Yeah, sure." Nighttime roles around, and I'm down that end of town because of ballet. After class, (approx. 9pm) I walked over to her house. I knock on the door, which after a few moments she comes and answers. I allow a moment to pass for the fact that I was actually there to register, and then totally tackled her and pinned her to the ground. After smacking her a bit and screaming quite a lot, I then stood up, told her I was glad we had that discussion, and walked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Uhm....yeah. And I so told my mother that just a few minutes ago, she wasn't exactly thrilled. Ha. I love doing that. About a year (or longer, depending really...) after I've done something really ridiculous, I tell her. Simply because she likes to tell me on occasion how much of my life she knows. Uh huh. Sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, it's not even that I'm really mad at Mel. No, mad is completely the wrong thing. I've just had enough, and I'm carrying on with my life. I won't go into detail, it's really unnecessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is...dull. My cold finally seems to be letting up. Fever is down to 99.2. Yay! My headache is gone and I'm not blowing my nose every two seconds. Although even though my throat stopped hurting, I'm still having trouble talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little brother and nephew are being really...weird. They need to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a title for my uncostumed self this year for halloween. The only thing I can recall is the horseless horsman, with a head. I remember being a yankees fan..Need something new. But what??? Perhaps a mute. Haha. Or the Visible Woman. Hahahaha. I amuse myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a nap. Too much sleep lately, I'm beginning to miss my insomniatic ways. But I'm sure once I'm healthy again I'll be back to my freakishly-energized self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what's freakish? Every now and then I get the desire to eat paper. But rest assured, I don't indulge the desire. That's what ice is for! **chomp**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's end on this note:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i301/lemonsryellow/323128_large.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-3079697524087390257?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/3079697524087390257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=3079697524087390257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3079697524087390257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/3079697524087390257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/theres-no-need-to-fear-meall-that-much.html' title='There&apos;s no need to fear me!.....All that much...'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-688206317044374447.post-1165699369594322099</id><published>2007-10-04T16:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T17:08:23.199-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All around the mullberry bush</title><content type='html'>So I've decided an actual blog was in order. It's a boredom thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now Daryl's in harp-mode about the cat, because Ethan didn't want sausage. Of course it makes sense! **eye roll**&lt;br /&gt;For anyone who may be unaware, or just having a temporary lapse in IQ points, Daryl would be the male parental unit of the house. He likes to complain at people, and gets annoyed easily. Last weekend, the dark overlords were in Rochester while I had the house to myself. Me, being safety-savvy of course, locked the doors. I was a bit slow getting to them once everyone arrived home, and in that time Daryl ran from door to door (there's 3) pulling on each. Once I unlocked the front for everyone to come in, he starts yelling "WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE DOORS THAT THEY'RE NOT OPENING?!?!"&lt;br /&gt;Uhm...dude...I locked them. You do always tell me to do that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I just consumed a slice of pizza. I'm really torn over whether or not to get another one. I'm not really hungry. I just want it because I don't. If anything, I'm thirsty.  I'm severely lacking in caffeine today but this sickness  has made the coffee taste funny. I guess I could make some green tea (flavored with jasmine, w00!) but that'd require effort on my part. And who needs to exert effort??? Eh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi madre cut her hair today. Really, just randomly took the scissors and cut it into a...bob? I guess that's the most accurate thing I could hope to call it. I cut the back for her, it was vaguely awkward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of being sick! I'm definetly not getting any better. I started feeling ill a week ago, it's been downhill from there. I felt so stupid answering the phone today, since my voice is mostly gone. I pretty much sounded like I was dieing.  If only...HA.&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, it's not that I WANT to die. No no, at least not at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I WANT is that pizza. But I'm not hungry, and I don't even like that kind of pizza and I can't really taste it that well anyways. I always do this! I don't need to eat it, it's unnessacarry. If I'm not hungry then I shouldn't be eating. I ate like 3 or 4 ice cream sandwiches earlier. Really thats just an estimate. I wasn't even paying attention, nor was I hungry, nope. But they're one of the few things in the kitchen I'm capable of tasting. And so, I took full advantage of that. If somethings there, I feel compelled to eat it. Like those damn rasberry cookies. They were gross! But sitting right in front of me. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have nothing to do tonight. I was supposed to babysit, but April ended up getting the day off. So now I have no life. I wonder if I"ll find something to do this weekend. Prolly not, since I dragged myself out of the house last weekend. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;After&lt;/span&gt; falling asleep when I was supposed to be out front getting picked up. Haha yeaaaa.... Long story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Last weekend&lt;/span&gt; is a long story! Ugh. Really, the whole month was just exausting in so many ways. But guess what. It's October. It's like a breathe of fresh air. Mind you, fresh air that's deeply polluted with things like sulfur and whatnot but it sure beats deeply polluted air that's gone disgustingly stale. **nods** I'm being sincere, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm...vaguely irritated. Apparently more than likely for ballet (or was it pointe?) this year we're doing Rihanna's "Umbrella". Saints preserve us!!! I LIKE having functioning eardrums, thank-you very much I don't feel the need to abuse them when they've been so good to me. Really, that song is a crime against anyone who has any capability of hearing or at least good taste in music. &lt;br /&gt;The chorus haunts my mind, both at night and at day.  Turning dreams into nightmares and nightmares into a subconcious hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;ella ella eh eh ella ella&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallelujah, We have exericised the demons!!!! Praise the LORD, and may he have mercy on the obviously deranged soul of that songs creator!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*ahem*&lt;br /&gt;Glad to get the out of my system.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/688206317044374447-1165699369594322099?l=e-zibeth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/feeds/1165699369594322099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=688206317044374447&amp;postID=1165699369594322099&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1165699369594322099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/688206317044374447/posts/default/1165699369594322099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://e-zibeth.blogspot.com/2007/10/all-around-mullberry-bush.html' title='All around the mullberry bush'/><author><name>E-Zib</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15928964558398113791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_nOuLP4hOkSI/R6OW54qzJbI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nmfztz7CyN0/S220/DSC00869.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
