<?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-22422489</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:57:09.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotional Twister</title><subtitle type='html'>Just a little place to put my thoughts, however disorganized they might be.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>75</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-6121905347068189538</id><published>2009-04-30T04:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T04:16:20.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life goes on, oh blah dee blah da</title><content type='html'>Alex goes to her first formal this weekend.  I'll get pictures.  She's doing well in school, as always.  She and Kael got back together.  Weird, but that pleases me.  I didn't realize how much I liked that boy until she dropped him.  They're two peas in a pod, although she thinks she's a cleaner, tidier pea.  Hate to break it to her but EH!  Wrong!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John is John.  Always the same I suppose.  He's still doing the whole school thing but his study habits haven't changed and thus almost 9 months into it he's still pulling C's and D's.  I don't imagine he's going to get funding for next year.  He's dropped about 60 lbs!  At his heaviest he was weighing in at about 480lbs and in the last couple of years his weight has been coming off.  Now that he's taking medication for his diabetes, blood pressure and cholesterol he seems to be doing better.  I may actually talk to the doc about getting on the same cholesterol medication.  Wow, 34 years old talking about cholesterol medication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fine.  My life revolves around work (4 ten hour shifts, nights) and household duties.  I don't really do anything else.  Pay bills, grocery shop, parent, wife.  Yup that's me.  I'm probably depressed, I dunno.  I don't really care at this point, I'm just tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skyler is hurting and I'm wondering if we're being inhumane.  I'm not ready to give up yet and if we can keep him comfortable with medication then so be it.  I may ask the vet to up his medication to keep him more sedated.  Since it's his shoulder that's bugging him, he needs to stay off it.  Poor guy.  It hurts my heart because we can't even pick him up or carrying him or snuggle with him because of where he is hurting.  I can tell he's getting lonely, always having to be in his kennel right now.  But he's supposed to stay as inactive as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's enough for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-6121905347068189538?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/6121905347068189538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=6121905347068189538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/6121905347068189538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/6121905347068189538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2009/04/life-goes-on-oh-blah-dee-blah-da.html' title='Life goes on, oh blah dee blah da'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-3939145786417697159</id><published>2009-01-14T03:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T03:29:06.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry Mo</title><content type='html'>It was brought to my attention by a nice friend that I have NOT been updating.  Sorry but I didn't think anyone read really.  I'll update now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John's home.  We still have rough spots and I've been tempted a time or two to throw out "You don't like it?  LEAVE!"  But...we're a work in progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My job sucks at the moment.  I'm still working four 10's and the boss's son works three 12's.  We've picked up several new accounts and now my schedule is so packed that most nights I can't even get in more than a single 10 minute break.  I got shot down for a raise because of the economy.  But, at least I still have a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex is doing well.  She's a joy for everyone but her parents LOL.  For us she is the typical teenage.  Moody, self centered, self pitying, self loathing/self absorbed...yep the world revolves around her, according to her behavior.  But that's ok as long as she turns out ok in the end.  She and her boyfriend have been dating for over a year now and are still very happy with each other.  Any parent of a teenager can probably share my discomfort there.  I mean, I want her to be happy but it's a bit disconcerting that they are attached at the hip all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dogs are great great great!  Skyler turns 7 this month and Jesse turns 2.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-3939145786417697159?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/3939145786417697159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=3939145786417697159' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/3939145786417697159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/3939145786417697159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2009/01/sorry-mo.html' title='Sorry Mo'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-998522592412354587</id><published>2008-05-07T10:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T14:05:53.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Relax</title><content type='html'>&lt;a title="Meez 3D avatars and free games." href="http://www.meez.com/daionara"&gt;&lt;img alt="Meez 3D avatar avatars games" src="http://images.meez.com/user/5/0/7/8/4/7/2/5078472_bodyshot_300x400.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="VISIBILITY: hidden; WIDTH: 0px; HEIGHT: 0px" height="0" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/bHQ9MTIxMDE3OTY4NTU2OSZwdD*xMjEwMTc5NzMyMjA2JnA9MTI2MTEmZD*mbj1ibG9nZ2VyJmc9MQ==.jpg" width="0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-998522592412354587?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/998522592412354587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=998522592412354587' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/998522592412354587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/998522592412354587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2008/05/mom-on-strike.html' title='Relax'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-9165429942897740384</id><published>2008-03-31T23:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T23:17:23.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A collection of poetry</title><content type='html'>Ok so most of this is null and void at this point, but it's still pretty darn good.  I write poetry when I am feeling "open".  Whether it's sorrow or joy, I have times where I just need to write.  So I'm sharing some here.  A couple of blog readers who have known me for a while may remember some of this, maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Together again"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looks at her,&lt;br /&gt;with eyes of love.&lt;br /&gt;she is to Him,&lt;br /&gt;a gift from above.&lt;br /&gt;Together again,&lt;br /&gt;no tricks or lies.&lt;br /&gt;Together forever,&lt;br /&gt;no more goodbyes.&lt;br /&gt;He takes her arm,&lt;br /&gt;and leads her away.&lt;br /&gt;Never to wander,&lt;br /&gt;never to stray.&lt;br /&gt;she smiles at Him,&lt;br /&gt;and take his hand.&lt;br /&gt;Trusting as He guides her,&lt;br /&gt;to a new wonderous land.&lt;br /&gt;A place just for them,&lt;br /&gt;with happiness only.&lt;br /&gt;No more tears,&lt;br /&gt;they'll never be lonely.&lt;br /&gt;There is now ONE,&lt;br /&gt;where once there was two.&lt;br /&gt;One man and one woman,&lt;br /&gt;Just me, and just You.&lt;br /&gt;Bound of the soul,&lt;br /&gt;joined by the heart.&lt;br /&gt;What's now together,&lt;br /&gt;No one can part.&lt;br /&gt;Our love shines true,&lt;br /&gt;through the darkest of days.&lt;br /&gt;Guiding us now,&lt;br /&gt;and forever,&lt;br /&gt;always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Loves Wings"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I fell in love, it was like I'd been given wings.  I could fly into the heavens.  I could touch the sky.  I could soar through the clouds, laughing as they tickled my face.  With the love wings, I was able to fly to places I'd never seen.  I could do things I never thought possible.  I was an angel.  Love is a precious gift.  The gift of flight on loves wings is it be cherrished and used freely.  Love has left my life, my wings have been forcefully ripped from my body.  I wasn't allowed to land on safe ground first.  The wings were ripped away in mid flight, and I fell from the sky.  When I hit the ground I was broken.  Now I wander the earth, a wingless angel.  Forced to walk on saddened feet.  Battered and bruised of spirit.  Without my love wings, life is not so wonderful.  I am unable to go to those beautiful places.  Unable to do those wonderful things.  The gift of love was taken.  One day, love will come again.  It will come again on wings brighter, bigger and better than the ones I had before.  I will once again fly.  Higher than before, and to even better places.  Next time love comes, I'll be ready.  I will fly up, and touch God's face.  I will thank Him for my life, my love and everything that I am. Until then, I will learn to walk with grace.  So that when the time comes, I can fly like an angel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Woman"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Straining higher,&lt;br /&gt;reaching out,looking for perfection.&lt;br /&gt;Grasping hands,searching gazes,&lt;br /&gt;looking for perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twisting here,&lt;br /&gt;turning there,&lt;br /&gt;looking for perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second glances,&lt;br /&gt;sofly smiling,&lt;br /&gt;accepting satisfaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Yeah ok, enough introspection for one night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-9165429942897740384?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/9165429942897740384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=9165429942897740384' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/9165429942897740384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/9165429942897740384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2008/03/collection-of-poetry.html' title='A collection of poetry'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-7619431013267042343</id><published>2008-03-31T23:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T23:06:01.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny stuff</title><content type='html'>My Mom sent this to me years ago and I thought it was funny enough to re-post here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gentle Thoughts For The Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Birds of a feather flock together and crap on your car.&lt;br /&gt;2. There's always a lot to be thankful for if you take time to look for it. For example I am sitting here thinking how nice it is that wrinkles don't hurt.&lt;br /&gt;3. When I'm feeling down, I like to whistle. It makes the neighbor's dog run to the end of his chain and gag himself.&lt;br /&gt;4. If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.&lt;br /&gt;5. Don't assume malice for what stupidity can explain.&lt;br /&gt;6. A penny saved is a government oversight.&lt;br /&gt;7. The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right time, but also to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.&lt;br /&gt;8. The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight, because by then your body and your fat are really good friends.&lt;br /&gt;9. The easiest way to find something lost around the house is to buy a replacement.&lt;br /&gt;10. He who hesitates is probably right.&lt;br /&gt;11. If you think there is good in everybody, you haven't met everybody.&lt;br /&gt;12. If you can smile when things go wrong, you have someone in mind to blame.&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my "Outback Steakhouse" philosophy of the day is..."I'm honest about my weight but I've started lying about my height."  Hee hee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-7619431013267042343?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/7619431013267042343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=7619431013267042343' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/7619431013267042343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/7619431013267042343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2008/03/funny-stuff.html' title='Funny stuff'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-6266460894485673453</id><published>2008-03-31T22:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T23:01:23.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And now the end is near</title><content type='html'>And so I face the final curtain.&lt;br /&gt;My friend, I'll say it clear, I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.&lt;br /&gt;I've lived a life thats full.&lt;br /&gt;I've traveled each and every highway;&lt;br /&gt;And more, much more than this, I did it my way.&lt;br /&gt;Regrets, I've had a few;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, too few to mention.&lt;br /&gt;I did what I had to do&lt;br /&gt;And saw it through without exemption.&lt;br /&gt;I planned each charted course;&lt;br /&gt;Each careful step along the byway,&lt;br /&gt;But more, much more than this, I did it my way.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew&lt;br /&gt;When I bit off more than I could chew.&lt;br /&gt;But through it all, when there was doubt,&lt;br /&gt;I ate it up and spit it out.&lt;br /&gt;I faced it all and I stood tall;&lt;br /&gt;And did it my way.&lt;br /&gt;I've loved, I've laughed and cried.&lt;br /&gt;I've had my fill; my share of losing.&lt;br /&gt;And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing.&lt;br /&gt;To think I did all that;&lt;br /&gt;And may I say - not in a shy way,&lt;br /&gt;No, oh no not me,&lt;br /&gt;I did it my way.&lt;br /&gt;For what is a man, what has he got?&lt;br /&gt;If not himself, then he has naught.&lt;br /&gt;To say the things he truly feels;&lt;br /&gt;And not the words of one who kneels.&lt;br /&gt;The record shows I took the blows -&lt;br /&gt;And did it my way!&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Frank (Sinatra).  That song just seems to fit my divorce situation.  I have no regrets when I look back.  I did my best and made some mistakes but like Frank says, too few to mention.  I loved with my whole heart, I gave all I had to give.  In the end, it wasn't enough but I'm proud to know that I gave my all.  So from this point forward I am going to try and stop looking back at what I've lost, and try to look forward to what lies ahead and what I may gain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John will always be in my heart and I really wouldn't want to change that.  He was my prince when I needed one.  I just didn't know when I kissed the frog, that his prince status would only be temporary.  So onward and upward and may we both find what we're missing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-6266460894485673453?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/6266460894485673453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=6266460894485673453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/6266460894485673453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/6266460894485673453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2008/03/and-now-end-is-near.html' title='And now the end is near'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-4059531752868249669</id><published>2008-02-04T09:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T09:12:09.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a lousy blogger</title><content type='html'>But then, I don't really get read so I suppose it doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Work Stuff&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)  Patrol sucks.  Too many people don't take me seriously.  I hate that. &lt;br /&gt;2)  I've been in two accidents, neither my fault.  The first one involved a guy taking a corner without looking and he hit me.  No real damage.  The second one involved a drunk who backed into me.  Again no real damage.  But that bites anyway because it's time out of my night which puts me behind in my patrol duties.&lt;br /&gt;3)  One account in a bad neighborhood just got worse.  They fired the maintenance guy.  This is the guy I have been calling "my stalker" because he lurked everywhere when I was there locking up and just watched me.  But he used to come tell me what he thought I needed to be doing until I finally stopped being polite.  Now the boss and his son (my Captain) are having to work there ARMED during the day and yet they expect me to go in at NIGHT and lock up alone.  That's been fun.&lt;br /&gt;4)  Same account, different problem.  Hispanic men who have no respect for my authority.  They won't leave the hot tub area or the indoor basketball court when I ask them to so I can lock up.  It can take up to 10 minutes for them to leave.  Stupid assholes!&lt;br /&gt;5)  Different account.  Senior Citizens mostly.  They get drunk and then don't want to leave when it's time to close up.  Assholes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Personal Life&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geez, just don't ask.  It's a non stop trainwreck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-4059531752868249669?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/4059531752868249669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=4059531752868249669' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/4059531752868249669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/4059531752868249669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-lousy-blogger.html' title='I&apos;m a lousy blogger'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-1417299916946562861</id><published>2007-12-01T08:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T08:38:11.372-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Elaboration On My Chubby Chaser Comment</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Just for Wendy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;From the time I was first getting interested in boys, I've been a chubby chaser.  Though I wouldn't have known it was called that, at the time.  My first crush was on Daniel Brown when I was 6 and he was 7.  We were "Crushes" all through the elementary school age though we only saw each other during the summers at day camp.  He was a chubby boy.  In middle school it was Alan Thornhill my 8th grade year.  He was dreamy (to me).  Again, a chubby guy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;On tv I've always loved John Goodman.  I wanted to marry him just so I could snuggle up to him like a teddy bear.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I married John for crying out loud.  When I fell in love with him he was already about 400lbs (but at 6'4" he carried it well).  80lbs later and I'm not impressed anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;My point was this...even when I was a tiny thing...weighing in at a whopping 114lbs (pre children and depression), I liked the chubby boys.  So...I'm a chubby chaser.  Heck even down at the bar, the guy I totally crushed on (Adam) is a bit round in the middle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-1417299916946562861?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/1417299916946562861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=1417299916946562861' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/1417299916946562861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/1417299916946562861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/12/elaboration-on-my-chubby-chaser-comment.html' title='An Elaboration On My Chubby Chaser Comment'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-3689457303602879123</id><published>2007-11-24T07:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T07:24:54.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Shocking Secrets Revealed</title><content type='html'>So my friend &lt;a href="http://indigomoonstar.blogspot.com/"&gt;expy&lt;/a&gt; had this on her blog and said if we read it, we have to do it.  So I have to do it.  Apparently I have to name seven random/weird things about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(the rules)&lt;br /&gt;1. Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog. (did this one)&lt;br /&gt;2. Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself. (yup, check)&lt;br /&gt;3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs. (Dunno how to do that one)&lt;br /&gt;4. Let each person know that they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog (Dunno 7 people to tage anyway)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My littlest toes are half the size of the next one up and have almost no nail on them.  They remind me of Herman (the red monster from Looneytunes) in the way they are shaped.&lt;br /&gt;2. I love Bull Terriers (Spuds Mackenzie dog) and want to own a miniature one someday.&lt;br /&gt;3. I prefer animals to humans and would actually rather hit a person than a deer.&lt;br /&gt;4. I think if we have a death penalty then the judge/jury who sentences someone to death should be the only ones charged with carrying out the sentence.&lt;br /&gt;5. I consider myself a Judeo-Christian since after all, Jesus was a Jew.&lt;br /&gt;6. I'm apparently a chubby chaser.&lt;br /&gt;7. I believe that my deceased furbaby Abbigail comes back to visit me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-3689457303602879123?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/3689457303602879123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=3689457303602879123' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/3689457303602879123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/3689457303602879123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/11/seven-shocking-secrets-revealed.html' title='Seven Shocking Secrets Revealed'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-536082194052097239</id><published>2007-10-28T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T10:05:29.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Muddle muddle, toil and trouble.  Cauldron boil and Cauldron bubble.</title><content type='html'>Yeah long title, I know.  But it's been running through my head for days.  It's so strange that as I grow more confident in my position in life, things get even weirder with John.  I have GOT to blog more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For about a month now, John and I have been talking.  He says he knows he messed up, that it was all he could do at the time.  He was miserable and was just tired of being miserable and so he bailed, badly.  Yep, duh.  But now he says he loves me.  After MONTHS of telling me he doesn't, now I'm supposed to believe those were lies and this is the truth.  *Sigh*  I'm too tired to figure it out anymore, you know?  I love him too, he knows that.  But without trust, love just isn't enough.  So he's desperate to come "home" and I'm desperate for him to understand that my home isn't his home.  He'll be done driving truck at the end of December and STILL hasn't talked to his folks to see if they'll take him in until he saves enough money for a place.  I think he's convinced that I'll take him back.  Well, I won't.  Not like this, not now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my independence.  I like coming and going when and where I want, without having to bounce it off a husband.  If I feel social, I can hit my bar and hang with my friends.  Yep, I have my very own version of "Cheers" where everybody knows my name LOL.  If I don't feel social I can stay at home and crochet, watch tv, read a book or play online.  Again without having to talk it over with a husband.  I like knowing that where my money goes, I put it.  Even when I have no one but myself to be mad at for foolish spending, at least I know where it went and when it went there.  I like fixing ONE meal at dinner because Alex and I will eat the same things.  Sure, there are things I miss about having a husband here but....(Sorry Teresa) that's what BOB is for hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno.  I hate feeling like I'm going to hurt John.  I am NOT a doormat but I am a fairly nice person and I just like for everyone to be happy.  But this time, I'm NOT putting myself last.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-536082194052097239?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/536082194052097239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=536082194052097239' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/536082194052097239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/536082194052097239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/10/muddle-muddle-toil-and-trouble-cauldron.html' title='Muddle muddle, toil and trouble.  Cauldron boil and Cauldron bubble.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-80126632171247837</id><published>2007-08-10T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T01:24:53.971-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Muddling Through</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rr2SkBZtgEI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Q2ajUe9VBp4/s1600-h/SophnAl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097391500802490434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rr2SkBZtgEI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Q2ajUe9VBp4/s320/SophnAl.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#6600cc;"&gt;This is a picture of happiness.  My girls, together.  I love them dearly and I wish they could spend more time together.  Seeing them like this makes me happy.  Seeing Alex so happy makes me happier.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#6600cc;"&gt;We're trying very hard to just make things as normal as possible, but it's hard with this divorce looming over our heads.  John has done a fairly good job of playing me for a fool over the past few months and I bought it all, until now.  I don't have anything left to give.  There's nothing left but a giant void filled with grief, bitter tears and an overwhelming sense of loss.  I'm just so sad things had to go this way, really very sad.  Who expected it, oh probably everyone.  I do have the pleasure of knowing that everyone thought I'd wise up and dump him.  HA!  Not that smart I guess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6600cc;"&gt;The biggest catalyst to be finished was Alex.  He's broken her heart for the last time and I wouldn't be any kind of mother if I continued to allow it to happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6600cc;"&gt;So we're muddling through as best we can.  Prayers needed and appreciated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-80126632171247837?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/80126632171247837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=80126632171247837' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/80126632171247837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/80126632171247837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/08/muddling-through.html' title='Muddling Through'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rr2SkBZtgEI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Q2ajUe9VBp4/s72-c/SophnAl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-46108146735569187</id><published>2007-07-09T18:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T18:04:54.697-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why can't I title my post?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-46108146735569187?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/46108146735569187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=46108146735569187' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/46108146735569187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/46108146735569187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/07/why-cant-i-title-my-post.html' title=''/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-5909622767357177266</id><published>2007-06-23T04:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T01:24:54.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Have a little time on my hands...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;so I thought I'd blog a bit more. Why not, right? I also realized that this blog is about the only place I didn't post a picture of how I began to reclaim my identity. Here, take a look.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rn0MY1LfzoI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9JkvtBL-8qM/s1600-h/dooutside.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079229575475482242" style="WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 209px" height="239" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rn0MY1LfzoI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9JkvtBL-8qM/s320/dooutside.jpg" width="214" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yup, bye bye long hair HAHAHAHA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well actually, I'm growing it back out a bit but this time I'm going to have layers instead of having it all one length and I'm not letting it grow as long.  I kind of miss my curls a bit.  We'll see.  Currently it's in the weird grow out do I cut it or leave it alone stage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Uhm, still singing kareoke.  As a matter of fact I have a pretty decent group of friends that I have met through my kareoke bar.  I don't drink or anything, just sing.  It seems like those of us that can actually carry a tune have gravitated together into an awesome bunch.  Hey hey, for the first time in my life I belong to the IN crowd.  WHEEE!!!  I'm having a blast where that is concerned.  It's like my own little Cheers, where everybody knows my name and they're always glad I came.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas manana (more tomorrow).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rn0MY1LfzoI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9JkvtBL-8qM/s1600-h/dooutside.jpg"&gt;&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/22422489-5909622767357177266?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/5909622767357177266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=5909622767357177266' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/5909622767357177266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/5909622767357177266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/06/have-little-time-on-my-hands.html' title='Have a little time on my hands...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rn0MY1LfzoI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9JkvtBL-8qM/s72-c/dooutside.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-6659038389767567752</id><published>2007-06-22T05:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T01:24:54.328-08:00</updated><title type='text'>General update</title><content type='html'>Alrighty, I figure it's time for an update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work-working 6 or 7 days (nights) a week. Busy busy bee, taking as many hours as they'll give me. I hate that I have no real days off, hate that I spend so much time away from home but I have to take care of my family alone now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personal-FINALLY to the point where I am NOT in love with John anymore. I actually saw him last night and thought, "YUCK! I married that?!?" So that's a huge step in the right direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex-Graduated 8th grade with honors, won herself a "Presidential Award" third year running. Go my girl, go!!! She's all attitude anymore, but with the divorce and all, I think it's normal. Plus her being nearly 14 doesn't help. Here's what I see daily...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rnu_plLfznI/AAAAAAAAAAk/4T-fdLEfwQY/s1600-h/daaaaaaaaang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078863725866241650" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rnu_plLfznI/AAAAAAAAAAk/4T-fdLEfwQY/s320/daaaaaaaaang.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dogs-Skyler and Jesse are learning to get along.  Jesse has all the appropriate instincts regarding respecting the alpha but Skyler has issues BEING alpha.  This means that he ends up a bit more pushed around than he should be, though we're working on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much here but I'm tired.  Just thought I'd let you know I am still alive LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-6659038389767567752?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/6659038389767567752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=6659038389767567752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/6659038389767567752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/6659038389767567752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/06/general-update.html' title='General update'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eWmaeAmCqOU/Rnu_plLfznI/AAAAAAAAAAk/4T-fdLEfwQY/s72-c/daaaaaaaaang.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-2867565717078272092</id><published>2007-05-15T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T08:09:29.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged</title><content type='html'>My friend Kat tagged me on her blog, so I'm supposed to tell you some stuff about me.  I'd be more enthusiastic about it but right now, I'm tired and sad.  But still, it's cool that she thought of me so I can't let her down, right?  So here goes, ten things about me that you may not know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My littlest toes have almost no nail.  They remind me of baby chickens.&lt;br /&gt;2. There's not an animal on this planet that I wouldn't pet, hug, or talk to.&lt;br /&gt;3. My best friend in the whole world was a cat.&lt;br /&gt;4. I talk to myself, even designing whole stories or conversations I wish I could have with people.&lt;br /&gt;5. I think people who judge on physical appearances have weak minds.&lt;br /&gt;6. I like most animals more than I like most people.&lt;br /&gt;7. I'm not who people think I am.&lt;br /&gt;8. I like vanilla yogurt better than just about anything else in the world.&lt;br /&gt;9. Rice, tuna and ceasar dressing eating all mixed together, make me happier than sex.&lt;br /&gt;10. I'm still in love with my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there ya go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-2867565717078272092?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/2867565717078272092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=2867565717078272092' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/2867565717078272092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/2867565717078272092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/05/tagged.html' title='Tagged'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-7538602041972838670</id><published>2007-04-24T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T00:41:22.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forever changed</title><content type='html'>My life yesterday became forever changed.  My husband filed for divorce.  It came as a complete shock to me as he was still telling me he loves me.  Just days, or maybe a week ago, he was talking about how he used to say he'd never get married again and just look at him now, happily married.  Now he tells me that he hasn't been happy for a while now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wondering if it could be as simple as my not having sex with him the last time he came home.  Maybe I made him feel bad somehow.  Maybe it's not really about me at all.  I don't know.  I've spent 7 years of my life with this man.  I thought I knew him.  I thought he knew me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, we never really knew anything at all.  Maybe something good will come out of this, maybe (I'm only saying it here dear blog) he'll change his mind and come home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-7538602041972838670?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/7538602041972838670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=7538602041972838670' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/7538602041972838670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/7538602041972838670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/04/forever-changed.html' title='Forever changed'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-5315661972387289907</id><published>2007-04-03T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T08:00:38.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories are bittersweet.</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking this week, of things I did when I stayed with my Grandparents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was this tree that split about 5 feet from the ground from one trunk to two. It was a perfect split for an elementary schoolgirls bottom to fit in. I spent many hours in that tree reading books and day dreaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember going out to Grandma's garden with her to get fresh green onions. She grew them and they were always washed and the root ends cut off. Then she'd put them on a plate and put them on the table. It must have been every dinner they'd be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma's sewing room used to have hippy beads instead of a door. In that room was a doll that I spent a lot of time playing with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember bread and butter for snacks when I got home from school. The smell in the kitchen when Grandma cooked. Her laugh. It's breaking my heart that I am forgetting the sound of her laugh already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember Grandpa's homemade bird houses and bird feeders and filling the feeders all the time. Hummingbirds coming into the house. The smell of salt water because they were within a couple block of the bay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa was always quiet but ready to praise and hug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe how much pain my heart is still in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-5315661972387289907?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/5315661972387289907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=5315661972387289907' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/5315661972387289907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/5315661972387289907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/04/memories-are-bittersweet.html' title='Memories are bittersweet.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-117072796722715050</id><published>2007-02-05T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T18:12:47.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribute to my Grandparents.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6658/2280/1600/566382/My%20Angels.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6658/2280/320/538125/My%20Angels.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Stan and Marge Jones, my Grandparents.  I loved them more than anyone else on earth probably.  They loved me without condition, without thought.  They just loved me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;Gram left us on October 18, 2006.  Grandpa left us on February 04, 2007.  They would have celebrated thier 60th wedding Anniversary in March.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;With Grandpa's passing an era has ended.  My home is gone.  I always thought home was where my Mom is.  Nope, home was where my Grandparents were.  I'll miss them so much.  I love them so much.  I hope that I can continue on the path that makes them proud.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-117072796722715050?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/117072796722715050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=117072796722715050' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/117072796722715050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/117072796722715050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/02/tribute-to-my-grandparents.html' title='Tribute to my Grandparents.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-117072772792060596</id><published>2007-02-05T18:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T18:13:31.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye Grandpa</title><content type='html'>My sweet Grandpa passed away yesterday. I just talked to him on Saturday and told him how much I loved him and he said he loved me too and that I was a good girl, a good granddaughter. I'm going to miss him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-117072772792060596?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/117072772792060596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=117072772792060596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/117072772792060596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/117072772792060596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/02/goodbye-grandpa.html' title='Goodbye Grandpa'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-117023516898934901</id><published>2007-01-31T01:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T01:19:28.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dang it all, I had to go and do that letter thing</title><content type='html'>Sorry y'all.  I got the porn spam in my comment section.  Now I've had to go and add that letter verification thing.  I didn't want that porn stuff poluting my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-117023516898934901?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/117023516898934901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=117023516898934901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/117023516898934901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/117023516898934901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/01/dang-it-all-i-had-to-go-and-do-that.html' title='Dang it all, I had to go and do that letter thing'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-116979649036326766</id><published>2007-01-25T23:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-25T23:28:10.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The ring</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/mygift.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/mygift.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yep, that's it.  "THE" ring.  Ain't it purty?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-116979649036326766?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/116979649036326766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=116979649036326766' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116979649036326766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116979649036326766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/01/ring.html' title='The ring'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-116797209153488035</id><published>2007-01-04T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T20:41:31.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now for everything else.</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I joined Curves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;John bought me a gorgeous ring (will post pictures once I get it back from the jeweler).  It's being sized and was supposed to be done today, but now won't be done until Saturday.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My brother is still in and out of the hospital with health issues.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-116797209153488035?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/116797209153488035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=116797209153488035' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116797209153488035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116797209153488035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/01/now-for-everything-else.html' title='Now for everything else.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-116797186297124477</id><published>2007-01-04T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T20:39:08.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As The twister spins...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;First things first...PROMOTION!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Yup, I got a promotion. It's the first time I've ever gotten one and for the most part I am pleased, especially since it came with a hefty raise (ok so for me $.70 is hefty). I'm a Sergeant now. Heck I even have to sign all of my paperwork with Sgt. preceding my name. On top of that, I've been named "Onsite Supervisor" for the Salem District. This means that ALL stationary posts fall under my watch. The Captain doesn't have to handle the onsite crap as well as the patrol crap anymore. So this means that not only am I working two posts (one place over the weekend and a second place Monday nights) as usual, but I'm "on call" to deal with anything that comes up on my off days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first challenge came Monday. The client I work for on Monday's requested a change in the paperwork. They weren't specific as to why or exactly what except to say, "We want to know who is coming in and out and why...". But they did say that they had no problem with and in fact liked, my paperwork. Thus the office has decided to make it simple..."Andrea, talk to the other two officers and get this paperwork thing settled." Joy. The male employee took it really well and likes the challenge. I NEVER thought that the way I did my paperwork was challenging, but whatever floats his boat. I write down the time the trucks come in, the truck number and the number of trailers they bring in as well as the number on each trailer. If a contractor comes in, I write down what time he's in, what he did and when he left. Sounds simple enough. But this guy finds it challenging. The most important detail is that he claimed he didn't have any company issue paperwork, so he'd created his own on his computer. I gave him some paperwork. The Captain asked that I go back last night and help the male officer because he was confused. We got things settled easily but I was a bit shocked. He had a HUGE stack of company issue paperwork. He said he found it mixed in with some other stuff at his home. OY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know that those of you who read here have heard all about the female officer that I've butted heads with at my weekend post. I'm her boss now too. I gave her the same speech I gave the male officer, showed her how to do the paperwork right. Come to find out SHE'S the reason they've demanded a change in paperwork. She wrote down the basics that we're all to write down when we come on shift, and that was it. She didn't write down when the trucks came in or out, didn't document that the contractors were there...nothing. I'll break our last meeting down like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Her (in Purple)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Me (in pink)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I do it like the boss showed me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I see. Well, this is how it needs to be done now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Do I get a raise now, since they want all this extra stuff?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;It's not extra. This is how it's supposed to have been done all along.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Oh. Well this is the only place you're my boss right? Not the other place?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;No, I am the supervisor for ALL stationary accounts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Oh. Did you get a raise?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I've already mentioned to you that wage discussion is against company policy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;So what, now I get a write up or something?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;She's difficult and I suspect she'll quit soon. Works for me. I'll pick up her Tuesday night shift here locally, the male officer can get her Sunday night shift and we can fill her Fri/Sat shift with someone else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-116797186297124477?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/116797186297124477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=116797186297124477' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116797186297124477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116797186297124477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2007/01/as-twister-spins.html' title='As The twister spins...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-116579889516477635</id><published>2006-12-10T16:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T17:01:35.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Being sicks bites the big butt</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I've had this weird cold for a freakin' &lt;strong&gt;WEEK&lt;/strong&gt; already!  I'm tired of being sick.  I'm not sleeping well because the stupid cold is in my chest now and I can't breath.  If I'm not better by Wednesday then I have to go see the doctor.  I soooooo don't want to do that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;My Grandpa is ill.  He was in the hospital for several days last week.  I guess he'd had some water retention that wasn't going away with medication, fluid around his heart and when they did an "Upper GI" (dunno what that is exactly), they found bleeding in his intestines too. He needed what he calls "patching up" there to stop the bleeding and he had a blood transfusion.  I'm scared for him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-116579889516477635?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/116579889516477635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=116579889516477635' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116579889516477635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116579889516477635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/12/being-sicks-bites-big-butt.html' title='Being sicks bites the big butt'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-116497510703243420</id><published>2006-12-01T03:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T04:11:47.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And so, it goes on...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Life I mean.  I just keep waking up.  It would seem more appropriate for a life shattering event like my Gram's death would at least stop the world for a while.  But it doesn't.  Instead it just throws more shit into the wind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;My brother had a massive heart attack.  Yah you read me right, my BROTHER.  He's 39.  MASSIVE HEART ATTACK.  Hello meth, you should come with warning labels.  What's that?  You do?  Oh yeah, on all the chemical bottles you're made from!  Der, wonder why the nimrod didn't think first?  Oh, because he's stupid.  Yah, I forgot sorry.  Back to the story.  So he has a massive heart attack while cruising around at the mall in his town.  He was even walking, which since he's got a prosthetic limb isn't impossible, but it's impressive.  He's a selfish, lazy bastard.  I'd have thought the pity he'd get while cruising in his wheelchair would have been more up his alley.  Wow, can we say unresolved anger issues?  Huh.  So, he died.  Yep, DIED.  Fortunately for him, the paramedics were able to bring him back.  A couple of days later, he has a triple bypass operation.  He's home within a week of his near fatal heart attack.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;Mom's sweetie birds Sunny and Baby have passed away.  I think it's unfair that my Mom is having all this crap heaped on her.  She's a little woman, with little shoulders.  This is a heavy load to carry.  I help.  I'm great at carrying burdens.  She says thanks for worrying about her, but she's fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;Fine.  She's fine.  I'm fine.  The whole f*cking world is fine.  I hate the word fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;What I am is angry.  Angry that my Gram is gone and Tre was given yet ANOTHER chance.  See, this was his second heart attack.  He also had that septic infection.  Three times now we've heard, "We're not sure he'll survive this."   Three?  What happend to three strikes and you're out?  Ah well, I'm not God.  So I sit and try to understand His wisdom.  I can't, so I suppose I should follow my own rule, "Let go and let God."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;John'll be home for a few days (yep he's driving long haul in case I didn't mention that".  He leased a truck, I am simply less than joyful with that decision made without discussing it with me first.  He's got court later on today for a lame-ass monkey traffic citation.  Not a good topic to discuss because I'd like to feed that State Trooper to a rabid dog, while he (the cop) is still concious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;So, this is life going on.  Whee.  Ain't it fun?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;Oh, some good stuff.  Alex is still getting good grades.  I'd say great but she said she doesn't think she's got another straight A report card coming.  She thinks there are a few B's on there.  That's ok I reckon.  She audition for and made "Spotlight".  That's the middle school's "Elite" drama class.  Of course I think it's crap that they make you audition for a CLASS.  If she hadn't made it, she'd have had to wait until next year in high school to take drama.  They only offer Drama I and Drama II at her school as regular classes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;Anyhow, back to life going on.  Ciao.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-116497510703243420?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/116497510703243420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=116497510703243420' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116497510703243420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116497510703243420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/12/and-so-it-goes-on.html' title='And so, it goes on...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-116168364925266970</id><published>2006-10-24T02:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T02:54:09.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss you Grandma</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You left&lt;/span&gt; this world last Wednesday (October 18, 2006), and it's a darker place now.  I never got to see you again, to hug you or touch you.  I can never call you again and hear, "Well hey darlin'!".  I hope that you really knew how much you meant to me.  You were the only one who never made me doubt that I belong.  I was blessed because my life had you in it.  It's so hard to know that I can't talk with you anymore.  You never got to meet my husband or my dog.  Ahhh Grandma, what am I going to do without you?  I'm so sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom comes home tomorrow and I know you wouldn't want me to fall apart in front of her so I'm trying desperately to hold it together.  She's been so strong through this, you'd be proud of her.  She's really trying to focus on the fact that you aren't hurting anymore, you aren't sick and you aren't smoking.  I think heaven is a no smoking kind of place, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gram, I promise to do everything I can to be the best person I can be every day.  I know, or at least I hope, you're watching over me always.  I love you so much Grandma.  I just really hope you knew that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-116168364925266970?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/116168364925266970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=116168364925266970' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116168364925266970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/116168364925266970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-miss-you-grandma.html' title='I miss you Grandma'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115806636079082953</id><published>2006-09-12T05:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T06:06:00.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>9/11/01 (Five Years Later)</title><content type='html'>I remember.  I had to wait until now to post about it because I worked yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was driving my daughter to school and listening to the radio.  I heard them say something about the Twin Towers.  I thought, "is it the anniversary of the day someone put bombs in the garage there?"  So when I got home I turned on the tv.  Just in time to catch the second plane hit.  I can't remember what I was wearing, simply that it was something I'd thrown on.  But I remember dropping to the floor in absolute shock.  I stayed glued to the television and watched those beautiful towers.  I saw people jumping out of windows and was horrified.  I was still thinking to myself, "but if they just wait...."  And then, it happened.  The second tower fell, and the first soon followed.  It solidified in my mind at that moment, "Those people knew there was no way out."  Which was followed quickly with, "How many innocent people just died because some people don't like our government?"  I sat and sobbed.  I had to work that night, and I took my radio with me so that I could listen.  I took one of my emergency candles out of my emergency kit in the car and lit it.  That candle continued to get lit every day until they'd declared that there were no more survivors to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched the coverage of the Pentagon and I remember being sort of numb and thinking, "Well at least not as many people died there." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then they talked about that 4th plane, the one that crashed before it reached it's destination.  I prayed that it wasn't an "accidental dump" by the stupid terrorists but that perhaps some brave person or persons had managed to turn the tables at the last minute.  That's exactly what we all found out later had happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two brothers in the Marines.  The eldest narrowly escaped being sent over to Iraq during the Gulf War.  But he's in Iraq now, for the third time.  The younger brother has been over once and is scheduled to go over again soon.  I worry about all our soldiers there.  I mourn with the families left behind when beloved soliders are killed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm disgusted that our president used yesterday as an excuse to justify his personal vendetta against Iraq.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115806636079082953?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115806636079082953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115806636079082953' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115806636079082953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115806636079082953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/09/91101-five-years-later.html' title='9/11/01 (Five Years Later)'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115737039672411546</id><published>2006-09-04T04:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T04:46:36.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My hero died today.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/1600/Steve.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/320/Steve.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; He was probably the most awesome man I never got to meet, and was without a doubt my hero.  He lived each day of his life to the fullest, doing what he loved.  He was a devoted and outspoken advocate for animal rights and conservation.  He loved the normally unlovable creatures of the earth.  He was a loving husband and a proud father.  The legacy he leaves behind is amazing, and the footsteps left to fill are large ones.  There was so much more to be done, sadly he can't help us see the bigger picture anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is heavy with grief for his family, for myself and for the world.  I believe we've lost the modern day Noah.  I'm sure that every animal waiting on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge cried out for Joy when he strolled over.  They have thier friend with them.  But there are tears of sadness here.  All his animal friends at Australia Zoo have lost someone very special and I'm sure their little hearts are broken too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest in peace Steve.  You were loved.  You are honored and you are greatly missed already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since he's not here to say it, I'm going to do it for him....."HA!  Told you the crocs wouldn't get me!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115737039672411546?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115737039672411546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115737039672411546' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115737039672411546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115737039672411546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/09/my-hero-died-today.html' title='My hero died today.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115711451742101823</id><published>2006-09-01T05:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T05:41:57.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An update again?  Already?  Ok fine!</title><content type='html'>About Me.  Well of course I start with me, it's my blog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I'm really not all that interesting.  I can't seem to focus right now for some reason.  Reading is about the only thing that I can focus on for any extended period of time.  Probably because a book seems to take me away from myself, or something.  TV is boring me, crocheting is a pain because I have this half finished project eatin away at my subconcious SCREAMING, "Finish me dammit!"  But I really don't want to do it right now, too hot.  Sewing is a drag because I'm just learning and trying to sew in a straight line is HARD.  Not to mention actually putting two pieces of fabric together and making them stay together, not having one drag or slide out of place...HARD!  I want to buy some cute baby quilted panels for a couple friends who are having babies.  You know the ones that are just a cute picture or something, that I just have to sew a binding on?  Well I want to put that nice satin ribbon type binding on them.  Then, it's sort of bought and sort of made because I sewed something.  But my practice one...UGLY.  I need help.  Lost the number of the person who said she'd help me.  Probably threw it out because it was written on an old reciept in my wallet.  OY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come I can be a totally strict, grumpy parent and yet still give my child permission to put blue streaks in her hair.  Do you think she's caught on that her Mom is nuts?  Hope not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About Alex.  As I said above, the child will be returned to me with Smurf hair.  Or maybe just smurf colored hair.  Dunno, but I'll find out Sunday.  Just streaks though, hopefully they don't go totally nuts with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's all set for school.  I think it's a raging drag that the extent of the new clothes she got is...two pair of jeans and a pair of shoes.  That's it.  Thankfully Katie (my awesome favorite niece) gave Al a BUTTLOAD of clothing.  Katie's stuff is always nearly new looking.  Alex LOVES to get clothes from Katie because they are always, "In style".  But still, I'd like to have gotten her a few more things.  Alex is taking a totally awesome class first semester, "Crime Scene Investigation".  She's really stoked about it.  She also got to be TA for her all time favorite teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About John.  Can we get a WOOT WOOT for Big Daddy?  His blood sugar is under control totally.  He's been taking his meds (hold on while I remind him LOL).  We're just waiting for our first traffic court date regarding the light bar, and then a doctors appointment.  Then John is on his way back to driving long haul.  And I can reclaim my bathroom, but we're not talking about me here LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About Skyler.  He's pretty much back to normal.  There are good days and not so good days, but that's normal with any animal I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There.  I updated!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115711451742101823?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115711451742101823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115711451742101823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115711451742101823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115711451742101823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/09/update-again-already-ok-fine.html' title='An update again?  Already?  Ok fine!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115552434640175761</id><published>2006-08-13T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-13T19:59:06.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I suppose an update is in order.</title><content type='html'>I haven't blogged in a while, probably because nothing interesting happens around here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skyler...&lt;br /&gt;He's doing better.  Pretty much back to his happy, healthy, SNOTTY self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John...&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex...&lt;br /&gt;Turned 13 this week and started her period two days later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me...&lt;br /&gt;Traumatized by my baby turning 13 and starting her period two days later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115552434640175761?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115552434640175761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115552434640175761' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115552434640175761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115552434640175761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-suppose-update-is-in-order.html' title='I suppose an update is in order.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115357005117532697</id><published>2006-07-22T04:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-22T05:07:32.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hooray for work!!! (and other babbles)</title><content type='html'>Yesterday it was 103 or something like that.  Today it's supposed to be 97.  Hooray for my job!!!  The building (guard shack) is AIR CONDITIONED!!!  And better than that, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; have control.  So I can make it as cool as I want it.  Ohhh how odd to be looking forward to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be sort of fun too because I'm going in with a newer look.  I dyed my hair last night.  It's kind of purple (accident).  But that's ok.  I'm sort of quirky so I guess it fits.  The biggest change...(no I'm not posting a picture of it), I went and got a haircut.  I mean a HAIRCUT, as in whacked 6 inches off.  All I ever do is put it in a ponytail.  That's speeding up the whole hair falling out thing by constantly breaking hair off when I tug my scrunchie out.  So I had them cut it up to my collar.  I didn't even know my hair was going halfway down my back.  First thing in the morning when I get up, it goes into the scrunchy in a sloppy bun.  I don't like hair in my face.  So, should be interesting to see if anyone really notices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ego got a HUGE boost last weekend.  Ok I know truck drivers can be somewhat sleezy.  But still, other than my own husband I've never been hit on by one.  Though I've heard a few comments when meeting John at a truck stop about how desperate that poor bastard much be to pay "her" (meaning me) to be with him.  Blah.  Anyhow...this guy was kind of cute for an older (in his fourties) man.  He came in early on Sunday, wasn't due to deliver his load until Monday morning.  He asked if I was on duty all night, to which I replied "No Sir, as a matter of fact I am just about to get off."  I didn't think anything of what I said, maybe I was too tired.  But then he took a moment, looked me up and down slowly and then said with a grin, "Yeah me too."  Then he hopped into his truck.  I think maybe he was flirting with me.  Ok so it was filthy and probably normal women would have been offended.  But I haven't felt real attractive lately, so it was sort of funny/nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm what else is going on...not a whole lot.  Oh!  Alex is at my folks for a while.  She likes it there and it's healthier for her right now.  With our weather being so hot, she gets sick like I do.  My folks have AC so she can stay fairly cool.  My Dad has even invited her to travel with him to Colorado.  I don't know if Alex is going to do it though.  She and Dad aren't as close as they used to be.  He's sort of got it in his head that when girls turn into young ladies, then a hug isn't just a hug anymore.  He calls it, "Playing the Lolita."  I think he's sick.  When she wants to give him a hug, it's because SHE LOVES HIM.  Plus if she doesn't go, she gets my Mom's undivided attention, which she likes.  Dad is going because James Jr. (My nephew?) is in some Little League Championship or something.  He's the teams star pitcher.  I don't know him, never met him.  His father is my Dad's youngest son. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm off to go wash my face, put makeup on and get ready for work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115357005117532697?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115357005117532697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115357005117532697' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115357005117532697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115357005117532697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/07/hooray-for-work-and-other-babbles.html' title='Hooray for work!!! (and other babbles)'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115311512659298595</id><published>2006-07-16T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-16T22:45:33.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy belated birthday to me, and other bullsh*t</title><content type='html'>I had a rockin' birthday, for the most part. I spent several hours with my Mom. Me and my Mooooooooommmy, strolling down the avenue......" We had a great time. We shopped for a sewing machine (my b-day present) and went out to eat. I rarely get time alone with my Mom. I love love loved it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's the end of the day, July 16th. My birthday was the 11th. I STILL haven't heard from my in-laws. I'm gonna call them next week to remind them that Alex's birthday is on the 9th of August, so that they don't forget. I feel pretty darn nasty right now, because my feelings really got hurt by them forgetting about my day. Part of it is total jealousy though. My Mom and Dad sent John a card on his birthday. Hell they gave him money! It'd have been nice to at least merit a phone call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skyler is better. He's making me NUTS! We've still got over 4 weeks of crate confinement and he's being a real pain about it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must sleep, can't see worth a toot. Worked all day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115311512659298595?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115311512659298595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115311512659298595' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115311512659298595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115311512659298595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/07/happy-belated-birthday-to-me-and-other.html' title='Happy belated birthday to me, and other bullsh*t'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115203852028410698</id><published>2006-07-04T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-04T11:42:00.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fear, uncertainty and sorrow...</title><content type='html'>That's what I feel today.  Skyler woke us around 7:30am, screaming.  He was in so much pain that he pooped a little in his crate.  There was no pee-pee and the support group says that bladder control would be lost before bowel control, so it was most likely just an accident caused by his reaction to the pain and the fact that he had to go poop.  He cried again when he came inside and I was trying to give him his medication.  It breaks my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Losing Abbigail last year just ripped me apart and now I'm afraid we may lose Skyler too.  If he doesn't get better and becomes paralyzed, which the vet says is possible, we can't afford the costly treatment and surgery that would be required.  In that situation I would first try to find a rescue organization that would be willing to cover his treatment and care, and then find him a new home.  Otherwise we'd have to send Skyler over the Bridge to God.  I'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm praying that God will help him and let him stay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115203852028410698?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115203852028410698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115203852028410698' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115203852028410698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115203852028410698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/07/fear-uncertainty-and-sorrow.html' title='Fear, uncertainty and sorrow...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115190592498420108</id><published>2006-07-02T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-02T22:52:04.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The world can be a lonely place</title><content type='html'>In the past couple of weeks I have left several internet forums that I used to belong to.  I just feel like the square peg trying to poke itself through a round hole.  I don't fit.  There are so many wonderful people who I know care for me, but it's getting too difficult to ignore the witches and a-holes who don't.  As an adult I've always stood up for myself and what I believe in, even if I'm wrong about something.  But I also tend to avoid being somewhere that is has a lot of negativity.  So my blog readers, if you are one of those wonderful people...if you don't see me in the usual places just know that I can be found here on occasion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is the same, I'm looking forward to the end of summer when I can go back to my other position.  It gets old hearing, "What happened to the other guy?"  GUY?  Do I really look like have a penis?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skyler is recovering from some sort of injury that he go sustained at the groomer.  Scary situation that we still haven't fully solved.  Now that he's feeling better it's difficult to keep him DOWN like he needs to be.  No extra walking around.  Hell I tried crating him like the vet said but he gets so worked up that it's worse for him to be in the crate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex will be spending a great deal of time with my folks this summer.  They're going to get her into some summer programs, like a babysitting class and maybe a CPR class if she's old enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband is...the same as always.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115190592498420108?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115190592498420108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115190592498420108' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115190592498420108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115190592498420108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/07/world-can-be-lonely-place.html' title='The world can be a lonely place'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115087937255646828</id><published>2006-06-21T01:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T01:56:35.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So I've been thinking...</title><content type='html'>It's so hard for me to come up with interesting titles for these posts LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First let's go over my weekend (work). I worked. Wow that was hard to cover huh? I talk on the phone, read my book, crochet and when I don't forget it, listen to the radio. Sundays are pretty busy for a while with rigs coming in and out. I like Mondays best though. The place I work is jumping all night long, the drivers LOVE me and there's an awsome wildcat that roams around. It's either a bobcat or a lynx. Big ol cat with an interesting coat, no tail, tufts at his (her?) ears. I LOVE IT!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fathers Day was this weekend. I talked to my Dad and to my other dad too. First my dad. He's so funny. He says to me, "Thank you for taking the time to call me." HE'S MY FREAKIN' DAD! I like wouldn't call him. He's nuts LOL. When I spoke with the other dad, Richard, I was surprised at how many things we have in common in our political views. Religion, mmm not so much. He asked me if one had to believe that Jesus is the Son of God or is it simply enough to follow his teachings. But he used the word Christian. "Are you still a Christian if you follow His teachings. Is believing He is God's Son really the important part?" Of COURSE, otherwise you are a follower of Jesus, a Jesusian. Christians believe He is the CHRIST. What a bizzare way of thinking my father has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex's dance festival is this weekend. Thank you Heavenly Father for getting us to this point. I'll probably be a parent volunteer, which will totally bite because I need to sleep so I can work Sunday. But they are having probablems with her wandering off. Last week they couldn't find her when everyone was loaded up to leave. She was busy chatting up a boy, she told her friend that she was about to "ask him out." UGH!!! Gonna have to have a discussion with her, big time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/1600/newpose3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/320/newpose3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So gonna be a problem having her look like this.  She's too pretty.  She's so nice and sweet and just a bit too boycrazy.  I'm praying that she doesn't take this boy thing overboard.  GRR.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115087937255646828?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115087937255646828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115087937255646828' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115087937255646828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115087937255646828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/06/so-ive-been-thinking.html' title='So I&apos;ve been thinking...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-115007694176873428</id><published>2006-06-11T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-11T18:49:02.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog updates n stuph like that there...</title><content type='html'>Been busy working and adjusting to a new schedule.  Well schedule isn't bad just long hours to get used to.  I work two days (12 hrs, 10 hrs) and then follow those with a night shift (7hrs).  The man that works during the week (not one of us but one of that company's employees) took our stuff.  Wacko.  He's got it locked away so we have to bring our own clipboards and we don't dare leave blank reports there because he'll take those too.  Wacko.  We had a "good" chair to sit in, so this guy lets his dog sit in it and the dog pees in it.  Now all we have to sit in is a really beat up office chair that isn't set straight anymore and wobbles.  My feet don't touch anything (damn my short legs) so by the end of the shift my back is aching something awful.  I keep hoping it's just a matter of adjustment, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drivers are getting used to seeing me now on the day shift and I must say I LOVE Sundays because I'm busy busy, vs Saturday where NOTHING happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Monday shift...those guys love me.  They wish I could work there Sun-Thurs nights hehe.  They don't like the doofus.  I don't blame them.  We got a new gal but she's not very proactive either.  It frustrates me when people are satisfied with themselves when they only do the minimal requirments.  I have to do my best.  Anything less is NOT ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've got four little afghans crocheted for doggies.  I'm pondering finding a little pet boutique that might let me sell them there (besides the ones I've already donated to the shelter).  If I could sell them for say...$25 then I could give the boutique $5 each blanket, so it's worth thier time too.  I'm hoping the gal that runs the weiner rescue will let me sell them in her shop.  She has an antique shop and a dachshund boutique.  My blankies are perfect for dachshunds.  Just ask Skyler.  he tests each one for me LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-115007694176873428?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/115007694176873428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=115007694176873428' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115007694176873428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/115007694176873428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-updates-n-stuph-like-that-there.html' title='Blog updates n stuph like that there...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114922873117223078</id><published>2006-06-01T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T23:12:11.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dull as dishwater?</title><content type='html'>I really need to come up with something interesting or at LEAST commentable.  Am I dull as dishwater or what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday I start a new shift, 6am to 6pm and then Sunday 6am to 4pm and then Monday 7pm to 2am.  I'll hold that through the rest of the summer and then when my bowling alley hours start back up I'll do Friday nights 6p-2am and Saturdays 8p-2a.  Then I &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; I'll pick up Sunday nights at the one place as well as the Monday night shift.  That will give me 28 hours, just one less that my summer hours.  YAY!  I'm also going to be asking for a raise, at least back up to where I was when I left this company SEVEN YEARS ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been singing kareoke on Wednesday nights.  The boss invites John and I out just about every Wednesday night for singing, it's almost getting to be fun.  I love the boss's wife which is weird because she always used to make me uncomfortable because she's so polished.  So far I have sung...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Landslide" Dixie Chicks version.  That flopped.&lt;br /&gt;"Love Can Build A Bridge"  The Judds.  Not bad, not great.&lt;br /&gt;"Could I Have This Dance" Anne Murray.  People got up and danced but I haven't sang it again yet.&lt;br /&gt;"Love Remains"  Colin Raye.  I sang it well but my boss says the song is sad.&lt;br /&gt;"Annie's Song"  John Denver.  By far the best recieved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come I can sing well but yet it doesn't come across that way with Kareoke all the time?  How come I care that I may sound bad when there are people that get up there and sound like sick cats?  I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got three afghans ready for the animal shelter and a fourth one about 2/3 done.  It gives me something to do, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The biggest issue right now, Skyler.  His front legs are crooked and it seems like they are starting to bother him now.  He licks at them a lot more now and whimpers a bit.  We're taking him in to the vet for a check-up next week and maybe X-rays depending on what the vet says.  We can't afford surgery but we'll think of something.  He can walk and doesn't have a gait issue that we've noticed so maybe they'll just treat him with whatever pet version of "Tylenol" is.  But it's a bit scary so say lots of prayers for our Bubba.  His personality has really changed lately too, he's quieter and almost seems depressed.  Since John has been home he's gotten re-attached to his Daddy and is REALLY a daddy's boy.  Which of course bothers me because I want him to still be my boy.  *Sigh*  Makes me sad.  Especially when he doesn't want to play with me when John's not home.  He'll lay in my lap, but not play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhm.  Hrm.  Guess that is it for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114922873117223078?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114922873117223078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114922873117223078' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114922873117223078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114922873117223078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/06/dull-as-dishwater.html' title='Dull as dishwater?'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114871022254848729</id><published>2006-05-26T23:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T23:12:00.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh my aching....everything!</title><content type='html'>I've been busy since I got up at a 9am this morning.  I had to go pay bills all over town (I like to walk in my payments vs phoning them and using my card or sending a check).  Then I had an eye doctors appointment.  His name is Tim.  I didn't have to call him Dr. (insert last name here).  He said, "Hi I'm Dr. (insert name here) but please call me Tim."  Gonna take John to see him!  Got some new glasses, yay!  I didn't finish the errand parts of my day until around 3pmish.  Then I got some groceries, dropped them off and left again to pick up my glasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting home and eating dinner, Alex and I went out to find some pants and shoes for her (still need to find shoes, couldn't find any today).  We also went and picked up some flowers.  So now I feel so much more...better.  Flowers make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also done some deep soul searching in regards to getting a new kitten.  John said it was ok to get one and I was good and ready to do it.  Then I thought of the birds.  It's not fair to them, a new kitten or to Alex.  The birds would have to be shut in her room so the kitten couldn't get to them.  If they are out and kitty goes after them, then kitty gets in trouble and birds get scared.  So I'll wait until the birds are gone and Skyler is a bit older...then get a new kitty or puppy.  I feel ok with the decision because it was MINE and not influenced by anyone elses opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll end this with a picture of my favorite flowers.  I love Geraniums and Cyclamin. I found that Cyclamin at the Grocery store, of all places.  $10 and it's HUGE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/frogflowers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/frogflowers.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114871022254848729?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114871022254848729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114871022254848729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114871022254848729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114871022254848729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/05/oh-my-achingeverything.html' title='Oh my aching....everything!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114811905594623208</id><published>2006-05-20T02:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T02:57:36.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today is Armed Forces Day</title><content type='html'>I just watched a special on HBO with families of fallen soldiers.  They read letters and shared pictures of thier sons and daughters, husbands, sisters and brothers.  I just and cried.  Selfishly really because while my heart mourned for them, I sat praying that my family would be spared that pain.  My brother Travis is over there in Iraq...again.  This is his third trip to that God forsaken piece of dirt.  I say God forsaken because I think it is.  I think those people have forgotten who God is.  I don't think that anyone who had true faith and love in God could do what those horrible "insurgents" do.  But then I must remember, they don't believe in God.  They believe in some ALLAH who they think would respect and admire that they take lives in His name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Travis would be ashamed of me for saying this but...I think we should just blow the entire pile of dirt to hell and let God sort out the good from the bad.  Not very Christian of me, but I'm so afraid.  If we don't stop them, all of them, they'll come here again.  I'm afraid for my brother.  Eventually those stupid people will figure out that if they want to disable us down there, disable the aircraft.  In order to disable the aircraft, they'd have to take out the places where the aircraft refuel and get repaired.  I know my brother is in one of those places.  He's an aircraft mechanic.  Those helicopters that swooped in and allowed for the rescue of Jessica Lynch?  Those were his.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Travis is my brother and for most of my life I admired him, looked up to him and held him above all others in my family.  It wasn't hard, because my whole childhood I was always asked why I couldn't be more like him.  He was "the good child".  The rest of us were always lacking something.  I'm smarter now and grown up and I know that he's just as imperfect as the rest of us.  It makes him more real I guess.  I'll worry about him until he's out of the military.  I figured he'd have to go over there once but then he'd be ok.  Now, on this third trip, I am far more worried than ever before.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that because Travis is over there, perhaps God will spare my other brother from having to go over again.  My Mom has had so much hurt and pain in her life, most of which was caused by us kids (sorry Mom).  I think God should spare her this pain that I watched other mothers go through.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still support our troops.  I love our troops.  I know they are doing what they've been ordered to do and will be held blameless in the eyes of God.  But I don't believe in this war.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/travfrog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/travfrog.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you big brother! (He's the light haired guy.  The other one is his friend Frog.  We love Frog too.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114811905594623208?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114811905594623208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114811905594623208' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114811905594623208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114811905594623208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/05/today-is-armed-forces-day.html' title='Today is Armed Forces Day'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114803231341124170</id><published>2006-05-19T02:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T02:51:53.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diary of a TV drama junkie</title><content type='html'>Ok so I watch a few drama's on TV.  To be fair that's really ALL I watch.  This is my "must see" list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crossing Jordan (I get bummed when I miss one)&lt;br /&gt;CSI (Mmmmmm Grisom)&lt;br /&gt;Law &amp; Order SVU (Mmmmm Stabler)&lt;br /&gt;Charmed (though it IS about time they end it, especially since they took mega-hunk Brian Kraus "Leo" off.)&lt;br /&gt;ER (not as much though since Noah Wylie "Carter" is gone)&lt;br /&gt;Without A Trace (took ER's place for me this season)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are the "reality tv" shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Survivor (HAHAHAHA LAME TERRY DIDN'T WIN!!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;Amazing Race (YAY BJ AND TYLER!!!  HIPPIE POWER!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand for the summer....Last Comic Standing.  Gotta love it love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I missed the season enders for Crossing Jordan and Without A Trace but I'll catch them in re-run.  But I got the season ender for CSI and ER (Charmed is Sunday).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CSI-So glad to see them FINALLY put Gil and Sarah together.  Glad to see that Brass is staying too and didn't die tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ER-I hate thier habit of cliffhanger endings, truely getting old.&lt;br /&gt;*SPOILER ALERT*  I checked online to see what the next season would start with, seeing as how tonight ended with Jerry on the table with a gunshot wound and not doing too well, Luka still intubated and tied to a bed (compliments of a couple escape prisoners one of whom just HAPPENS to be Sam's ex Steve.  Who of course takes her AND his son as hostages.  Dumb story line there), But biggest of all, we see Abby dizzy, then doubled over in pain, slide her hand down (like checking to see if her water broke) and bringing her hand back up covered in blood.  Then we see Luka watching her through the window as he struggles to get free, and he sees the blood, her hand touches the window and drags down as she falls unconcious, to the floor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you don't want to see how next season starts, don't read any farther than this....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jerry is in surgery following his gunshot wound.  Luka is with Abby when she delivers the baby.  (Here's the suck part)...Let's just say things DON'T go so after the birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear if they kill off ANOTHER baby (like Carter's son...remember?)  I am going to scream.  Hopefully I'm not the only one who thinks this way.  I WANT to see Luka and Abby have thier baby and get married and be happy.  There's been enough infanticide in the script and enough death (Who's lame ass monkey idea was it to kill off Michael?  Neela deserves some happiness too, geez.  Now it looks like they got that rock and roll poindexter dumbass sniffing her skirts.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I watch too much tv.  Off to crochet now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114803231341124170?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114803231341124170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114803231341124170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114803231341124170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114803231341124170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/05/diary-of-tv-drama-junkie.html' title='Diary of a TV drama junkie'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114743189303958710</id><published>2006-05-12T03:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T04:04:53.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two steps forward, three steps back..</title><content type='html'>So I get assigned this new site, more hours.  Of course my body hates it but my mind was at ease about finances for once.  Ah well some employee needs hours.  A guy.  Doesn't matter that this guy got canned from the bowling alley for not doing his job and that our company actually lost an account because, "he didn't get of the car often enough".  Nope, he's been with the company longer so he gets senority.  Whatever.  Back to the drawing board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was going fine, until the "manager" of the account showed up.  He was upset because I didn't have the gate locked.  I wasn't told that the gate needed to be locked when I was the on the property.  I appologized, told him it wouldn't happen again but that I didn't know it was supposed to be locked, and then I locked the gate.  Not 15 minutes later another guy shows up.  He gets out of his truck and comes to the gate, fuddles with the lock.  I could tell he was having problems with the lock (it's a crappy lock), so I got out to help him.  What did I get?  Here let me replay it for ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him- Did you lock this gate?&lt;br /&gt;Me- Yes Sir, I did.&lt;br /&gt;Him- Why?&lt;br /&gt;Me- (point to managers car) Because he told me to.&lt;br /&gt;Him- Grumbles for a moment.  This is bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;Me- I'm sorry Sir, but it's what he said.&lt;br /&gt;Him- No, I mean having the gate locked like this, it's bullshit.  Can you see these numbers? &lt;br /&gt;Me- Yes Sir, I'll unlock it for you.&lt;br /&gt;(unlocked the gate)  I opened up the one side of the gate so he could pull his pickup through.  He opens the other side of the gate.  Confusing me of course.&lt;br /&gt;Me- Uhm.  So, I have to lock the gate again behind. Because He said that the gate is to be locked at all times after business hours unless a driver (truck yard) is in the yard.&lt;br /&gt;Him- That's shit!!  Leave it open, there are more guys coming soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully a big rig pulled up and took the gate issue away.  It was time for me to leave and there was now a driver in the yard.  Gate stays open while driver is in the yard.  Needless to say I have to call my boss in a couple hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John then informs me that *I* need go pay insurance today AND get the tags renewed on my car.  So I'll be up until like 10 or 11, when I have to get sleep and by awake by 6pm.  Nice huh?  F*cker!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114743189303958710?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114743189303958710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114743189303958710' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114743189303958710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114743189303958710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/05/two-steps-forward-three-steps-back.html' title='Two steps forward, three steps back..'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114734181511334151</id><published>2006-05-11T02:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-11T03:03:35.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New hours at work...meh!</title><content type='html'>Well the guy that worked a local site here for our company was diagnosed with a brain tumor and decided to spend what time he has left with his family.  So I'm picking up some hours.  I'm not thrilled because I don't like pain, and working longer hours brings pain.  The up side is that I'm by myself so I can't offend anyone or say the wrong thing.  Plus the boss gets a kick out of the fact that I naturally work HARDER than I have to.  Though he says I need to knock it down a notch so the other officers don't look bad.  See, I'll be doing very simple tasks.  I have to check some things, document if they are full or empty (I think it's just busy work so the client sees paperwork and knows we did SOMETHING).  Then the rest of the night I just write down who comes and goes.  Last two times I did this I saw FOUR whole people.  But...I document things very precisely.  John says, "Anal retentively."  But that's what I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shrug, we'll just have to see how this works out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114734181511334151?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114734181511334151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114734181511334151' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114734181511334151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114734181511334151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/05/new-hours-at-workmeh.html' title='New hours at work...meh!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114699439747205154</id><published>2006-05-07T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T05:09:19.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sadness of the heart.</title><content type='html'>The halls of my mind are haunted,&lt;br /&gt;by demons of deeds from the past,&lt;br /&gt;Thier terrible forms chasing me,&lt;br /&gt;I'm tormented by the shadows they cast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray each day for a compassionate God,&lt;br /&gt;One of understanding and abiding love.&lt;br /&gt;For only He can free my soul,&lt;br /&gt;when my time comes to rise above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freedom from torment and heartache,&lt;br /&gt;Is all I've ever wanted,&lt;br /&gt;and perhaps finally to be at peace,&lt;br /&gt;by no more shadows to be haunted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe my heart to be loving,&lt;br /&gt;under all the anger and pain,&lt;br /&gt;I deeply crave and hunger to be delivered,&lt;br /&gt;let God's love fall on me like rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being twisted inside with guilt,&lt;br /&gt;is no way for me to live,&lt;br /&gt;Praying and and hoping desperately,&lt;br /&gt;That God will indeed forgive.&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often wonder about my spiritual future.  There are things in my past that I am deeply ashamed of, things I wonder if God can forgive.  We all have things we're ashamed of, lies told, perhaps something small stolen in our youth, maybe drugs or alcohol.  I used drugs in my youth, I had premarital sex, I've lied and cheated on boyfriends.  The thing that weighs most heavily on my soul...an abortion on March 1, 1996.  I'm still fairly positive it was my one chance for a son.  Does it matter to God that I was afraid?  Does it matter that I honestly believed my mother might take away my sweet toddler daughter?  I'm not sure that any excuse or reason could be good enough.  What will matter, I am afraid, is that I would do this horrible thing to someone He loved so deeply.  I was baptized when I was 19, so my soul cannot be cleansed of this sin so easily.  It haunts me daily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when I lash out angrily at structured religion (the current church of choice is LDS), does that tarnish my soul further?  When I say that sometimes I feel like God owes me something, am I condemning myself to hell?  It just seems to me sometimes, just sometimes, that having lived through physical and deep emotional abuse from a parent, molestation and rape from a sibling...maybe I've paid my dues.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bi-polar and tormented with some deep seated anxiety that has me constantly paranoid that I've done something wrong at work, that when I go out and people see me that they are disgusted by what they see (how selfish must I be that I assume EVERYONE is looking at me?).  I can't look at myself in the mirror without seeing a disturbing darkness.  I want to be the kind of person who can be happy and active and a good wife and mother, instead of this THING.  I suppose some people would say I'm deeply disturbed and they are probably right.  But I struggle on.  Obligations you know.  I have to raise my daughter to adulthood.  I hope to raise her so that she can become something far better than what I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know why I am sad lately.  It's May.  Next month my firstborn turns 14.  I haven't seen her except in a single picture, in almost two years.  I miss her.  I've missed her for almost 14 years.  Have you ever had a decision YOU'VE made haunt you that long?  While giving her up was best for her, I can't help but to notice how different I became after.  No more sunny disposition.  No more easy affection.  No more me.  I became someone completely different after.  It's not fair either.  My birthmother is the same.  She even says so, Gran says so, my other family members who've known her before and after say so.  She was sad for a bit, but is basically the same KIND of person she was before.  I guess that's part of why I resent her so much.  I guess I think, if she loved me as deeply as I loved my baby...she'd be different too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this.  I just want to be happy.  I want to feel like I can succeed.  I can't though.  I'm facing taking over my husbands full time position and him taking my part time one.  This makes me angry at him because HE is supposed to be the provider.  But more importantly instead of being excited by the challenge, I can only wonder how long it will be before I screw this up too.  Before I fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to live a long life.  I don't want the world to end, or my life to end, before I've seen my babies grown into happy successful women with families of thier own.  But...it hurts somewhere deep and hidden, when I think I could live into my late years...like this.&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a forum that I belong to, a person posted about welfare mothers.  They pretty much lumped them all into the same group and wanted help writing a poem about it.  This poem was to be entitled "Shameful Garden".  I saw everyone's responses and how angry they all were at "Welfare mothers".  One person even called the children of these women, "Unwanted bastards".  It made me angry to see all women on public assistance judged the same, when there ARE some good women just trying to get a little hand up, not a hand out.  So I wrote my own version of "Shameful Garden".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shameful Garden"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In an open field,&lt;br /&gt;where beauty is grown,&lt;br /&gt;there is a shameful garden,&lt;br /&gt;where seeds of hate are sown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where judgements are cast,&lt;br /&gt;and all are found lacking,&lt;br /&gt;where heartworn blossoms,&lt;br /&gt;are often judged slacking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not every flower,&lt;br /&gt;is poisoned with waste,&lt;br /&gt;but beauty cannot be seen,&lt;br /&gt;If just glanced at in haste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All flowers can grow,&lt;br /&gt;just give them some room.&lt;br /&gt;A little assistance,&lt;br /&gt;and the strong ones will bloom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For each ugly weed,&lt;br /&gt;there's a fine flower,&lt;br /&gt;Dig out the weeds,&lt;br /&gt;and give the bloom power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little love can heal,&lt;br /&gt;all wicked hearts,&lt;br /&gt;stop judging these flowers,&lt;br /&gt;you angry old farts!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114699439747205154?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114699439747205154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114699439747205154' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114699439747205154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114699439747205154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/05/sadness-of-heart.html' title='Sadness of the heart.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114691289802085257</id><published>2006-05-06T03:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T03:55:03.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling down but not sure why...</title><content type='html'>I feel sort of down.  John is having issues doing his job.  Physically it is getting too difficult for him to do all the walking that is involved and he's begun to tell me that he needs to be doing my job and I need to just take over his.  I can't physically keep up with the demands of his job.  Hell my knee cries and my lungs ache just trying to do the ONE paper drop for him that requires walking up three flights of stairs, dropping off paperwork, then going down those stairs, walking across to the OTHER stairwell and climbing three flights of stairs to do drop paperwork on that side.  It's all very frightening for me because if he seriously can't work anymore I already know how long it takes to get disability crap going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His feet are giving out on him.  I fully believe it's because he weighs 490lbs and they just can't take the weight anymore.  But yet he eats and eats and eats.  He eats 4 sandwiches in one sitting and thinks that is ok.  He drinks two liters of pop in a shift.  He doesn't check his blood sugar, he doesn't take his pills.  I can't do ANYTHING about it and I feel so helpless.  He's also starting to become more domineering.  Things MUST be his way.  We're getting the new sofa tomorrow but need to get the current one OUT.  So I said if the new one came before this one was taken out, that we could just store this one in the garage.  He said "NO, we'll keep it in the apartment."  There's hardly room in the living room as it is because his stuff is spread out all over on one side, we have a table and two chairs in the other for Alex to eat at and do her homework and then there is the entertainment center and Skyler's round chair.  But he's adament that this one will NOT go into the garage.  He also said that it could NOT be taken out by my friends until AFTER the new sofa is here.  Well beggars can't be choosers and the only time my friend had available to come pick up this sofa was noon.  Couch is scheduled to be here sometime between 11:30 and 2.  I told John that unless he had a better way of getting rid of this sofa, then he just has to deal with the arrangements I made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm unhappy because he has me doing all the bill paying, but yells at me if something doesn't go right (currently pissed off at me because my tags are expired on the car but I paid the more important bills...like electricity).  I had to figure out what to do with the current sofa, he wasn't interested in trying and just said, "You deal with it.  I'm happy just keeping it in here."  IT SMELLS!!!  John isn't the most hygenic person in the world and his side of the sofa smells like dirty, sweaty manbits.  I'm so embarrassed about it that I won't let anyone sit on his side when we have guests.  I spray Febreeze on it daily.  It's broken down on his side too and can't recline anymore.  Time for it to go to our local "waste recycling center".  They'll take it, dismantle it, burn what is burnable and actually reuse any metal pieces that they can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep looking around me, thinking about where I am (emotionally, physically, economically) and wondering how I ended up here.  I had goals and ambitions once.  Now I just feel trapped in some sort of suckwagon life with no way out...and I did it to myself.  I'm poor, I'm fat, my hair is falling out, I need a back surgery we can't afford, a surgery because I'm prolapsing or collapsing someplace I shouldn't be and I'm married to a man who has no inclination towards taking care of himself...the only bright spot I see right now is the one thing that keeps me plugging along.  My daughter.  She's my life and I'll keep going and doing my best because she deserves every effort on my part.  She's beautiful and brilliant (good looking genes on the sperm side and smart genes on mine) and I &lt;strong&gt;WILL&lt;/strong&gt; do everything I can to help her become whatever it is that she is destined to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114691289802085257?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114691289802085257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114691289802085257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114691289802085257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114691289802085257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/05/feeling-down-but-not-sure-why.html' title='Feeling down but not sure why...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114647734804416452</id><published>2006-05-01T02:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T02:55:48.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The most boring job on the planet</title><content type='html'>I used to think I'd had boring jobs until tonight.  This post I worked tonight and have to work again next Sunday to pay off John's loan from the boss...SUCKS!  Here let me detail my night for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get there and the gate is locked.  Can't get John on the phone so I have to wait for him to show up.  He doesn't have the code, has to call the boss.  We get in the gate.  John tells me what I am supposed to do and shows me how to get into the restroom (locked with coded lock), then he leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go around the back of the truck yard and write on my report the number of each trailer and whether or not it's full.  This takes about a half hour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Park car at front end of yard.  This is all done by 8pm.  I don't see ANYONE until nearly 11pm.  Between 10:30p and midnight I see a total of FOUR trucks come into the yard hauling triple trailers.  They each come in, drop ONE trailer and then leave.  All this is finished by midnight.  I see NO ONE ELSE until just before my shift is over when an employee of the truck yard arrives for work.  I finish my paperwork and put it through the door.  Shift over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for the tv station I can pick up on the radio, and my books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting for that long, even with the short little jaunts out of the car, has caused my low back to just ache like crazy.  It's this wierd pressure like sticking two suction cups together then trying to pull them apart.  That's what my lower back feels like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114647734804416452?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114647734804416452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114647734804416452' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114647734804416452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114647734804416452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/05/most-boring-job-on-planet.html' title='The most boring job on the planet'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114631292329652271</id><published>2006-04-29T05:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T05:15:23.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here we go again...</title><content type='html'>My husband, while I do love him, is the laziest man I've ever met.  He's even started using Alex on the weekends to do parts of his job for him.  Well now here it is after 5am, when he should be home but where he is?  He's been bullshitting with this guy he met a week or so ago, since around 3am.  He's still got ALL his unlocks to do AND a final hotel walk through.  It's now past his shift and nothing is done.  Not to mention this is the second time this shift that he's sat around with this guy.  Then he had the nerve to ask if I'd help him with his unlocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten to one he loses his job, again.  When he got fired from this company several years ago, his socializing on the job was a HUGE part of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114631292329652271?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114631292329652271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114631292329652271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114631292329652271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114631292329652271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/04/here-we-go-again.html' title='Here we go again...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114622096583133021</id><published>2006-04-28T03:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T03:42:46.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Identifying triggers and other personal bullshit</title><content type='html'>It's been a rough night.  Hell it's been a rough nearly 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First that whole drinking thing left me sick to my stomach and then some.  Then we found out from our boss's son that our manager came out today and yelled at him.  He'd come to deliver our paychecks (something he doesn't have to do) and she yelled at him because his CLASSIC CAR is too loud.  She said he has to park by the office and walk back here because of the noise his car makes.  But he didn't stay, he literally drove here, Alex ran out and got our checks and he left.  I spoke with her and she fed me this line about how people were coming out see what was shaking thier windows.  Sorry but at 4pm there is literally like 4 people here besides management and us.  If people don't come running out to see what shakes thier windows when the fire department students drive here in thier old fire truck, or when people have had medical emergencies that have brought the FD and paramedics...then I doubt they came running out to see what shook thier windows when B came here.  More like Dayle didn't like the noise and decided to yell at B just because.  She does stuff like that.  I know, I've been in the office and seen it.  I've also heard her make up lies about how other tenants are bothered by this that or the other.  Now I get to talk to the GM tomorrow because Dayle has NEVER taken issue with anyone else over this.  She even went as far as to ask me, "So if someone's window is cracked now because of his car shaking the windows, who's supposed to pay for it?"  OMFG!!!  I suppose I'd better go check every window from here to B's house to count the cracked windows huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called my prescription refills request in at Wal-Mart this evening.  I actually spoke to a PERSON because I didn't have the bottles in front of me.  Still, I told her exactly what I needed refilled (ALL FOUR PRESCRIPTIONS THERE YA DUMB BROAD), and I had her repeat it to me.  I get to the pharmacy...they filled 3 prescriptions.  Where's the fourth one?  Ohhh apparently I didn't ask for it refilled but they'll do it now.  I told her that I talked to a person who repeated ALL FOUR back to me.  Whatever.  This is the entire reason I take medication now.  I got so angry (always internalized) that I started shaking.  Not a reaction normal people have, but hey...I'm not normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm talking to Diana about stuff, the meds, the manager issue etc...and she keeps asking me, "Are you having an episode?"  Or saying, "Boy you are wound up tonight, just relax."  Finally I had to ask her, "Is me being this way going to be a problem for you because I don't feel like going to sleep right now and that's what taking a second klonopin is going to do."  OY!  No shit I'm having an anxiety/BP episode. GAH!!!  Then she starts talking all this technical computer crap she's dealing with at work when she KNOWS I can't follow that very well on a normal day.  She got offended when I said, "I'm not following this, you're confusing me."  GRRR!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You people (my net buds) are so lucky you don't have to deal with me on a daily basis when I'm off meds (been out since Monday or Tuesday).  I so can't handle stuff very well.  That's the whole reason I decided to medicate in the first place.  I'm just absolutely tense and short tempered right now.  Geez it's got my back in knots.  Gonna go take a flexeril and my other meds.  Be right back to share the GOOD stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last day at the bowling alley is tonight.  SUCK!!!  Alex and I will be going bowling tomorrow though for the Extreme bowling...as long as the money is there for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good news.  Hell GREAT NEWS!!!  Alex was tested for the TAG (Talented And Gifted)Program.  Her results are in.  She scored an 82 in her combined results.  That means she scored higher than 82% of the the students in her grade NATIONWIDE!!!  Every test produced results that were either, above average or....WELL ABOVE AVERAGE!!!!  My baby girl is really really SMART!!!  I'm totally proud of her, and hell...totally proud of me.  John said that I have to take some credit for teaching her good study habits and encouraging her in scholastic activities.  I dunno...I just say YAY GENES!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114622096583133021?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114622096583133021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114622096583133021' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114622096583133021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114622096583133021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/04/identifying-triggers-and-other.html' title='Identifying triggers and other personal bullshit'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114601681042075907</id><published>2006-04-25T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T19:00:10.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last day of work, car woes and other stuff</title><content type='html'>So my last day at the bowling alley until September is Friday.   *SIGH*  I didn't even get the whole weekend, just one lousy day.  I'm actually sad about this.  I rather like the night staff there and TWO of them won't be there in September because they'll be off to college (high school seniors).  But...Alex and I are going to the "Extreme" bowling Saturday night.  I figure it won't hurt to let her stay up until 1:30pm LOL.  I've been dying to bowl there for Extreme and because I worked it, couldn't.  I can't wait!!!  Hopefully my favorite regulars will be there, Howard will be for sure.  Howard is a darling older gentleman who is mentally impaired.  He does the Extreme bowling EVERY Friday and Saturday night.  Now get this, Extreme starts at 11:30pm, but he gets there at like 9pm just to be sure he gets a lane.  The other regulars are Chris and Debbie (a couple) and I'll miss them like crazy.  I'm hoping to get thier phone number because I'd really like to hang out with Debbie some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Car woes.  John's car went in for repairs AGAIN!  It cost $80, lucky to be that low.  But the boss has a friend who worked for Ford, Lincoln, Mercury for 20+ years and he gives us a discount since he now works out of his home.  But get this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boss wrote a personal check to John to cover the cost of the repairs.  That's how they usually do it, and then John just works off the debt.  BUT!!!  John's not working off this debt, I AM!!!  Yah, I'm pissed.  John decided that since I "have the time" that it'd just be easier if I did it.  So I'll work the next two Sundays for the boss, and I net $40 out of the deal.  The check was for $140 (we thought it'd be $100 for the car) which works out to be just over what I would earn on the books for that job.  So...I make $40.  Woo-hoo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114601681042075907?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114601681042075907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114601681042075907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114601681042075907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114601681042075907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/04/last-day-of-work-car-woes-and-other.html' title='Last day of work, car woes and other stuff'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114578984312044585</id><published>2006-04-23T03:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T03:57:24.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ooops, bad blogger, bad bad blogger</title><content type='html'>Sorry, I've been....busy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is sad.  Each weekend that has gone by since I found out my post there ends on the 29th has been sort of a downer.  I don't want to leave, the night guy doesn't want me to leave but we don't make the contracts.  Hopefully I'll be able to go back there in September.  Meanwhile I just have to pray there is somewhere else for me to go.  Sounds like I'll be working in a town about 20 minutes up the highway, at night, ALONE, for 12 hours, two shifts.  F*CK!!!  The 14 hours I'm working right now are physically taxing on my body.  Every work night I come home with my left shoulder (front and back) aching and sending pain down into my elbow.  Probably just how I'm carrying my stress, but it sure feels like something I'm doing aggrevates an old injury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's prom season.  I really wish I'd have taken my camera with me tonight.  There was a girl there wearing a red dress.  It was cut like a dress you'd see on a Tango dancer, only higher.  You know, long down the one leg but cut up so that the other side ends somewhere just below vagina level.  She looked like a slut.  I'm sure she's probably a terribly nice girl (though I doubt a really NICE girl would dress like that).  I commented, "You must have a really nice Mom."  She asked, "Why?"  So I told her, "No way in hell would my daughter be allowed out of the house in a dress like that."  She said, "I'm an exchange student, my Mom's in Germany so I can wear what I want."  Way to go American host parents.  Ten to one when her mother sees the pictures, she has a fit.  Another thing...what's with all the strapless gowns on busty young ladies?  The small breasted girls had NO PROBLEMS with thier dresses.  But the large busted girls were constantly tugging the tops of thier dresses up.  My, that's how I want to spend a night out, adjusting my dress every five seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a guy get in my face tonight because I asked him to take his conversation somewhere else.  He and a friend are standing in the entry way as families are leaving (a Mother and two small girls in particular) and every other word out of this guys mouth was "F*ck".  It was offensive to that mother and to me, so I told him to take it somewhere else.  He got all anal about how there's no profanity sign posted and how it's after 11pm (wasn't even 10pm yet, guess who'd been drinking).  Oh and that at this time of night it's an all adult establishment, because there's a bar there.  Whatever.  I told him, "Look, put on your big boy underwear and take it somewhere else, or leave."  When I told the night manager that later (making sure they hadn't complained about me) he busted up laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday a hispanic truck driver who wanted to park his rig in the lot (after being told NO well over 6 times since January) called me a bitch to whomever he was talking to on the phone (I'd told him to leave).  Then he ran over the curb LOL.  As I helped him pull chunks  of the curb out from between his tires so that he could leave I said, "I'm not a bitch, I'm doing my job."  So he got this look on his face, said, "Oh you heard that?  Sorry".  Yah whatever.  So then he gets back in the truck, still on the phone (hands free mic) and prattles on and calls me a PUTA.  So I said, "I'm not a PUTA either."  He said, "You speak spanish?  Sorry."  Finally I'd had enough of this asshole so I said, "Si, pendeho, yo hoblo espanol.  Adios cavrone."  I'm sure I slaughtered the spelling there.  Asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, enough about work.  I've got a good buzz going from my meds so it's time to go to bed.  I have to get up at 10am (almost 4am now).  Going up to Portland to hunt for parking so I can meet a couple people and try to find someplace to eat.  I'm a little frustrated that they've been up there for a couple days and haven't managed to find a restaurant for me to meet them at.  Parking in Portland is a bitch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114578984312044585?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114578984312044585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114578984312044585' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114578984312044585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114578984312044585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/04/ooops-bad-blogger-bad-bad-blogger.html' title='Ooops, bad blogger, bad bad blogger'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114449072196493421</id><published>2006-04-08T02:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-08T03:05:21.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night</title><content type='html'>NIGHT FROM HELL!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight started crappy from the minute I walked into work.  I get jumped on by the CM (the main boss there) because I haven't been filling out activity reports.  I didn't know they expected me to.  Then I get jumped on for not writing an incident report about something that happened last Saturday.  Uhh, dunno exactly what happened because I get called in by T. only to have E. tell me that he's got it under control.  Kind of a short IR to write huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I call John who calls our boss (The actual OWNER of our company, who loves John).  John calls me back and says that our boss said that writing activity reports and incident reports isn't something that is in the contract.  Well the last guy wrote reports.  Apparently he'd made them up himself on his computer because there were NEVER any report sheet issued by our company.  Oh fine.  PAH!  So I get told to tell the CM to call the owner of our company on Monday to discuss paperwork.  Then the CM tells me (The bombshell), "Yeah I have to call him Monday anyway.  We only use security from September until the end of April, when we have leagues.  I need to remind him that we don't need security past the 28th and 29th."  FUCK!  Unless some miracle occurs, I'm out of a freaking job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We so don't need this right now.  We're barely making it as it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the night just spiralled straight into hell.  A "bi-sexual"  (see I already know way more about her than I need to), got her nose out of joint because some guy called her a carpet muncher.  She's drunk and she's screaming at this one guy, but he's not the one that said it apparently.  So instead of just blowing her off, he comes running out of the bowling alley and says, "You want to talk to me like a man and act like a man, I'll treat you like one you fucking bitch."  Nice.  So I get that settled.  Then I had a guy come roaring into the bowling alley in his huge monster truck, and when I told him to leave (reckless driving, speeding and generally being a dick get you kicked off the property) his passenger starts giving me a hard time.  Geez I am only doing my job you ass hat!  Then some kids showed up that had a problem with D, a really sweet guy at work.  They poured soda pop all over his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To top the night off I got a nose bleed.  Well no, scratch that.  I got TWO nose bleeds.  One came just after the turn the lights out for "Extreme Bowling" and the other came just as the lights came back on...so about two hours apart.  Geez!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fucking SSD people think I'm fully capable of handling my job.  Yeah, that's why I wanted to take Mz "Bi sexual" and Mr "Wanna talk like a Man" and bash thier heads together repeatedly until thier brains oozed out.  K, yeah.  I'm fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scuze me whilst I go medicate the shit out of myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114449072196493421?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114449072196493421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114449072196493421' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114449072196493421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114449072196493421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/04/terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad.html' title='The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114389090265453602</id><published>2006-04-01T03:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T03:28:22.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Go speed racer....</title><content type='html'>right on back out the way you came.  Yep, you heard me you sorry ass drunk piece of crap MINOR.  *flexes muscles*  "But there were puddles, I couldn't help it.  I had to speed through them."  Blah blah blah I don't want to hear your shiznit, just leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah to be able to talk that way would have been great!  Instead it sounded more like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me-You might as well get back into your vehicle.  &lt;br /&gt;Them-Why?&lt;br /&gt;Me-Because that's the way the boss wants it.  He says that if you'll act like a jerk out here in the lot, speeding and not watching for people or kids, then you'll more than likely be a jerk inside and they don't need your business.&lt;br /&gt;Them-Serious? It was the puddles man, I had to do it.&lt;br /&gt;Me-It's the boss man, you gotta go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then their buddy comes out of the bowling alley to find out why his "homies" can't come in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him-Can't you just pretend they didn't do it?&lt;br /&gt;Me-Sorry not my style.  Even if I wanted to, I'm not about to do it with my supervisor sitting right there.  (John was visiting me for a few minutes.  Technically since he WAS on duty at the time, he IS my immediate supervisor).&lt;br /&gt;Him-Where?&lt;br /&gt;Me-Uhh, see the nice white car with the pretty lightbar on top and the mean looking man sitting behind the steering wheel?  That'd be him.&lt;br /&gt;All three guys-Ohhhh shit.  Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh the joys of my job.  John ended up having to drive over to thier vehicle to help "encourage" thier departure.  Then he had to go up to the entrance because they'd decided to park in the driveway to wait.  He's so big and scary.  Cough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114389090265453602?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114389090265453602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114389090265453602' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114389090265453602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114389090265453602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/04/go-speed-racer.html' title='Go speed racer....'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114389045234481905</id><published>2006-04-01T03:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T18:43:10.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I call them mellow yellow.....</title><content type='html'>Yep, that's right.  My magic little pills that make everything easier to manage.  I still get the mood swings but they aren't these HUGE monsters.  ALREADY a noticed change, I likey much!  My swearing came back for a while but is gone.  See I get relaxed and I forget to watch my mouth.  But the euphoric phase of the medication is fading a bit and I'm starting to feel more in touch.  Bummer.  I see how people could get "addicted" to these.  Of course anyone who knows me knows I don't believe in addiction.  I believe addiction is a cover up for poor self control and lousy will power.  For YEARS I heard, "Your addicted to smoking."  Toss off wankers I was not, I simply LIKED smoking.  Me and my Marlboro Menthol Ultra Light 100's (in a box) were buddies.  Smoking gave me an excuse to go outside and get away from whatever was going on.  Escaping parenting and partnering.  Smoking was fun to do while driving, though I never managed the left handed smoking them.  I miss smoking.  There's a whole social group that I used to fit with but don't anymore because I'm one of those "gasp" reformed smokers.  Nah, I'm not reformed, just tired of the crap from Mom, John and Alex.  So I quit, gosh I think it's been TWO YEARS since I stuck a cig butt between these lips, or close to it.  Geez.  *takes a moment*&lt;br /&gt;****************************&lt;br /&gt;Ok Moment is over, back to what I was saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These little pills put my brain in a funky groovy space.  Kind of like how I think pot does with potheads.  You know that shit happens, but who gives a rats ass.  Yah, that feeling.  Case in point.  Took my pills.  About two hours later I realized my husband wasn't going to have a parking space if I didn't move my car into the garage.  So I get in my car and back it over to the garage.  Garage light is burned out.  Bummer.  I try backing into the dark garage and am only successful in *SMACK* wiping the passenger side mirror dealy clean off the car.  My response?  "Well shit.  Oh well, I'll get it fixed later."  Before the mellow yellows..."Oh my God.  Look what I did!  Oh I suck!  What am I going to do?  John's going to kill me!  How am I supposed to fix this?  Can I fix it myself and hide it?  Crap should I leave the car in the garage until he's gone?  *tears, hysterics*  Hell even when John got home while I was using MASKING TAPE to put the mirror back up I just sort of cried a little.  Why?  "Honey look what I did, I broke my cars arm.  She's gonna hate me now or something."  He just laughed, then I laughed.  Then the next day $135 later, new mirror.  Oh btw, I SO did a killer job with the masking tape.  That mirror didn't so much as wiggle all the way to the dealership.  HAHAHA take that manly men who think only they can fix things!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hooray for mellow yellow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114389045234481905?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114389045234481905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114389045234481905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114389045234481905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114389045234481905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-call-them-mellow-yellow.html' title='I call them mellow yellow.....'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114337280861603023</id><published>2006-03-26T03:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T03:33:39.846-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blast from the past</title><content type='html'>When I was in middle school I had friends.  Not just any friends, the BEST friends.  There were five of us in the 7th grade, tight as could be.  Marlene, Charlene, Maryjean, Lisa and myself.  Often times one pair would get in a little tiff and so our dynamics would change for a bit, but we were "The Five".  In eighth grade we weren't a unit anymore but I was still friends with them and considered them all to be my very best friends...especially Marlene, Lisa and Maryjean.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well as an adult I found them again (those three).  Lisa and I talk on the average at least once a week.  We get together when we can but her daughter is in 90238409765 different things and that keeps them pretty busy.  Marlene never answered any of my e-mails.  Maryjean did for a while and then things just sort of stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight MJ showed up at the bowling alley.  I recognized her right away, she looks pretty much the same.  Which of course makes me feel like shit.  I'm fat, my hair is thinning and my face is all broken out thanks to mother nature.  She looks the SAME!!  She's still slightly heavy but not much (I totally have waist envy, she has one...I don't).  She looks so good!!!  The only thing I don't remember is glasses, I don't think she wore glasses back then.  She's got a young daughter too.  Well I gave her a card with my name, number, e-mail and address.  I doubt she'll call though.  I got the impression by how she was interacting with me around her friends, that she's something of a snob now.  Still, it was nice to see her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really miss my friends.  Those are the only two years I'd be willing to repeat.  Even though they were the years where the abuse from my Mom started getting much worse and I was miserable at home...it's the ONLY time in my life as a kid where I had real friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114337280861603023?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114337280861603023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114337280861603023' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114337280861603023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114337280861603023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/03/blast-from-past.html' title='Blast from the past'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114277025402794693</id><published>2006-03-19T03:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T04:10:54.046-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Legend Of Drunken Bastard...</title><content type='html'>I think this thing is going to turn into a blog about my work.  Every weekend something happens that I feel the need to talk out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was great, nice and slow.  Sort of a letdown because we were expecting a large group of teenagers fresh off a drunken party but apparently they either got too drunk, or didn't party at all.  There were all of 30 people there for the night bowling.  Nice and calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight?  Soooo not the case.  First, it was packed when I arrived.  Stayed busy all night until about 10pm and then thinned out nicely.  We were starting to think it'd be another slow night.  Right around 10:15pm people starting coming in droves.  They can't get lanes from 10:30pm until 11:00pm because they're clearing out the bowlers already inside.  At 11pm anyone still left bowling either has to pay $14 per person or leave so that the 11:30 night bowling crowd can have the lanes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a huge group that showed up about 11:15 or so.  I'm talking multiple cars filled with people.  The lead car flipped a spin (pulled up his e-brake) in the lot.  I'm supposed to kick those guys off the property.  They wouldn't leave.  They weren't trying to get past me into the bowling alley, they just wouldn't leave.  So I went in and told the night manager what was going on and he told me to have them come in and talk to him.  Well he recognized one of the guys, so he let them stay.  After telling me to get rid of people like that, he lets them stay.  The bowling alley was full (all lanes occupied) by 11:36.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it closed down for the night and everyone came out, the huge group of people (now much more intoxicated) came out.  They had ZERO respect for me.  They were making fun of me (oh don't pull your e-brake when you leave, the security might get you!  She might call the cops, watch out.  Ooohhh scary security...etc).  But what should I expect after doing my job just to have the night manager make me look like an ass.  But I'm done.  Let them deal with the stupid assholes.  Anyone that wants to come bowling, can go right on in.  If they have an issue, "Oh I'm sorry but I thought it was ok to let them in.  YOU DID!!!"  Sure it could cost me my job, but he's doing a shitty job of backing me up when I try to enforce the rules that they gave me in the first place.  UGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point the drunken bastards had a basketball out and were screwing around playing ball in the lot (after closing).  I can't leave until the place is clear.  So of course it took them FOREVER to leave.  Actually, they didn't even go until they saw one of the employees leave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114277025402794693?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114277025402794693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114277025402794693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114277025402794693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114277025402794693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/03/legend-of-drunken-bastard.html' title='The Legend Of Drunken Bastard...'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114232998535366381</id><published>2006-03-14T01:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T01:53:07.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ESTUPIDO!!!  IDOTA!!!</title><content type='html'>I've lost all my pictures except what was on photobucket.  Somehow brainiac me managed to reformat the wrong harddrive.  I'm so angry and sad I could just scream!!!  Now I only have a handful of pictures and NONE of the last few months of Abbigails life.  I can't believe what an ass I am!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114232998535366381?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114232998535366381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114232998535366381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114232998535366381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114232998535366381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/03/estupido-idota.html' title='ESTUPIDO!!!  IDOTA!!!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114217726387395267</id><published>2006-03-12T07:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T07:27:43.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>They're all butts!!!!!</title><content type='html'>The stupid juvenile lame-o males the come to the bowling alley for "Extreme" bowling that is.  I'm TIRED of them trying to sneak drinking beer in thier cars.  I catch them 99% of the time.  If they get away with it because somehow I missed it, they ALWAYS dump the cans and bottles in the parking lot which results in me logging thier license plates which results in them NOT getting in next time they show up because, "Sorry.  You were seen dumping out beer cans/bottles into our parking lot.  That's littering and also leads us to believe you were drinking, which is not allowed.  I'm also tired of them driving like our parking lot is a NASCAR track.  Oh, I'm damn sick of the ones who show up with one or two LEGAL drinkers and sneak thier booze all night so they leave as underaged drunks.  Or the ones who are legal and leave plastered, getting loud in my lot.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally...I'm sick and tired of stupid drunks who can't hold thier liquor getting into fights in my parking lot which I then must break up.  I don't care how many times I hear, "I'm sorry Security Lady."  It still sucks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been my comedy relief moment for the day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114217726387395267?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114217726387395267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114217726387395267' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114217726387395267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114217726387395267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/03/theyre-all-butts.html' title='They&apos;re all butts!!!!!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114207352714115468</id><published>2006-03-11T02:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T02:38:47.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work sucked!</title><content type='html'>As I said in my previous post, it's freezing outside.  I think it's around 30 degrees, though I heard 27 earlier.  It rained on the way to work and so of course all that water froze on my car.  The parking lot had spots of ice through it by the time I left too.  But mostly I'm cold because &lt;strong&gt;I STAND/SIT OUTSIDE FOR EIGHT FREAKIN' HOURS!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;  I had a fight in the parking lot tonight that I had to break up before it got into the physical stage.  Unfortunately one guy wouldn't stop egging on another guy and actually started goading him, "Nuthin' you can do against a .45 nigga".  Sigh.  Stupid people.  So of course those two HAD to be part of a huge group in which NEITHER of them were drivers.  That mean the entire group had to leave.  That sucked for the rest of them.  Then later another group showed up for the "Extreme Bowling".  Everything is fine and then I hear, "Pssssssssss" and look over in time to see one guy with a can in his head.  The driver of the SUV he came in says, "Dude what's that?"  The guy answers quite calmly, "It's just a beer."  A BEER???  Ok for one it's against the bowling alley rules.  For two it's against the law here to have alcohol in public (except in bars or during events that have a designated "beer garden").  For three, he's a freakin MINOR!!!  So of course AGAIN I had to have an entire group leave due the stupidity of one person.  I hate that!!  I have no problem booting one person, even get a kick out of it.  But when 9 other innocent people have to leave because of one of thier friends, it sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K, I'm freakin' cold and I've been home for almost a half hour now.  Gotta go get warm!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114207352714115468?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114207352714115468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114207352714115468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114207352714115468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114207352714115468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/03/work-sucked.html' title='Work sucked!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114207311678285027</id><published>2006-03-11T02:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T02:31:56.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes his complete selfishness astounds me.</title><content type='html'>First let me set this up right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening as I am eating my "breakfast" (working nights means that my first meal is breakfast even though it's dinner time). my husband says to me, "Don't worry about lunch, I'll fix it and bring it down to you.  Unless you want to pack a lunch."  I said I wasn't real keen on bologna and I didn't feel like cutting up cheese to make a sandwich out of it.  So he tells me, "Well I'm cooking anyway so I'll bring you down something."  Ok great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call from work and ask my husband to have my daughter wrap up the last two pieces of my pizza so that I can have it as left overs.  He tells me, "No.  &lt;strong&gt;I'm&lt;/strong&gt; eating it.  I told him that I wanted it when I came home and he said, "NO.  I'm eating it."  So I asked if he was still cooking a meal to bring to me.  Nope, but he'll have something ready for me when I get home.  I told him that I wanted the pork chops that need to be cooked anyway, and then mashed potatoes and corn.  He was thinking fish instead of the pork but the rest of the meal was already something he planned on.  Ok fine he says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well here it is 2:30am.  I just worked an 8 hour shift outside in the cold (freezing actually, as in the wet ground froze even).  I notice that the lights are off in the kitchen as I pulled up.  I walk in the house, no husband in the living room.  Where is he?  Still sleeping.  He'd called around 11pm to tell me that he was going to take a nap before getting up to come down to help me out at 1am.  Which of course he didn't show up.  So I thought, great does this mean there is no dinner?  Sure enough, nothing got cooked.  On top of that, the dog was doing the pee-pee dance.  So I had to take him out because apparently my husband can't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know after 7 years I should be used to it but right now I'm sick and tired of all the, "Have the girl fix my lunch for me.", "What's for dinner, I have to work tonight?", "My feet hurt so I can't help you carry in the groceries.", "Well he never goes for me when I take him outside." (the dog)  And all the empty promises.  I'll do this for you.  Since I bought that, you can buy this...but there's never enough money when it comes time for my something to buy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114207311678285027?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114207311678285027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114207311678285027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114207311678285027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114207311678285027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/03/sometimes-his-complete-selfishness.html' title='Sometimes his complete selfishness astounds me.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114182137754255016</id><published>2006-03-08T04:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T04:36:17.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I started thinking....</title><content type='html'>Yeah I know, it's a dangerous thing.  Makes my head hurt too. (HA-HA)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I didn't really have those rose colored glasses after all when it comes right down to it.  I knew my "friends" talked about me behind my back.  Granted I didn't know that my "friends" allowed someone who obviously dislikes me to call me things like fat, lazy and stupid in front of them.  But then, jokes on me really because my "friends" were doing it too.  I knew they talked about me, I even said as much and they came down on me saying I was paranoid and needed to stop thinking people didn't like me.  I don't reckon it matters now but how can you call yourself a friend when you makes comments behind someones back like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She's got more issues than an AA meeting combined with The Surreal Life. I ignore most of what she says...and have been doing so for YEARS. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and here's a really friendly statement by another "friend"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"you pathetic, whiney-azz, better-be-glad-God-does-love-ya, 'cuz you're about to PI$$ ME OFF, paiintheAZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And let's not leave out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I hope she is really leaving this time. We'll see. "&lt;br /&gt;************************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were others, but these are the three that made me feel so bad.  I put my trust in the wrong people it would seem.  You know, one of those people I missed so badly when she left our group, I made public requests for her to return.  All the while she was what, laughing behind my back at what an idiot I am???  She told me she cared about me.  How can someone care about you and call you pathetic?  *shrug*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I get over it and move on?  Well of course.  Does moving on mean that the women who hurt me so badly get another chance at it down the road?  Nope.  I'm well aware of who they are and what they do behind my back now.  I tell my daughter all the time that I have eyes in the back of my head where she's concerned.  Now I have them for these "friends" too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama always said, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.  I don't know where these people fit...but in the next few days, the next couple of weeks or months, I suppose I'll find out.  This is the last I've got to say on the matter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114182137754255016?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114182137754255016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114182137754255016' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114182137754255016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114182137754255016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-started-thinking.html' title='I started thinking....'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114175985438182872</id><published>2006-03-07T11:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T11:30:54.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My pretty balloon popped and my rose colored lenses broke too</title><content type='html'>To quote the WW of Oz, "What a world, what a world, what a world."  Or uhm, was it "I'm melting, melting, melting."?  Either one works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so tired.  It's amazing how being the cream that rises to the top, can make you feel more like the foam on a head of beer.  One little puff of air and away I'm gonna fly!!!  Tired, tired, tired.  Have I mentioned I'm tired.  I've just about decided that women can really suck worse than guys sometimes.  I'm also starting to remember why I liked boys so much and only had a couple really close chums when I was little.  Girls can be so nasty to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminds me...work very hard to not talk about my friends (even when I'm mad at them).  I must take it to thier face.  Yep!  Well, ok so I'll probably still tell my husband about it.  I don't know what's harder really, forgiving or forgetting.  Well ya, forgiving is easy.  Forgetting...how do you forget when someone says they wish you'd leave?  Sigh.  I hate this it's messy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114175985438182872?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114175985438182872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114175985438182872' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114175985438182872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114175985438182872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/03/my-pretty-balloon-popped-and-my-rose.html' title='My pretty balloon popped and my rose colored lenses broke too'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114119447864817002</id><published>2006-02-28T22:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T22:27:58.660-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It ain't easy being cheezy.</title><content type='html'>Nothing has happened really.  I'm just tired.  John will start working the district closest to home soon and &lt;strong&gt;He's&lt;/strong&gt; decided that I can work on his days off.  I love how he volunteers me for things.  No, no I can't work more hours.  I'm already killing my body with the few I'm working.  But if I work more hours right now we'd get more money.  Though, it'd kill my disability status before I can even get approved.  ARGH!  Physically I can't tolerate even the 14 hours I'm already working because I have to be standing and walking so much.  It's just so frustrating!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114119447864817002?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114119447864817002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114119447864817002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114119447864817002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114119447864817002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/it-aint-easy-being-cheezy.html' title='It ain&apos;t easy being cheezy.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114095227030009533</id><published>2006-02-26T03:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T03:11:10.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There was a terrible shooting tonight.</title><content type='html'>I was standing outside as I usually do for work and I heard two POP's.  I had enough time to debate with myself about whether they were gun shots or firecrackers when all of a sudden there were four more POP's.  I called 911 when I heard sirens and was told there was "an incident".  I only called because this was CLOSE.  I mean those shots could have been fired from the apartments next to work, it was that loud.  I needed to know if we needed to keep everyone inside for a while.  So an incident is all I got told, until after 1am.  A police officer came by to search our parking lot and to talk with me (gave the 911 operator my location, my name and the fact I was working outdoors and that I heard shots). I found out from that police officer that yes, I did hear gunshots.  I was able to tell him how many times the gun was fired, which he said helped them a lot because the only people they'd talked to were so shaken up they couldn't be sure.  But...someone was murdered tonight.  I'm pretty shaken by it because while I didn't SEE anything, I heard it.  I heard someone's life end tonight and I don't think it's something I'm going to get over very soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114095227030009533?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114095227030009533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114095227030009533' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114095227030009533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114095227030009533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/there-was-terrible-shooting-tonight.html' title='There was a terrible shooting tonight.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114086877102973256</id><published>2006-02-25T03:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T03:06:40.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stormy goes to the rescue</title><content type='html'>It was sad leaving her there because she looked at me with her big sad eyes like she was thinking, "Hey, where are you going?  What about me?"  But I know I did what was right for all of us.  Skyler is back to his happy dog self which makes me very happy.  I've missed him these last few days as he just moped and didn't want anything to do with me.  Alex was sad to see her go but also happy that she's going to go to an adult only home with no kids to challenge her for space and attention.  I'm just going to have to deal with the fact that I couldn't cope with everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114086877102973256?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114086877102973256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114086877102973256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114086877102973256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114086877102973256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/stormy-goes-to-rescue.html' title='Stormy goes to the rescue'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114076270173366855</id><published>2006-02-23T22:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T03:53:53.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy have I been busy!!!</title><content type='html'>Tuesday evening I get a call from N regarding "Oreo" (from here on out she is known as Stormy), a dog that one of her friends (I'd wager she's a dope or pot addict) owns. Apparently Stormy got bigger than this lady wanted. She'd be shut off in a laundry room and wasn't allowed out except to be taken on an occasional walk or to go potty. She got hit with a fly swatter as discipline and yelled at a lot. She was filthy, flea ridden, unvaccinated and in head. Well, we now have Stormy.  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Skyler is afraid of her. We're hoping he warms up to her because if he doesn't, I mean really doesn't, we'll have to take her to the rescue. I probably should have just done that to start with before she became attached. Sure I like her, but I could have let her go. However, she follows me around EVERYWHERE, whines if I even go into the bathroom without it...it's nuts. If we end up having to give her up she's going to be MISERABLE. So, let's hope that Skyler continues to get better with her. He'll sniff her, but he still backs off from her and runs away when she tries to play. Getting her spayed should help mellow her and maybe then when she's settled down, he'll not be so scared. I dunno.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I took her in to the vet and got her shots, de-wormed, nails trimmed and had an exam done. She's in pretty decent health all things considered. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm EXHAUSTED! Gonna go take a nap. I only get a couple hours sleep at a time because she gets needy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114076270173366855?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114076270173366855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114076270173366855' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114076270173366855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114076270173366855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/boy-have-i-been-busy.html' title='Boy have I been busy!!!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114042433147125401</id><published>2006-02-20T00:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T15:42:50.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday and monday blahs</title><content type='html'>I didn't sleep real well, or for very long. Dang it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a pretty bracelet for myself, it has a rainbow in it. I suppose some people will think I'm gay, since they stole the rainbow. It's a sign of God's promise dang it, not gayness. I love rainbows!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired already, but it's drug induced. I took a flexeril for my muscles. Ugh!&lt;br /&gt;***********************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got home from picking Alex up.  She's happy to be home and I'm glad to have her back.  See how fickle I am?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114042433147125401?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114042433147125401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114042433147125401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114042433147125401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114042433147125401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/sunday-and-monday-blahs.html' title='Sunday and monday blahs'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114030892473286497</id><published>2006-02-18T16:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T16:28:44.740-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't want to be out of bed yet!</title><content type='html'>I can't sleep.  Oh I get spurts of an hour or so, but I'm not sleeping soundly.  It used to just happen at night, not anymore.  I dunno why my brain has to have it's up time ALL the time.  Or maybe it's my body.  (OW)  My back hurts, that's another thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well then there is the whole, John's awake yet for some reason can't take Skyler outside so I have to, thing.  Then (get this) I try to feed him breakfast.  Damn dog wouldn't eat until I took his food into the bedroom so that he could be where John was.  Of course I had to sit with him or he wouldn't eat it.  ARGH!  That was around 9ish this morning.  This afternoon he woke me up, wouldn't poop when I took him out.  Came in, drank a ton of water and then hurled it all over the kitchen floor.  Something is wrong with my dog but I don't have money until Friday.  The vet said as long as he's eating relatively normal, has solid stools and has the same ol personality as always, that if it's anything at all it should be pretty minor.  *sigh*  I worry.  His lymph nodes are swollen in his neck, but John says I'm seeing things that aren't there.  I worry anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to go to work tonight.  My face is all sniffly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114030892473286497?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114030892473286497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114030892473286497' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114030892473286497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114030892473286497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-dont-want-to-be-out-of-bed-yet.html' title='I don&apos;t want to be out of bed yet!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114021864485177954</id><published>2006-02-17T15:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T03:13:55.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday ain't would it should be</title><content type='html'>what with me having to work and all. It's going to be brrrrrrrrrrrrr cold tonight! It's also the last couple of days for my favorite employee (B) where I work. Sigh, he's so funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOOHOO!!! My Dad arrived to pick up Alex! He and I finished putting her bed together (He'd forgotten the bolts for the headboard when he brought all her furniture down) and then off they went. Well actually they are still in the driveway hehe. But still gone gone gone wheeeeeeeeee! I should feel bad for being so excited that my daughter will be gone until Monday, but I don't. We're having typical (or so everyone says) pre-teen vs parent angst. Let my folks deal with her I say, I need a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom leaves a week from tomorrow to go see my brothers family and then to see her folks. We're all very disapointed though, because my brother will be leaving two days before Mom gets down there. He has to go to Iraq, again (for the third time). Mom really wanted to see him, but his orders came through early. I know she's got to be feeling really down about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaaanyway, it's almost time for me to get ready for work. BRRRRRR!&lt;br /&gt;***************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy heck it was cold tonight.  I barely made it through the night and yet...it's supposed to be colder tomorrow (Well tonight now, seeing as it's 3am).  YIKES.  My nose hurts.  See it gets cold, my nose says "time to run" and I spend all night blowing my nose.  So now, on top of the thawing out pains I have "nose rubbed raw" pains too.  GRRR!  I wore a scarf over my head and then one of those earwarmer headband things on top of that.  Then I had my big thick work jacket on over my uniform shirt which was over a t-shirt (which of course was over my bra).  On the bottom half I had thermals and my jeans, two pair of socks and then my work shoes.  Oh yeah I forgot something...I wore TWO pair of gloves.  My feet suffered along with my nose and both are currently in a mid-thaw stage.  BRR BRR BRR DAMMIT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly the night went fine though, but I'm going to get seriously homicidal if people don't stop saying, "Cold enough for ya?".  Well DUH!!!  The other one that bugs me is, "Your job must really suck." and other comments of that ilk.  I'm working, what am I supposed to say, "Yes it sucks?"  I don't think so, not if I want to keep my damn job.  Plus, B wasn't there tonight.  It would seem that he managed to do something to piss the powers that be off and got fired.  Dammit.  That put EVERYONE there in a foul mood tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two highlights of the night...a guy comes out totally drunk and says, "16 and 20...that's against the law right?"  I told him yes, to which he responded, "See.  I'm drunk and I still knew that."  So I asked, "which one are you, 16 or 20".  He not only informed me that he's not yet legal to drink (being only 20) but also that it was ok because his friend here WAS legal.  So, here he's drunk and not legal and has just ratted out his friend for providing alcohol to a minor.  I could have called the sherriff, but I didn't.  Just told his friend to take his drunk buddy and leave and that he wouldn't be welcomed back.  Second highlight...another drunk story.  This guy is with a bunch of friends, I don't know WHICH of them actually owns the car involved.  But the drunk guy gets on the car roof and starts screaming at the top of his lungs, "OH yeah, dancing on the cougar.  Who wants to come party dance on the cougar with me?"  Over and over again.  Oy, the joys of my job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114021864485177954?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114021864485177954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114021864485177954' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114021864485177954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114021864485177954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/friday-aint-would-it-should-be.html' title='Friday ain&apos;t would it should be'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114012729666549363</id><published>2006-02-16T13:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T14:01:36.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You have got to love a shirtless man with nice pecs and abs!</title><content type='html'>MMM MMMM!!  It should be illegal to look as good as M and B do with thier shirts off.  M and B are neighbors of mine.  They are both firefighters and M is a military reservist who spent time in Iraq.  Anyway, I got a flyer on my door for a cage fight that is coming up on Saturday.  There in all his naked chested glory is B.  WOOHOO.  I know they do extreme fighting but they must be pretty good because I've never seen either of them look like they got thier butts kicked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's Thursday, that's means SURVIVOR is on.  I love that show.  Well ok, more accurately I suppose...I lust Jeff Probst!  His sexy dimples get to me.  ROWR ROWR!!!  But it also means that tomorrow is Friday and I have to work.  BLECH.  I spent money I couldn't afford, in order to buy some thermals, gloves, scarf and head band thing to keep my ears warm.  Here's hoping I stay warm enough.  It's supposed to be 10 degrees or some such crapola.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm impatient today.  I want my artbead stuff to come so I can get some bracelets made up.  I ordered enough stuff to make 10 Salvation Bracelets, and I only have 3 sold.  But I'm hoping that if I make up extras of things that are really nice, someone will want to buy them.  I really thought that my rainbow makers would sell, but they are all just sitting here hanging in my window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bitch, moan, complain...I have got to get positive.  Maybe soon.  I'm just not feeling peppy.  Hey!  I get to see my Mom on Sunday.  That's a great thing.  My Dad is coming down to pick up Alex tomorrow.  That's a WONDERFUL thing.  Except...it leaves all of Skyler's care to me.  That part bites because I need to sleep and mr wonderweiner seems to think he needs to go outside every hour LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114012729666549363?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114012729666549363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114012729666549363' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114012729666549363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114012729666549363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/you-have-got-to-love-shirtless-man.html' title='You have got to love a shirtless man with nice pecs and abs!'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-114003011985810246</id><published>2006-02-15T10:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T21:14:20.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>*YAWN*</title><content type='html'>I'm up. I haven't even had a chance to take a shower or eat something. The dog decided he couldn't wait any longer and woke John up. So, John let him out here with me. That means I have postpone my shower time until I take care of dogboy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have chores to do today, like cleaning the (barf) bathroom. I hate that! I share with Alex but she doesn't even think to clean up her own mess. Geez like father like daughter. I've also got to get some other housework done and some laundry taken care of. Then I'm going outside because it's GORGEOUS out there right now!&lt;br /&gt;************************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's after 9pm now and the day is mostly over. Today I...&lt;br /&gt;Got a check I've been waiting on and took it to the bank.&lt;br /&gt;Went shopping at Craft Warehouse and online at artbeads.com to get supplies for an order (related to the above mentioned check). I can't wait to get started!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Went looking for some gloves and long johns...did you know it's spring already? I didn't! I think if it's supposed to be 10 freakin degrees that SOMEONE should still be selling gloves dammit!&lt;br /&gt;Ate blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;Got ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;Watched Olympics and American Idol.&lt;br /&gt;Played with superdude the wonderdog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya know, sometimes my dog has great ideas. Don't we all have days when we wish we could just pull the covers over our head and go back to sleep? Check this out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/320/hideme.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-114003011985810246?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/114003011985810246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=114003011985810246' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114003011985810246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/114003011985810246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/yawn.html' title='*YAWN*'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-113997392925671779</id><published>2006-02-14T19:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T19:25:29.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pics, pics, pics.</title><content type='html'>Ok, since Dy wants pet pics I'll post a few pet pics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/320/daboyds.jpg" border="0" /&gt;This is a picture of my crazy birds. Cricket (on the left) is a 7 year old male Parakeet. Little Bit (on the right) is about a year old now. She's got a recessive trait that keeps her eyes dark instead of getting the lighter iris. They're fun to have and fun to watch. Cricket has a pretty nasty temper and bites, A LOT. He'll jump up on my finger or hand, but then he bites it. Little Bit doesn't like to be handled at all, but if I catch her at least she's nice. I can pet her head and neck without getting my fingers ripped open.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/320/killertongue.jpg" border="0" /&gt;This is Skyler. I already mentioned him. He's a four year old miniature smooth coat black and tan dachshund. Whew that's a mouthful! He's my baby! He'll sit, down, roll over, put em up (raises his paws in an "I surrender" pose), sit pretty and speak. You can even hear him say, "My ball" if you have his ball. My charmer!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/320/abbiegirl.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my angel cat. Abbigail. She was my best friend. I was blessed by her for almost 9 years and she'll be missed for the rest of my life. I adored her. She was stubborn and aloof and such a diva. But nothing made me feel better than when I could bury my face in her fur and listen to her purr. She passed away in June of 2005. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/320/haunted%20tree.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just love this picture I took and tweaked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-113997392925671779?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/113997392925671779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=113997392925671779' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113997392925671779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113997392925671779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/pics-pics-pics.html' title='Pics, pics, pics.'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-113997262281792333</id><published>2006-02-14T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T19:08:43.480-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let me tell ya about my friends</title><content type='html'>I mentioned some of them already...Susan, Jackie, Neecy, Kat, Wendy and Devon.  But there are so many others...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boops.  She's such a gentle spirit.  This is a woman who takes pride in her family (especially her little grandson).  She's supported me even when I've been a yutz.  I think she's an angel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B&amp;B.  They've been my friends through all kinds of things and have always stood by me.  I'm very proud of them right now, in case they needed to hear this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diana, my friend and neighbor.  She makes me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*  I miss my cat.  Her name was Abbigail and she was my very best friend.  I had her for almost 9 years.  Things just always seemed easier when she was here to rub on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-113997262281792333?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/113997262281792333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=113997262281792333' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113997262281792333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113997262281792333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/let-me-tell-ya-about-my-friends.html' title='Let me tell ya about my friends'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-113995957983527393</id><published>2006-02-14T15:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T15:26:19.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am my own novel</title><content type='html'>Do not judge my pages because my cover looks like one you've seen before.  Within the cover of my book, are pages full of things you've never read before.  There are joys and sorrows the likes of which you have never seen and adventures you'd never even dreamed of.  Each story within is as different as the snowflakes that fall in winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am unique.  I am an individual.  Just because you know one bi-polar person does not mean you've met us all.  Perhaps we read that this one killed himself, that one murdered her children or perhaps this one tried to take over the world.  It doesn't mean I would do those things, or even think them.  Perhaps this one has a normal life, or that one take five different medications and is stable.  That doesn't mean that they are like me.  We're all different.  Stop trying to lump us in to one form. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am like the spots on a leopard, the stripes on a zebra or my own thumbprint.  There is no one else in the world like me, and I resent any implication otherwise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-113995957983527393?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/113995957983527393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=113995957983527393' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113995957983527393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113995957983527393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-am-my-own-novel.html' title='I am my own novel'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-113994637860507696</id><published>2006-02-14T11:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T17:59:20.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forum woes</title><content type='html'>I belong to an online forum. Well actually I belong to a few of them, but only one is really worth venting about. The others are sort of lala fluffy stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are four particular people on my online forum that I cannot STAND. Here they will be reffered to as...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forum Nazi (FN)&lt;br /&gt;Big Dunce (BD)&lt;br /&gt;Melting Whore (MW)&lt;br /&gt;Sea Witch (SW)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FN, she's got to be the most power tripping person I've had the displeasure of being around, even if just online. FN corrects us like we're children and excuses her behavior because in real life "its my job". Yet she loves to put me in my place, and the fact that I have a varifiable emotional disorder isn't good enough. She was part of the whole controversy which cost several friends (because they left our forum). I think she got exactly what she wanted though, POWER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still stunned that BD has ANY friends. Can't they tell that she's got an empty skull? She's completely superficial. She can't confront anyone really difficult for her. She'll take on the lesser stuff, but leaves the bigger things to other people. Oh, she'll go running off to someone who shouldn't even be involved and whine about something I said, but she KNOWS she can't take me on, coward. I'd shred her, and I think she's afraid to have the mirror turned on her. UGH, it's like being forced to stay in the same room as a squealing balloon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MW, nasty little sasquatch! Bed hopping troll. I've never EVER met someone who could be so nice to your face and so evil behind your back. But what do you expect from someone who can't even be honest to a judge? I have no respect for liars. I have no respect for someone who will PROUDLY prance thier immoral life around. *shudder*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh SW...she who stirred things up with the others, and lied about just how much she helped. Got no respect for someone who backstabs thier own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm a bitch. You don't have to tell me that. But I am also FIERCELY loyal to my friends. I expect any "friend" to behave in the same way. If you aren't capable of that basic human courtesy, they you don't belong in polite company. So, since I am not allowed to speak my mind in the forum I love (because I do love it there), I'll speak it here. If you see yourself here and don't like what I've said...tough nougies. I'll delete your comments too if you try to complain, because HERE I'm the boss. I take no shit and I pull no punches. This is the only warning you'll get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, there are some absolutely great chicks there too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Susan. She's probably Christianity personafied for me. Sweet, loving, gentle and kind hearted. She hardly speaks ill of anyone! I love her to pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jackie. I probably feel closest to her. I've had friends for longer, but Jackie is...home. We've got so much in common. We're Bama gals. Similar morals, beliefs and sense of humor (ok so I'm funnier hehe). I love her like a sister and cherrish her friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neecy. My beautiful, special angel. She's gone through so much and she's so strong. I have such an admiration of what she has accomplished and the fact that she continues to shine. Recently I've discovered that we don't have the same belief in God. It hurts my heart but it doesn't take away from my love for her. I just pray a lot more. She's another that I consider to be a best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kat. Kat, Kat, Kat. I really didn't expect to like her quite so much. She's the sort of plain spoken person that I often admire, but usually am too afraid to get near. See, she'd put me in my place quicker than bug snot. Being bi-polar, I am incredibly oversensitive. But Kat, she doesn't pick at that. She'll tell me what I need to hear, but in a way that I can swallow. Not everyone can do that, but our Kat can. I swear, if her man doesn't marry her soon I'm going to have to beat on him! I think she deserves the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Devon and Wendy. They have to go together in the same space. They're pretty good buddies to each other. Devon just had a darling baby girl, Wendy is newly pregnant. They're both very sweet to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's more, depending on the day. But these are the ones that stick out right now. I've got other friends, on other forums. I may post about them from time to time too. Today I have someone in my heart and mind, praying for her continued strength and courage in the battle for her life. I'll pay her the respect and not mention her by name, because I know she wouldn't like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-113994637860507696?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/113994637860507696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=113994637860507696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113994637860507696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113994637860507696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/forum-woes.html' title='Forum woes'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-113993538710194027</id><published>2006-02-14T08:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T08:43:07.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>G'morning</title><content type='html'>I'll bet I have a lot of these G'morning posts.  It's 8:36am and I'm up.  Probably because I went to bed at 8pm last night, very very tired.  I was also irritated because my husband was home on a night that he usually works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John's car broke down AGAIN yesterday.  I won't get started on the fact that his truck was in great shape.  Anyway, his car broke down and by the time he got it over to the repair shop and got home it was around noon or 1pm.  He said he was too tired to be able to work his night shift last night.  Like we can afford that.  This is the second night off he's taken for a bullshit reason in the last two weeks.  Seems like my part time job is just so that he can slack.  Especially when he napped for a couple hours and then was up all night long.  He could have worked and I told him so.  He made a mess in the kitchen, after I just cleaned it up.  There's crap everywhere.  He cooked for himself.  He RARELY cooks for me or Alex, but he'll cook for himself no problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex got lippy last night and ended up grounded from tv for the night.  John tried to make her go to bed when I did (he was already in bed).  I don't think so.  I dealt with the issue and grounding her from tv was enough, she didn't have to go to bed early.  I hate when he gets involved after the fact and is a hardass.  Of course Alex had to make more drama, she turned the volume on her alarm waaaaaaaay down and overslept this morning.  So, she's got a half hour earlier bedtime tonight to make up for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skyler was his usual good boy self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just cranky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-113993538710194027?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/113993538710194027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=113993538710194027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113993538710194027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113993538710194027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/gmorning.html' title='G&apos;morning'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22422489.post-113988922411020341</id><published>2006-02-13T19:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T19:53:44.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My first post</title><content type='html'>Ok, let's get this started. I had to delete my first post and start over because I can't figure out how to delete pictures out of my posts. I can get them in, just can't get them back out. How weird is that? I decided I didn't want a picture of myself here, since there is one in my profile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is dai. Well my real name isn't dai, but that's not all that important. I've used daionara online for something like 10 years. So, I'm dai. I a 31 year old bi-polar wife and mother. I have a part time job but I am mostly a stay at home parent. It works for me. I was diagnosed bi-polar when I was in high school, so I'm pretty used to it. My poor husband though, it's been a challenge for him. Oh but I am supposed to talk about me here. Hmmm. I can crochet and I make beaded jewelry too (hobbies ya know, supposed to be good for you). I love to read and tend to read anything I can get my hands on. I'm one of those people who will even read the same book again later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/1600/HubbaHubba.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/200/HubbaHubba.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is my husband. His name is John and he's 31 too. He works fulltime for a really nice guy (my boss too as a matter of fact). Hmmm, hobbies. I'm not sure he has any really. He's pretty much a homebody. Oh! He likes computers. He spends most of his off time watching tv and playing on his computer. John and I are both overweight, but I mostly worry about him. He's diabetic too. I spend a lot of time worrying that he's going to die. I sure hope he doesn't. I'm rather attached to him and would like to have him around a while longer. He's got a decent sense of humor and he's a wonderful Dad to my daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/1600/Alex"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/200/Alex%27shair12606.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my daughter, Alex. She's cute. Something of a drama queen though, but I'm told that's part and parcel with being a teenager. Although she's got another 6 months before that's official. She's incredibly bright and is on the Honor Role at her school. So, she's smart, and sweet and cute too. She claims that she doesn't have any hobbies. But she reads just about as much as I do. She also likes to play her video games, chat with friends via e-mail and spend weekends at her grandparents. What does she hate? CHORES! I'm very proud of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this is my family and this is my blog. I doubt you'll see much detail like this in the future. I just wanted you to know who I'm talking about when I vent in my blog. Because that's really what this place is going to be. A place for me to get my feelings out when they aren't making much sense to me. I figure if I can write them down, maybe I can piece them together into something less twisted around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I have a dog too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6658/2280/200/Skyler0206b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22422489-113988922411020341?l=emotionaltwister.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/feeds/113988922411020341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22422489&amp;postID=113988922411020341' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113988922411020341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22422489/posts/default/113988922411020341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emotionaltwister.blogspot.com/2006/02/my-first-post.html' title='My first post'/><author><name>daionara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04428905056058841365</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v130/daionara/warpaint.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
