<?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-7172824184982568103</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:58:34.315-08:00</updated><category term='Henry'/><category term='I could really use a nap'/><category term='2009'/><category term='frenemies'/><category term='child support'/><category term='assessment'/><category term='graduation'/><category term='keys'/><category term='pharmacy'/><category term='sisters'/><category term='fights'/><category term='mileage'/><category term='books'/><category term='jealousy'/><category term='ashtray'/><category term='techno age'/><category term='boys'/><category term='bras'/><category term='twins'/><category term='graduate'/><category term='date'/><category term='denying'/><category term='hair'/><category term='middle school'/><category term='home'/><category term='regrets'/><category term='Bon Jovi'/><category term='renting'/><category term='job'/><category term='girls'/><category term='family'/><category term='controlled substances'/><category term='pets'/><category term='Giants'/><category term='mother'/><category term='bed'/><category term='empty that damn thing'/><category term='Locks of Love'/><category term='reading'/><category term='blue'/><category term='Philadelphia'/><category term='Hannah Montana'/><category term='substitute'/><category term='father'/><category term='snow day'/><category term='100K'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='polizia'/><category term='lost and found'/><category term='college'/><category term='postgrad'/><category term='school'/><category term='equality'/><category term='hookups'/><category term='traveling'/><category term='car keys'/><category term='medicaid'/><category term='ice'/><category term='New Jersey'/><category term='fire'/><category term='Penn State pisses me off'/><category term='overdrawn'/><category term='Brett Michaels'/><category term='hate being a girl'/><category term='stories'/><category term='campus health services'/><category term='good friends'/><category term='UGH'/><category term='gay marriage'/><category term='moving'/><category term='poor'/><category term='red'/><category term='resolutions'/><category term='Nittany Lion'/><category term='unfortunate events'/><category term='smoke'/><category term='Hyundai Accent'/><category term='environment'/><category term='Bayonne Bees'/><category term='broke college life'/><category term='microwaves'/><category term='elementary students'/><category term='Bayonne'/><category term='elves'/><category term='top secret'/><category term='bank'/><category term='dedication to the cause'/><category term='prom'/><category term='evaluation'/><category term='snow storm'/><category term='boarding pass'/><category term='Rock of Love'/><category term='funny dances'/><category term='humping'/><category term='new year'/><category term='high school'/><category term='Who doesn&apos;t love presents???'/><category term='senior year'/><category term='attitude'/><category term='hair dye'/><category term='teaching'/><category term='friends'/><category term='car'/><category term='I swear I&apos;m not pregnant but if I were you would be in trouble'/><category term='meme'/><category term='election'/><category term='ugly Pheobe'/><category term='real life'/><category term='politics'/><category term='awesome'/><category term='thanks'/><category term='Dr. Dumbass'/><category term='award'/><category term='fuck you'/><category term='where&apos;s my shrimp??'/><category term='bad hair day'/><category term='bacon'/><category term='makeup disasters'/><category term='trash'/><category term='didn&apos;t we have anything better to do?'/><category term='enemies'/><category term='locked out'/><category term='lying'/><category term='Penn State Berks'/><category term='roommates'/><category term='I&apos;m dumb'/><category term='rabbits'/><category term='Pennsylvania'/><category term='history'/><category term='queen'/><category term='welfare'/><category term='gender confusion'/><category term='bears'/><category term='Turnpike'/><category term='bunnies'/><category term='Drexel'/><category term='move on and let go'/><category term='after college'/><title type='text'>I'll get there...eventually</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-8950921384559014754</id><published>2009-07-01T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T12:17:53.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Long, Farewell</title><content type='html'>I'm signing off. I've decided that my situation is too delicate right now for people to know who I am. I'll be around though, in fact I already am. That's right, I won't go down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a fun ride. Thanks to my new found friends for the love and support and thanks to everyone else to kept reading and gave me something to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-8950921384559014754?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/8950921384559014754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=8950921384559014754&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8950921384559014754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8950921384559014754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-long-farewell.html' title='So Long, Farewell'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-360534264083889390</id><published>2009-06-24T19:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T20:19:24.162-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='queen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='award'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='awesome'/><title type='text'>I Told You I Was Queen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SkLm9KoWZtI/AAAAAAAAAOM/MQMsAfzRJUs/s1600-h/queen%5B2%5D.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SkLm9KoWZtI/AAAAAAAAAOM/MQMsAfzRJUs/s320/queen%5B2%5D.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351093245769574098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been tagged by &lt;a href="http://snowwhiteplus76.blogspot.com/"&gt;Snow White&lt;/a&gt; for this Queen award. Fitting isn't it? I've gotten a lot of backlash for this blog and I've been laying low recently. Call it Vodka Mom syndrome I guess. It's nice to know that some people are still keeping an eye on me to see what I'm up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the rough part...the rules.&lt;br /&gt;1. List 7 things that make me awe-summm!&lt;br /&gt;2. Pass the award onto 7 bloggers that I love  &lt;br /&gt;3. Tag those bloggers to let them know they are now Queens too (and link back to the Queen who tagged you)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Things That Make Me Awe-Summm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. After everything that has gone this past year with this blog, I have still managed to keep them coming. If ya don't like it, don't read it!&lt;br /&gt;2. Not only am a 21 year old female that can change a tire by HERSELF but I have also taught at least 3 males how to as well.&lt;br /&gt;3. I do pretty good impersonations. Not celebrity impersonations, but impersonations of everyday people in my everyday life. (I have mastered the impersonation of 5 Kindergarteners).&lt;br /&gt;4. I remember approximately 73% of my color guard choreography from high school 5 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;5. I am very resourceful. My car radio broke last week and instead of driving around with no music, I broke out my mother's old boom box and planted it right in my front seat. Now I have a radio.&lt;br /&gt;6. I can fit my ear inside of a snapple cap.&lt;br /&gt;7. I can parallel park, change the radio station, and be on the phone at the same time. It sounds dangerous, but not when I do it. I'm that good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was actually really hard. I'm hoping that I'll think of about 10 more things that make me completely awesome once I post this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 7 Queens...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Vodka Mom @ &lt;a href="http://waitresswheresmymartini.blogspot.com/"&gt;I Need A Martini&lt;/a&gt; (as if she needs another one)&lt;br /&gt;2. Ice Queen @ &lt;a href="http://theconstantchill.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Constant Chill&lt;/a&gt; (haha...love those queen names)&lt;br /&gt;3. Sarah K @ &lt;a href="http://randbumb.blogspot.com/"&gt;Randumb&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Errant @ &lt;a href="http://myowncircusshow.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Own Circus Show&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Hit 40 @ &lt;a href="http://sanewithoutdrugs.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sane Without Drugs&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Irish Chicken Soup @ &lt;a href="http://salt-water-stains.blogspot.com/"&gt;Vitrifying Hearts&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Lissa @ &lt;a href="http://www.whooosthatgirl.com/"&gt;Whooo's That Girl?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-360534264083889390?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/360534264083889390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=360534264083889390&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/360534264083889390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/360534264083889390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-told-you-i-was-queen.html' title='I Told You I Was Queen'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SkLm9KoWZtI/AAAAAAAAAOM/MQMsAfzRJUs/s72-c/queen%5B2%5D.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-1820458184116095903</id><published>2009-06-19T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T14:51:15.990-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jealousy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Jersey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='attitude'/><title type='text'>We Don't Like You Either!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SjwHyZmbkzI/AAAAAAAAAN8/4Bre_7BVuZ0/s1600-h/jersey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SjwHyZmbkzI/AAAAAAAAAN8/4Bre_7BVuZ0/s320/jersey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349159019856237362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I made the decision to go to Pennsylvania colleges. Through our experience we've run into many people who like us, then find out we're from North Jersey and catch an attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister just came back from a road trip with a friend from Deleware. This friend has parents from North Carolina. They found out my sister was from North Jersey and they strongly discouraged him from joining her on this road trip. After some arguing he was told, "Fine, go...but don't bring her around here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I don't have an issue with people from other states until I find out that they hate me because of the Jersey thing. I mean really? WTF? What did we do to North Carolina? Are they jealous? Can someone help me clear this issue up?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-1820458184116095903?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/1820458184116095903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=1820458184116095903&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1820458184116095903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1820458184116095903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/06/we-dont-like-you-either.html' title='We Don&apos;t Like You Either!'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SjwHyZmbkzI/AAAAAAAAAN8/4Bre_7BVuZ0/s72-c/jersey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-5670485635181278486</id><published>2009-06-10T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T18:26:08.701-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tell All Your Friends</title><content type='html'>You win. I can't do this anymore. The anger and frustration is eating me alive and it's turning my heart. I don't know what you want from me. All I ask is peace. One last week of peace so that everything can be said and done. My spirit has been broken but not killed. There is more to life than this hatred that you have drawn out over these past months and I will not be consumed by it as you have. I hope you find peace in your bitterness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have a few people on my side. I'm cutting my loses and moving on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...tell all your friends&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-5670485635181278486?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/5670485635181278486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=5670485635181278486&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5670485635181278486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5670485635181278486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/06/tell-all-your-friends.html' title='Tell All Your Friends'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-8234657491456868329</id><published>2009-05-27T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T16:32:43.965-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='equality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gay marriage'/><title type='text'>Prop H8</title><content type='html'>One of my best friends sent me a link to the video that her company did about the gay marriage protest in LA yesterday. I'm posting it because  a.) I'm incredibly proud that this Jersey girl went to school in Florida and then moved out to LA (you showed them Heather) and b.) I really believe in the message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X0nGQ6C4wEc&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X0nGQ6C4wEc&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-8234657491456868329?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/8234657491456868329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=8234657491456868329&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8234657491456868329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8234657491456868329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/05/prop-h8.html' title='Prop H8'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-3832931023778524141</id><published>2009-05-26T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T20:41:04.199-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='after college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='postgrad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poor'/><title type='text'>Now What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Shy052ed8xI/AAAAAAAAAN0/z2zbcBpaezs/s1600-h/after-graduation005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Shy052ed8xI/AAAAAAAAAN0/z2zbcBpaezs/s320/after-graduation005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340342164123415314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I finally graduated and as my peers head down the shore and get ready to start their careers I thought I would give everyone an update on what's going on with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I still don't have a job.&lt;br /&gt;- I don't have health insurance.&lt;br /&gt;- All of my friends have gone home 3 weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;- I'm down to about $50 in my account and my rent isn't paid yet (shouldn't have written that...someone's going to pass that info onto the roommate...damn).&lt;br /&gt;- My rabbit and I are sharing a bag of pretzels as our main form of nutrition. I consider this to be a great personality strength as I'm sure many people would have let the rabbit fend for himself by now.&lt;br /&gt;- While my car is running on fumes and my check engine light is flashing, my friend in the passenger seat turns and says to me, "I think you could use some new windshield wipers". I'll add it to the list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's really no way for me to describe to you the limbo that I have found myself in this past week or so. The looming "now what?" is just hanging over my head...I just want to go home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-3832931023778524141?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/3832931023778524141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=3832931023778524141&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3832931023778524141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3832931023778524141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/05/now-what.html' title='Now What?'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Shy052ed8xI/AAAAAAAAAN0/z2zbcBpaezs/s72-c/after-graduation005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-3911605554225684015</id><published>2009-05-15T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T15:24:20.327-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='graduation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='real life'/><title type='text'>Can I Graduate?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sg3rj4e8RgI/AAAAAAAAANs/20ZojGOe6Lk/s1600-h/PSU_SRB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 154px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sg3rj4e8RgI/AAAAAAAAANs/20ZojGOe6Lk/s320/PSU_SRB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336180135194019330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow afternoon I will officially become a Penn State alum. Let me just tell you....it feels good. I'm ready to move on and be a real person. Exciting, right?? In case any of you were wondering...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I don't have a job for September.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I don't have a job for the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I won't have insurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I don't know if I'm going to live at home for the first year or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I have loans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-3911605554225684015?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/3911605554225684015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=3911605554225684015&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3911605554225684015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3911605554225684015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/05/can-i-graduate.html' title='Can I Graduate?'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sg3rj4e8RgI/AAAAAAAAANs/20ZojGOe6Lk/s72-c/PSU_SRB.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-78981095092729875</id><published>2009-05-11T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T16:20:27.819-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='date'/><title type='text'>Spin Cycle: Prom Night Uncensored</title><content type='html'>I'm picking up on this &lt;a href="http://www.spriteskeeper.com/my_weblog/2008/08/im-going-somewhere-with-this.html"&gt;spin cycle&lt;/a&gt; thing from Sprite's Keeper. I saw &lt;a href="http://joanies-random-rambling.blogspot.com/"&gt;Joanie's&lt;/a&gt; old prom pics and I absolutely had to post! The theme this week is prom which is wonderful for me because I went to a prom every year (I had lots of older friends and was so gorgeous that everyone just wanted to be seen with me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allow me to begin by stating that our prom was doomed before it even started. Two days before prom I went with Rome to get his tux and apparently he was fitted by a baboon because not a single piece of his tux fit him. In fact, each piece looked like it belonged to its own tux entirely. Then, the day before the prom our auditorium went up in smoke and several windows and vehicles fell victim to the flames. If those weren't signs then I'm not sure what one is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgiweFeaumI/AAAAAAAAANc/fS8XzRhYtRY/s1600-h/n419222_37886869_8038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgiweFeaumI/AAAAAAAAANc/fS8XzRhYtRY/s320/n419222_37886869_8038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334707789532674658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So...my senior prom was in June 10, 2005 (I'm the blond bombshell in the back) and was held at the Mezzanine in Newark, New Jersey. It sounded like a really fancy place and the photos online were absolutely gorgeous. Unfortunately, the place was more like our prom was being held on the mezzanine level of an office building. You had to take the elevator up four floors to get to the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we get to the prom everyone meets in the high school gym for pictures and bus assignments. Bayonne High School came up with the idea of putting the entire senior class on buses to the prom to avoid drunken limo rides. It makes a lot of sense looking back but that gym was a sauna! By the time we got on the buses several girls had melting hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgivS1uTRyI/AAAAAAAAANU/dqFdv42bLrg/s1600-h/GetThumb7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgivS1uTRyI/AAAAAAAAANU/dqFdv42bLrg/s320/GetThumb7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334706496814139170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Rome and I got into 2 major fights that night. The first one was because he started dancing with a girl I didn't like. I slapped him. It was a good one. Right across the face in the middle of the dining room. Someone got a picture of it. I would share it with you if I had a copy but apparently no one has it. I can't really remember what the second fight was about...I may have been a little hormonal that evening. Luckily he got over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I think about it, everyone was fighting that night. My friend Trish was pissed at her boyfriend because he like his ex's prom the year before better, my friend Ann was trying to avoid her date and hook up with Jared who was there with Molly. Molly was a little upset about that. Our high school football star got pissed at his date, threw a chair across the room, and got kicked out. He went on to get a full ride to Penn State (they make me pay ::tear::) as a running back I believe. He ended up tearing his ACL and I haven't heard anything about him since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John's prom date was a girl who had graduated the year before and ended up disappearing a short time after our graduation. He tried to get in contact with her to at least give her the prom picture but thought it would be awkward. "Hey...I know you want to drop off the face of the planet and never talk to anyone again but I have this picture of us and you look really cute!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Junior Prom the year before was much less eventful. Here's a pic from that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgixuLkCgyI/AAAAAAAAANk/AmfUpc5RK4I/s1600-h/n82901498_30054754_549.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgixuLkCgyI/AAAAAAAAANk/AmfUpc5RK4I/s320/n82901498_30054754_549.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334709165556400930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-78981095092729875?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/78981095092729875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=78981095092729875&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/78981095092729875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/78981095092729875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/05/spin-cycle-prom-night-uncensored.html' title='Spin Cycle: Prom Night Uncensored'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgiweFeaumI/AAAAAAAAANc/fS8XzRhYtRY/s72-c/n419222_37886869_8038.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-6176015075824775244</id><published>2009-05-10T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T20:40:14.481-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair dye'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad hair day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='red'/><title type='text'>The Locks Are Always Redder On The Other Head??</title><content type='html'>I have an addiction. I have an addiction to dying my hair. I've had every hair color you could imagine. I've been blond, brunette, a red head, and I even had black hair at one point. Every time I need my driver's license I have to provide a second form of identification because my hair color never matches. I don't even know what my natural hair color is anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time I dye it because I just get bored or see a movie with a fabulous shade of chestnut brown or champagne blond that I absolutely must have on my head. Sometimes it goes too far. Usually when this happens it's red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted was my highlights redone...but apparently once you have a little red in your hair and more is too much. Right now my hair color looks something like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgebSsSStRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/QD9lAu9Un34/s1600-h/PAD3499.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgebSsSStRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/QD9lAu9Un34/s320/PAD3499.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334403029071475986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been told that I have trouble knowing when enough is enough. Now I have to think how I'm going to explain this to my colleagues. I really need to give this up...or at least the red.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-6176015075824775244?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/6176015075824775244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=6176015075824775244&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6176015075824775244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6176015075824775244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/05/locks-are-always-redder-on-other-head.html' title='The Locks Are Always Redder On The Other Head??'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgebSsSStRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/QD9lAu9Un34/s72-c/PAD3499.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-1077398050362411835</id><published>2009-05-05T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T16:01:49.442-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lost and found'/><title type='text'>Come and Get It!</title><content type='html'>I don't know if there is a magic aura about my apartment or if my friends are just absent minded but they keep leaving things at my house. I guess I'm not free of blame myself since by the time I find these homeless belongings I can't remember who they belong to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the end of the semester is coming and move out time is almost upon us, I have decided to post these pictures in the hopes that someone will claim them. If no one claims them I'm selling them to the highest bidder. (email me if you see anything you like).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDCme4q00I/AAAAAAAAAL8/WALuo6pIvEU/s1600-h/DSCN0281.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDCme4q00I/AAAAAAAAAL8/WALuo6pIvEU/s320/DSCN0281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332475925188236098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Men's hoodie. Excellent condition (no stink). Size L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDC7v2LiaI/AAAAAAAAAME/MPbdEc_ns88/s1600-h/DSCN0282.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDC7v2LiaI/AAAAAAAAAME/MPbdEc_ns88/s320/DSCN0282.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332476290518452642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Men's prescription glasses. Excellent condition. Found in Twin #1's makeup bag. (She swears she doesn't know a thing)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDDT2ei4cI/AAAAAAAAAMM/cOaGNYW7sZY/s1600-h/DSCN0283.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDDT2ei4cI/AAAAAAAAAMM/cOaGNYW7sZY/s320/DSCN0283.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332476704615227842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Men's Hollister Tshirt. Size M. Good condition. I'm pretty sure this one came from Jersey with me in August and I just never got around to bringing it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDDpAf2aaI/AAAAAAAAAMU/0tn_cRljpPE/s1600-h/DSCN0285.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDDpAf2aaI/AAAAAAAAAMU/0tn_cRljpPE/s320/DSCN0285.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332477068082309538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Women's sweatshirt. Excellent condition. Size S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDD_-yb_UI/AAAAAAAAAMc/5C_dqMVbNLQ/s1600-h/DSCN0284.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDD_-yb_UI/AAAAAAAAAMc/5C_dqMVbNLQ/s320/DSCN0284.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332477462760389954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Blue bath towel. Fair condition. This one has been around for approximately 6 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDEVabDCHI/AAAAAAAAAMk/mmZTcbUkZxU/s1600-h/DSCN0288.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDEVabDCHI/AAAAAAAAAMk/mmZTcbUkZxU/s320/DSCN0288.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332477830955731058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Female hoodie. Good condition. Size M&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDEpso_3-I/AAAAAAAAAMs/tsPBb4e3hOo/s1600-h/DSCN0286.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDEpso_3-I/AAAAAAAAAMs/tsPBb4e3hOo/s320/DSCN0286.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332478179443466210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Black umbrella w/hook handle. Good condition. Better come get this one quick...Twin #1 is kind of attached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDE5-n1mnI/AAAAAAAAAM0/2NJFXowFahM/s1600-h/DSCN0287.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDE5-n1mnI/AAAAAAAAAM0/2NJFXowFahM/s320/DSCN0287.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332478459148343922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;JanSport book bag. Fair condition.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-1077398050362411835?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/1077398050362411835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=1077398050362411835&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1077398050362411835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1077398050362411835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/05/come-and-get-it.html' title='Come and Get It!'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SgDCme4q00I/AAAAAAAAAL8/WALuo6pIvEU/s72-c/DSCN0281.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-6232415621300718329</id><published>2009-05-03T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T12:37:04.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Notes</title><content type='html'>A message from twin #2 to twin #1...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sf3yNAP4zWI/AAAAAAAAAL0/MY3LN_Q2bxw/s1600-h/DSCN0268.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sf3yNAP4zWI/AAAAAAAAAL0/MY3LN_Q2bxw/s320/DSCN0268.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331683839095393634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little things like this really make me miss my sister.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-6232415621300718329?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/6232415621300718329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=6232415621300718329&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6232415621300718329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6232415621300718329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/05/love-notes.html' title='Love Notes'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sf3yNAP4zWI/AAAAAAAAAL0/MY3LN_Q2bxw/s72-c/DSCN0268.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-5050424426205042634</id><published>2009-05-01T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T16:07:29.292-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teaching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='substitute'/><title type='text'>How Do You Do This Everyday?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfuApyz7wCI/AAAAAAAAALk/2D2Aa_vKJeo/s1600-h/ist2_2059139-tired-sleeping-teacher.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfuApyz7wCI/AAAAAAAAALk/2D2Aa_vKJeo/s320/ist2_2059139-tired-sleeping-teacher.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330996039425703970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Rome got a job substitute teaching in our hometown. Apparently, Pennsylvania is the only state that won't let just any John Doe off the street fill in for a teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today he was in an elementary school for the gym teacher. I got a text promptly at 3:05 that stated "I'm exhausted. I could never do this everyday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...welcome to my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-5050424426205042634?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/5050424426205042634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=5050424426205042634&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5050424426205042634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5050424426205042634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-do-you-do-this-everyday.html' title='How Do You Do This Everyday?'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfuApyz7wCI/AAAAAAAAALk/2D2Aa_vKJeo/s72-c/ist2_2059139-tired-sleeping-teacher.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-8460657377544969719</id><published>2009-04-30T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T17:35:51.979-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car keys'/><title type='text'>I Did It Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfpDckjCqWI/AAAAAAAAALc/UcKydUxn9Qg/s1600-h/carkeys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfpDckjCqWI/AAAAAAAAALc/UcKydUxn9Qg/s320/carkeys.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330647267072452962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...I locked my keys in the car again. For the third time since January. They say the average person does this twice in his or her lifetime. That means I have not only done this enough for myself, but that someone will never lock their keys in the car because I have already done it twice for them as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have saved someone the stress of standing out in the rain waiting for a tow truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I accept cash and checks with the thank you notes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-8460657377544969719?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/8460657377544969719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=8460657377544969719&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8460657377544969719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8460657377544969719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-did-it-again.html' title='I Did It Again'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfpDckjCqWI/AAAAAAAAALc/UcKydUxn9Qg/s72-c/carkeys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-5256573063950388748</id><published>2009-04-24T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T12:02:43.503-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='top secret'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nittany Lion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='didn&apos;t we have anything better to do?'/><title type='text'>Operation Garden Lion</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfIMvVVztdI/AAAAAAAAAK0/SCvrKrPuHqs/s1600-h/Nittany+Lion+statue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfIMvVVztdI/AAAAAAAAAK0/SCvrKrPuHqs/s320/Nittany+Lion+statue.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328335316454716882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a sophomore I had a really close knit group of friends.  We would all hang out together constantly and on any given night there were no less than 9 people in one dorm room.  It was the the first time in any of our lives that we were on our own and making our own decisions. Good or bad...they were our decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate was a pizza deliver boy on the weekends and it eventually got to the point that he knew the Sinking Spring/Shillington area better than the twins who had lived there their entire lives. He saw a lot of houses and outside one he found a replica of the Nittany Lion Shrine on someone's front lawn. It was love at first sight. He took advantage of every opportunity to deliver to that house and scope out this lion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Sunday night, he came back from work and decided that was the night. He and two others were going to steal the garden lion. They dressed in all black and planned to strike and 3 a.m. (I still have the picture of them and if we were still friends I would post it because it really is pretty funny).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As mapped out as the plan sounded it was doomed from the beginning. They had the stealing of the garden lion down but they had no idea what they were going to do with a 3 foot long garden statue. I guess they were just going to stick it in someone's dorm room.  They came back shortly after leaving without a lion. Apparently no one took into consideration how heavy the thing would be. I heard phrases like "It was too much", "Who the hell carried that thing there in the first place?", and "It was at least 350lbs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that the lion was never mentioned again. He fell out of love as quickly as he had fallen in. I never had the chance to see the lion so I can neither confirm nor deny these alligations of the size and weight but I still laugh whenever I see the real lion shrine on campus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-5256573063950388748?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/5256573063950388748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=5256573063950388748&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5256573063950388748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5256573063950388748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/04/operation-garden-lion.html' title='Operation Garden Lion'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfIMvVVztdI/AAAAAAAAAK0/SCvrKrPuHqs/s72-c/Nittany+Lion+statue.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-3849262896013997860</id><published>2009-04-21T17:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T18:09:52.673-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='polizia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traveling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boarding pass'/><title type='text'>Polizia!</title><content type='html'>Here we go with the college stories. The only problem is that since I've been reflecting on my college memories, I realize that they aren't as funny retrospect. Just a series of "you had to be there" stories that make you want to stab yourself in the ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry to all my home friends who have heard these stories over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's one anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Se5uIrXFR6I/AAAAAAAAAKs/QGC0CV_cWZk/s1600-h/0-venice_master.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 249px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Se5uIrXFR6I/AAAAAAAAAKs/QGC0CV_cWZk/s320/0-venice_master.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327316504583423906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met my roommates on a school trip to Venice my sophomore year (the twins...not the evil roommate. I knew him before that but that's another entry entirely). Anywho...apparently the week we spent in Venice was right after they passed a smoking ban and you could no longer smoke indoors. No big deal, the law had already been in place in Jersey for about a year so I was used to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What they neglected to tell us about the smoking rule was that it applied to public property as well. While we were waiting for the train to Verona a few of us were outside catching a smoke break. The police caught us. Someone neglected to mention that you cannot smoke on the front steps of the train station either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The polizia ambushed us demanding out passports. Thank God the roommate was carrying mine because I knew I didn't have it. I almost crapped my pants at the thought of being hauled off to an Italian jail. I hear Americans don't do so well overseas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on the trip I had an opportunity to pay the roommate back for his good deed but didn't take advantage. The day before we left I was cleaning out my bag and throwing things away I didn't need. I found receits from our flights and I didn't think they were that important. I threw his away immediately. I was going to throw mine away but got nervous and decided to keep it just in case...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...those were our boarding passes for the flight home. No wonder we hate each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-3849262896013997860?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/3849262896013997860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=3849262896013997860&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3849262896013997860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3849262896013997860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/04/polizia.html' title='Polizia!'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Se5uIrXFR6I/AAAAAAAAAKs/QGC0CV_cWZk/s72-c/0-venice_master.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-6312343308089143237</id><published>2009-04-04T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T08:42:26.248-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='locked out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='keys'/><title type='text'>Yes, Officer! This Is My Car!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sdd_3IjPsvI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Ee-9I8x2dow/s1600-h/LockedOut.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 252px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sdd_3IjPsvI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Ee-9I8x2dow/s320/LockedOut.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320862069926376178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember reading somewhere the the average driver locks the keys in the car twice during his/her lifetime. Well, I would like to announce that I have so far done this three times in the four years that I have been driving. I always knew I was more than average, but this is proof!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I did it was my freshman year in college. Rome was going to school in Philly at the time and I drove down in my Buick Lesabre from Reading to see him for the weekend.  One of the security guards on his campus was going to help, but started giving me a hard time because I didn't have proof of ownership.  I told him it was in the car, but apparently lots of eighteen year old girls try to steal 1994 Buick Lesabres at that campus. He just kept nodding as if he had heard the story before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other two times were both this year, both during the school day, and both when I had taken Nyquil the night before. Coincidence? Perhaps. I'm not really sure. All I know is that I'm going to have to think of a clever way to make that $56 back. Damn Locksmith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all fairness though, it could be worse. When I was 4 months old my mother locked me in the car while it was running.  I guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-6312343308089143237?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/6312343308089143237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=6312343308089143237&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6312343308089143237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6312343308089143237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/04/yes-officer-this-is-my-car.html' title='Yes, Officer! This Is My Car!'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/Sdd_3IjPsvI/AAAAAAAAAKE/Ee-9I8x2dow/s72-c/LockedOut.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-5511883580923370404</id><published>2009-04-01T09:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T10:27:56.569-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ashtray'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='empty that damn thing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='smoke'/><title type='text'>We Did Ignite It, But We Tried To Fight It</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SdOjocVd_GI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/svY7GVDjvQ0/s1600-h/fireashtray.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SdOjocVd_GI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/svY7GVDjvQ0/s320/fireashtray.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319775500051020898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The twins and I have become absolutely obsessed with "&lt;a href="http://www.sho.com/site/dexter/home.do"&gt;Dexter&lt;/a&gt;". If you haven't seen it, it's a show about a serial killer and it is sick, twisted, and brilliant! Anyway...we've become so infatuated with this show that we'll sit down and watch seasons of it for hours at a time. I really admire his organization and cleanliness. Something I lack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're sitting watching Dexter and the Ice Truck Killer when Twin #2 says that she smells something burning and immediately accuses Twin #1 of leaving the oven on. She checks....oven's off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Twin #1 wonders if the fourth roommate is burning upstairs. Since the fourth roommate has so many electronic devices plugged into a single outlet, it was a possibility. There have been sparks before and there could be sparks again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even at this point I still didn't smell anything and I was beginning to think that they were losing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally after 20 minutes, Twin #1 tells me to come sit next to her so that I can smell it.  I move and I do. It smelled like plastic, but not as strong.  It was the smell of cigarette filters burning. It was at that moment that I remembered my downfall...messiness.  I opened the balcony door to find our ashtray that hasn't been emptied out in at least 2 months was on fire. We immediately dosed the sparks and got back to Dexter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We could learn a thing or two from a serial killer...I bet serial killers empty out their ashtrays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-5511883580923370404?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/5511883580923370404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=5511883580923370404&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5511883580923370404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5511883580923370404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/04/we-did-ignite-it-but-we-tried-to-fight.html' title='We Did Ignite It, But We Tried To Fight It'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SdOjocVd_GI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/svY7GVDjvQ0/s72-c/fireashtray.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-791412882819949569</id><published>2009-03-13T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T17:51:20.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Really Need to Keep Up With This Thing...</title><content type='html'>I've been away for a few days so most of you probably know this (mostly because I think most of you read &lt;a href="http://lostandfoundinindia.blogspot.com/"&gt;Braja&lt;/a&gt;'s blog), but her husband and driver were in a &lt;a href="http://ididntgetthemessage.blogspot.com/"&gt;terrible accident&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please keep them in your thoughts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-791412882819949569?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/791412882819949569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=791412882819949569&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/791412882819949569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/791412882819949569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-really-need-to-keep-up-with-this.html' title='I Really Need to Keep Up With This Thing...'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-544499195286630303</id><published>2009-02-24T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T17:38:10.174-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who doesn&apos;t love presents???'/><title type='text'>Pay it Forward...and I love Gifts!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love presents so I promise to pass on the wonderful things!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here is the deal:&lt;/strong&gt; you want a present from me? leave me a comment. the first three people to comment will receive a gift from me sometime this year. when? what? you wont know!! its a surprise!! Im going to do my best to comply with the rules of "something handmade," but I cant promise that. life is crazy, you know!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;here is the catch:&lt;/strong&gt; in order for you to leave a comment on this post, first you have to repost this on your blog. that means that you are committing to giving three presents to people. got it? so post this on your blog, then comment to let me know. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;GOOD LUCK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-544499195286630303?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/544499195286630303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=544499195286630303&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/544499195286630303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/544499195286630303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/pay-it-forwardand-i-love-gifts.html' title='Pay it Forward...and I love Gifts!'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-3267493936127485101</id><published>2009-02-23T08:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T08:15:20.938-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='move on and let go'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rock of Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trash'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Brett Michaels'/><title type='text'>Your Tour Ends Here</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SaLLikj15OI/AAAAAAAAAHk/zRgj26hwetM/s1600-h/bret-michaels.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SaLLikj15OI/AAAAAAAAAHk/zRgj26hwetM/s320/bret-michaels.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306027105785865442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Brett Michaels,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you kidding me? I heard on the radio today that your Rock of Love tour bus is coming to Montclair, NJ next month. Please don’t. New Jersey has a bad enough reputation as it is and we don’t need you confirming rumors that we’re trash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, could you please stop with this “Rock of Love” thing? It’s old and I’m tired of you exploiting dumb aspiring porn stars. Instead of spending your time filming these women fighting over you, could you please drop by the nearest psychiatric ward and get them the help they need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, Brett. Who do you think you are? Bon Jovi? You’re not. You never will be so let it go. When I hear advertisements for Bon Jovi on the radio, I hear at least 5 good songs played in the background. When I hear your radio advertisement I hear one. “Every rose has its thorn…” This includes you Brett. Your thorn poked me a long time ago and the wound is becoming infected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve been walking around for the past few years like you’re the cat’s meow. Well the cat is dying a slow painful death and letting the whole world know about it! Stop with the hair extensions and give the eye liner back to one of the crazy chicks on your love bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR TOUR ENDS HERE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Someone with Class&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-3267493936127485101?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/3267493936127485101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=3267493936127485101&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3267493936127485101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3267493936127485101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/your-tour-ends-here.html' title='Your Tour Ends Here'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SaLLikj15OI/AAAAAAAAAHk/zRgj26hwetM/s72-c/bret-michaels.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-7317151713661477432</id><published>2009-02-18T18:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T18:30:14.161-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fuck you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medicaid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='welfare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='child support'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='father'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mother'/><title type='text'>Daddy's Girl</title><content type='html'>I'm taking a huge risk right now. I'm not going to write anything funny about my evil roommate, my cheap landlord, or my crazy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;kindergartners&lt;/span&gt;. This is a full on venting, so if you don't feel like reading you can stop now and I won't be offended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents are divorced and my mother was awarded full custody, meaning that my father was ordered to pay $150 a week for child support. My mother was so heartbroken after my father cheated on her and left us she didn't bother to ask for alimony. Just child support.  At the time my mother didn't have a job, we didn't have a car, we didn't have a phone, my Nana was clothing us and my Grandpa was paying to keep food on the table. I had no idea at the time but we had almost nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the beginning my father was working and paying child support regularly. We saw him every weekend and things were going well. At some point over the past fourteen years (that's how long they've been divorced) my father lost his job and stopped paying child support. Please keep in mind that he is only ordered to pay a meager $150 a week for two children. He now owes my mother over $10,500. He has tried to emmancipate my sister and I several times with no success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother has worked 50-60 hours a week since the divorce so that my sister and I could have a nice life and go on school trips, vacations, movies, and college. She gets court dates about every 6 months to try and get her money.  She goes to court, they demand my father to come up with about $1000 by that Friday at 4 pm, and if he doesn't pay they issue an arrest warrant.  Most of the time he doesn't, they come arrest him, and his $1000 bail &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;miraculously&lt;/span&gt; appears within the hour.  This was a common occurance until about a year ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year my father decided to try to apply for permanent disability (as he has several times in the past). While he applies for permanent disability he gets welfare from the state of New Jersey. Welfare does not offer any support for my mother and the only support if offers my sister and I is coverage through Medicaid which we don't need because the only thing my mother does have is good health insurance (Thank God). He gets $250 a month and $150 in food stamps and doesn't have a damn thing to spend it on since he doesn't drive and lives with his mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he calls my mother this morning and wants to play "Let's Make a Deal". His deal was to pay her $5,000 of the $10,500 that he owes her and allow him to stop paying for my sister in May when he stops paying for me. Great deal right? Yeah...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-7317151713661477432?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/7317151713661477432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=7317151713661477432&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/7317151713661477432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/7317151713661477432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/daddys-girl.html' title='Daddy&apos;s Girl'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-5433781249257848698</id><published>2009-02-16T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T17:09:07.986-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='award'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I could really use a nap'/><title type='text'>Why Not?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://snowwhiteplus76.blogspot.com/"&gt;Snow White&lt;/a&gt; gave me some "homework". (I love how all the blogging teachers stand out like sore thumbs.) Anyway, I've decided to follow suit. I'm supposed to tag a certain amount of people to do it after me but the last time I did that no one reposted and I got kind of angry. If you like it, take it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how it goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Step 1&lt;/strong&gt;: respond and rework -- answer the questions on your own blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your own invention, add one more question of your own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Step 2&lt;/strong&gt;: tag - eight other un-tagged people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1) What are you wearing right now?&lt;/strong&gt; I'm still in my teacher clothes...khakis and a black shirt (slightly boring)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2) What is your biggest fear?&lt;/strong&gt; My biggest fear right now is that I'm not going to get any type of a job next year. I'm also worried that Penn State is going to screw something up and not let me graduate. Hopefully in speaking these fears out loud they will not come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3) Do you nap a lot?&lt;/strong&gt; I used to. I used to take a 2 hour nap everyday for the first three years of college. I guess that's not really a nap at all but rather a second sleep and probably the reason I gained so much weight since high school. This year I've gotten out of that habit and I only take naps on weekends. I'm losing weight but I am not as happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4) Who is the last person you hugged?&lt;/strong&gt; I think my last hug was yesterday when I hugged Rome goodbye. That makes me sad that I haven't had a hug all day. I'll have to hug the next twin I see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5) What websites to you visit when you go online?&lt;/strong&gt; Penn State, Stalkbook, Blogger...the usual&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6) What was the last item you bought?&lt;/strong&gt; I bought McDonald's today. I purchased chicken selects because I thought they would be a healthy choice. Several friends have told me since that they are one of the worst things on the entire McDonald's menu and then I got sad that I didn't just order a quarter pounder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7) You are on the Oregon Trail, how are things going?&lt;/strong&gt; I haven't been on the trail a month and I'm already the only one left alive in my party. Did I mention that I'm a doctor? Yeah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8) If you woke up tomorrow and were a boy, what is the first thing you would do and why?&lt;/strong&gt; Hit snooze...then go pee standing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9) Has a celebrity's hair cut ever influenced your own hairstyle?&lt;/strong&gt; Not particularly that I can think of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10) What is your most embarrassing moment?&lt;/strong&gt; I walked up to a woman one time and look at her baby. I stood there staring at the baby and commented on how beautiful her blue eyes were....several seconds later I realized the woman was breast feeding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11) What was the last movie you watched?&lt;/strong&gt; I couldn't even tell you. I think it was "The Land Before Time" to be completely honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12) If you had a whole day to yourself with no work, commitments, or interruptions what would you do?&lt;/strong&gt; Absolutely nothing. I might take a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SZoOFSSLJ3I/AAAAAAAAAHU/EK0M4LmvVq8/s1600-h/premios_dardo2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SZoOFSSLJ3I/AAAAAAAAAHU/EK0M4LmvVq8/s320/premios_dardo2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303566995152381810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I'm going to pass on that award that I never shared. I apologize because I legitimately forgot about it. I'm passing it on to the &lt;a href="http://thechattybarista.blogspot.com/"&gt;Chatty Barista&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://fridaycpr.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lorraine&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://joanies-random-rambling.blogspot.com/"&gt;Joanie&lt;/a&gt;. There it is folks. Have fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-5433781249257848698?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/5433781249257848698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=5433781249257848698&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5433781249257848698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5433781249257848698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/why-not.html' title='Why Not?'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SZoOFSSLJ3I/AAAAAAAAAHU/EK0M4LmvVq8/s72-c/premios_dardo2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-3008233514960100071</id><published>2009-02-14T00:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T00:00:01.394-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='where&apos;s my shrimp??'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sisters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twins'/><title type='text'>Sisterly Love</title><content type='html'>I live with twin sisters. They're identical and they both have red hair and freckles. They're actually kind of cute and absolutely hilarious when they start fighting. Here's a play by play of their most recent argument over their dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twin 1: I only got 2 shrimp.&lt;br /&gt;Twin 2: I didn't count how much shrimp was on each plate.&lt;br /&gt;Twin 1: Yeah, but you made sure you got all the shrimp.&lt;br /&gt;Twin 2: What the hell? Did you want me to stand there and count the frigging shrimp?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The argument ended when Twin 1 was full and didn't finish her food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twin 1: I'm full.&lt;br /&gt;Twin 2: I made that for you and you're not gonna finish it?&lt;br /&gt;Twin 1: Here you finish it.&lt;br /&gt;Twin 2: Stop bitching you got more than 2 shrimp!&lt;br /&gt;Twin 1: Oh yea I guess I did.&lt;br /&gt;Twin 2: Oh yea I guess you're a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh...I miss my sister.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-3008233514960100071?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/3008233514960100071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=3008233514960100071&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3008233514960100071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/3008233514960100071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/sisterly-love.html' title='Sisterly Love'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-4092576830837429795</id><published>2009-02-11T18:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T18:02:34.288-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='controlled substances'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pharmacy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dr. Dumbass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='campus health services'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I swear I&apos;m not pregnant but if I were you would be in trouble'/><title type='text'>Just Give Me My Meds!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SZI-JuMoASI/AAAAAAAAAHE/VU4_AbeIQZc/s1600-h/meds.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 249px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SZI-JuMoASI/AAAAAAAAAHE/VU4_AbeIQZc/s320/meds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301368048109224226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate going to the nurse or any type of doctor while at school. The problem is that they don't know me, and therefore assume that I am not intelligent enough to know my left from my right. For example, every time I go to the doctor up here they ask me if I'm pregnant. I understand that this is a typical question that is asked at many doctor's offices everywhere. However, most other doctor's offices accept the simple answer or "no". Not the campus health center. My "no" is quickly followed by a series of other questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Dumbass: Are you pregnant?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Dumbass: Is there anyway you could be pregnant?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Dumbass: Are you sure?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Dumbass: Yes you could be pregnant or yes you're sure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the hell did you get through med school???? I'm not sure if they're trying to tell me I'm a little chubby or if they really think I'm that dense. No, I'm not pregnant. Yes, you're a moron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you get the smoking questions. Do you smoke? How many cigarettes a day do you smoke? Of course I don't smoke! You want to know why? I don't smoke because people who smoke spend an extra 20 minutes with the doctor. You get a speech about how bad smoking is for you and then sit around for 5 or 10 minutes while someone goes to try and find those pamphlets for the quit hotline. Thanks, you're efforts in handing me this packet is really going to get me to call this number so I can waste more time holding while I wait for someone to give me the same speech you just did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if this excitement weren't enough, you get to go to the pharmacy. The problem with the campus pharmacy is that it kind of works like you're ordering lunch meat from the supermarket. First of all, if you have a prescription it's on a computer printout and has a little scribble on it that the Pregnancy Obsessed Moron thinks is a signature. Then you take a number and wait to be called to place your order. Recently, a friend of mine went to the campus health services and they told her she might have a kidney stone so printed her out a sheet for some Vicadin. Awesome idea! Next time someone's looking for some pain killers tell them to head over to the campus health services and just tell them they're back hurts. It really amazes me how easy it is to get a hold of controlled substances from your university and distribute them at your leisure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keeping this in mind, I had a prescription for an inhaler (despite avoiding the smoking talk). I take it downstairs to the campus pharmacy, take my number, and sit. They call the number 37 five times before they realize no one's coming and finally call my 38. By the time I get up there, Mr. 37 is right on my heels and getting all huffy because I "cut" him (I think he might belong in my kindergarten class). I sit back down and wait some more and finally get called for real. I go up and hand in my shopping list. Forty minutes. Ms. Vicadin can walk in and walk out but I have to wait another 40 minutes to get a frigging inhaler. These people are the sick ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now where's my lighter? I need to go downstairs and NOT smoke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-4092576830837429795?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/4092576830837429795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=4092576830837429795&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4092576830837429795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4092576830837429795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/just-give-me-my-meds.html' title='Just Give Me My Meds!!!'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SZI-JuMoASI/AAAAAAAAAHE/VU4_AbeIQZc/s72-c/meds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-7195689445324337378</id><published>2009-02-10T00:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T00:00:01.223-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='regrets'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hookups'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='denying'/><title type='text'>Deep State of Denial</title><content type='html'>I've had many friends over the years who have made some pretty bad "nighttime" decisions. You know those? The times when you're out and think a guy is just the bee's knees only to wake up the in the morning and scream for help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, I have never fallen victim to this what-the-hell-was-I-thinking experience (luckily Rome is a looker). However, the same cannot be said for these poor ladies. Of course it usually works out that this type of guy who makes you cringe with embarrassment is usually the one who is bursting with excitement and feels the need to tell the entire world the intimate details of your evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends ask me, "What do I do? Everyone knows!" To me the answer is simple...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lie. Deny EVERYTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth of the matter is, ladies, that guys lie.  They lie so often in fact that this is the perfect time for you to lie because chances are that most people are going to take your side. Guys have been making up lies about sleeping with girls since the beginning of time, and if they don't lie they often &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;exaggerate&lt;/span&gt; enough that it can certainly be considered a lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling guilt about denying it? Don't. If the situation were flipped, they wouldn't think twice about denying you so don't worry about it! Keep your head held high and plead the fifth, my friend. I won't tell a soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-7195689445324337378?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/7195689445324337378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=7195689445324337378&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/7195689445324337378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/7195689445324337378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/deep-state-of-denial.html' title='Deep State of Denial'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-8199693557749724625</id><published>2009-02-09T11:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T18:26:07.939-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ugly Pheobe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hate being a girl'/><title type='text'>I Pulled a Pheobe Cates...and Failed</title><content type='html'>I was strolling out of the Penn State College of Education office when I have a funny feeling in my bra. Just then the front of it just breaks and comes off. Do you remember the scene from "Fast Time at Ridgemont High" when Pheobe Cates is coming out of the pool? It was kind of like that...except not the least bit attractive. It was probably quite disturbing actually. &lt;a href="http://becausethecrazyisallpartofmycharm.blogspot.com/2009/02/headlights.html"&gt;Crazy Charm&lt;/a&gt; talks about headlights in class but this was certainly more embarrassing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just so happens I was on my way to get a physical and had no bra. Bras don't snap on Sunday afternoons when you're taking a refreshing nap on the couch. They snap when you're already late for school and about to get a physical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case anyone was really worried about me, the nurse in the office did offer up some safety pins until I was able to get home and change. Unfortunately, safety pins don't like to stay attached too often. Ouch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-8199693557749724625?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/8199693557749724625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=8199693557749724625&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8199693557749724625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8199693557749724625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-pulled-pheobe-catesand-failed.html' title='I Pulled a Pheobe Cates...and Failed'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-1165463199987119147</id><published>2009-02-06T14:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T14:18:10.290-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='renting'/><title type='text'>Rental Rut</title><content type='html'>Dear Briarwood Apartments, (That's right! I'm exposing you!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you so much for turning off my water first thing on a Friday morning. I'm especially glad that the first thing I did this morning was flush the toilet. I love flushing the toilet when the water is off because I don't even like when my toilet has water in it. It's a waste anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you also for giving me the opportunity to ask my roommate if he knew the water was being turned off. When I have to speak to my roommate it makes me absolutely shutter with pure joy. He is so kind and considerate that he actually acknowledged that I spoke to him and answered my question with a whole 3 words! "I don't know". I'm beaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not think a rental office could beat the disfunction I have experienced with The Apartment Store (I'm exposing you guys, too!) but alas, you are coming dangerously close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep doing what you're doing Briarwood!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;The student teacher who brushes her teeth in school&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-1165463199987119147?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/1165463199987119147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=1165463199987119147&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1165463199987119147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1165463199987119147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/rental-rut.html' title='Rental Rut'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-2611398088750748949</id><published>2009-02-06T08:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T09:03:14.713-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='award'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanks'/><title type='text'>My First Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYxsxsv5ypI/AAAAAAAAAGs/d9EPHyWKb2U/s1600-h/premios_dardo2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYxsxsv5ypI/AAAAAAAAAGs/d9EPHyWKb2U/s320/premios_dardo2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299730462589700754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my first award from &lt;a href="http://becausethecrazyisallpartofmycharm.blogspot.com/"&gt;Crazy Charm&lt;/a&gt; and I'm flattered! (I knew I always like her!) I'm not sure who I'm going to pass it along to yet so I'm going to hold off on that for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's it for? "This award acknowledges the values that every Blogger displays in their effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values with each message they write. Awards like this have been created with the intention of promoting community among &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bloggers&lt;/span&gt;. It's a way to show appreciation and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to everyone who reads. It makes me feel a little less crazy. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-2611398088750748949?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/2611398088750748949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=2611398088750748949&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/2611398088750748949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/2611398088750748949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-first-time.html' title='My First Time'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYxsxsv5ypI/AAAAAAAAAGs/d9EPHyWKb2U/s72-c/premios_dardo2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-4218108091272837554</id><published>2009-02-05T09:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T09:19:05.508-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dedication to the cause'/><title type='text'>Roommate of the Year</title><content type='html'>Dear Ginger,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for being my roommate. I sincerely apologize for when your twin forgot her ID and you had to meet us at the Cell Block with it. I'm sorry that your sister texted me from the Kiddie section that we needed to leave to catch the bus and I didn't get the text until almost 15 minutes later. I'm sorry I had to track her down in the kiddie section among all the Freshman making out and practically having sex on the dance floor. I'm sorry your twin was standing next to the speaker and I couldn't hear a damn word she was saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry we had to track down her coat because it was not in the coat rack by the kiddie section, but rather the coat rack in the over 21 section. I'm sorry I had to throw a bitch fit in order to convince the chick at the coat check that I did know the owner of the coat and was not trying to steal it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry that by the time we actually left the bus had come almost 20 minutes earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank you for leaving your warm bed, with wet head to drive Henry downtown to pick us up. Remind me to take you to Red Lobster (or Olive Garden at the very least!) so that I can show my appreciation for your continued dedication to our friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Your Sexy Roommate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Please forgive us =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-4218108091272837554?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/4218108091272837554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=4218108091272837554&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4218108091272837554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4218108091272837554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/roommate-of-year.html' title='Roommate of the Year'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-6674516016919888933</id><published>2009-02-02T19:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T19:45:14.601-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mileage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hyundai Accent'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='100K'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Henry'/><title type='text'>The 100K</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYe9iF6C7XI/AAAAAAAAAGk/UBkbCXtskso/s1600-h/0202090709-00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYe9iF6C7XI/AAAAAAAAAGk/UBkbCXtskso/s320/0202090709-00.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298411880023518578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car hit 100,000 miles today. I was pulling into Starbucks this morning and I watched all the numbers turn at once. I was pretty excited about it so I thought I would share my good news with the blog world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Henry the Hyundai Accent is still doing quite well. We're hoping for 100K more! (Yeah, right).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYe9RbEIIzI/AAAAAAAAAGc/8khSas5vPWc/s1600-h/A23884_b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYe9RbEIIzI/AAAAAAAAAGc/8khSas5vPWc/s320/A23884_b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298411593645171506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what a 2002 Hyundai Accent looks like in case you were wondering. Henry is much hotter than this one however.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun Fact: He's royal blue...which is why I named him after King Henry VIII.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-6674516016919888933?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/6674516016919888933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=6674516016919888933&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6674516016919888933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6674516016919888933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/100k.html' title='The 100K'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYe9iF6C7XI/AAAAAAAAAGk/UBkbCXtskso/s72-c/0202090709-00.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-4976645846007444111</id><published>2009-02-01T18:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T16:46:19.313-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Locks of Love'/><title type='text'>Locks of Love</title><content type='html'>I spent the weekend in Reading with a friend and had an absolutely AMAZING time. I'm completely exhausted but I wanted to share that I made a big change in my life today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cut my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYZcPYDOCeI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Vkap4fGZylY/s1600-h/0201091239-00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYZcPYDOCeI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Vkap4fGZylY/s320/0201091239-00.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298023430871714274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My hair just made the 10 inch cut off for Locks of Love. It's a non profit organization that takes hair and turns them into wigs for kids who are losing or have lost their hair (from chemo or any other medical illness. So if you're thinking about cutting your hair and aren't sure this is a great reason to just do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nexxus.com/locks-of-love/index.html"&gt;Here's&lt;/a&gt; how in case you're interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's my plug. I'm sure I'll have something interesting to share later in the week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-4976645846007444111?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/4976645846007444111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=4976645846007444111&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4976645846007444111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4976645846007444111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-spent-weekend-in-reading-with-friend.html' title='Locks of Love'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYZcPYDOCeI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Vkap4fGZylY/s72-c/0201091239-00.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-5636843632379633923</id><published>2009-01-28T07:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T08:29:28.202-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pennsylvania'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drexel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Turnpike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Philadelphia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Jersey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bayonne'/><title type='text'>Highway to Hell</title><content type='html'>I took a trip to see my sister in Philadelphia this weekend. We had a great time Friday night and then I continued on my journey home to see Rome and others. As I was driving to Philadelphia from State College on 76 (aka the Pennsylvania Turnpike). I realized that I was tired of people picking on the New Jersey Turnpike. What's so special about the Pennsylvania TP that makes it any better than the NJTP, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm determined to find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the first negative of the PATP was the ticket. I found it difficult to read and almost smashed into a divider trying to see how much it would cost me to get to Valley Forge ($5 and some change). Not to worry! I did not almost smash into anything as I was taking this picture! =)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYB_XJ5hnnI/AAAAAAAAAFE/1xIgW6dtNb4/s1600-h/DSCN0037.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYB_XJ5hnnI/AAAAAAAAAFE/1xIgW6dtNb4/s320/DSCN0037.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296373197558619762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's hard to read but the yellow represents the exit I got on. I found this difficult to understand because I would assume that since it is in the lower right corner that I got on at the last exit. I didn't. So I had to back track and search this entire ticket to find Valley Forge. Why was I finding Valley Forge if I was going to Philadelphia? Shouldn't I just get off at the Philadelphia exit? Apparently not. Who would know this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm driving the 79 miles to get to Valley Forge and I smell this horrendous smell. Everyone complains about the smell of the NJTP, but I've been driving that for years and never smelled anything like this before. Could it be that I walked through a dog park on the way out of my townhouse to my car? No. It was fertilizer. January fertilizer? I'm not a farmer so I'm not sure of the rules but I never knew that fertilizer could smell so ripe in mid winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt better about the fertilizer when I saw this. My Berks branch campus exit. I wanted to go but resisted the urge.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCBXdBxD4I/AAAAAAAAAFM/nYm9QDBx55w/s1600-h/DSCN0039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCBXdBxD4I/AAAAAAAAAFM/nYm9QDBx55w/s320/DSCN0039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296375401716715394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after hitting traffic I finally get to Philly. Drexel's campus is on the streets of Philadelphia by the way. When you're at Penn State, you know when you're on campus. It looks like the stock college campus. Lawns, buildings, little walkways with benches. All very typical. My sister needed to tell me that I was on campus because Drexel looks like it was just dropped in west Philly. I wish I had a better picture but this will have to do.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCCJHidogI/AAAAAAAAAFU/k4-6D_CT-uk/s1600-h/DSCN0042.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCCJHidogI/AAAAAAAAAFU/k4-6D_CT-uk/s320/DSCN0042.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296376254941733378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll never find a four lane street going through the middle of University Park. Anyway...we had a good time and took lots of pictures. Why? Because we're really cute girls.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCCdyFeJVI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PKO0T2nvqNE/s1600-h/Photo+8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCCdyFeJVI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PKO0T2nvqNE/s320/Photo+8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296376609960240466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCClY-tnHI/AAAAAAAAAFk/ToFenhGLe_A/s1600-h/Photo+9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCClY-tnHI/AAAAAAAAAFk/ToFenhGLe_A/s320/Photo+9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296376740659960946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then I continued my travels to the New Jersey Turnpike. I love driving in when you first see the sign "New Jersey Welcomes You". It's always nice when you're away from home all the time to come back and be welcomed. I really feel that the state of NJ misses me while I'm gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onto the Jersey TP. The ticket is in order. What a concept! The exit you get on says No U-Turn and you know if you're going to higher exit it's north and a lower exit is south.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCEqkwEG8I/AAAAAAAAAFs/-9rXBmCKh2o/s1600-h/DSCN0054.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCEqkwEG8I/AAAAAAAAAFs/-9rXBmCKh2o/s320/DSCN0054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296379028742347714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCFtXzG3bI/AAAAAAAAAF8/N3dClRvvgzc/s1600-h/DSCN0043.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCFtXzG3bI/AAAAAAAAAF8/N3dClRvvgzc/s320/DSCN0043.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296380176316685746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I enjoy driving on the NJTP over the PATP for serveral reasons. The first reason is that the NJTP is 3 or more lanes wide while the PA version is only 2. NJ doesn't allow trucks in the left lane so they can't slow me down. Another reason is that everyone drives faster on the NJTP and that makes me happy. Also, I've never smelled any rotten animal droppings in NJ. Everyone says it smells but I don't get it (or maybe I'm used to it...who knows?) I'm guessing that this is the part everyone thinks stinks.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCFgSPStGI/AAAAAAAAAF0/AUx5okBdScs/s1600-h/DSCN0045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCFgSPStGI/AAAAAAAAAF0/AUx5okBdScs/s320/DSCN0045.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296379951485989986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the reason I prefer the NJTP...my town has it's own exit.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCGAEZAXzI/AAAAAAAAAGE/pUtBlGPPbDY/s1600-h/DSCN0053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYCGAEZAXzI/AAAAAAAAAGE/pUtBlGPPbDY/s320/DSCN0053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296380497524449074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-5636843632379633923?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/5636843632379633923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=5636843632379633923&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5636843632379633923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5636843632379633923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/01/highway-to-hell.html' title='Highway to Hell'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SYB_XJ5hnnI/AAAAAAAAAFE/1xIgW6dtNb4/s72-c/DSCN0037.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-1685537701327292589</id><published>2009-01-22T13:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T14:00:00.342-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='broke college life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bank'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn State pisses me off'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='overdrawn'/><title type='text'>Red Flagged</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SXjsSmqLM6I/AAAAAAAAAE0/icj0JzarVQ8/s1600-h/poor.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SXjsSmqLM6I/AAAAAAAAAE0/icj0JzarVQ8/s320/poor.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294241166333260706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not a good thing when you walk into the bank and everyone knows who you are. My bank account was over drawn for a long time (I would rather not say how long) and I just got my rebate money put into my account recently. My loans went through when the semester started two weeks ago but Penn State likes to take their sweet time and hold onto my money for as long as possible. They like to see how long I can survive on pretzels and pasta (plain pasta....no money for sauce).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I thought my money went in a day before it actually did and I tried to check my balance at an ATM but I just got my card eaten. I didn't think it was that big of a deal since I would have the money the next day. I'll just go talk to them then. This happens to lots of people right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day comes and I have money so I go to retrieve my debit card. I walk up to the teller and explain my situation. She seems to understand and asks for my name. I give it to her. She stops. "Hold on," she tells me and turns to the head teller next to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you still have her card?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her card?!? The head teller did not need clarification. She knew who I was. Didn't ask my name, social, nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The card was destroyed. She needs to talk to Jason."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the F**K is Jason and why does he know so much about me?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I head over to Jason who seemed to be waiting for me. I sit down and he types my name in his computer...without asking. He knew me too. I was the talk of the bank. "Oh dear," he says shaking his head, "How did you let this happen?"  How did I let what happen?? I was overdrawn but I have money NOW! Isn't that what really matters? Can't we forget about the errors of the past?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conversation continues as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason: Is this still your phone number?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Jason: We tried to call you but you never got back to us.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well you see, the problem with that was that I already knew my account was overdrawn and I didn't think you had anything new to tell me. Oh yeah...and I didn't have money to pay my phone bill.&lt;br /&gt;Jason: That makes sense.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I have money now though.&lt;br /&gt;Jason: Yes, that's good...but there was a charge everytime you overdrew your account.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh?&lt;br /&gt;Jason: You overdrew your account 7 times.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh?&lt;br /&gt;Jason: And then there were charges every 10 days it was overdrawn...&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, this all added up to a lot of money. The conversation got worse. At this point I was thinking that I should have majored in finance instead of education. Jason turned out to be a nice guy and he says hi to me every time I'm at the bank now. They all do now that I think about it. Apparently they get upset when you owe them money. Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you'll excuse me I have to go pay back my sister, my mom, my rental office and late fee, get my car an oil change, and finally buy food that has some sort of nutritional value.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-1685537701327292589?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/1685537701327292589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=1685537701327292589&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1685537701327292589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1685537701327292589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/01/red-flagged.html' title='Red Flagged'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SXjsSmqLM6I/AAAAAAAAAE0/icj0JzarVQ8/s72-c/poor.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-6697203489056403729</id><published>2009-01-14T19:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T13:34:23.237-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bunnies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn State Berks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bacon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bayonne Bees'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Giants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bears'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bon Jovi'/><title type='text'>Today's Post is Brought to You by the Letter "B"</title><content type='html'>I've been given the letter B by &lt;a href="http://salt-water-stains.blogspot.com/"&gt;Irish Chicken Soup&lt;/a&gt;. She did a pretty sweet job with the letter "W" so here goes "B". Ten things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6sUG0IqZI/AAAAAAAAADc/g0nHm2w1I8I/s1600-h/600_teacher.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6sUG0IqZI/AAAAAAAAADc/g0nHm2w1I8I/s320/600_teacher.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291356073633556882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bees: I was, am, and will forever be a Bayonne Bee.  The fighting bee is the mascot of Bayonne High School. The bumblebee was chosen as the BHS mascot because physically, bumblebees should not be able to fly. Their wings are too small to support the weight of their big, round bodies. But they fly anyway. It’s inspirational. My sister often makes fun of my because I am 21 years old, about to graduate college and am STILL talking about high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6tFvRCROI/AAAAAAAAADk/XOWvVbE8K4g/s1600-h/bridge1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6tFvRCROI/AAAAAAAAADk/XOWvVbE8K4g/s320/bridge1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291356926305780962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bayonne: My city by the bay. This is where I grew up and where I spend my time on the off-season when I’m not chasing down kindergarteners or wishing the flu on professors (just kidding…I LOVE ALL OF MY PROFESSORS VERY MUCH!).  Anyway…Bayonne is nestled smack in the middle of Staten Island and Jersey City, and for those of you who have no idea where those places are, we’re across the water from New York City. It’s a small city and everyone knows everyone else’s business but I find something comforting in that. It's also where the Tom Cruise version of "War of the Worlds" was filmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6tZOhJ9CI/AAAAAAAAADs/HAabAVCaDnM/s1600-h/bunnies_03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6tZOhJ9CI/AAAAAAAAADs/HAabAVCaDnM/s320/bunnies_03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291357261112407074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bunnies: I love bunnies. I have had three pet bunnies in my lifetime and the first two came to tragic ends.&lt;br /&gt;Bunny #1 was Copper. Copper was a present from my dad on Valentine’s Day of 2nd grade. It was kind of a “sorry I don’t live with you anymore” gift (my parents split up the month before). My mom got tired of him and sent him back to my father’s house where he lived for 6 years until his brand new chocolate lab got a hold of him.&lt;br /&gt;Bunny #2 was Bunny. Bunny was a gift from my darling boyfriend, Rome, on my 16th Birthday.  Bunny was not a very nice bunny and tried to attack the Kringle. My mom got sick of that bunny too and sent her back to Rome where she lived for 2 years until we went off to college. At this time Rome’s father sold her to a pet store where, we later found out, she was fed to a snake.&lt;br /&gt;Bunny #3 is &lt;a href="http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/01/thumper-humper.html"&gt;Waffle&lt;/a&gt;. My darling, Waffle. I am determined to give Waffle a better life than my other two rabbits had (despite the fact that both of their deaths can sort of be blamed on my Momma).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6uooWSS0I/AAAAAAAAAD0/YEJSuYa8CR8/s1600-h/Norman_Rockwell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6uooWSS0I/AAAAAAAAAD0/YEJSuYa8CR8/s320/Norman_Rockwell.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291358625255803714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys: Ugh. They’re horrible. Don’t EVER live with boys (&lt;a href="http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/choose-your-battles.html"&gt;see this for reasons why&lt;/a&gt;). For most of my life I’ve mostly been friends with boys because I realized early on that girls cannot be trusted (&lt;a href="http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/have-you-met-my-best-frenemy.html"&gt;see this for reasons why&lt;/a&gt;). However, I have recently realized that boys cannot be trusted either (at least I learned early). Luckily, this has not resulted in me hating all people…just those over the age of 10. Boys are just interesting creatures. I’ve been told that boys are easier to raise than girls and so I hope to have boys for children. We’ll see how that goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6vABEPzgI/AAAAAAAAAD8/NaCyGiYhVUo/s1600-h/crispy-bacon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6vABEPzgI/AAAAAAAAAD8/NaCyGiYhVUo/s320/crispy-bacon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291359027028020738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bacon: Everyone loves bacon. Even vegetarians love bacon…they just suppress the urge. The best thing about bacon is that it can be considered both a dish in it’s own right and a nice topping to almost any other type of food. For example, you can have a bacon cheeseburger, turkey and bacon club, a grilled cheese with bacon, or a classic BLT. When my sister and I were little we loved bacon. It was pretty much the only meat we would eat that wasn’t chicken. We went through a period when we felt guilty about eating bacon when the movie &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0112431/"&gt;Babe&lt;/a&gt; came out. He was such a cute little pig that it was hard to imagine he was sitting on our plates right next to the pancakes. We got over that though. Why? Because bacon is awesome. Hail bacon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6vp-nyXjI/AAAAAAAAAEE/2tlYCnVGTkM/s1600-h/bon_jovi_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 244px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6vp-nyXjI/AAAAAAAAAEE/2tlYCnVGTkM/s320/bon_jovi_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291359747926285874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bon Jovi: Like any true Jersey Girl, I love Bon Jovi. They’re pretty much the best thing that happened to the 80’s (other than my birth, ha-ha). They’re also the best band to come from New Jersey. One of the things I admire about Jon Bon Jovi is that he still calls Jersey his home.  He’s also married to his high school sweetheart.  He’s an absolute superstar and still recognizes his home and remembers where he came from. You have to admire someone like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6v6yiLwGI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Bqd2IuKzqj4/s1600-h/Eli_Manning.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6v6yiLwGI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Bqd2IuKzqj4/s320/Eli_Manning.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291360036739334242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big Blue: Ahh…the New York Giants. 2007 World Champions.  You may remember that Super Bowl when we beat the undefeated New England Patriots. It was a glorious day. For those of you who don’t know, the New York Giants aren’t really a New York team at all. They actually play in East Rutherford, NJ. I realize that doesn’t sound as glamorous but it’s the truth. I was born and raised to love this team and I do. I got a lot of smack this past week from Philadelphia Eagles fans about the game this past Sunday but I don’t care. I’ll be right by their side in August when the kickoff preseason. I also have a thing for Eli Manning…his pictures are all over my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6w1HrWXRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/AuRcst86jgk/s1600-h/Penn_State_Berks1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6w1HrWXRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/AuRcst86jgk/s400/Penn_State_Berks1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291361038847335698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Berks: I started off my college education at Penn State Berks in Reading, PA. Despite the fact that I enjoy the nightlife in University Park (the main campus), I miss my quite rural campus. I learned more about myself in the two years I spent there than I did any other time in my life. I’ll always remember my roommates and dorm rooms and all nighters that always ended up with McDonald’s breakfast. Those were good times and I wouldn’t have traded them for the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6wO9_06OI/AAAAAAAAAEU/cId_VmnO2S4/s1600-h/brown_bear_3.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6wO9_06OI/AAAAAAAAAEU/cId_VmnO2S4/s320/brown_bear_3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291360383413840098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bears: I love bears. They are absolutely my favorite wild animals. If I believed in reincarnation, I would think that I was a bear in a previous life. We love all the same things! Napping, snacking, swimming! When I was little my dad had nicknames for my sister and me. I was Boo Bear and she was Baby Bear. Corny, I know but it was sweet at the time. I also had a teddy bear that was given to my mother at her baby shower by my Nana. The bear was older than me and I had it for 18 years…until the Kringle ate it. I still can’t look him in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6xvMqzPSI/AAAAAAAAAEk/t6b_ZSFjywM/s1600-h/White-Linen-Bed-HMNTNCE-0507-de.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6xvMqzPSI/AAAAAAAAAEk/t6b_ZSFjywM/s320/White-Linen-Bed-HMNTNCE-0507-de.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291362036619623714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bed: I love my bed. I’ve always had an issue with beds seeing as how my mother traded mine for an exercise bike last year. I have my sister’s bed in my apartment now since she’s in a dorm room. Every Tuesday and Thursday at about 2:00 pm I start to get excited. Why? Because I know that I will soon be warm in my bed drifting off into a glorious nap.  I get just as excited at night when I know bedtime is approaching. Is this sad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is…my B’s. I hope you enjoyed it. If anyone is interested in their own letter then leave a comment. If not, then I don't know what to tell you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-6697203489056403729?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/6697203489056403729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=6697203489056403729&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6697203489056403729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6697203489056403729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/01/todays-post-is-brought-to-you-by-letter.html' title='Today&apos;s Post is Brought to You by the Letter &quot;B&quot;'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SW6sUG0IqZI/AAAAAAAAADc/g0nHm2w1I8I/s72-c/600_teacher.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-1502576389218951257</id><published>2009-01-11T16:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T16:26:30.166-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rabbits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gender confusion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pets'/><title type='text'>Thumper the Humper</title><content type='html'>I have a rabbit and I love him dearly. He is the joy of my life and he's kind of like my little child (since I don't know what it's like to have real children).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqLFTkCUrI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ziMSlclHUyA/s1600-h/n9391261_38406759_3341.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqLFTkCUrI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ziMSlclHUyA/s320/n9391261_38406759_3341.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290193635567096498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my darling Waffle and my sister when he was just a baby bunny and we thought he was a girl. About a year or so ago I was feeding him and noticed that he had something near his bottom. "Oh, Waffle! You have poop stuck to your butt!" It was not poop. It turned out that Waffle was not a she but a he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since then I've come to accept the fact that he is a boy.  If I had known this in the beginning I would have named him Thumper, but that's okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turns out that I should have named him Thumper because he has this habit that he's picked up since going through his bunny puberty...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He humps...A LOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always used to tell people how friendly my pet bunny was.  He used to go up to people so they could pet him and he would snuggle on their laps and such. Now he has become a little too friendly.  I let him out of his cage so he can run around and he chases me around the room. I tell him, "Waffle, this is disgusting! I am your mother!" He doesn't listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is him eyeing up my roommates ankle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqMwA6jvjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zpZ646Y1P3I/s1600-h/DSCN0020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqMwA6jvjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zpZ646Y1P3I/s320/DSCN0020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290195468807290418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She had no idea what she was in for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He spots something he likes...he sniffs a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqNOAY6CoI/AAAAAAAAADE/MPqoWrLsB0k/s1600-h/DSCN0021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqNOAY6CoI/AAAAAAAAADE/MPqoWrLsB0k/s320/DSCN0021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290195984062220930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He likes what he sees. He likes what he smells. He's gonna go for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqN4RKxWkI/AAAAAAAAADU/4wlzvFCZtzc/s1600-h/DSCN0022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqN4RKxWkI/AAAAAAAAADU/4wlzvFCZtzc/s320/DSCN0022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290196710120839746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He may be a sexed crazed bunny...but he's my bunny and I still love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-1502576389218951257?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/1502576389218951257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=1502576389218951257&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1502576389218951257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1502576389218951257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/01/thumper-humper.html' title='Thumper the Humper'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWqLFTkCUrI/AAAAAAAAAC0/ziMSlclHUyA/s72-c/n9391261_38406759_3341.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-4684571680023078577</id><published>2009-01-07T05:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T05:52:15.036-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I&apos;m dumb'/><title type='text'>Where is Everybody??</title><content type='html'>Last night we got an ice storm in Happy Valley.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  The normal ice covered roads and sidewalks.  We were all hoping for a snow day or a delay at the very least.  I still don't have a cell phone so I asked my friend to text Rome who's staying with me for the week. This way I know if I have to go to school or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My alarm went off as usual and I snoozed it (as usual). I figure that even if there is school I'm not going to make myself look too pretty for it.  Just my normal radiance. Haha When I do get up I immediately check the phone. No text. Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get up and get ready.  Usually I hear my roommate getting ready across the hall, but didn't. I think to myself, "Oh, he must be running late."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I step out my back door. (Back story: They're redoing our front porch so we haven't had a front door since Thanksgiving.  They took out part of our balcony railing and built makeshift stairs up to our second floor apartment. They pretty much took a bunch of old ply wood and nailed it all together and called it stairs.) I almost fall down from the ice that has accumulated on my balcony.  I step forward to the makeshift stairs and it's all smooth ice.  I look at the railing and it's all smooth ice. Jack Frost strikes again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost die trying to get down the stairs...but continue on my way to school because these children need to learn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I open my car and turn it on.  It sounds like a wild banshee screaming because I need an oil change but don't have money (typical college life).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I begin to scrap the ice off my windows and wipers and think about all the trouble my kids are having trying to get to school.  I think that this is dumb that I have to go to school.  Then I think that these children need to learn so it's all worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I get in my car and begin my journey up the road to Starbucks.  When I get there I see that it is empty.  I thought that was strange seeing as how it's usually packed at 7:50 am. No bother.  Everyone must have made their own coffee because they were afraid of what the Starbucks parking lot would be like (since it was all smooth ice).  Luckily, I am a brave soul and I need to pump myself with caffeine because these children need to learn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continue on my way to school. My school is up on the top of a hill and the hill was all smooth ice. As I made my way up the hill in my tiny compact at 15 mph I was thinking to myself, "Wow, I wonder if anyone else had this much trouble getting up this hill. It's all smooth ice! I hope I don't start rolling down backwards because these children need to learn!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get to the top of the hill...the parking lot is empty. I still didn't understand.  I think to myself, "Wow, everyone must have hard a rough time this morning because I'm the first one here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turn the corner and still do not see any cars.  I spot the custodian and his snow blower so I wave him down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good morning!"&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing here?", he answers, "there's no school today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...I would tell you about my journey back home from school, but that's not funny. It's just sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-4684571680023078577?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/4684571680023078577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=4684571680023078577&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4684571680023078577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4684571680023078577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/01/where-is-everybody.html' title='Where is Everybody??'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-4195624326762724118</id><published>2009-01-03T21:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T21:31:36.266-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='makeup disasters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hannah Montana'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='girls'/><title type='text'>Beauty is in the Eyes of the Beholder</title><content type='html'>I went on a little trip with Rome down the shore to visit his aunt and little cousins.  There are 4 of the little rugrats and they're all under the age of 10.  The two middle girls are 7 and 5.  They love Hannah Montana (in fact, I think I'll call them Hannah and Montana).  Hannah and Montana got matching Hannah Montana makeup kits from Santa.  He's so thoughtful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm sitting at their kitchen table, just minding my own business when Hannah comes up to me with a big grin on her face (Montana was close behind).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can I give you a makeover?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I wasn't aware that I needed one. If there's one thing I learned in Kindergarten it's that children are brutally honest, so if the 5 and 7 year olds think I need to update my look I'll take their word for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started out with a manicure.  The nail polish was of the peel away variety so it didn't last past the first hour.  Then it was time for eye shadow.  First of all, I would just like to say that there were 4 different compartments of eye shadow, blush, and lip gloss.  I couldn't tell which was which and that's when I became worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly she dipped the wand in the pink "eye shadow".  I mean pink.  Full on 1985 hot ass PINK! I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.  She began to apply and then I heard the most horrifying words I've heard in a long time...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWBIs7NaYRI/AAAAAAAAACs/tVXIf4bsA7Q/s1600-h/AAAAAs9hTzQAAAAAAC_VKQ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWBIs7NaYRI/AAAAAAAAACs/tVXIf4bsA7Q/s320/AAAAAs9hTzQAAAAAAC_VKQ.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287305899178352914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, Hannah! That's too much!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the 5 year old is telling the 7 year old that she's using too much eye shadow you know there's a problem!! I looked like a clown for 3 days. I just kept scrubbing and scrubbing. It would not come off. I'm pretty sure that "eye shadow" was the lip gloss or something else that greases up your eyelids like a fast food cheeseburger.  This stuff would probably make it through a nuclear war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is false advertising. The package said I would look just like Hannah Montana and I came out looking like Amy Winehouse. Is this Hannah Montana important enough to have a complaint department? I'd like the address.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-4195624326762724118?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/4195624326762724118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=4195624326762724118&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4195624326762724118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4195624326762724118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2009/01/beauty-is-in-eyes-of-beholder.html' title='Beauty is in the Eyes of the Beholder'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SWBIs7NaYRI/AAAAAAAAACs/tVXIf4bsA7Q/s72-c/AAAAAs9hTzQAAAAAAC_VKQ.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-8168016793905890697</id><published>2008-12-31T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T13:31:33.989-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='resolutions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2009'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new year'/><title type='text'>Resolution</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SVvknmHw8OI/AAAAAAAAACk/nahg-CuGVpw/s1600-h/Baby-New-Year.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SVvknmHw8OI/AAAAAAAAACk/nahg-CuGVpw/s320/Baby-New-Year.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286069956548554978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it seems that everyone is making a New Year resolution so I suppose I will post mine as well.  I only have one and it's a small one, but I feel it is important none the less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drum roll please....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My New Year's resolution for 2009 is to stop worrying about other people and care more about myself.  There...I said it. I realize that this may sound selfish but I have very good reasons for this resolution and I really thought long and hard about it. (Honest, I did!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. For most of my life I have made decisions based on how they will affect other people.  I am so concerned about how these decisions will affect people that I have made poor decisions for myself because someone else benefited from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I often compare myself to others. I'm sure if any of you do this, you've come to realize that it puts a real damper on your mood. From now on I'm only going to compare myself to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I have also been known to screw myself over by getting in the middle of arguments between friends.  I often feel the need to choose a side and defend the friend who got screwed over.  I've done this too many times only to realize that the friend who got screwed over deserved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is...my resolution to be selfish.  Happy New Year Everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-8168016793905890697?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/8168016793905890697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=8168016793905890697&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8168016793905890697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8168016793905890697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/12/resolution.html' title='Resolution'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SVvknmHw8OI/AAAAAAAAACk/nahg-CuGVpw/s72-c/Baby-New-Year.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-6076751174700599574</id><published>2008-12-23T20:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T21:01:40.075-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny dances'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='elves'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Elffy Business</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="background-color: rgb(233, 233, 233); width: 425px;"&gt;&lt;object id="A49627" quality="high" data="http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=1HYQ3xNFck3x70I8&amp;amp;service=sendables.jibjab.com&amp;amp;partnerID=ElfYourself" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="319" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=1HYQ3xNFck3x70I8&amp;amp;service=sendables.jibjab.com&amp;amp;partnerID=ElfYourself"&gt;&lt;param name="scaleMode" value="showAll"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="allowNetworking" value="all"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="external_make_id=1HYQ3xNFck3x70I8&amp;amp;service=sendables.jibjab.com&amp;amp;partnerID=ElfYourself"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; width: 435px; margin-top: 6px;"&gt;Send your own &lt;a href="http://www.elfyourself.com/"&gt;ElfYourself&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://sendables.jibjab.com/ecards"&gt;eCards&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTIzMDA5NDc*NjAzMiZwdD*xMjMwMDk*NzgyMjY5JnA9NDE4ODEzJmQ9MjAyNjY1Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTImdD*mbz*4YTZmNjJlMDRlZDQ*OWUzYmY5ZWZjYmQ5OGE1NjZlOQ==.gif" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;My friend made this for Christmas.  I think we watched it about 15 times before we could finally breathe.  There were rumors of some funny business going on with me and Santa, but none of it's true. Anyway, the video's pretty funny...at least we thought so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas Everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-6076751174700599574?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/6076751174700599574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=6076751174700599574&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6076751174700599574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/6076751174700599574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/12/elffy-business.html' title='Elffy Business'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-1018340586272342778</id><published>2008-12-19T11:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T11:32:50.652-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='unfortunate events'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='UGH'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow storm'/><title type='text'>Whoever Said 'Let it Snow' was on Crack</title><content type='html'>So yesterday after school was my last day with the kids and I realized how much I'm going to miss them over the break. I broke the news to them gently and they had several concerns...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenny: But Ms. Skelly, I left your card and candy at home.&lt;br /&gt;Adam: Will we see you in first grade?&lt;br /&gt;Kenny: Ms. Skelly, how can I get your card and candy to you?&lt;br /&gt;Eddie: Does Santa know where you're going??? You better make sure he knows before you leave.&lt;br /&gt;Kenny: I need your address and phone number so I can send you your card and candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SUv0XOzfv-I/AAAAAAAAACU/_xIpofZUNuM/s1600-h/Miniskirts_in_snow_storm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 312px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SUv0XOzfv-I/AAAAAAAAACU/_xIpofZUNuM/s320/Miniskirts_in_snow_storm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281583667970293730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Shortly after they all go home, &lt;a href="http://waitresswheresmymartini.blogspot.com/"&gt;Vodka Mom&lt;/a&gt; turns to me and says, "you should really leave tonight, otherwise you'll be stuck until Saturday."  Of course I don't listen. "I'll be fine!", I think to myself. I've driven in much worse.  So I wake up this morning and look out the window only to find that everything is white. Just white. On my way up the road to fill the tank I spin out and almost land in a ditch (which would have been better than being hit by the truck that was following me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really kind of amazing how many things went wrong this week.  One of my best friends is no longer an intern and is going to have to wait another semester to graduate, my last blog caught the attention of my fellow interns like wildfire and was blown way out of proportion, I miss my kids already (and we had a little bit of a rough day yesterday), my final assignment did not get submitted the way it should have been and I don't know how to show that I REALLY did do it on time, and my dreadful science lessons were lost 4 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To top it all off &lt;a href="http://rick874.blogspot.com/"&gt;Rome&lt;/a&gt; is supposed to come back tonight and I miss the Hell out of him.  He flew from Rome to Munich and is anticipated to land in JFK at about 8.  I think he's in the air right now...not really sure.  Since I don't have a phone anymore (due to an untimely hot tub drowning) I can't call anyone to get the flight info.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life could be worse, though.  It's a possibility that he's going to be stuck in Germany tonight. At least I'm in the good old US of A.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-1018340586272342778?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/1018340586272342778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=1018340586272342778&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1018340586272342778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1018340586272342778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/12/whoever-said-let-it-snow-was-on.html' title='Whoever Said &apos;Let it Snow&apos; was on Crack'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SUv0XOzfv-I/AAAAAAAAACU/_xIpofZUNuM/s72-c/Miniskirts_in_snow_storm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-888469961395179065</id><published>2008-12-03T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T12:36:20.706-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='evaluation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='assessment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teaching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='elementary students'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>This is the real world, Kid. No job for you!</title><content type='html'>For lack of funny kindergarten and mom stories, I'm sharing a blog I wrote in class today about fair assessment. Take it as you wish...it's just what I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="asset-content entry-content"&gt;          &lt;div class="asset-body"&gt; My fellow interns and I have found ourselves in a heated discussion about good and fair assessments. What is a good assessment? How does a teacher make sure that the assessment is fair to all students? It seems to me that the best way to make sure that all student assessments are fair is to create a rubric ahead of time.  This way it can be shared with students and they are already aware of what exactly is expected of them.  This is the easy part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more difficult part comes when it is time for the teacher to evaluate the assignment.  It is no secret that everyone has different strengths and weaknesses when it comes to learning and it is no different when it comes to children.  There is such a great pressure that comes with the letter grading scale because at some point, someone decided that was the easiest way to assess a learner.  However, if I have learned anything in my experience as a student teacher it's that the easiest way is certainly not always the best.  It takes effort from both the teacher and students to really see how well a student can perform and how much he or she can achieve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A classmate of mine brought up the point that when a child grows up and gets into the real world, an employer is not necessarily looking for who is trying the hardest.  They're looking for who is producing the best work at the fastest rate and for the most part, that's true.  In my personal opinion I don't see how it relates to teaching children.  Yes, children become adults and they should be prepared for what they can expect in the real world, but at what point are we forgetting that right now they're still children? Is it fair for us, as teachers, to put that pressure on them at such a young age? Personally, I agree that it is the responsibility of the teacher to prepare students for life, however it is also our responsibility to preserve their childhood. They only get one. What gives us the right to take that away from them with the pressures of performance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is important to keep in mind that our students are often harsher on themselves than we are.  Since this is the case, shouldn't students have at least some involvement in their own evaluation? I believe that even the Kindergarteners I work with are capable of telling me whether or not they did their best work.  Students need individualized goals so that everyone is challanged.  They need to understand where they are so that they can work to get to where they can be.  If I have twenty students with twenty individual goals and all twenty of them reach that goal, then I don't see any reason why I shouldn't have twenty "A's".  What it comes down to is the fact that in order to have a fair assessment or evaluation, you need to know your students.&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;/div&gt;       &lt;/div&gt;     &lt;div class="asset-footer"&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;But what do I know? I'm just an intern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-888469961395179065?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/888469961395179065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=888469961395179065&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/888469961395179065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/888469961395179065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/12/this-is-real-world-kid-no-job-for-you.html' title='This is the real world, Kid. No job for you!'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-839036504749089160</id><published>2008-11-26T08:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T09:26:07.050-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reading'/><title type='text'>Confessions of a Book Intern</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SS2EofqnOzI/AAAAAAAAABk/hljaXS4tYlo/s1600-h/child_reading.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SS2EofqnOzI/AAAAAAAAABk/hljaXS4tYlo/s320/child_reading.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273016569950583602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been tagged in my first book meme (is that what it's called?) by my favorite &lt;a href="http://waitresswheresmymartini.blogspot.com/"&gt;vodka mom&lt;/a&gt;.  Since she referred to herself as a "book whore" I thought it would be fitting to refer to myself as a "book intern".  I really love to read because it makes me feel really smart when I can show off and tell friends about all the different books that I've read.  Sadly, however, I rarely have time to read for pleasure during the school year due to the massive amounts of theory and philosophies and how-to-not-screw-up-children-for-life manuals.  Right now I'm reading a lot of nonfiction that has to do with some projects that I'm working on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm reading now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Nancy Rubin &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Isabella of Castille: The First Renaissance Queen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.William Thomas Walsh &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Isabella of Spain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.Peggy K. Liss &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Isabel The Queen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you beginning to sense a theme here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so maybe that was cheating. I am not really reading the Isabella books out of pleasure, but I do enjoy historical fiction or anything that relates to the royal families of Europe. They were so messed up, who can resist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Phillipa Gregory &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Other Boleyn Girl&lt;/span&gt; I am absolutely fascinated by King Henry VIII and his wives (particularly the first 3) and their children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Michael Farquhar &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Treasury of Royal Scandals: The Shocking True Stories History's Wickedest, Weirdest, Most Wanton Kings, Queens, Tsars, Popes, and Emperors&lt;/span&gt; This is actually nonfiction but it was a really easy read. Interesting, funny, and slightly (okay, very) disturbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Phillipa Gregory &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Constant Princess&lt;/span&gt; This is the story of Katherine of Aragon (who just so happened to be the youngest daughter of...you guess it...Isabella of Castille).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SS2FUYPRoTI/AAAAAAAAABs/pNWtvPiQzEg/s1600-h/hamlet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SS2FUYPRoTI/AAAAAAAAABs/pNWtvPiQzEg/s320/hamlet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273017323871117618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also LOVE...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hamlet&lt;/span&gt; You know who wrote it. It's his greatest play...hands down.  I read it every other year. In fact, I'm due for a refresher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. J.D. Salinger &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Catcher in the Rye&lt;/span&gt; I begged my eleventh grade English teacher to study this book with our class. He informed me that it drives/drove people crazy and that the fact that I wanted to read it so badly said something about my personality. Hmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. V.C. Andrews &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Flowers in the Attic&lt;/span&gt; This is the first real novel I read and I've been absolutely in love with it ever since. I read the whole series and let me tell you...these people are messed up. Although, they are in most of her books. (Hint: Incest seems to be a common theme.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Gregory Maguire &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West&lt;/span&gt; I found the twistedness somewhat refreshing and often found myself laughing out loud. Please be warned that this is NOT the play. It's much darker, deeper, and lacks those playful tunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is...a look into the world of a book intern. I hear the right way of doing this is to now pass the meme onto someone else. I guess I could pass this on to &lt;a href="http://rick874.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pat&lt;/a&gt; (since he'll probably forget he even has a blog), &lt;a href="http://thechattybarista.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Chatty Barista&lt;/a&gt; (who can use it as something to chat with his customers about), and &lt;a href="http://marinersof2000.blogspot.com/"&gt;Hartman&lt;/a&gt; (so he can talk to us about something other than those horrible economics lessons). Have fun with that gentlemen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-839036504749089160?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/839036504749089160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=839036504749089160&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/839036504749089160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/839036504749089160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/confessions-of-book-intern.html' title='Confessions of a Book Intern'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SS2EofqnOzI/AAAAAAAAABk/hljaXS4tYlo/s72-c/child_reading.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-1978832287405798473</id><published>2008-11-24T10:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T11:02:04.903-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='techno age'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='microwaves'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sisters'/><title type='text'>Oh Lord, won't you buy me a microwave oven</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SSr5gi0QngI/AAAAAAAAABc/jedjNNqd32E/s1600-h/sanyo_microwave.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SSr5gi0QngI/AAAAAAAAABc/jedjNNqd32E/s320/sanyo_microwave.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272300651287715330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I forgot to mention in my last post that we don't have a microwave either. I feel spoiled for saying this, but I'm not sure how long I'm going to make it here in my new home (and to think...Christmas break is twice as long). You don't realize how important things are in your life until you don't have them anymore. I'm working on rewriting a song about my new life at home...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lord, won't you buy me a microwave oven.&lt;br /&gt;My friends all cook real fast, I just want to pop it in!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so it's not award worthy but I'm working on it. Yesterday my sister and I had quite the experience trying to make frozen pizza and buffalo wings at the same time. We didn't know what to do because they both required different temperatures. It was a sad moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning my sister comes out of her room (you remember....the only one available) and we had a difficult conversation...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Kimmie, are you hungry?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, are you?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, but I'm worried I might be in 45 minutes and that's how long it's gonna take us to make the pizza."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh...that's a good point. I might be hungry in 45 minutes too!"&lt;br /&gt;"I think we should regroup in ten minutes...then maybe we can predict how we'll feel in an hour."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...the downside of growing up in the high tech age. Now where's the phone? I need to order some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Chinese&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-1978832287405798473?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/1978832287405798473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=1978832287405798473&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1978832287405798473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/1978832287405798473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/oh-lord-wont-you-buy-me-microwave-oven.html' title='Oh Lord, won&apos;t you buy me a microwave oven'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SSr5gi0QngI/AAAAAAAAABc/jedjNNqd32E/s72-c/sanyo_microwave.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-4787454961403243927</id><published>2008-11-22T18:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T16:54:24.305-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Home Sweet Home...just somewhere else</title><content type='html'>So I was on the phone with my mother 2 weeks ago and we were discussing plans for my Thanksgiving break (which, might I add, I've been looking forward to for quite some time).  After a few minutes of chatting and catching up she drops the bombshell...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, by the way...we're moving."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh? When?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Saturday"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a little shocked.  We've never owned a house and I've moved several times in my life due to rent going up or not getting along with neighbors. We've always lived in the same city and our moves never effected what school I attended so it never bothered me. A change of scenery if you will. This move would not have been that big of a deal either except for the fact that I usually know about it more than two days ahead of time. Whatever...water under the bridge, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SSn6_5JM34I/AAAAAAAAABU/5mMS_plz6hc/s1600-h/328767060_l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SSn6_5JM34I/AAAAAAAAABU/5mMS_plz6hc/s320/328767060_l.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272020814391992194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After my five hour drive home of the winter wonderland State College, PA has become this week I arrived in my hometown.  I quickly realized that I did not know where I lived since my mother had forgotten to give me my new address. When I pull up, she's waiting outside with our dog. The Kringle is a half black lab half border collie and has long black fur (almost like that of a golden retriever). This dog was not my dog. This dog was shaved. You have to believe me when I tell you that when The Kringle looked at me I saw the embarrassment in his eyes. Who shaves their dog in November? Cruel people do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I get over the fact that I have a new dog, I get my laundry out of the back seat. My mother stares at me blankly...she forgot to tell me that we don't have a washer anymore. I have to bring my laundry to a laundromat. Now I'm getting upset because that was wasted space in my backseat. I can go to a laundromat at school. It took me twenty minutes to fit the laundry and my rabbit's cage in my backseat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take my stuff upstairs to our new apartment and the place is pretty nice. I ask my mom where I should put my stuff. She stares at me blankly again (which is really starting to make me nervous). "Well, your sister got home before you...", which translates to, "she got here first and therefore has claimed the only room that is available".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I'm beginning to think that my mother may have become a &lt;a href="http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/have-you-met-my-best-frenemy.html"&gt;frenemy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take my things into the living room with my new, shaved dog close behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, where's the couch."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, it didn't fit up the stairs so we had to get rid of it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I have a new, shaved dog, no washer, no room, no couch, and my only options are to sleep with my mom in her bed or on the floor. I can't sleep on the floor because I have a bad back. I wouldn't mind sleeping with my mom but she's a kicker and the new, shaved dog will probably be joining us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral of the story? When your children go off to college and you start making new arrangements, you might want to let them know about them before they come back home for Thanksgiving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-4787454961403243927?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/4787454961403243927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=4787454961403243927&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4787454961403243927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4787454961403243927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/home-sweet-homejust-somewhere-else.html' title='Home Sweet Home...just somewhere else'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SSn6_5JM34I/AAAAAAAAABU/5mMS_plz6hc/s72-c/328767060_l.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-8384573474938951067</id><published>2008-11-19T19:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T19:29:21.487-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='enemies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='girls'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frenemies'/><title type='text'>Have You Met My Best Frenemy?</title><content type='html'>My mentor and I were having a conversation today about two of the girls in our class.  Sara and Alana are best friends and today at recess Sara was playing with a bug she had found and Alana came over and stomped on it.  In a typical kindergarten fashion, they both came over to tell us about it.  Once they walked away I turned to my mentor and said that they’re destined to be life long frenemies.  After a minute or so of hysterical laughter, she convinced me to write a blog about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frenemy: (n) Someone who is both a friend and enemy, a relationship that is both mutually beneficial or dependent while being competitive, fraught with risk and mistrust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I continued this conversation with a friend of mine. Being of the male gender, he was completely confused by the entire idea of a frenemy.  I don’t blame him…it’s something that I don’t quite understand myself.  One of the most interesting things about frenemies is that they seem to be female, therefore boys do not understand them.  “I don’t get it,” a boy may say, “if you don’t like someone then don’t be friends with them.” Silly boys, if only it were that simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that I’ve had my fair share of frenemies in my past.  In fact, I can remember having frenemies way back in first grade.  If you’re a girl, frenemies are just a part of life.  The worst part about frenemies is that as much as you want to cut them out of your life, you realize that you need them for something.  Maybe she has the best toys? Maybe you need her to pass a class?  Maybe she has a really cute brother? Maybe she knows your deepest darkest secret and you cannot afford to make her angry? (This one has always been my downfall.)  Whatever the reason it’s not a situation a girl enjoys getting into.  Luckily, I’ve compiled a list of things to look out for when trying to avoid frenemies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BEWARE: FRENEMIES COME IN ALL AGES, SHAPES, COLORS, AND SIZES.  DO NOT GET CAUGHT OFF GUARD!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Grade Frenemy: This is the girl in the class who likes to buy friends.  Sure, she offers you her Beauty and the Beast pencil…little do you know she’s about to go tell the teacher that you stole it from her! Don’t worry though…she’ll always offer you some of her snack at lunch to make up for any confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fifth Grade Frenemy: This is the girl who calls you on the phone so that the two of you can take about how much you hate Paige…little do you know that she has Paige on three way and she’s listening to the whole conversation! Don’t worry though…she’ll invite you over to her pool party to make up for any confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninth Grade Frenemy:  This is the girl who you confess your undying love for the guy in fourth period to.  She’ll promise you to put in a good word since she sits behind him…little do you know that she secretly wants him for herself and eventually you’ll find them making out at the next hockey game.  Don’t worry though…she’ll blackmail her hot brother to ask you out in order to make up for any confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College Frenemy: This is the girl who likes to go out and have a good time. She’ll invite you out with her and some other friends so that you can have a bonding experience…little do you know she’s about to leave you stranded with her boyfriend’s creepy cousin and no way home. Don’t worry though…she’ll buy the next round in order to make up for any confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where my frenemy experience ends.  I’m sure I’m bound to have many more as I continue on the journey of life. You’d think a girl would learn…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-8384573474938951067?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/8384573474938951067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=8384573474938951067&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8384573474938951067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/8384573474938951067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/have-you-met-my-best-frenemy.html' title='Have You Met My Best Frenemy?'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-5949996462253038856</id><published>2008-11-12T12:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T12:33:45.621-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><title type='text'>Choose Your Battles</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I've had many roommates over the past three years (and many issues with each of them).  If there's one thing I've learned from these experiences it's the fact that I need to choose my battles.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Take my most recent issue for example.  I have a roommate who shares the same major.  We have the same classes, same homework, same books, same EVERYTHING!!!  This said roommate of mine decided that he wasn't going to buy any books this semester.  Instead, he decided that he would wait until I'm not home (or sleeping) and come into my room and help himself to my books.  Books that I paid several hundred dollars for!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So...I have decided to put together a list of things to look out for when choosing a roommate. Pay attention!! This information may one day save your sanity!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. When your roommate doesn't clean the bathroom, DO NOT assume that if you let it go he will realize that it needs to be done. The average male roommate will allow the filth to pile up until his mother comes to visit.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. When a roommate is not home, DO NOT leave a light on for them. Chances are that your roommate will not come home and even if he does he won't turn that light off. You need to accept the fact that you are the only one who cares about the electric bill.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. When you need to set up cable/internet/electric DO NOT believe your roommate when he tells you that he will take care of it. He won't.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. When your roommate makes dinner you need to realize that this is the time to make a decision.  Would you rather clean up after him or wait for the bugs to do it?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. DO NOT choose a roommate who chews. You will be forever surrounded by Gatorade bottles that have been turned into spitting receptacles. And guess what...he won't throw those out either.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;6. Always make sure the toilet seat is down.&lt;/p&gt;7. DO NOT LIVE WITH BOYS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-5949996462253038856?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/5949996462253038856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=5949996462253038856&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5949996462253038856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/5949996462253038856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/choose-your-battles.html' title='Choose Your Battles'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-2302902420426840521</id><published>2008-11-10T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T19:14:22.738-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teaching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='middle school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='environment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bayonne'/><title type='text'>Cleaner and Greener</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SRj35Ycq_GI/AAAAAAAAABM/XnvjyCmRZrA/s1600-h/09colnj.span.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 166px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SRj35Ycq_GI/AAAAAAAAABM/XnvjyCmRZrA/s320/09colnj.span.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267232329397107810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend I graduated high school with shared this article with me earlier today.  I grew up in Bayonne, New Jersey which is pretty much smack in the middle of Elizabeth, Newark, Kearney, and Jersey City (you know, the dirty parts). Anyway, a little over a decade ago I had the pleasure of being taught by Tom Tokar and Anna Panayiotou.  We were part of the "Cleaner and Greener 2000" program.  Our goal was to make the city of Bayonne (you guessed it) cleaner and greener by the year 2000. To be honest I had forgotten about it since then, or at least I did until today. As a future educator myself, it's nice to see that there are still teachers who care enough to keep programs like this going. So here it is, still running strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/09/nyregion/new-jersey/09colnj.html?_r=1&amp;amp;oref=slogin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-2302902420426840521?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/2302902420426840521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=2302902420426840521&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/2302902420426840521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/2302902420426840521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/friend-i-graduated-high-school-with.html' title='Cleaner and Greener'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SRj35Ycq_GI/AAAAAAAAABM/XnvjyCmRZrA/s72-c/09colnj.span.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-4755266477068723781</id><published>2008-11-03T13:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T13:35:36.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Eve of...</title><content type='html'>One last post before the big day...(once again I stole this from someone else)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="464" height="388" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://player.ordienetworks.com/flash/fodplayer.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="key=fde4fa156c"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed width="464" height="388" flashvars="key=fde4fa156c" allowfullscreen="true" quality="high" src="http://player.ordienetworks.com/flash/fodplayer.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="text-align:center;width: 464px;"&gt;See more &lt;a href="http://www.funnyordie.com/"&gt;funny videos&lt;/a&gt; at Funny or Die&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-4755266477068723781?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/4755266477068723781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=4755266477068723781&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4755266477068723781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4755266477068723781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/on-eve-of.html' title='On the Eve of...'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-4087373578494630952</id><published>2008-11-02T09:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T10:51:19.248-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='election'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='red'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Dear Reds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SQ32mk4EqII/AAAAAAAAABE/Kgb3eK0yMkI/s1600-h/2008-prediction-map-11252007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SQ32mk4EqII/AAAAAAAAABE/Kgb3eK0yMkI/s320/2008-prediction-map-11252007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264134682060302466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got this email from one of my former high school teachers (whom is still very near and dear to my heart).  I was rolling on the floor after reading it so I hope you enjoy it as well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Red States:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you manage to steal this election too we've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking the other Blue States with us. In case you aren't aware, that includes California , Hawaii ,Oregon , Washington , Minnesota , Wisconsin , Michigan , Illinois and all the Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;form enclosure="asset" xid="6a0100a80051f4000e01098147a871000d" format="medium" align="left" class="enclosure enclosure-left enclosure-medium photo-enclosure enclosure-hover" contenteditable="false"&gt; &lt;div class="enclosure-inner"&gt;     &lt;div class="enclosure-list"&gt;         &lt;div class="enclosure-item photo-asset last"&gt;                                &lt;div class="enclosure-asset-name"&gt;To sum up briefly: You get Texas , Oklahoma and all the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches. We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood. We get Intel and Microsoft. You get WorldCom. We get Harvard. You get Ole' Miss. We get 85% of America 's venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama . We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to make the red states pay their fair share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;             &lt;div class="enclosure-meta"&gt;                              &lt;/div&gt;              &lt;/div&gt;     &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/form&gt;Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22% lower than the Christian&lt;br /&gt;Coalition's, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we're going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you don't show pictures of their children's caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80% of the country's fresh water, more than 90% of the pineapple and lettuce, 92% of the nation's fresh fruit, 95% of America's quality wines, 90% of all cheese, 90% of the high tech industry, 95% of the corn and soybeans (thanks Iowa!), most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech and MIT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88% of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92% of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100% of the tornadoes, 90% of the hurricanes, 99% of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100% of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get Hollywood and Yosemite, thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, 38% of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62% believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws, 44% say that evolution is only a theory, 53% that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61% of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals then we lefties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace out,&lt;br /&gt;Blue States&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...2 more days&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-4087373578494630952?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/4087373578494630952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=4087373578494630952&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4087373578494630952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/4087373578494630952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/11/dear-reds.html' title='Dear Reds'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SQ32mk4EqII/AAAAAAAAABE/Kgb3eK0yMkI/s72-c/2008-prediction-map-11252007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-2807490617671759795</id><published>2008-10-27T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T19:48:19.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Voting Republican</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FiQJ9Xp0xxU&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FiQJ9Xp0xxU&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was told in one of my education classes recently that teachers should not be public about who they are voting for because then you run the risk of swaying a child's views. I believe that everyone has the right to make their own decisions...but I don't think any of my students read my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-2807490617671759795?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/2807490617671759795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=2807490617671759795&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/2807490617671759795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/2807490617671759795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/10/voting-republican.html' title='Voting Republican'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-7054279281872229902</id><published>2008-10-27T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T15:55:04.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the Wetlands</title><content type='html'>I've often wondered what it must be like to be a fan of a team based in a city far from your own geographical location. Last night I had the opportunity to experience what it is like to be rooting against the team that everyone else int he room is rooting for. I was told I should be nervous but I was not. And guess what...they won! That's right the New York Giants beat the Pittsburgh Steelers after all the Pittsburgh kids were talking their trash all week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SQX2yimIUnI/AAAAAAAAAAw/9V5sQx1_jG0/s1600-h/giants_logo_small.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SQX2yimIUnI/AAAAAAAAAAw/9V5sQx1_jG0/s320/giants_logo_small.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261883087792919154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Oh and fun fact for those of you who don't know: Giants Stadium is located in East Rutherford, New Jersey...NOT New York. Yes, Jersey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-7054279281872229902?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/7054279281872229902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=7054279281872229902&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/7054279281872229902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/7054279281872229902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/10/ive-often-wondered-what-it-must-be-like.html' title='Out of the Wetlands'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SQX2yimIUnI/AAAAAAAAAAw/9V5sQx1_jG0/s72-c/giants_logo_small.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7172824184982568103.post-7723388923024945409</id><published>2008-10-26T10:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T10:58:46.239-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='senior year'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='graduate'/><title type='text'>I'm a real girl...almost</title><content type='html'>I've found myself looking back over the past four years recently...all the way back to my first senior year.  I remember that it absolutely flew by and most of it is a blur now.  Recently I've had those rare moments of that in between feeling.  I've often said to my friends that I can't wait to graduate and be a real person again since everyone knows that college kids aren't real people.  After all, who goes to class, comes home to nap, eats noodles, and drinks until all hours of the night? Not real people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm just now beginning to realize that the so-called "real world" really is around the corner and to be completely honest I'm not ready. Surprise! The last time I was a senior my life was perfect.  I was finally leaving Bayonne, a place that I now realize I have both grown to love and hate all at the same time. It was a chance to start over again and no one would know the difference. It was exciting. It was a new sense of freedom that I had never quite experienced before. I had convinced myself that the good times would never change and the bad would be no more (I was quite a naïve 17 year old to say the least).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time is different. The past few month of my life have been an absolute whirlwind that I’m still not sure if I was ready for. I’ve drifted away from a lot of people who I was convinced would be in my life forever (or at least invited to my parties). Don’t get me wrong…I have so many good friends that I’m sure a lot of people would die for but it’s funny how things work out. It made me realize how much your friends can shape your life. If I sat down to make a list of all the friends I’ve ever had in my life and then thought about how different my life could have been if I had stayed in touch with more or never got close with others I would be thinking for days and who has time for that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s funny how the words “friends” and “family” are always thrown together. If you have real friends (the kind you can laugh, cry, and bitch to SOBER) then they become your family. That’s what you need when, after living with your parents and siblings for the first 18 years of life, you’re thrown into a dorm room 250 miles away from anyone who even knows your last name. This is probably the greatest lesson I am taking with me from college. You learn who to hang on to and who isn’t worth the fight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7172824184982568103-7723388923024945409?l=illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/feeds/7723388923024945409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7172824184982568103&amp;postID=7723388923024945409&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/7723388923024945409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7172824184982568103/posts/default/7723388923024945409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://illalwaysbeabee.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-real-girlalmost.html' title='I&apos;m a real girl...almost'/><author><name>Queen Bee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11360614009515432561</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-AfNP6_1Ks8/SfiujSMzGcI/AAAAAAAAAK8/szs9J5vSnVI/S220/DSCN0277.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
