<?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-1440794269108407626</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:01:38.360-06:00</updated><category term='tebow'/><category term='kanye'/><category term='wise word wednesday'/><category term='The Help'/><category term='halloween'/><category term='favorite 5'/><category term='yoga'/><category term='olathe south'/><category term='golf'/><category term='epic fail'/><category term='asylum'/><category term='reunion'/><category term='high school'/><category term='thanksgiving'/><category term='jay-z'/><category term='high school reunion'/><category term='faith'/><category term='work'/><category term='VMAs'/><title type='text'>Word Girl</title><subtitle type='html'>saving the world from monotony...one word at a time</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>351</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4997477826012587819</id><published>2012-02-13T22:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-02-13T22:23:09.029-06:00</updated><title type='text'>my more than love story</title><content type='html'>Im not affectionate, not touchy feely, not one to express my feelings out loud. &amp;nbsp;My own mother doesn't even hug me b/c she knows how uncomfortable it makes me. &amp;nbsp;Trust me, its one of my many less than endearing qualities. &amp;nbsp;Im convinced I was simply hard wired wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Ive been watching posts online today about Valentines Day. &amp;nbsp;Stories of how people met, stories of how in love people are, stories of a made up holiday. &amp;nbsp;And b/c I'm in an even less feeling good about people frame of mind than I usually am due to a recent fall out, I've been annoyed all day. &amp;nbsp;The husband and I don't even do anything for Valentine's Day. &amp;nbsp;Aside from the information above, my bday is just two days later and its never economical to celebrate twice in one week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm trying to see out of a hole right now and trying to figure out some of my not so great qualities and how they affect others...how they are what got me into my current situation. &amp;nbsp;So I thought I'd take a step outside of the super crazy person I am and write what I'll call my More Than Love story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My story is not the typical girl meets boy and gets married story. &amp;nbsp;It's more of guy goes with a girl and her sisters to see an MU330 show and stuck around for the next 17 years. &amp;nbsp;I went to college and he followed. &amp;nbsp;We started purchasing and owning things and soon realized it would be easier if we were married. &amp;nbsp;So I don't have a proposal story or an engagement story. &amp;nbsp;I don't have a wedding ring and the only reason I didn't get married at the court house was b/c my mother wouldn't allow it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But see...none of that, those things that makes up every one's love story, means anything to me. &amp;nbsp;Those stories of material things aren't what make a love story. &amp;nbsp;My love story is made up of all the immaterial things I get out of my relationship. &amp;nbsp;I have someone who supports me in everything I do and follows me into every endeavor I want to make. &amp;nbsp;Even when such endeavors involve bringing foster children into the house only to discover that, yup I positively for sure don't want kids. &amp;nbsp;He talks me down off ledges and points out why my weaknesses and negative attributes are what screws things up sometimes. &amp;nbsp;He allows me to change jobs when I need to, even when its risky. &amp;nbsp;He pushes me to write more and take more chances. &amp;nbsp;I'm neurotic and crazy and plan everything to the detail. &amp;nbsp;He gets my crazy though (and makes fun of it) and on occasion he makes me let loose. &amp;nbsp;Mostly every year on the 4th when I somehow allow boys to blow things up. &amp;nbsp;But most recently on our west coast trip where he talked me into playing it by ear and NOT booking hotel rooms. &amp;nbsp;He has supported 8 years of yoga and now 4 years of running b/c he know it makes me not so crazy. &amp;nbsp;He lets me have my own friends, even when they are boys and even when I really, really like said boys. &amp;nbsp;He knows I have parts of my life that need supporting by other people. &amp;nbsp;He knows those friends fill the gaps he can't and that they make me a better person. And recently he has watched a huge part of my life melt down as I try to get another part of my life moving in the right direction and supported me through the madness that has come with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe everyone else has these really great 'this is how we fell in love' stories. &amp;nbsp;But do they have the next 17 years after that? &amp;nbsp;I do. &amp;nbsp;And that's MY love story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4997477826012587819?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4997477826012587819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4997477826012587819' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4997477826012587819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4997477826012587819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-more-than-love-story.html' title='my more than love story'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2809468826921054413</id><published>2012-02-07T10:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-02-07T10:52:32.683-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yoga'/><title type='text'>equanimity</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;b id="internal-source-marker_0.2593356496654451"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;e-qua-nim-i-ty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;-noun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;1. mental or emotional stability or composure, esp. under tension or strain; calmness; equilibrium.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;I do not possess equanimity. &amp;nbsp;I’ve been taking yoga for years in hopes of achieving just that and yet I can’t seem to find it. I’ve spent years saying it didn’t matter, that the way I handle things under tension is just who I am and people just have to deal with it. &amp;nbsp;But I’m (almost) 38 &amp;nbsp;and no matter how many times I tell myself my actions are acceptable, they aren’t. &amp;nbsp;And now I may have just lost a friend due to my inability to wrangle this elusive quality. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;Last night my yoga teacher had just returned from a weekend workshop where finding your equanimity was the main focus and so last night’s &amp;nbsp;yoga class was steeped in this search. &amp;nbsp;This was surprisingly fitting since it was just the day before when I may have permanently broken a bond. &amp;nbsp;What’s funny is my Monday night yoga class seems to be the only place I can find the stability and composure I’m always hoping to find elsewhere. &amp;nbsp;It’s the only time of the week I don’t think about anything except what I’m doing in that exact moment. &amp;nbsp;The only time where if a tension or an injustice arose, I may be able to breathe past it instead of blowing up. &amp;nbsp;And because of this, I’m pretty sure I have become a yoga fraud. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;While my the 90 minutes in class was spent focusing on how to find that calmness while standing on one foot in a very uncomfortable pose, my drive home was spent thinking about my dissolving friendship and wondering why I couldn’t succeed at bringing any calmness to that part of my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;Now I’m left scrambling and frantic because I’m not sure how to give up an 8 year friendship without a fight, but I’m pretty sure at this point and time the fight will go unnoticed. &amp;nbsp;All I can do now is let go and hope. &amp;nbsp;Hope I can make changes within myself that may one day somehow fix the &amp;nbsp;irreparable damage I caused.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;I started tonight...on my way home. &amp;nbsp;It looked like it was a full moon. &amp;nbsp;And so as I found myself stuck behind a car literally driving 10 miles per hour, instead of screaming, I decided to enjoy the view and hope it was the beginning of something new.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2809468826921054413?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2809468826921054413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2809468826921054413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2809468826921054413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2809468826921054413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2012/02/equanimity.html' title='equanimity'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1094058679543739424</id><published>2012-02-05T15:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T15:16:31.721-06:00</updated><title type='text'>48 hours of captain energy</title><content type='html'>We got an unexpected call Thursday night from Captain Energy. &amp;nbsp;He wanted to know if he could come hang out this weekend. &amp;nbsp;The dad situation has fallen back to a 'not so good' spot and his brother was headed to his old foster parents home for the weekend. &amp;nbsp;We figured Captain Energy doesn't get a lot of one-on-one time and we were really just hanging at home while I worked, so the husband picked him up Friday night for the weekend. &amp;nbsp;Here are the highlights (some good...and some not so much so):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We picked up a couple movies and Wii games, one of which was Just Dance. &amp;nbsp;This child loves to dance. &amp;nbsp;After what I believe was 25 songs in a row&amp;nbsp;(most of which he danced through with his pants practically on the ground)&amp;nbsp;he turns to us and says "man, Ive really gotta poop."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real Steel wasn't as bad as I expected and was a kid favorite. &amp;nbsp;It was watched almost entirely with him on his knees just feet away from the television...even though you can see our TV from outer space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During our grocery store trip, he asked for about 75 things we didn't need and managed to run over the husband twice with the cart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For dinner Saturday, we made individual mini pizzas. &amp;nbsp;We let the man put together his own pizza and he tells us "cool, Ive never done this before."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the KU/MU game he screamed 'cheaters' at MU players and then proceeded to call them ugly tigers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He managed to shoot a very small toy behind the television which prompted a flashlight search. &amp;nbsp;He then proceeded to shoot it into the kitchen. &amp;nbsp;The husband says, "dude you're going to lose it again." &amp;nbsp;Captain Energy then screams from the kitchen, "can you come help me find it?" &amp;nbsp;Right as I think the husband's head is going to pop off, Captain Energy screams, "Just kidding." &amp;nbsp;It made me snort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday morning we decide we should probably bathe him as he has danced and subsequently sweated for more hours than I remember. &amp;nbsp;He wants to take a bath so the husband gets him in as I head out to run. &amp;nbsp;I get back 30 minutes later and he's still in the tub. &amp;nbsp;I ask the husband if he's checked on him and he confirms he has. &amp;nbsp;Apparently "checking on" did not include opening the door because 2 minutes later we discover water dripping out of a light in the bathroom under the bathroom he's in. &amp;nbsp;We're pretty sure 3/4 of the water originally in the tub was displaced to the floor. &amp;nbsp;We have a sweet water spot on the ceiling now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I head in to shower minutes after that clean up and before I can even turn the water on I hear the husband scream, "what the hell are you doing?" &amp;nbsp;I come downstairs to find an entire glass of pop spreading over and off of the kitchen counter. &amp;nbsp;Another clean up and a shower (finally) later, I find the husband in the bedroom closet. &amp;nbsp;He tells me he has left the child at the kitchen table and then says "while he should have everything he needs I can not guarantee the kitchen will still be there when we go downstairs." &amp;nbsp;He was pretty sure we were going to find Captain Energy sitting at the table eating but with soot on his face and his hair blown permanently back in an empty hole in the earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we love, love him....good god I am always happy when its time for him to go home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1094058679543739424?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1094058679543739424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1094058679543739424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1094058679543739424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1094058679543739424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2012/02/48-hours-of-captain-energy.html' title='48 hours of captain energy'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-795802966341950900</id><published>2012-01-22T16:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T16:53:09.446-06:00</updated><title type='text'>winter solstice</title><content type='html'>I've been writing stuff lately that isn't blog related and so my blog posting has suffered. I was in a writer's chat the other night and they talked about how sometimes they post pieces from what they have been working on so I decided to start doing some of that here when I can't get to blog posts. This piece was short enough that I just included the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter Solstice&lt;br /&gt;It is right around noon as she turns the corner and heads into the last mile of her 10 mile run. The sun is high and behind her now and she suddenly gets a good look at her shadow and thinks how abnormally long it looks. Then she realizes what day it is and what that means. It means the days start to get longer and longer as the calendar year heads into spring and suddenly the darkness begins to recede. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a hard place to exist but at this point in her life she can’t remember it being any different. Every year she watches the seasons start to change and the days become shorter, and she feels it creeping back. It lives in her year round; it’s always been a part of who she is. Dark and sad and confused with no path. In the spring when everything starts new and in the summer when it’s sunny and a happy and lazy time to exist, it’s easier to shove it far, far down into the deep corners of her soul. But when the leaves begin to turn and the air smells more and more of camp fires and cider and everyone else starts to anticipate the sights and sounds of the holidays, it begins to bubble to the surface. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She finds it nearly impossible to explain to people, but for the coldest months of the year in the Midwest she spends her days dealing with the oppressive darkness that threatens to take over. She questions who she is, what she stands for and what life even means. She sleepwalks through most days, going through the holiday motions of decorating and celebrating and spending time with family. But it seems fairly senseless and meaningless to her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one year she had a good friend move away during one of her darkest months and only came out the other side of that year because she took to the streets angry at him and the universe. Four years later, she still runs and it helps her get through the hurt. But there are still the nights just before she drifts off to sleep the terror of death grips her, and all she can do as the thought actually makes her stop breathing is wait for the episode to pass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knows her biggest downfall is the fact she doesn’t believe in God. Growing up, faith was not a part of her world. While she found herself living in the middle of the Bible belt, her parents never attended church, didn’t talk about religion and basically left it up to their children to figure out their beliefs on their own. She fell more on the side of practical thinking and no where in her brain could she find a way to believe she was created by a man who lived in the sky. She had several friends whose families were religious and actually attended church with many of them. Several summers she even spent a lot of time participating in youth group activities. But the messages were always hokey and hard for her to believe in, so once she fell out of those friendships she fell completely out of religion. Unfortunately for her, the only belief left was the belief that one day it all ends for good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one can make themselves believe in something just for the sake of making things easier on themselves. She is simply stuck with what she believes (or doesn’t believe) regardless of hard it makes living. She knows every year the darkness is waiting to pull her into the depths of sadness. And no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of something else, she finally and quietly accepted this as her fate. But the confusion and resentment created from growing up without any beliefs makes her run harder and faster. As a writer, the suffering feeds the words she dumps on paper. And the sadness makes the happier times seem so much happier than they do to most. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no getting around the dark, short, cold days of winter that creep up on her every year and bring with them a hole she struggles to escape. But for today she knows the days have turned around and spring is just around the corner. And for this she is thankful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-795802966341950900?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/795802966341950900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=795802966341950900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/795802966341950900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/795802966341950900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2012/01/ive-been-writing-stuff-lately-that-isnt.html' title='winter solstice'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6259043562921717123</id><published>2012-01-02T16:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T16:45:48.656-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tebow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><title type='text'>in tebow we trust</title><content type='html'>I'm not a sports fan...and definitely not a football fan.&amp;nbsp; I'll watch the occasional college basketball game, but thats about it.&amp;nbsp; The husband, however, is the complete opposite.&amp;nbsp;Our television turns onto ESPN every damn time, I leave the room for one second and come back to some sports game and every morning while I stretch out my ever grumpy back, I am graced with SportsCenter.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So its no wonder I was eventually exposed to the Tebow phenomena.&amp;nbsp; What is a wonder though, is how fascinating the whole thing has become to me.&amp;nbsp; My fascination doesn't reside in the fact this kid continued to pull out wins fourth quarter after fourth quarter but instead in everyone's opinion about him and his beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most interesting part to me though is the heat he takes for his faith in god, his faith that his fate is in someone else's hands and his faith he will win.&amp;nbsp; Living in the heart of the bible belt, I am hit over&amp;nbsp;the head almost daily with religion and faith and church and constantly reminded I don't fit in because I don't believe in all that god stuff.&amp;nbsp; But now, here's this guy who IS relying on that way of thinking, and he's taking heat for it.&amp;nbsp; I know what it is...its the fact he throws it in people's faces.&amp;nbsp; He knows what he believes, he doesn't waver, he has faith and because of this, he gets shit done.&amp;nbsp; And it pisses people off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The really funny&amp;nbsp; thing here is I (the total non-believer) am totally envious of this guy.&amp;nbsp; Call it what you want, but he's using the power of positive thinking.&amp;nbsp; And even though he specifically believes something outside of himself is going to help him, he believes...plain and simple.&amp;nbsp; And therefore, his team believes.&amp;nbsp; Instead of wondering HOW they are going to win, they go into the 4 quarter KNOWING they are going to win.&amp;nbsp; And&amp;nbsp;however it is you get there, there's a lot to say for that way of thinking.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a faith based background and sometimes it makes my life really hard.&amp;nbsp; I wasn't born in a church going, god believing household.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There was never this "higher power" to rely on.&amp;nbsp; There have been many times in my life where I thought if I had the luxury of believing in&amp;nbsp;something larger than me, something that was in control of my future, I would have had an easier time.&amp;nbsp; But I don't.&amp;nbsp; For me its just the power of positive thinking and sometimes its hard to find within yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, I think instead of bashing this poor kid and wishing him ill will, we should try to be more like him.&amp;nbsp; Regardless of what you believe in, it can't hurt to live your life a little more like he does.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had a fairly up and down year and ended it with a fairly good size disappointment.&amp;nbsp; But I keep on thinking about this kid and what he pulls off&amp;nbsp;...just by believing.&amp;nbsp; And I think I might try to live 2012 with a little more positive thinking and just see what happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6259043562921717123?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6259043562921717123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6259043562921717123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6259043562921717123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6259043562921717123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2012/01/in-tebow-we-trust.html' title='in tebow we trust'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-8703412561547752695</id><published>2011-12-10T09:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T09:10:00.393-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='epic fail'/><title type='text'>friday fail</title><content type='html'>So when all was said and done yesterday I had a day.&amp;nbsp; Here's how it went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday I was called out by a co-worker for using&amp;nbsp;improper English.&amp;nbsp; I was not and later sent him the English rule proving it&amp;nbsp;which&amp;nbsp;he subsequently dismissed.&amp;nbsp; Yesterday, I somehow managed to arrive at work the EXACT same time as him and then had to ride the elevator with him while he again debated the rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received a lecture on meeting etiquette from the woman who is always 15 minutes late to a meeting, doesn't even acknowledge most weekly meetings as they come up, never knows what a meeting is about until we debrief her and/or cancels about 50% of her meetings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then received a lecture from same woman about projects not getting done...when all the "undone" projects on my desk are waiting action items from HER before I can proceed.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was almost run over in the QuikTrip parking lot...I actually had to run to get out of the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally made it home and smashed my finger in the dog crate trying to release the hounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At dinner, they gave me the black bean soup instead of just the black beans.&amp;nbsp; The black bean soup had&amp;nbsp;pork in it...I don't eat pork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was standing in the doorway of the grocery store taking my coat off, a guy full-on walks into the back of me and about knocks me over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pajama pants&amp;nbsp;I bought at Old Navy which I just 'held up to' the pair I had tried on...they looked EXACTLY the same size...didn't fit when I got them home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I thought I had finally made it to the end of my day, just before midnight, the dog wakes us up by puking up the entire contents of her stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beat that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-8703412561547752695?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/8703412561547752695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=8703412561547752695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8703412561547752695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8703412561547752695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/12/friday-fail.html' title='friday fail'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2496628821807393908</id><published>2011-12-01T20:31:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T21:33:01.222-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kanye'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jay-z'/><title type='text'>99 problems...and the b**ch WAS one</title><content type='html'>So we talked ourselves into footing the bill to get ourselves in the building Tuesday night to see Kanye West and Jay-Z.&amp;nbsp; I've always said I'd pay anything to see Jay-Z and while I didn't pay to see them down front, I did go along with the husband, sister #2 and the brother-in-law (BIL).&amp;nbsp; Below are some pictures but here's the story of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sat up top (b/c thats what the budget allowed) and its steep up there.&amp;nbsp; When you stand up you are literally hovering over the people's heads in front of you.&amp;nbsp; Before the show starts we see there are two very drunk guys behind us sitting next to two girls they are chatting up.&amp;nbsp; We don't think much of it and the show finally starts.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not ten minutes in, one of the bitches sloshes her beer all over me and my sister.&amp;nbsp; My sister turns around and tells them they need to watch it.&amp;nbsp; They ignore her.&amp;nbsp; So I turn around to try and get the girl's attention and she literally swats my hand away.&amp;nbsp; At this point the sister and I are pissed.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They seem more interested in drinking and so they wander off at some point.&amp;nbsp; But over the course of the evening they wander back and forth continue to spill beer on us and our stuff.&amp;nbsp; Every time we yell at them and they look completely surprised like they have NO idea why we are mad and then try to get in our face an apologize.&amp;nbsp; At some point, we move down but that only works until they come back and wind up behind us yet again.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About two hours in the one girl has disappeared completely (presumably with some random guy she planned on screwing) but the other girl is back and finally falls backwards into our row and into the seat next to me.&amp;nbsp; I was about ready to kick her ass.&amp;nbsp; The guys behind us pull her back up and she again spills beer on my coat.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at the husband and say, there is about ready to be a fist fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he knew I was serious and physically moves me over and proceeds to yell at the girl and the guy she is now with.&amp;nbsp; They act completely surprised...AGAIN...that we are yelling at them.&amp;nbsp; The way I see it, they were lucky we had been so understanding considering&amp;nbsp; both me and my sister had beer on us and all of our coats were covered in beer.&amp;nbsp; Your&amp;nbsp;welcome for us not getting you kicked out, girls who were young enough to be my daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside for the beer...they fucking rocked the house...see below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-39FTQy5Leoo/Ttg2YIYmhyI/AAAAAAAAARg/-zRttle9e2Q/s1600/concert+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-39FTQy5Leoo/Ttg2YIYmhyI/AAAAAAAAARg/-zRttle9e2Q/s320/concert+2.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jay-Z&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wUy5_6-xJ1w/Ttg109JZ2DI/AAAAAAAAARQ/qnZS3omSkCk/s1600/concert+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wUy5_6-xJ1w/Ttg109JZ2DI/AAAAAAAAARQ/qnZS3omSkCk/s320/concert+1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qIhpKy7pwo4/Ttg2a5NSXpI/AAAAAAAAARo/bjt5Rmm1WT0/s1600/concert+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qIhpKy7pwo4/Ttg2a5NSXpI/AAAAAAAAARo/bjt5Rmm1WT0/s320/concert+3.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kanye&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xrdeti1cKRo/Ttg2fv1Rj0I/AAAAAAAAARw/oOE9pDrSxF8/s1600/concert+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" dda="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xrdeti1cKRo/Ttg2fv1Rj0I/AAAAAAAAARw/oOE9pDrSxF8/s320/concert+4.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2496628821807393908?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2496628821807393908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2496628821807393908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2496628821807393908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2496628821807393908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/12/99-problemsand-bch-was-one.html' title='99 problems...and the b**ch WAS one'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-39FTQy5Leoo/Ttg2YIYmhyI/AAAAAAAAARg/-zRttle9e2Q/s72-c/concert+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7561317851863012495</id><published>2011-11-28T15:18:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T15:20:25.159-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='asylum'/><title type='text'>from inside the asylum walls</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;So i just lapped my office (to stretch my back). &amp;nbsp;Today's scenic route included:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My boss in yet another meeting with the same woman she was in a meeting with from 11:30-2:30. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;2. The CEO appears to be doodling at his desk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. There is boxed chicken salad on our vending "shelf"...bleh.&lt;br /&gt;4. Someone was crying in the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;5. I found pistachios.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7561317851863012495?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7561317851863012495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7561317851863012495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7561317851863012495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7561317851863012495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/from-inside-asylum-walls_28.html' title='from inside the asylum walls'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6610018629534173856</id><published>2011-11-26T19:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T19:31:16.361-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='epic fail'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>just say no</title><content type='html'>I haven't been to Thanksgiving at my mom's house in a couple years.&amp;nbsp; We've been out of town and at other sides of the family but finally got back around to my mom's this year.&amp;nbsp; However, it was apparently everyone else's turn this year to be elsewhere and so the gathering was fairly small.&amp;nbsp; One table, 9 people and not a lot of room for the dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of the limited space on the table, the rolls were allocated to a staging table back in the corner that was holding the coffee maker and wine.&amp;nbsp; My mother had not yet sat down and realized everyone else had sat without picking up a roll first.&amp;nbsp; So her solution, and really anyone's solution I would imagine, was to throw rolls to those who wanted one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My uncle was up first and she threw a line drive down the table so hard I still don't know how he caught it.&amp;nbsp; My husband was thrown the next one which he had no problem catching....he plays softball.&amp;nbsp; I was asked next and I promptly said no.&amp;nbsp; My one handed disadvantage makes me a very hot and cold catcher.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin was up last and at this point there was a terrible miscommunication.&amp;nbsp; My cousin can not catch but for some reason my mother thought she had been cleared to throw her one.&amp;nbsp; So as the roll headed toward my cousin, she figured her safest option was to block it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;However, she is&amp;nbsp;apparently just as bad at blocking as she is at catching and so the roll hit her hands, then hit her in the eye, bounced onto the table and rolled onto the floor.&amp;nbsp; It somehow grazed my uncle's wine glass and while I saw it topple I simply could not grab it before red wine spilled onto my cousin's plate, the tablecloth and her shirt.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the moral of the story?&amp;nbsp; When asked by my mother if you want a roll...just say no.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6610018629534173856?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6610018629534173856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6610018629534173856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6610018629534173856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6610018629534173856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/just-say-no.html' title='just say no'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1054202074246627834</id><published>2011-11-26T18:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T18:25:56.783-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='olathe south'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school reunion'/><title type='text'>high school reboot...a reunion in the making</title><content type='html'>Immediately following the posting of the where and when details of our highschool reunion, the&amp;nbsp;group posting on facebook has exploded with people uploading photos from junior high and highscool.&amp;nbsp; Every time I turn around someone else has posted a pic or commented on said pics.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And its funny, cause a handful&amp;nbsp;of fellow classmates&amp;nbsp;are out there enjoying themselves, remembering all the good old times...but do you think they realize these pics are just pics of all the people who were popular?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So its just a big "hey, look what you missed in highschool" fest for all those NOT in the pictures.&amp;nbsp; I think I&amp;nbsp;may have liked it better 10 years ago when reunions got planned&amp;nbsp;without the use of&amp;nbsp;facebook&amp;nbsp;and the reminder of what highschool was like from the outside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1054202074246627834?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1054202074246627834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1054202074246627834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1054202074246627834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1054202074246627834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/high-school-reboota-reunion-in-making.html' title='high school reboot...a reunion in the making'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-448197853713475581</id><published>2011-11-20T21:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T21:08:31.366-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i wanna thank god</title><content type='html'>The husband and I are watching the AMAs and at this point in time I'm not sure who hasn't thanked God.&amp;nbsp; So we started thinking about it...and here's what we've decided:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He really, really likes music.&amp;nbsp; All music, he doesn't discriminate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves sports...a lot.&amp;nbsp; Specifically touchdowns, home runs and championships of any kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a huge fan of movies and TV.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves Sunday mornings..and Wednesday nights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves voting.&amp;nbsp; For artist of the year, people's choice...you name it, he votes.&amp;nbsp;He must have a hell of a phone plan.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;I suppose I should thank god for giving me something to blog about...and yes, I'm going to hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-448197853713475581?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/448197853713475581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=448197853713475581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/448197853713475581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/448197853713475581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-wanna-thank-god.html' title='i wanna thank god'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7209534860618295101</id><published>2011-11-19T20:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T20:49:09.099-06:00</updated><title type='text'>its a dog's world</title><content type='html'>For those of&amp;nbsp; you who don't know, we have a new addition in the form of a 65 pound shepard/lab mix.&amp;nbsp; And while he's wreaking havoc in more ways than one...here's tonight's episode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have two dog beds in the house.&amp;nbsp; Before #2 came along, we left one in the living room and one in the bedroom for at night.&amp;nbsp; As we welcomed #2, we figured for now we can just move beds around so we either have both in the living room or both in the bedroom.&amp;nbsp; This way they could both have a pillow available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2 has been here for a week now and every day&amp;nbsp;we move the beds from room to room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And every&amp;nbsp;day #2 forgoes the pillow.&amp;nbsp; So while #1 picks a pillow and hangs out, #2 chooses to lay on the floor.&amp;nbsp; Whether in the living room or at night in the bedroom, #2 chooses the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight we are setting up shop to watch a movie and I see #1 huddled over in the corner and realize I haven't brought down beds.&amp;nbsp; Seeing as how all week #2 has chosen the floor, I figure I'll just drag down one bed tonight.&amp;nbsp; I trek upstairs, drag it down and #1 makes herself comfortable on the bed while #2 lies near by...on the floor.&amp;nbsp; Sweet, we're settled in.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not 10 minutes later I look up and #1 is huddled back in the corner cause #2 has decided he wants the god damn&amp;nbsp;bed tonight.&amp;nbsp; Are you kidding me?&amp;nbsp; He's been on the floor all week...why is he on the bed now!?!?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I trek back upstairs to get #1 a bed and now she's behind the couch.&amp;nbsp; You're welcome for all the bed moving around...punks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7209534860618295101?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7209534860618295101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7209534860618295101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7209534860618295101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7209534860618295101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/its-dogs-world.html' title='its a dog&apos;s world'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2222774521359568440</id><published>2011-11-15T22:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T22:16:58.952-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>a moment in time</title><content type='html'>I recently went to a friend's birthday party, a friend who I used to work with, a friend&amp;nbsp;I acquired during what&amp;nbsp;I have deemed the perfect moment in time.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is part of a crew of people&amp;nbsp;I used to work with at my former place of employment which shall remain nameless.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't a great place to work.&amp;nbsp; It was corporate, always on the verge of collapse, run badly, creatively stunting and, for the last few years before they cut me loose, every day&amp;nbsp;I walked in the front door it sucked a tiny part of my soul out of me .&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, within the walls of this corporate institution, there existed a group of people I fell into who wound up becoming some of the greatest friends I will probably ever meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't make friends easily.&amp;nbsp; Up until that job I had not worked anywhere where there&amp;nbsp;was even a handful of people I liked.&amp;nbsp; Im a loner by nature, always have been.&amp;nbsp; And it actually took me a long while to infiltrate this group.&amp;nbsp; It was a close knit group.&amp;nbsp; Many of them had been working with each other for years and some were best friends coming in.&amp;nbsp; They were loud and obnoxious and had story after story from their collective histories they would tell over and over to anyone who would listen.&amp;nbsp; They were super intimidating to say the least.&amp;nbsp; But they wound up being people who were like minded and equally as rude as I was, and&amp;nbsp;I slowly slid into the fold and began creating my own stories with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always joked about how it was an anomaly to fall into such a great group of people you liked working with and actually liked as people too.&amp;nbsp; I looked forward to going to work...not because I liked it there but because I knew&amp;nbsp;THEY were there.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point in time, many of us have moved on...different jobs, different states. For some of us its been a while since we were there...for others its not been all that long.&amp;nbsp; But what I can tell you now is I'm pretty sure it was in fact a perfect moment in time that probably wont happen again.&amp;nbsp; It was our perfect storm.&amp;nbsp; I currently work with people I like...but its not the same.&amp;nbsp; This group is like family to me now.&amp;nbsp; I celebrate birthdays with them, stand by the as they fall and help them back up, trudge through illness and watch them become awesome dads and moms.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of the chaos, unhappiness, unrest and frustration of the job itself something great formed.&amp;nbsp; And no matter what happened there that I didn't like or how badly it ended for some of us, I wouldn't pass up that moment in time for anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*This post is dedicated to the boy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2222774521359568440?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2222774521359568440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2222774521359568440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2222774521359568440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2222774521359568440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/moment-in-time.html' title='a moment in time'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-970073358033722171</id><published>2011-11-13T22:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T22:34:53.040-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite 5'/><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1. Finding out a friend escaped the corporate bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. An email back from&amp;nbsp;The Book Doctors...this could be interesting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Lunch and what not with a friend &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Crazy, Stupid Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Our new addition&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ONJzVPk8bCM/TsCZ8I7dKBI/AAAAAAAAARI/3A_FFu-FDZk/s1600/tbone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" nda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ONJzVPk8bCM/TsCZ8I7dKBI/AAAAAAAAARI/3A_FFu-FDZk/s1600/tbone.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-970073358033722171?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/970073358033722171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=970073358033722171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/970073358033722171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/970073358033722171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/favorite-5-of-week.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ONJzVPk8bCM/TsCZ8I7dKBI/AAAAAAAAARI/3A_FFu-FDZk/s72-c/tbone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4157182686654111098</id><published>2011-11-11T21:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T21:33:55.189-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>from inside the asylum walls</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel like there is no sanity within the walls of where I work.&amp;nbsp; Some of things that happen daily are too good not to share.&amp;nbsp; Here's today's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird interactions happen to me in our kitchen. Those who know me know I’m not a maker of idle chit chat. If I don’t know you, I don’t really need to talk to you. So this morning I’m standing in the kitchen wearing this shirt (trust me, this is important). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vp4gLTNgEew/Tr3oxcNHJAI/AAAAAAAAARA/uaW9k7DLPSo/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" nda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vp4gLTNgEew/Tr3oxcNHJAI/AAAAAAAAARA/uaW9k7DLPSo/s200/heart.jpg" width="160" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman I do not know walks in to get coffee and asks how I am. Because I’m only a partial bitch, I answer that I’m fine. She then proceeds to tell me my shirt is cute. Uh…did she look at it? Because in case you missed it, I’m standing there in a shirt with a heart on it with daggers sticking out of it. Im not sure I would have gone with cute.&amp;nbsp; She then says to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Its so nice to wear long sleeve shirts in the fall and winter and not just in the summer.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was followed by an awkward silence as I have NO idea what that even MEANS. I’m glad she walked away because I had no idea how to respond.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4157182686654111098?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4157182686654111098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4157182686654111098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4157182686654111098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4157182686654111098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/from-inside-asylum-walls.html' title='from inside the asylum walls'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vp4gLTNgEew/Tr3oxcNHJAI/AAAAAAAAARA/uaW9k7DLPSo/s72-c/heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6213729494279676975</id><published>2011-11-04T13:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T13:32:32.133-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='epic fail'/><title type='text'>lunch time errand running fail</title><content type='html'>This weekend the husband and I are heading to the father-in-laws' (FIL) lake house.&amp;nbsp; We are having a thanksgivingesque meal and&amp;nbsp;we are responsible for the rolls, cranberries and pumpkin pie...I know random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;hate being sent on food-gathering errands as I'm a dolt in grocery stores...you can usually find me either turning circles in the aisle or trekking across the store 4 times.&amp;nbsp; Its obvious on days like this that when we&amp;nbsp;do our weekly grocery shopping,&amp;nbsp;I clearly just follow&amp;nbsp;the husband and the basket around paying no attention.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I suspect he already knows this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today&amp;nbsp;I combine lunch gathering and errand running and pick up a salad first.&amp;nbsp; As&amp;nbsp;I head away from the salad counter&amp;nbsp;I go to look for my list.&amp;nbsp; After a thorough set-my-shit-down search its clear it's no where on my body.&amp;nbsp; Awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;think&amp;nbsp;I know what&amp;nbsp;I need, so&amp;nbsp;I proceed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I get everything (I think) and only manage to turn myself around oncea and head to the check out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't have any reusable bags with me but need to replace one anyways...so&amp;nbsp;I grab a reusable bag to purchase too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately I unknowingly pick a line where the lady speaks very broken english.&amp;nbsp; She asks if she can put everything in my bag im purchasing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Actually no...can you put the pie and cool whip in a plastic bag?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Broken english lady&lt;/strong&gt;: So the pie and cool whip in your bag youre buying only?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Uh no....in a plastic bag...so&amp;nbsp;I can take those back in to work with me and put them in the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Broken english lady&lt;/strong&gt;: So nothing in the bag you bought?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me (in my head)&lt;/strong&gt;: Sweet jesus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me (out loud)&lt;/strong&gt;: Yes, everything else can go in that bag (at this point Im talking to her like shes 5).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;finally get out to my car and realize&amp;nbsp;I need my salad back in at work too so&amp;nbsp;I go to resack stuff and realize they didn't sack the plastic fork&amp;nbsp;I picked up.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I dont have a fork...that's why&amp;nbsp;I picked one up.&amp;nbsp; So&amp;nbsp;I have to go back in the f**king store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I&amp;nbsp;head back to work I decide&amp;nbsp;I don't want to deal with the construction down at the light on the corner so&amp;nbsp;I figure Ill cut through some neighborhoods...which&amp;nbsp;I could have done if&amp;nbsp;I had picked the straight lane coming out of the parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;did not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;instead wind up in the turn right only lane.&amp;nbsp; So when&amp;nbsp;I wind up at the intersection&amp;nbsp;I was trying to avoid,&amp;nbsp;I cant turn left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;need to turn left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This hiccup causes me to have to drive through fresh tar...twice.&amp;nbsp; Once going through the light where I can't turn&amp;nbsp;and then again after&amp;nbsp;I turn around and come back through.&amp;nbsp; As&amp;nbsp;I turn the corner&amp;nbsp;I almost run into a woman in a car on the wrong side of the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;somehow make it back to work (who knows how at this point) and as&amp;nbsp;I get into the lobby&amp;nbsp;I see one of the elevators is sitting open. Sweet!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I walk up to it and RIGHT before&amp;nbsp;I get close enough it shuts and takes off without me. As the doors shut&amp;nbsp;I literally, out loud, scream are you f**king kidding me??!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To end the fantastic trip,&amp;nbsp;I wander back to my office and find my list...sitting on&amp;nbsp;my desk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6213729494279676975?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6213729494279676975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6213729494279676975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6213729494279676975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6213729494279676975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/lunch-time-errand-running-fail.html' title='lunch time errand running fail'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5663608196598075718</id><published>2011-11-02T12:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T12:00:04.697-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise word wednesday'/><title type='text'>wise word wednesday</title><content type='html'>Pugilist - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One who fights with his hands; a boxer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I found this word while reading a review for Hugh Jackman's new movie, Real Steel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5663608196598075718?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5663608196598075718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5663608196598075718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5663608196598075718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5663608196598075718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/wise-word-wednesday.html' title='wise word wednesday'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-858825792911676139</id><published>2011-11-01T22:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T22:02:00.887-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><title type='text'>lions and tigers and baileys...oh my</title><content type='html'>We got to hang out with the Bailey clan for Halloween.&amp;nbsp; Here are&amp;nbsp;my highlights of the evening:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best hand made Tin Man, Dorothy and Wicked Witch costumes I've seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BMjvgWLcbiE/TrCxaj91dvI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/e1esJMJLcFY/s1600/halloween.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BMjvgWLcbiE/TrCxaj91dvI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/e1esJMJLcFY/s200/halloween.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact the husband uses Halloween as an excuse to walk around in his creepy mask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u07b8__skMs/TrCvMBElslI/AAAAAAAAAQw/aR8hEeSrC8k/s1600/jeff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u07b8__skMs/TrCvMBElslI/AAAAAAAAAQw/aR8hEeSrC8k/s200/jeff.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having a car pull up that was&amp;nbsp;decorated&amp;nbsp;like the bat mobile with a bat man inside driving.&amp;nbsp; While at the moment it was awesome, as an after thought it may have been creepy....who knows who was in the car creeping through the streets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maggie's white chicken chili.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lily falling down the stairs on the husband's watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tyler screaming out that the ding bell didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Baileys for a great evening!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-858825792911676139?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/858825792911676139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=858825792911676139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/858825792911676139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/858825792911676139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/lions-and-tigers-and-baileysoh-my.html' title='lions and tigers and baileys...oh my'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BMjvgWLcbiE/TrCxaj91dvI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/e1esJMJLcFY/s72-c/halloween.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3085722303816396646</id><published>2011-11-01T20:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T20:40:26.337-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite 5'/><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week (late again)</title><content type='html'>1. Klout...I have it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The Elephant in the Living Room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. A successful pumpkin carving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. A massage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Seeing the boys...and discovering they may miss us, at least a little bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3085722303816396646?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3085722303816396646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3085722303816396646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3085722303816396646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3085722303816396646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/11/favorite-5-of-week-late-again.html' title='favorite 5 of the week (late again)'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3161653272752399761</id><published>2011-10-29T13:58:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-12T14:10:03.314-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='olathe south'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school reunion'/><title type='text'>high school reboot...a reunion in the making</title><content type='html'>For a week or so the online high school reunion crew posted a survey regarding dates for next year's reunion.&amp;nbsp; And based on a&amp;nbsp;whopping 20% response rate, they chose a date and a location.&amp;nbsp; And before you know it...that's right...someone has a problem with the location.&amp;nbsp; The question is why are we having the reunion at a spot NOT in Olathe and therefore not supporting local businesses?&amp;nbsp; And while I honestly don't give a shit, I'll tell you the husband had the same question when I told him about it.&amp;nbsp; It's a legitimate question and probably an important one when cities struggle as the economy sits tight&amp;nbsp;in sucksville.&amp;nbsp; I think it may have made more sense to keep it in Olathe.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The defense was who wants to have it at the Holiday Inn and I say who cares where we have it?&amp;nbsp; Oh wait...status must still matter in JoCo...I forget.&amp;nbsp; There was also the defense that moving it out of Olathe kept the cost down and offered more perks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well...I then discovered the "lower cost" is $45 and Im not sure this qualifies as keeping the cost down.&amp;nbsp; My good friend just had his reunion and they sat at $20 a head.&amp;nbsp; I'm figuring the $45 will cover food, but I bet my ass it wont be anything I can eat being a non-red meat, pork, dairy eating gal.&amp;nbsp; I also bet the "perks" don't include drinks.&amp;nbsp; Maybe I'll follow suit with my friends idea, hit a liquor store on the way there&amp;nbsp;and serve drinks out of the trunk of my car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides I didn't misbehave in high school...maybe I can make up some time here.&amp;nbsp; You come find me at the reunion; I'll hook you up:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3161653272752399761?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3161653272752399761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3161653272752399761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3161653272752399761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3161653272752399761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/high-school-reboota-reunion-in-making_29.html' title='high school reboot...a reunion in the making'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-147707572359906178</id><published>2011-10-29T13:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T13:49:25.365-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i thought my box was wet</title><content type='html'>Interactions like this happen in my house all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday night&amp;nbsp;I hear the husband rummaging around in the kitchen and then I hear him say: &lt;br /&gt;Hey, thats dirty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So&amp;nbsp;I asked him what was up and he tells me he pulled a beer can out of his case he just bought that was completely empty.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;say: &lt;br /&gt;What, how does that even happen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I hear him mumble:&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;thought my box was wet....maybe i should go check the trunk and the hatchet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;looked at him and thought that sentence doesnt even make sense. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, he has a hatchet in his trunk (dont ask) and thought maybe it had poked the box (twss*) and popped a can open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point I wandered off shaking my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*thats what she said&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-147707572359906178?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/147707572359906178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=147707572359906178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/147707572359906178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/147707572359906178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-thought-my-box-was-wet.html' title='i thought my box was wet'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1897055927670569304</id><published>2011-10-25T22:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T22:48:29.831-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite 5'/><title type='text'>favorite five of the (last) week</title><content type='html'>1. Lunch at The Moose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Making ass hat look like an idiot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Red State &amp;amp; Horrible Bosses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Sushi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Dancing Mya&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1897055927670569304?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1897055927670569304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1897055927670569304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1897055927670569304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1897055927670569304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/favorite-five-of-last-week.html' title='favorite five of the (last) week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2553403826426874235</id><published>2011-10-23T21:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T21:39:11.604-05:00</updated><title type='text'>mystery cookies</title><content type='html'>I dont bake.&amp;nbsp; If you know me, you absolutely know this is true.&amp;nbsp; Hell, you know I'm not even allowed in the kitchen as I may melt something to the stove or actually burn the house down.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently though, to support our favorite neighbor girl who sings, cheerleads, tracks it up, rocks at anything she does (you know who you are Goat), we bought a couple buckets of frozen cookie dough.&amp;nbsp; And while there is no way the two of us can eat that much cookie dough, we figured we had enough holiday, family stuff coming up to take cookies to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today we had lunch planned at mom's house, and so I thought we'd make up a batch.&amp;nbsp; When we arrived it was hectic and there was dessert bread made too, so I pulled the bag of cookies out and stuck them in a corner on the counter...and subsequently forgot about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At about 7:30 this evening little sister Facebooks me: &lt;br /&gt;Did you bring cookies to mom's house and leave them?&lt;br /&gt;I thought oh shit and confirmed we had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 7:45 little sister calls the husband:&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Did you guys bring cookies to mom's and leave them without telling anyone?&lt;br /&gt;The husband once again confirms it was us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 7:46 sister #2 texts me: &lt;br /&gt;Did you leave cookies at mom's house?&lt;br /&gt;Once again I confirm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally call mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently mom and dad found the bag of cookies after we left.&amp;nbsp; Little sister is napping and they wonder where they came from.&amp;nbsp; They rule out sister #2 as she has a 1-year-old, and they figure there is no way she baked cookies. They rule me out as...well, you read the above.&amp;nbsp; So they figure they must have been leftovers from a party little sister was at last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little sister gets up from her nap to find mom and dad having coffee and cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and Dad say:&lt;br /&gt;Hey, thanks for bringing the cookies home...they're great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little sister says:&lt;br /&gt;Uh, I have no idea what you're talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew 12 cookies would cause so much confusion on a Sunday afternoon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2553403826426874235?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2553403826426874235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2553403826426874235' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2553403826426874235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2553403826426874235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/mystery-cookies.html' title='mystery cookies'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7998559249090978271</id><published>2011-10-23T09:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T09:08:08.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>happy birthday nikki</title><content type='html'>One of my good friends, Nikki, turned 50 last weekend and I was invited to the fabulous bash.&amp;nbsp; Nikki is a graphic artist and outside of work a super creative artist whose always making great gifts for people's bdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I also landed a creative gene, I got the short end of the stick and can only create words...and I'm always super jealous I don't have the ability to create actual things for people. But this time around I figured maybe I'd give it a go and create something for her...even if it was just a bunch of words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had the great idea these words would be better spoken and some how convinced myself to read the words out loud to a house full of people.&amp;nbsp; I also commissioned another creative friend to organize the words on paper for me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked me to post what I read...so along with an image of what my friend put together...here are 50 things I love about Nikki:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is creative &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; artistic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lady with an attitude &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; a purveyor of some pretty bad ass baked goods &lt;br /&gt;She is a doting daughter, &lt;br /&gt;attentive aunt &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; devoted sister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A&amp;nbsp;genuine listener &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; a fellow connoisseur of adult beverages…specifically vodka&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; has a booming personality&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is a movie maven&lt;br /&gt;a music enthusiast &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; a hippy at heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has an enormously kind heart&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; is a shoulder to cry on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is one mean mama on the dance floor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is self made, &lt;br /&gt;self sufficient &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; a loyal friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But…one of the worst spellers I have EVER met&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp;&amp;nbsp;ends most sentences with a question mark&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is Howard’s hag, &lt;br /&gt;a creator of some amazingly, magnificent treasures, &lt;br /&gt;one foxy lady &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; an accessory whore &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is beautiful on the inside &amp;amp; out,&lt;br /&gt;a food fanatic, &lt;br /&gt;raucous, &lt;br /&gt;a lusty wench &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; vertically challenged&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will always, ALWAYS tell you what she thinks, &lt;br /&gt;throws legendary Halloween parties&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; a savior of small animals…just ask Willy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is compassionate, &lt;br /&gt;generous, &lt;br /&gt;a dirty girl, &lt;br /&gt;a partaker of trouble, &lt;br /&gt;a love maker &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; a vixen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Handles loss &amp;amp; change graciously &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; rolls with the punches, no matter how hard they hit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is a punk rocker, &lt;br /&gt;knows how to properly fly her freak flag, &lt;br /&gt;is sassy lady &lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; is inappropriate…in the best way possible&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is fantastically funny, &lt;br /&gt;cusses like a sailor, &lt;br /&gt;is vivacious, &lt;br /&gt;displays a lust for life &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and is hands down the owner of the world’s most bodacious ta tas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XjUuD0ByL5k/TqQffg15Y9I/AAAAAAAAAQo/MgnvO_qTxos/s1600/nikki+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" rda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XjUuD0ByL5k/TqQffg15Y9I/AAAAAAAAAQo/MgnvO_qTxos/s200/nikki+3.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;art by b. tuttle&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7998559249090978271?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7998559249090978271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7998559249090978271' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7998559249090978271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7998559249090978271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/happy-birthday-nikki.html' title='happy birthday nikki'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XjUuD0ByL5k/TqQffg15Y9I/AAAAAAAAAQo/MgnvO_qTxos/s72-c/nikki+3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4005623752615600207</id><published>2011-10-19T20:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T20:21:57.190-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wise word wednesday'/><title type='text'>wise word wednesday</title><content type='html'>So I was telling a friend of mine the other day about an injury I have and I used a word he didn't know when talking about the muscles that are affected.&amp;nbsp; He proceeded to tell me it might be interesting if, weekly, I posted a new word...hopefully a word not familiar to most people.&amp;nbsp; And I thought that since I identify myself as a word girl here it only made sense to start such an idea.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to pick Wednesday as Wednesday is the middle of the week, we're only half way to Friday, need something to look forward day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that said, we'll start here this week with the word that started it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PSOAS&lt;br /&gt;Either of two muscles, one on each side of the loin, extending internally from the sides of the spinal column to the upper end of the femur, which assist in flexing and rotating the thigh and flexing the trunk on the pelvis.&amp;nbsp; According to my yoga instructor these are your core muscles that help stabilize you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4005623752615600207?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4005623752615600207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4005623752615600207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4005623752615600207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4005623752615600207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/wise-word-wednesday.html' title='wise word wednesday'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3159790115151653168</id><published>2011-10-19T18:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T18:42:34.633-05:00</updated><title type='text'>super late favorite 5 of last week</title><content type='html'>1. A meeting with like minded people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Coffee with cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. A Friday night on the couch with crystal skull, Project Runway and a Cosmo magazine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Being the highlight of a friend's party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. A Sunday afternoon with the Bailey's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NT8OSZ23o6o/Tp9gVBYOKLI/AAAAAAAAAQI/MFuyxx5H3JQ/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NT8OSZ23o6o/Tp9gVBYOKLI/AAAAAAAAAQI/MFuyxx5H3JQ/s200/blog.jpg" width="170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3159790115151653168?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3159790115151653168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3159790115151653168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3159790115151653168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3159790115151653168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/super-late-favorite-5-of-last-week.html' title='super late favorite 5 of last week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NT8OSZ23o6o/Tp9gVBYOKLI/AAAAAAAAAQI/MFuyxx5H3JQ/s72-c/blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5819226690557568382</id><published>2011-10-09T16:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-09T16:05:38.148-05:00</updated><title type='text'>today's run sponsored by some fantastic chalk drawings</title><content type='html'>I went out for my three mile run this morning and apparently yesterday was a good day for chalk drawings.&amp;nbsp; I wish I had taken my phone with me as these are probably much funnier with an image, but I did not and didn't want to go back out and be the creepy woman hopping out of her car to photograph people's driveways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile 1: A giant must live here.&amp;nbsp; The hopscotch squares&amp;nbsp;were so huge an entire kindergarten class could stand in one.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile 1 1/2:&amp;nbsp; I ran across a picture of a house and an outline of a person twice as big as the house.&amp;nbsp; Either this child needs a lesson in proportions or there's a hell of a future for him in the crime scene, chalk outlines department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile 2 (This one made me stop and walk as I can't run and laugh):&amp;nbsp; I'm sure this child's parents were quite impressed with what I'm guessing was a drawing of a mushroom.&amp;nbsp; But to the demented, non-breeder, all I saw was a penis and ball sac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for the record, Busta Rymes will really make you haul some ass as you head into the final stretch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5819226690557568382?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5819226690557568382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5819226690557568382' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5819226690557568382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5819226690557568382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/todays-run-sponsored-by-some-fantastic.html' title='today&apos;s run sponsored by some fantastic chalk drawings'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-542514847856022865</id><published>2011-10-02T20:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T20:21:02.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>pacific northwest brewery tour by bicycle</title><content type='html'>The husband and I headed to Seattle a couple weeks ago and road tripped it down the coast all the way into San Francisco.&amp;nbsp; And while there are a ton of stories I want to get posted here, I'm going to start with this one...its out of order but I found it really interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a day in Seattle we headed out towards Mt. St. Helens (which we saw very little of due to rain...weird, right? rain in the pacific northwest) and then over onto Highway 101.&amp;nbsp; Periodically, as we got closer to Highway 101, we noticed small groups of cyclists but didn't think much about it.&amp;nbsp; But the longer we were on the road and the more&amp;nbsp;we started watching, we noticed how much gear these cyclists were carrying.&amp;nbsp; Most had at least saddle bags on the back of their bikes but there were some loaded up with packs on the front too; a few were even pulling separate carts behind their bikes.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we pushed down the coast of Oregon day after day, we would run into single cyclists and then packs we had to maneuver around entirely.&amp;nbsp; There were signs everywhere calling out the highway as a scenic bike route and road signs everywhere urged us to watch out for cyclists.&amp;nbsp; At this point, we figured this coast must be a pilgrimage cyclists take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every hill we would pass them on I would wonder how the hell they were ever going to make it to the top.&amp;nbsp; Some of these climbs would go on for miles and the first two days we drove, these cyclists were dealing with crazy rain and low visibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally in a brewery in Eureka, California we ran into two cyclists who appeared to be making the "trip" (whatever that means) and the husband decided to ask them where they were from and where they were headed.&amp;nbsp; They were actually from Seattle and had started out on Sept. 11th on a 25 day bike trip down into San Francisco.&amp;nbsp; They were on day 9 (he had to check his calendar as they were confused as to what day it was) and had about 5 hours of cycling left that day.&amp;nbsp; This was their first time making the trip, but the coolest thing was they had planned the whole trip around visiting breweries all along the way.&amp;nbsp; She had on a "Will Bike for Beer" headband and they had the sample flight of beers while they refueled.&amp;nbsp; They told us they averaged between 60 and 80 miles a day depending on elevation and the climbs they encountered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband thought they were crazy but I could totally see myself doing something like that.&amp;nbsp; We were travelling the same route at about 60 miles an hour but imagine how awesome it would be to do it at less than half that speed.&amp;nbsp; You wouldn't miss anything.&amp;nbsp; It was very inspirational but those cyclists were far more extreme athletes than I ever will be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-542514847856022865?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/542514847856022865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=542514847856022865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/542514847856022865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/542514847856022865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/pacific-northwest-brewery-tour-by.html' title='pacific northwest brewery tour by bicycle'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-8409009215589195239</id><published>2011-10-02T19:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T19:17:29.585-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school reunion'/><title type='text'>high school reboot...a reunion in the making</title><content type='html'>So for those of you who follow me you probably know how old I am and you may have realized my 20 year (yikes) high&amp;nbsp;school reunion is coming up next year.&amp;nbsp; We had a 10 year, but it was before the facebook/social networking era and so the planning played out very differently then how I can only assume this one will.&amp;nbsp; My graduating class has already started a group on facebook to try and start pulling people together.&amp;nbsp; And regardless of what I think about highschool reunions, I think it might be fun to follow the progress, or lack thereof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Join me for a year of a reunion in the making...it should be fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-8409009215589195239?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/8409009215589195239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=8409009215589195239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8409009215589195239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8409009215589195239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/10/high-school-reboota-reunion-in-making.html' title='high school reboot...a reunion in the making'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3879462671884020005</id><published>2011-09-11T21:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T21:40:35.847-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite 5'/><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1. Getting invited to lunch by my employees and then being told by one later that she was glad I'd come and that it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. A great 3 mile run on a Thursday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. New smelly stuff in the mail and a Friday night X-Men date with the husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&amp;nbsp; Deciding I may have a book in me after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Sunday afternoon with my sister and niece.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3879462671884020005?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3879462671884020005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3879462671884020005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3879462671884020005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3879462671884020005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/09/favorite-5-of-week.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2838710609048072027</id><published>2011-09-11T10:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T10:26:22.224-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='olathe south'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reunion'/><title type='text'>high school musings</title><content type='html'>As much as I don't want to admit it, it's about that time.&amp;nbsp; And by "that time," I mean it has been so long since I graduated high school it's time for a 20 year reunion.&amp;nbsp; But what I&amp;nbsp;WILL admit is, I don't get it.&amp;nbsp; I don't get the tradition, I don't get what it means and I don't get what the point is.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been 20 years and now because tradition says so, we are supposed to plan some event so we can get back together with people we knew during what was seriously a blip on our radar of life.&amp;nbsp; The only reason we even "know" each other is because we lived in the same area for an instant in time and were forced to spend 8 hours a day for 3 years within the confines of the same walls.&amp;nbsp; We didn't talk to each other or hang out with each other because we had things in common.&amp;nbsp; We did because we were the only people around all day.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while they will preach those years were our golden years, our informative years, the years that mold us...I say bullshit.&amp;nbsp; I'm not the person high school made me.&amp;nbsp; God, that person wouldn't be a person I&amp;nbsp;would want to meet...I didn't even know who I was back then.&amp;nbsp; I became the person I am now because of the things that happened after I left high school.&amp;nbsp; After I made friends with people I had things in common with and started actually living life and not caring what people thought.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have met a TON of people over the last 20 years who have played huge roles in my life.&amp;nbsp; And at this point and time most of these people have moved on from being the center of my life...due to changing jobs or moving away or dying.&amp;nbsp; I would LOVE to have a reunion to see some of these people...I miss some of them so desperately it takes my breath away.&amp;nbsp; But I don't get that option.&amp;nbsp; No one ever screams hey, its time to reunite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that high school graduation date sneaks up and someone screams.&amp;nbsp; Someone screams hey, lets get back together.&amp;nbsp; Us people who don't know each other beyond our 18 year old selves, beyond the brains and jocks and princesses and cheerleaders and the punks we once were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't get it.&amp;nbsp; What is it we are supposed to achieve with this one night of reconnecting?&amp;nbsp; Is it so those doing well can boast?&amp;nbsp; Cause I can tell you that's why some people won't come.&amp;nbsp; Is it so you can feel better about yourself because others aren't doing as well as you?&amp;nbsp; Is it cause you're still pining for the&amp;nbsp;one who got away?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess though my ultimate question is why do I think I need to go?&amp;nbsp; And I think the answer might be because, much like the reason&amp;nbsp;I can't&amp;nbsp;NOT watch The Jersey Shore, I love train wrecks.&amp;nbsp; And I think high school reunions might just be the old-school train wreck&amp;nbsp;no one is willing to look away from.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2838710609048072027?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2838710609048072027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2838710609048072027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2838710609048072027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2838710609048072027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/09/high-school-musings.html' title='high school musings'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3773517166445767681</id><published>2011-09-07T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T21:18:55.182-05:00</updated><title type='text'>mean girls</title><content type='html'>I work with what I would call a mean girl.&amp;nbsp; While she's not my boss, she is A boss, a VP to be exact....and even better, the CEO's sister.&amp;nbsp; I have discovered she likes to throw her weight around and unfortunately for me is currently throwing it around in my direction.&amp;nbsp; She seems to think her power gives her the right to reprimand me, tell me&amp;nbsp;I need to manage in the same fashion she does and basically crap all over my parade.&amp;nbsp; And thats fine, if I had done something wrong or if&amp;nbsp;I was bad at my job...but I'm not.&amp;nbsp; As a matter of fact, Im really good at it.&amp;nbsp; MY boss thinks I'm doing a great job.&amp;nbsp; My peers think I rock-and-roll.&amp;nbsp; And my employees think I have come in and picked up the mess the last supervisor left in an amazing amount of time.&amp;nbsp; So all this woman is doing is puffing her feathers and trying to intimidate me.&amp;nbsp; See, her style of supervising is micro-managing and scaring&amp;nbsp;and making people cry.&amp;nbsp; And I think it pisses her off I can make people happy, have fun, NOT micro-manage and get better results.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my real problem though.&amp;nbsp; Why as one woman to another would you want to treat someone that way?&amp;nbsp; Currently, the company I work for has more women in management positions than men.&amp;nbsp; Why as a woman, knowing the struggles we still face in a male driven corporate world (trust me it still exists), would you not want to support each other.&amp;nbsp; Help each other be the best workers in our positions instead of trying to make others feel like shit?&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mean girls have existed since the beginning of time and I guess as a girl it's just something I have to accept.&amp;nbsp; But just think about how much more we could accomplish if we stopped being so mean to each other and instead used that energy to get ahead and do good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now Ill step back off my soapbox.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3773517166445767681?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3773517166445767681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3773517166445767681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3773517166445767681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3773517166445767681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/09/mean-girls.html' title='mean girls'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1020574440315783969</id><published>2011-09-05T20:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T20:49:12.497-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favorite 5'/><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1&amp;nbsp;.The Jimmy Fallon Show.&amp;nbsp; Any night but definitely hash tag night..."pop it like a tart." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The term 'day drunk'...this is an excellent hash tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Pay back, in full.&amp;nbsp; Thats Crystal Head Vodka:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kh5XVmfOTBM/TmV7gGJnLRI/AAAAAAAAAP8/6L_M0TWPu1c/s1600/skull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" nba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kh5XVmfOTBM/TmV7gGJnLRI/AAAAAAAAAP8/6L_M0TWPu1c/s200/skull.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The Maroon 5/Train concert...specifically the men's bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. My BIL (brother-in-law) figuring out the mother's Wi-fi issue.&amp;nbsp; You rock!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1020574440315783969?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1020574440315783969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1020574440315783969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1020574440315783969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1020574440315783969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/09/favorite-5_05.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kh5XVmfOTBM/TmV7gGJnLRI/AAAAAAAAAP8/6L_M0TWPu1c/s72-c/skull.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-757097681256126895</id><published>2011-09-05T14:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T14:51:08.865-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yoga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='VMAs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='golf'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Help'/><title type='text'>favorite 5</title><content type='html'>This was two week's ago that I never posted.&amp;nbsp; This past week's will post later this evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Golf with the husband&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The Help with mom and the sister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My niece downward dogging it &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lRDTO_A2pwA/TmUmwWmBtLI/AAAAAAAAAP4/SoNLs5Q0vZo/s1600/downdog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="119" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lRDTO_A2pwA/TmUmwWmBtLI/AAAAAAAAAP4/SoNLs5Q0vZo/s200/downdog.jpg" width="200" xaa="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Being told by the boss I'm doing a great job (I went a long time without hearing that)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The VMAs...I don't care if you hated them.&amp;nbsp; That shit is pop culture at its best. (But I did refuse to watch Chris Brown...they shouldn't support him, or Britney Spears..she's not old enough and was never talented enough for a tribute)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-757097681256126895?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/757097681256126895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=757097681256126895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/757097681256126895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/757097681256126895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/09/favorite-5.html' title='favorite 5'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lRDTO_A2pwA/TmUmwWmBtLI/AAAAAAAAAP4/SoNLs5Q0vZo/s72-c/downdog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4331848088871889291</id><published>2011-08-25T18:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T18:47:59.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>marco...polo</title><content type='html'>My night went a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:55 – got to bed a little later than usual…took mom to&amp;nbsp;see The Help&amp;nbsp;for her b-day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:03 – chirp&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:03:10 – Husband: was that a smoke detector? &lt;br /&gt;Me: Uhhh…yup &lt;br /&gt;Husband: Son of a bitch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:04 – chirp&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:05 – the dog is officially freaked out and panting like crazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:06 – the husband dismantles the smoke detector in our bedroom as&amp;nbsp;the sound&amp;nbsp;seems to be coming from fairly close to us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:25 – chirp&lt;br /&gt;Husband: Are you freaking kidding me?!??!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:26-12:31 – the husband dismantles (what he thinks are)&amp;nbsp;ALL the smoke detectors on the upper level of our house and takes them to the basement&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:45 – chirp…the dog now climbs in the shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:46 – the husband gets up to try and figure out why we can still hear the chirps if all smoke detectors are now in the basement&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:50 - I get up and see he has missed one at the end of our hall…we have NO idea why we have 5 on one level some just outside the door from another one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:55 – he replaces the battery in the missed detector with our last 9-volt figuring at this point we have narrowed down the culprit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:25 – chirp&lt;br /&gt;The Husband: motherfu**er@!?@!@@!?@!@&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:32 – I get dressed so I can go to the Kwik Shop to buy more 9-volts. At this point we think the lone still-assembled alarm is pissed and won’t shut up until we reassemble the rest of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:35 – I head out, and as I open the door the dog bolts past me unannounced and heads to the car.&lt;br /&gt;Dog: Get me out of this crazy house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:38 – I purchase 6 9-volt batteries. I’m sure the young boy behind the counter had grand speculations about what I was trying to power up.&amp;nbsp; I didn't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:40-1:50 – The husband re-assembles all the smoke detectors with new batteries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:00 – chirp&lt;br /&gt;Husband: Sweet mary all that is holy I need to go to sleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:01 - The husband heads out to the hall to literally sit under three of the detectors&amp;nbsp;to determine which one is STILL chirping.&amp;nbsp; The dog has now wedged herself between my bedside table and the bed.&amp;nbsp; I am contemplating going to sleep in the car.&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n9IibZHOvNQ/Tll-8Y_SVII/AAAAAAAAAP0/hnIEftbCe8s/s1600/marcopolo+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" qaa="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n9IibZHOvNQ/Tll-8Y_SVII/AAAAAAAAAP0/hnIEftbCe8s/s200/marcopolo+pic.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;How she wedged herself in there Ill never know&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:15 – I tell&amp;nbsp;the husband&amp;nbsp;maybe that was a final reset-like chirp and he comes back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:16 – I think I fell asleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:30 – chirp&lt;br /&gt;Husband: angry silence &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Do you think it’s the carbon monoxide detector?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:32 – The husband determines it is&amp;nbsp;INDEED the carbon monoxide detector but then discovers it takes batteries that are NOT 9-volt of which we have none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:35 – The carbon monoxide detector is banished, dismantled, to the garage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mr. Carbon Monoxide Detector Maker, &lt;br /&gt;Can you please, please, pretty freaking please make the damn 'dead battery' alert sound different than a smoke detector alert?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Only got 4 hours of sleep and hating my day right now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4331848088871889291?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4331848088871889291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4331848088871889291' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4331848088871889291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4331848088871889291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/08/marcopolo.html' title='marco...polo'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n9IibZHOvNQ/Tll-8Y_SVII/AAAAAAAAAP0/hnIEftbCe8s/s72-c/marcopolo+pic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4962224923829882345</id><published>2011-08-16T22:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T22:16:03.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tales from the floor - Sig Ep style</title><content type='html'>So the husband cleans carpets for a living. He's in and out of dozens of homes in any given week and every now and then he comes home with a really awesome story.&amp;nbsp; I've been thinking about starting a series here and sharing the stories as we go.&amp;nbsp; Today he came home with too good of a story not to share...so here goes tales from the floor, episode 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As many of you know we live out by Lawrence so this time of year is a lot of cleaning empty apartments and&amp;nbsp;sorority/fraternity houses before the new wave of students wanders back to town.&amp;nbsp; Today he was called in to clean the Sig Ep house which according to him is the dirtiest frat house he's ever cleaned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example 1: He is there today mainly to clean the tile and as he goes over things with the house mother&amp;nbsp;he tells her the grout is fairly dark to begin with, so it should clean up fairly well. He was mistaken...not in that it didn't clean up well but that it&amp;nbsp;wasn't dark grout to begin with.&amp;nbsp; It actually wound up being just that dirty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example 2: As he moved onto the carpet, he discovered gum...everywhere.&amp;nbsp; Which leads me to wonder does gum just&amp;nbsp;inexplicably fall out of frat guy's mouths?&amp;nbsp; And why oh why are they not picking it up.&amp;nbsp; Im gonna say alcohol may play in here somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example 3: While cleaning around the gum, his assistant comes up and tells him he has found stuff on the carpet in another room and he can not identify it.&amp;nbsp; The husband follows him into what appears to be a peanut butter war zone.&amp;nbsp; There is peanut butter on the walls, the ceiling and piles of it in corners.&amp;nbsp; I'm not even going to speculate here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all was said and done, it took them from 8:30 - 4:30 to clean 3000 sq. ft. of tile and another 3000 sq. ft. of carpet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4962224923829882345?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4962224923829882345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4962224923829882345' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4962224923829882345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4962224923829882345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/08/tales-from-floor-sig-ep-style.html' title='tales from the floor - Sig Ep style'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2295530187607374051</id><published>2011-08-16T21:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T21:44:50.191-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>Ooops...I did this Sunday and forgot to post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Discovering I've put the right people in place and kept the right people in my life &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Lunch...and everything it included&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. A rainy Friday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Meeting Gabby&lt;br /&gt;5. Another 5K in the books...and that bitch was hilly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2295530187607374051?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2295530187607374051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2295530187607374051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2295530187607374051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2295530187607374051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/08/favorite-5-of-week.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2043803443357192687</id><published>2011-08-13T22:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T22:48:39.915-05:00</updated><title type='text'>suck it cancer</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow I&amp;nbsp;will participate in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure.&amp;nbsp; My sister and I walked it a couple years ago&amp;nbsp;and while I don't know anyone who has specifically had breast cancer, in my mind it was still a day&amp;nbsp;to reflect on those who have had to fight any form of cancer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Two years ago&amp;nbsp;my list was small and mainly consisted of grandparents and aunts and uncles who had been much older.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately for me this year, I find myself with two women in my life who are currently battling cancer and both of whom are right around my age or younger.&amp;nbsp; I found out about both cases suddenly and unexpectedly and I'll tell you...my head had no idea how to wrap itself around that information.&amp;nbsp; I literally didn't know how i was supposed to process that information...I don't know if I'll ever figure that out.&amp;nbsp; Its too early for me to have friends with cancer (god that sounds like a super sad chick flick).&amp;nbsp; Friends who are wives and mothers and sisters and some of the most wonderful&amp;nbsp;women I've met so far.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while I can't even imagine how I would deal with the magnitude of fighting this disease, these two women are doing it flawlessly, courageously and unabashedly. I see them smiling through the recovery, talking candidly about the most private moments and finding something positive in every day.&amp;nbsp; They've basically said fuck you cancer, its not my time, and I can only hope if I ever have to face this down their stories will be what drag me along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while they recuperate and spend time gaining strength again, Im going go out and smash a 5K tomorrow.&amp;nbsp; This one's for you two.&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2043803443357192687?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2043803443357192687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2043803443357192687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2043803443357192687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2043803443357192687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/08/suck-it-cancer.html' title='suck it cancer'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6652003016208470078</id><published>2011-07-24T21:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-24T21:05:48.157-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>This week was a super hard week that just kept on hitting through Sunday night...lets see what&amp;nbsp;i can come up with here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Lunch with the boy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Being told my positive attitude is infectious...take that the other place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Finding who I needed when i needed him most&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The Source Code&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Vodka...and lots of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6652003016208470078?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6652003016208470078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6652003016208470078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6652003016208470078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6652003016208470078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/07/favorite-5-of-week_24.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5467423604607245229</id><published>2011-07-24T20:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-24T20:38:51.152-05:00</updated><title type='text'>cubeville: life on the inside</title><content type='html'>I started a cubeville series on another site a while back which was neither amused by my postings or amusing in and of itself and so i quit the whole idea.&amp;nbsp; But the places where we spend&amp;nbsp;so much of our lives are too great of a feeding ground for material and opportunity for bonding, so im starting the series back up here.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;This will be a combination of stories...some mine, some others I know.&amp;nbsp; All names will be changed to protect the innocent.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For this installment I simply leave you with this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended the week with this statement from my VP of marketing - "I think email and online marketing will die out in 5 years and we need to find a better way to market."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Week - 1, Me - 0&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5467423604607245229?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5467423604607245229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5467423604607245229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5467423604607245229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5467423604607245229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/07/cubeville-life-on-inside.html' title='cubeville: life on the inside'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5207530474143824529</id><published>2011-07-22T20:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-22T20:29:56.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'>moo goo gai pan...as complicated as it sounds</title><content type='html'>So we're picking up Chinese for dinner, right?&amp;nbsp; And we call in the order...which is essentially a 10 minute ordeal which involves the husband repeating moo goo gai pan about 10 times into the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we get there to pick it up and it goes a little something like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You have 2?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No we called in'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Oh, you sit'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No we called in for pick up'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We&amp;nbsp;are at this point handed take-out boxes for the buffet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We try again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No we called in an order to pick up'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Oh' she says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I'm pretty sure the next sounds out of her mouth&amp;nbsp;are 'ga mo do poo'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then walks off, confused, to find what I could only hope was help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back up appears in the form of a little man who has our order which is missing...you guessed it...the moo goo gai pan we asked for 10 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While he leaves to find or make said moo goo gai pan, we wander over to get sushi off the sushi bar and now encounter sushi man who, when we ask what the unlabled roll is, responds with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Sim'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'What?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Sim'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Sim?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes, sim'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I THINK he meant shrimp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have NO idea how we managed to eventually get our correct order.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5207530474143824529?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5207530474143824529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5207530474143824529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5207530474143824529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5207530474143824529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/07/moo-goo-gai-panas-complicated-as-it.html' title='moo goo gai pan...as complicated as it sounds'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7560562860995132238</id><published>2011-07-10T21:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T21:40:18.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1.&amp;nbsp;A 3 day work week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Getting my washer fixed for only $86.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Winning 4 rounds of golf and 4 buckets of balls at the raffle after the 5K I ran on Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. A great lunch at Grinders followed by a fabulous one man&amp;nbsp;show (Blank) down at the Fishtank Performance Studio in the Crossroads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Liquid eyeliner.&amp;nbsp; (I have NO idea why i waited so long to try it.&amp;nbsp; But I tried it on the hottest friggin day of the year and its still on after 10 hours.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7560562860995132238?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7560562860995132238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7560562860995132238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7560562860995132238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7560562860995132238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/07/favorite-5-of-week_10.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2300678306410370035</id><published>2011-07-09T14:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T14:51:13.010-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i really DO run like a girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8oQtSJ4PmRo/ThivgPiSulI/AAAAAAAAAPE/eTGefU9g78A/s1600/run.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8oQtSJ4PmRo/ThivgPiSulI/AAAAAAAAAPE/eTGefU9g78A/s200/run.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My free shirt...and no we weren't &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;chased by a horse.&amp;nbsp; Although it would&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;have been very "running of the bulls"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;and maybe would have helped my case.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;Today was the annual Eudora HorseThief 5K and because I'm a sucker for paying people to let me run with a group as I torture myself (it was also a fundraiser for the&amp;nbsp;high school&amp;nbsp;cross country team), I was out ready to&amp;nbsp;run at 7 AM this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive run a fair amount of races at this point in my running career ranging&amp;nbsp;in size from 500 - 7500 people.&amp;nbsp; And while the larger runs used to intimidate the hell out of me, I actually prefer them now as its super easy to fade into the crowd.&amp;nbsp; Unfortunately for me, this&amp;nbsp;run topped out at 350 and about 1/4 of the participants were high school runners.&amp;nbsp; Which means they&amp;nbsp;will&amp;nbsp;easily smoke ANYONE who isn't 18.&amp;nbsp; So I had that to look forward to along with the realization that if I came in last, there was no hiding in this crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I stood around watching the pre-runners (the ones who circle the crowd b/c they like running further than the required distance) I see a little old&amp;nbsp;man arrive who is moving at what you would call a speed walk.&amp;nbsp; You could tell by his gait he probably had suffered some injury or maybe endured a surgery that restricts him from actually full-on running.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thought awesome...at least now I might not be last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The race actually started with the coach firing off a gun (doesn't get more small town than that) and we were off.&amp;nbsp; Now, Ive driven these very streets for the past 10 years, but until today did not realize what hilly fuckers they are when on foot.&amp;nbsp; That, accompanied with the sweet humidity and the complications of running as a girl on certain days (being a girl athlete sucks sometimes), brought me in at a sweet 35 minutes...actually about 5 minutes slower than I can usually pull off a 5K.&amp;nbsp; And for the record, I followed little old&amp;nbsp;man the whole way and never could pull past that little speedy walker.&amp;nbsp; Nothing like feeling stellar about yourself before 8:30 on a Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I tried to walk off the post race head rush, I told myself its another one under my belt and they can't all be great runs.&amp;nbsp; The pain was also lessened a little as I managed to win part of the raffle and score myself 4 buckets of balls and 4&amp;nbsp;9-hole rounds of golf at our local course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2300678306410370035?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2300678306410370035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2300678306410370035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2300678306410370035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2300678306410370035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-really-do-run-like-girl.html' title='i really DO run like a girl'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8oQtSJ4PmRo/ThivgPiSulI/AAAAAAAAAPE/eTGefU9g78A/s72-c/run.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2539816039938471178</id><published>2011-07-06T20:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T21:46:52.811-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the 4th</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Here's what you missed in a nut shell:&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xRCxIazWubQ/ThT9CiTFojI/AAAAAAAAAOE/nw-jb2YTb6I/s1600/ammo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xRCxIazWubQ/ThT9CiTFojI/AAAAAAAAAOE/nw-jb2YTb6I/s200/ammo.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This much ammo&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;No wait.....&lt;/div&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JXXfDP7r2jM/ThT9jruSVGI/AAAAAAAAAOI/fdmKQl-7bUU/s1600/more+ammo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JXXfDP7r2jM/ThT9jruSVGI/AAAAAAAAAOI/fdmKQl-7bUU/s200/more+ammo.jpg" width="119" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;More ammo&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;﻿So much chicken and shrimp and pork it took the husband almost two hours to grill it all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;24 people who when not out on my driveway were packed into a space that was only about 600 square feet.&amp;nbsp; Good god I need a bigger house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;A tour of my upstairs for two 4 year olds.&amp;nbsp; Tyler exclaimed to Emily...this is Jeff and his Mom's room.&amp;nbsp; I have NO idea why that child thinks I'm my husband's mother.&amp;nbsp; No wait...maybe I do...see below picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;﻿This is what happens when you dont stick the Roman Candle in the ground where it belongs.&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zKYRcDoRP-E/ThT-zsBSB1I/AAAAAAAAAOM/507FJHkn0PY/s1600/eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zKYRcDoRP-E/ThT-zsBSB1I/AAAAAAAAAOM/507FJHkn0PY/s200/eye.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Result of misbehavin&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;﻿Maybe he should have used these:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HM6z6AC10ks/ThT_9GyOuWI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/AAmhAJF90ik/s1600/safety+first.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HM6z6AC10ks/ThT_9GyOuWI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/AAmhAJF90ik/s200/safety+first.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Safety first&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Mya's first 4th...and holding her while she slept was so much better than watching the fireworks:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9r0GFUdP3JM/ThUJYRfVHFI/AAAAAAAAAOU/kiOMNV0FcEA/s1600/mya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9r0GFUdP3JM/ThUJYRfVHFI/AAAAAAAAAOU/kiOMNV0FcEA/s200/mya.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Miss Mya&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A first time attender.&amp;nbsp; Ryan we were stupid happy to meet you...you're welcome back any time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And&amp;nbsp;a furry, four legged, first time attender (not Ryan) who wore my dog out!!&amp;nbsp; Thanks Lindsay and Brian, she's STILL tired!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7lXmw4Gt_1Q/ThUJuG8y_KI/AAAAAAAAAOY/-eunyb3VgsQ/s1600/d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7lXmw4Gt_1Q/ThUJuG8y_KI/AAAAAAAAAOY/-eunyb3VgsQ/s200/d.jpg" width="119" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The crazy&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-61YhYyij1j0/ThUKA8y8DHI/AAAAAAAAAOc/0sZLv5Peda0/s1600/tyler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-61YhYyij1j0/ThUKA8y8DHI/AAAAAAAAAOc/0sZLv5Peda0/s200/tyler.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The fast one&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks everyone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2539816039938471178?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2539816039938471178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2539816039938471178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2539816039938471178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2539816039938471178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/07/4th.html' title='the 4th'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xRCxIazWubQ/ThT9CiTFojI/AAAAAAAAAOE/nw-jb2YTb6I/s72-c/ammo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7504410020459179617</id><published>2011-07-04T20:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T20:24:06.238-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>I need to become more consistent here with these lists.&amp;nbsp; Last week was one of the harder week's I've had in awhile so I thought why not start over here with a week which may be fairly impossible to find 5 favorites in.&amp;nbsp; So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &amp;nbsp;Having someone ask me to go to a meeting with them b/c they value my opinion instead of being disinvited b/c they think my opinions are a waste of their time and money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I moved into my new office (although it seems the previous owner was a pack rat and it took me all week to clear out the crap...i know, i know, its supposed to be positive here, right?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Lunch with two really great old friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Friday at 5:00&amp;nbsp;FINALLY&amp;nbsp;arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Planet Pit&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7504410020459179617?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7504410020459179617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7504410020459179617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7504410020459179617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7504410020459179617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/07/favorite-5-of-week.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6003705441995851336</id><published>2011-07-02T17:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T17:42:50.164-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WTF</title><content type='html'>How does a bird get stuck in a fence like this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDDPNlRc1bw/Tg-ev9zfdqI/AAAAAAAAAOA/KYPuzrhpnNI/s1600/dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDDPNlRc1bw/Tg-ev9zfdqI/AAAAAAAAAOA/KYPuzrhpnNI/s320/dead.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6003705441995851336?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6003705441995851336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6003705441995851336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6003705441995851336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6003705441995851336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/07/wtf.html' title='WTF'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aDDPNlRc1bw/Tg-ev9zfdqI/AAAAAAAAAOA/KYPuzrhpnNI/s72-c/dead.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-67372328985884488</id><published>2011-06-27T21:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T21:49:34.694-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my monday was a SHAME</title><content type='html'>I'm pretty sure I ate some &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;uper &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;ketchy cantaloupe. I started feeling nauseous and decided it might be in my best interest to quit eating it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot the plate I bought at Target is not microwaveable and &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;oly &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;ell was it hot when&amp;nbsp;I pulled&amp;nbsp;it out of the microwave. Im pretty sure&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;burned off&amp;nbsp;my fingerprint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my projects today seemed to be three &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;larm fires. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stapler snapped shut on my finger while&amp;nbsp;I had it open trying to dislodge a bent staple...&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;otherf**ker is what i tried not to scream out in my still fairly new work space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did end the day though by rocking a pretty&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;xceptional headstand in yoga.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-67372328985884488?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/67372328985884488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=67372328985884488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/67372328985884488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/67372328985884488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-monday-was-shame.html' title='my monday was a SHAME'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7513589810840531706</id><published>2011-05-30T15:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T16:00:36.345-05:00</updated><title type='text'>adventures in mexico part 2: you can’t take us anywhere</title><content type='html'>Our accommodations in Mexico came in the form of a room at a resort (courtesy of a sister-in-law w/ a timeshare) which included a kitchen. So on our way to the resort we stopped at Costco to stock up for the week (yes it’s EXACTLY the same as any you’ve been in…but with an ocean view which somehow made it better). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They should have known we were gonna be trouble when they saw us roll up. We arrive with luggage for 4, food for a week, 2 cases of corona and 3 bottles of liquor. I was put in charge of manning the bottles (so they wouldn't get broken) and so I made my grand entrance with a bottle of absolut in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other (that’s right I like to keep my status as a lush on the DL).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we got to the room, the first matter of business was getting all said beer and liquor into the fridge. The guys made quick work of putting the beer in the fridge and the liquor in the freezer but they failed to see this on the front of the fridge:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iTXiKNZYxMw/TeQDFE1mwaI/AAAAAAAAANI/jo2C1mVP4vk/s1600/IMG_3817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iTXiKNZYxMw/TeQDFE1mwaI/AAAAAAAAANI/jo2C1mVP4vk/s320/IMG_3817.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;(Please refrain from keeping bottles on door shelves to avoid breakage)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿&lt;br /&gt;We therefore proceeded to commit what could only be called the 'world’s worst party foul' as I heard the question “do you want a lime cut….son of a bitch!” followed by the sound of half our bottles of beer sliding onto the floor. Housekeeping arrived to find two guys with bleeding toes and so much glass she had to call for back up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour after that we proceed to get in trouble down on the beach because we wandered too far past the 'No Swimming' signs:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MG5rvYOXXfY/TeQC-08EiBI/AAAAAAAAANE/m3Ul-k--PME/s1600/IMG_3658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="293" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MG5rvYOXXfY/TeQC-08EiBI/AAAAAAAAANE/m3Ul-k--PME/s320/IMG_3658.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were not so kindly told it was “muy peligroso” as we were escorted to a “safer” spot farther up the beach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not sure Mexico is going to invite us back any time soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7513589810840531706?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7513589810840531706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7513589810840531706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7513589810840531706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7513589810840531706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/05/adventures-in-mexico-part-2-you-cant.html' title='adventures in mexico part 2: you can’t take us anywhere'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iTXiKNZYxMw/TeQDFE1mwaI/AAAAAAAAANI/jo2C1mVP4vk/s72-c/IMG_3817.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7935509239576328574</id><published>2011-05-23T22:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T23:14:09.044-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1.&amp;nbsp; An evening with the Bailey clan...bedtime and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Absolut Orient Apple&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Peg the&amp;nbsp;printer repair lady.&amp;nbsp; She was in the office twice, looked confused the entire time she was there (both times) and the printer is STILL broke.&amp;nbsp; But god she made me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0MOrlJUOLNQ/TdspxDlpQLI/AAAAAAAAAM8/GZUaIlTLvaI/s1600/peg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0MOrlJUOLNQ/TdspxDlpQLI/AAAAAAAAAM8/GZUaIlTLvaI/s320/peg.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;4.&amp;nbsp; Spending time with this one.&amp;nbsp; I'm pretty sure this was a self picture she took herself when I wasn't looking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NBUCmgzoXrI/TdsrlmtXNWI/AAAAAAAAANA/IsCsXfP_b9E/s1600/mya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NBUCmgzoXrI/TdsrlmtXNWI/AAAAAAAAANA/IsCsXfP_b9E/s320/mya.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Justin Timberlake on SNL.&amp;nbsp; He rocks it every time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7935509239576328574?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7935509239576328574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7935509239576328574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7935509239576328574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7935509239576328574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/05/favorite-5-of-week.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0MOrlJUOLNQ/TdspxDlpQLI/AAAAAAAAAM8/GZUaIlTLvaI/s72-c/peg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7981152528201418197</id><published>2011-05-18T21:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T21:06:09.698-05:00</updated><title type='text'>adventures in mexico - part 1</title><content type='html'>The husband and I went to Mexico a few weeks ago. We traveled without phones or computers (yup, I had withdrawal) so I couldn’t blog as I went. And now there are too many stories for one blog…so you’re gonna get them in installments amongst my other random blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’ll start with airport adventures…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our adventure began at KCI early Saturday morning. This was the first time the husband and I had traveled via air since all the TSA hoopla and I had also just read a blog post of Will Wheaton’s (check out his blog &lt;a href="http://wilwheaton.typepad.com/"&gt;http://wilwheaton.typepad.com/&lt;/a&gt; sometime) concerning his invasive (and maybe sueable) pat down he had received in the Seattle airport. So I was ready to see what all the talk was about. The two of us slid through security just fine but then proceeded to sit and watch the not so lucky. We never did determine WHY they were pulling certain people aside (im sure some would scream profiling) but we&amp;nbsp;DID decide that the pat downs are indeed invasive. Pants were unbuttoned, shirts were untucked, the women&amp;nbsp;were felt up over and under and in between everything,&amp;nbsp;and there’s no way the TSA agents didn’t know exactly which way the guys hung after all was said and done. These&amp;nbsp;travelers&amp;nbsp;were at least owed dinner first…instead they simply&amp;nbsp;gathered their shoes and belts and took what could only be considered the airport walk of shame.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7981152528201418197?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7981152528201418197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7981152528201418197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7981152528201418197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7981152528201418197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/05/adventures-in-mexico-part-1.html' title='adventures in mexico - part 1'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1523033285641514781</id><published>2011-05-13T21:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T21:13:33.392-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the tribe has spoken</title><content type='html'>It's been 12 weeks since I was laid off and 7 weeks since I started my new job. It’s weird to be here and not there, it’s weird that I didn’t get to make that choice myself and it’s weird I'm now part of the “I was laid off” crowd. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being laid off burst my bubble of the promise land I heard about throughout college and made me feel completely worthless. I came out of college thinking I was gonna have this great career where I would continue to make more and more money and that money was gonna make me happy. And then that dream was pulled out from under me in an instant on a Thursday morning in January. And it made me realize that dream doesn’t and can’t exist anymore. I realized now all I could do was figure out how to just stay employed and exist (safely and quietly) somewhere in the middle. And try and be happy THERE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve fallen into someplace like that now but I still get all tripped up in the whole thing. I start these wallowing conversations with the husband trying to figure out what happened, why it happened and who was responsible. The other night I finally asked him, “Did I not play the game right? Should I have done something differently?” (I ask these questions b/c I think I’m terrified it will happen again). And my very laid back, blue collar working husband says to me, “I think you were fantastic at playing the game. But you have to accept the fact the tribe just spoke too soon. And you have to be okay with that.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, while I haven’t decided whether that analogy is genius or whether it just means we watch too much tv…I’m going to go with genius for now. Because he’s right. I have to accept I played the best way I knew how and that I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I want to be the player like Colby who played the game his way. He was the guy who wanted to win up against another great player. He took an equal player to the end and ultimately lost. But he had no regrets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I can’t be mad or upset at those who played a different game to stay where they are. I didn’t want to play that strategy. I’m okay that me being me and me speaking my mind and me never standing down didn’t get me as far in the game as I had hoped. Because in the end I can say I still played MY game and for that I’ll never be sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1523033285641514781?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1523033285641514781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1523033285641514781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1523033285641514781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1523033285641514781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/05/tribe-has-spoken.html' title='the tribe has spoken'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4414783832273755465</id><published>2011-04-25T22:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T22:25:20.461-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1. My savage tan (thank you 7 days in Mexico)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;2. This unexpected addition to my desk...it made me laugh out loud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pg9DcSxBuJo/TbY4fy80ECI/AAAAAAAAAM4/VYaE_pLuf2s/s1600/2011-04-20_10.41.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" i8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pg9DcSxBuJo/TbY4fy80ECI/AAAAAAAAAM4/VYaE_pLuf2s/s200/2011-04-20_10.41.53.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;3. ﻿Disappearing for several hours on a Thursday afternoon with one of my favorite people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;4. Waking up Friday and realizing its Good Friday and that I used to get the day off...but then also realizing that I don't mind going in to work because I actually like going there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;5. Discovering I can complete a 40 minute bike ride without crashing my bike (D I'm gonna give you a run for your money one day)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4414783832273755465?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4414783832273755465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4414783832273755465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4414783832273755465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4414783832273755465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/04/favorite-5-of-week_25.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pg9DcSxBuJo/TbY4fy80ECI/AAAAAAAAAM4/VYaE_pLuf2s/s72-c/2011-04-20_10.41.53.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5536508101496924603</id><published>2011-04-03T21:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T21:33:37.795-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1. My new Nook (don't judge me, all my bookstores are closing).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Waking up on Monday morning and realizing I didn't dread where I was headed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Being asked by the boss if I could spear head what we think the new email strategy should look like....finally!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Lunch with good friends...who subsequently made me laugh until I cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Spending Friday night with some of the greatest people I think I will ever meet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5536508101496924603?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5536508101496924603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5536508101496924603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5536508101496924603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5536508101496924603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/04/favorite-5-of-week.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5037494155593945269</id><published>2011-03-31T21:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T21:15:43.941-05:00</updated><title type='text'>don chilitos...no me gusto...burp</title><content type='html'>I have somehow gotten through 37 years of my life without eating at&amp;nbsp;don chilitos&amp;nbsp;in mission.&amp;nbsp; Ive heard it mentioned often but was never even really sure where it was located.&amp;nbsp; Well now I work within walking distance of it and today met a bunch of former co-workers there for lunch.&amp;nbsp; It went a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk in and my first shock is its an order and pay before you sit down and eat kinda place.&amp;nbsp; Not only is it that, its almost cafeteria style service.&amp;nbsp; No big deal, but I do have to hustle to figure out what i want as there are only two guys in front of me and they have clearly done this before.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I approach the counter and pick up my tray which i quickly discover is sticky.&amp;nbsp; So now I'M sticky and wondering where exactly I can wipe my hand.&amp;nbsp; I have to abandon this project though as I'm asked what i want and then of course am told my chicken option will cost me more....damn my turketarian ways.&amp;nbsp; Much to my dismay i receive my order within about 30 seconds.&amp;nbsp; Should one really be able to get a full mexican platter in that short amount of time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I move up to the register where i now can pick up a cup for beverage.&amp;nbsp; The cups for beverages look exactly like the Styrofoam cups you get at a gas station...and i wonder if they didn't just raid the local kwik shop for cups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I wait to pay i notice a basket of desserts that says cash only.&amp;nbsp; At this point I think two things....shit i hope its just the desserts that are cash only (which it was) and I'm pretty sure those desserts had been there since the beginning of time.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I head to the booth my friends already occupy and pass the pit-o-tortilla chips.&amp;nbsp; It's clearly a help yourself to chips and salsa deal and it makes me shudder as I think of how many hands have probably been in said pit.&amp;nbsp; I then spend the rest of lunch trying to nonchalantly avoid the chips and salsa at OUR table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After starting my way through my three tacos I realize I did not eat nearly as fast as I should have when I get to my third taco.&amp;nbsp; It is so soggy&amp;nbsp;I wind up having to eat it with my fork.&amp;nbsp; I also go through about 4 napkins&amp;nbsp;and still managed to get grease on my pants.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the company was great (I laughed so hard I cried...but don't ask me what the 'would you rather' question was that provoked it...you'll be sorry..trust me) I just didn't love the food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funniest part is I had a pre-warning from a friend that the food was not so great.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes I think said friend has pretentious food preferences (sorry) and so i didn't pay much attention.&amp;nbsp; What he&amp;nbsp;SHOULD have told me was sweet jesus dont eat there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5037494155593945269?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5037494155593945269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5037494155593945269' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5037494155593945269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5037494155593945269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/03/don-chilitosno-me-gustoburp.html' title='don chilitos...no me gusto...burp'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5969180532388639940</id><published>2011-03-16T18:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T18:23:34.449-05:00</updated><title type='text'>all cubevilles are not created equally</title><content type='html'>I have determined that no matter where you work....there will always be indignities.&amp;nbsp; My new 8-5 home has no ice makers.&amp;nbsp; Not even any in the 4 fridges we have.&amp;nbsp; There are bags of ice people have brought in...but its clear they melted b/w point of purchase and the office and have now refrozen into one giant ice mass.&amp;nbsp; And I didn't want to be the new girl making a ruckus with an ice pick...so i took in some ice trays and made ice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5969180532388639940?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5969180532388639940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5969180532388639940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5969180532388639940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5969180532388639940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/03/all-cubevilles-are-not-created-equally.html' title='all cubevilles are not created equally'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4143504399875489577</id><published>2011-03-13T18:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T18:42:29.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>its never too early to learn nothing in life is free</title><content type='html'>The husband and i ventured out for our bi-weekly purchase of food at our local grocery establishment last weekend.&amp;nbsp; I hate the trip and HATE spending a 1/3 of a paycheck on food.&amp;nbsp; This fine morning as we pulled up we saw we would have some unwanted obstacles this morning in the form of cute little girls in school uniforms holding manila envelops.&amp;nbsp; As we approached we saw them huddled in the corner and just as I thought we might skate through the adult in charge sends out her two cutest girls. Before we make it to the door they are crowding our knees and aside from kicking them I have no other option than to hesitate as they ask us to help their school out.&amp;nbsp; The husband and I mumble something about no cash and do a little dance around the pair.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, while we have all encountered the random pleas to buy our popcorn, cookies, wrapping paper, underwear...this morning was different.&amp;nbsp; This group of kids were from a private school in the area and they weren't selling anything...nothing&amp;nbsp; They were really just asking for a handout.&amp;nbsp; And I get it...trust me...I know all the schools need help.&amp;nbsp; But here's my problem with this instance. Their parents are paying (probably a pretty penny) for them to go to that school.&amp;nbsp; How is it that the school now needs help with paying for something?&amp;nbsp; And, how is it they just expect me to hand over a $5 or $10 and get nothing in return?&amp;nbsp; At least the girl scouts give us cookies (and an expanding waistline) in exchange for the cash and most schools offer up local discounts or books or something.&amp;nbsp; But these two little girls wanted me to just hand them some cash.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im pretty sure thats just panhandling.&amp;nbsp; They are just using two super cute kids instead of a 'my dog needs food' sign.&amp;nbsp; I told the husband I should have asked them why i should feel obligated to hand them over cash when I myself was no longer employed.&amp;nbsp; He didnt think that was funny...and im pretty sure thats why im not allowed out alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4143504399875489577?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4143504399875489577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4143504399875489577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4143504399875489577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4143504399875489577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/03/its-never-too-early-to-learn-nothing-in.html' title='its never too early to learn nothing in life is free'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-8100154345744383988</id><published>2011-02-23T23:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T00:16:57.156-06:00</updated><title type='text'>not so quik trip</title><content type='html'>I stopped by a QuikTrip tonight to grab a fountain drink for my ride home.  I pulled up and because it was pretty late there were only two cars out front.  I go in and there's me, an old lady loitering by the soda fountains with an empty cup and a woman and her 3 year old who was wearing rain galoshes (it wasnt raining).  I figure sweet, I'll get in and out....besides isn't that the point of QuikTrips?  By the time i grab my drink though the woman and her child have beat me to the counter.  So I walk up behind them and while I have to say I don't spend a lot of time in convenience stores so maybe this isn't out of the norm...but this woman had the biggest hodge podge of crap I have ever seen. We'll start with the two fountain drinks one of which was for the 3 year old...and i wondered why she was buying a pop for her daughter at 11:00 at night...in fact...why wasn't the daughter in bed?  The rest of the counter was filled with the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 large bottles of Gatorade&lt;br /&gt;2 bags of jolly ranchers&lt;br /&gt;2 ice cream sandwiches&lt;br /&gt;1 bag of three donuts&lt;br /&gt;1 box of donuts&lt;br /&gt;1 package of crackers&lt;br /&gt;1 sucker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Youre guess is as good as mine...all i know is my quick trip was 10 minutes long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-8100154345744383988?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/8100154345744383988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=8100154345744383988' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8100154345744383988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8100154345744383988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/02/not-so-quik-trip.html' title='not so quik trip'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2581171238528586325</id><published>2011-02-17T16:53:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T18:48:59.064-06:00</updated><title type='text'>this installment is brought to you by the letters l a i d o f &amp; f</title><content type='html'>I was recently laid off...about three weeks ago now that I think about it. And i believe (or maybe im just trying to convince myself) ive moved into the funny phase of being laid off. You can only stay mad and worked up so long before it all becomes absurd. So now that I can actually talk about it...here are the top 10 great things about being unemployed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. You get to stay in your pajamas as long as you want.&lt;br /&gt;9. I save about $40 a week ($120 so far) on gas...you know, what with no commute.&lt;br /&gt;8. I no longer feel obligated to pay money to wear jeans on so appointed jeans days.&lt;br /&gt;7. I no longer have to worry about what holidays constitute buying gifts for a boss.&lt;br /&gt;6. I haven't had high heels on in weeks.&lt;br /&gt;5. I haven't done laundry since i was laid off...I wear the same shit daily and most of the time have on no undergarments.&lt;br /&gt;4. I get to see what my dog does all day...which, in case youre wondering, is sleep.&lt;br /&gt;3. I get to be way more creative..which is sad when my job was about being creative.&lt;br /&gt;2. I dont have to waste most of my day in pointless corporate induced meetings.&lt;br /&gt;1. I get to drink whenever I want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2581171238528586325?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2581171238528586325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2581171238528586325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2581171238528586325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2581171238528586325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/02/this-installment-is-brought-to-you-by.html' title='this installment is brought to you by the letters l a i d o f &amp; f'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7287508419941723152</id><published>2011-01-25T15:51:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T18:00:21.617-06:00</updated><title type='text'>shut it down - it doesn't conform</title><content type='html'>The show is called Skins and MTV is under fire....yet again.  In case you haven't heard, its a racy, provocative show about teens and sex and drugs and the Parents Television Council is crying that its child pornography. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This isn't the first show or the last show parents or people in general will have issues with but it amazes me every time.  The fact of the matter is the show isn't showing anything or talking about anything that isn't already happening with teens.  The teens are drinking and the teens are having sex and yes they are doing drugs.  Always have been and probably always will.  I had classmates die in high school from drug overdoses and drinking and driving...I had pregnant girls in my senior class.  But for some reason its not acceptable to talk about...if we hide it, maybe it will go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But its not going to.  And maybe, just maybe a show like this could be seen as an opportunity to talk about these things.  As a parent, you should know what your kid is watching...if you don't, shame on you.  Either make sure your kid isn't watching this show (my parents didn't allow MTV in the house until I was in high school) or watch it with them...and discuss.  Discuss the pitfalls of said behaviors, discuss how to avoid it, and please discuss how to protect oneself when it does happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Council is also screaming about how MTV is just looking for viewership through sensationalism and how they seem to have gotten it.  Well...yea, because everyone is talking about it.  MTV pushes buttons and walks lines and stirs the pot...they always have.  But its the people TALKING about it that give them what they want.  If no one is talking about it...fewer people see the show.  People are watching it now because of the uproar...that's why I checked it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If MTV follows the rules (they have warnings up before the show) and makes sure what they put on TV follows the guidelines for their network then you can't tell them they can't air the show.  That goes against freedom of speech.  So instead of trying to get the show off the air...maybe, just maybe we start talking about parents taking responsibility for what their kids watch and what their kids do.  The problem doesn't lie within this show...it doesn't lie within any show or book or video game...it never has.  I suppose its just easier to go after those external factors instead of addressing where the problems actually start.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7287508419941723152?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7287508419941723152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7287508419941723152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7287508419941723152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7287508419941723152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/01/shut-it-down-it-doesnt-conform.html' title='shut it down - it doesn&apos;t conform'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-472017281542361941</id><published>2011-01-25T14:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T15:42:02.522-06:00</updated><title type='text'>bad news billy</title><content type='html'>He sits on the other side of my cube wall and his name is Billy...and his story is always JUST a little worse than yours.  Billy also talks very loudly (as I think he is proud of his opinions and the way each day seems to kick him when he's down) and so its hard to miss what Billy has to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just recently the day after a huge snowfall kept half the workers at home, Billy shows back up at work and joins the discussion of did you make it in easier today.  Of course Billy didn't make it in easier.  While he admitted the snow was plowed, Billy encountered a truck that kicked up some rocks which subsequently cracked his windshield.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other poor Billy moments:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy's electricity goes off and he has to rush home b/c clearly the wife can not move his child to a different, warmer location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy is allergic to dust...but insists on dusting his cube every Monday and then proceeds to complain b/c he can't breathe after kicking up the dust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy's mother-in-law doesn't like his cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the best one in my book...Billy wishes people would stop pretending to be gay and then raising kids who of course wind up gay and muck up his world (this opinion is not shared by this writer...only Billy).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-472017281542361941?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/472017281542361941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=472017281542361941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/472017281542361941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/472017281542361941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/01/bad-news-billy.html' title='bad news billy'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1810990737582774366</id><published>2011-01-02T19:18:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T13:33:45.103-06:00</updated><title type='text'>in lebron they trusted</title><content type='html'>Its been a while since Lebron James made his decision and left Cleveland to play for Miami. But I just watched a most fascinating people of 2010 special and he was one of the featured people. They showed clips of the angry fans and the burning of his jersey and I couldn't help but think how ridiculous the whole thing was. All this guy did was get another job. I don't care that what he does for a living is play a game....its still his job. He had outgrown the current job he had (like many of us do) and he needed to move on. As a "worker" he probably had goals (one being to win a championship ring) and he realized he needed to go elsewhere to reach that goal. I just find it interesting that because he is a worker who is also a super star, his job move was scrutinized on a national basis...and that is really unfortunate. If Sally in finance decides to move on to bigger and better things people wish her well and probably take her to lunch on her last day of work. Instead Cleveland wished him the WORST and burned his jersey. Shame on Cleveland for being poor sports.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1810990737582774366?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1810990737582774366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1810990737582774366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1810990737582774366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1810990737582774366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/01/in-kobe-they-trusted.html' title='in lebron they trusted'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1978277571619379258</id><published>2011-01-02T19:06:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T18:21:06.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>holiday cheer....or im a holiday snob</title><content type='html'>My office always tries to be fairly festive for the holidays and while their thoughts are in the right place sometimes the fashion in which the money is spent irritates me. I always figure if people are willing to pony up some money why not try and use it for something useful....stocking food kitchens, adopting families, etc. My arguments always fall on deaf ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this year the activities committee decided to take the money they have collected from us sorry saps who paid throughout the year for the privilege of wearing jeans and use it to buy us gifts for the holidays. They then wrap said gifts and on the day of our holiday lunch randomly draw names. You receive an email saying you won and you can come down to the board room to pick out a present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first round is drawn and surprisingly enough my name is drawn. So i wander down to the board room where there are 3 other girls also picking out gifts. One of the girls decides it will be more fun to open the gifts there....and it goes a little something like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl #1 gets a gift card to Planet Sub and some lottery tickets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl #2 gets a $25 gift card to Quicktrip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl #3 gets a box of 24 golf balls...sweet golf balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I get a box of fudge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1978277571619379258?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1978277571619379258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1978277571619379258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1978277571619379258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1978277571619379258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2011/01/holiday-cheeror-im-holiday-snob.html' title='holiday cheer....or im a holiday snob'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1703911959017414203</id><published>2010-12-26T16:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T16:47:41.647-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the women we come from</title><content type='html'>Growing up, the women who raise you are the only role models you know.  You have mothers or grandmothers (or both) you live with, who run your life, who show you how the world works.  And you don't know any better.  You think what they show you is right...you assume their perspectives and opinions are what's right...how it all works.  You grow up into the woman you think you should be.  Then you find yourself at 36 and you start to realize where you came from isn't what you thought it was.  These women didn't have it all figured out.  Much to your dismay they didn't or don't actually know what the hell they are doing.  They were simply making it all up as they went...and they may have fucked it up along the way.  And now you find yourself on a completely course from how their world played out and they no longer get you.  You have found the independent person in yourself while they have never lived without a parent in the home.  You have a lot more education and you now have conversations with them where they no longer know what you're talking about.  You argue a case and they point out how sometimes you just have to put up with shit.  You sit in a parking lot defending why you don't take shit off people and they give you stories of abuse and wrongdoings and tell you that yes you do have to take shit off people.  And you look at them and go I don't want to be that person who thinks they just have to take the shit...it can be different.  And you suddenly realize the woman you came from is just a person...a person who never had it all figured out...a person you no longer want to be like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1703911959017414203?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1703911959017414203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1703911959017414203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1703911959017414203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1703911959017414203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/12/women-we-come-from.html' title='the women we come from'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3867148600021008902</id><published>2010-12-07T20:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T20:43:55.819-06:00</updated><title type='text'>more jackyl and DMC</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7whXkKkRI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Bc9DeHCgTwg/s1600/2010-11-24_23.04.05.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548136247019082002" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7whXkKkRI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Bc9DeHCgTwg/s200/2010-11-24_23.04.05.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; DMC with a chainsaw&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7wgglrvuI/AAAAAAAAAMc/JGOA7pPR08c/s1600/2010-11-24_23.02.18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548136232261500642" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7wgglrvuI/AAAAAAAAAMc/JGOA7pPR08c/s200/2010-11-24_23.02.18.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Jesse with a chainsaw&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7wgc8b7-I/AAAAAAAAAMU/r95pUPhhjJo/s1600/2010-11-24_22.58.35.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548136231283191778" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7wgc8b7-I/AAAAAAAAAMU/r95pUPhhjJo/s200/2010-11-24_22.58.35.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/1440794269108407626-3867148600021008902?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3867148600021008902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3867148600021008902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3867148600021008902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3867148600021008902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/12/more-jackyl-and-dmc.html' title='more jackyl and DMC'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7whXkKkRI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Bc9DeHCgTwg/s72-c/2010-11-24_23.04.05.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7569693551189208800</id><published>2010-12-07T20:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T20:39:00.686-06:00</updated><title type='text'>jackyl and dmc</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qdCnn7GI/AAAAAAAAAME/uINNUw4l7MQ/s1600/2010-11-24_22.24.05.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548129575607200866" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qdCnn7GI/AAAAAAAAAME/uINNUw4l7MQ/s200/2010-11-24_22.24.05.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; DMC&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qc5Mp3vI/AAAAAAAAAL8/J4DXQNjeAQ8/s1600/2010-11-24_22.23.33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548129573078163186" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qc5Mp3vI/AAAAAAAAAL8/J4DXQNjeAQ8/s200/2010-11-24_22.23.33.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; DMC&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qccz3HOI/AAAAAAAAAL0/HWahCFA-MyI/s1600/2010-11-24_22.20.23.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548129565457980642" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qccz3HOI/AAAAAAAAAL0/HWahCFA-MyI/s200/2010-11-24_22.20.23.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qcD5BhoI/AAAAAAAAALs/0o98aK60Upg/s1600/2010-11-24_22.18.22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548129558768748162" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qcD5BhoI/AAAAAAAAALs/0o98aK60Upg/s200/2010-11-24_22.18.22.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Jesse crowd surfing&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qbwV_p4I/AAAAAAAAALk/smTkcUXpaLk/s1600/2010-11-24_18.51.43.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548129553521551234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qbwV_p4I/AAAAAAAAALk/smTkcUXpaLk/s200/2010-11-24_18.51.43.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7569693551189208800?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7569693551189208800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7569693551189208800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7569693551189208800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7569693551189208800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/12/jackyl-and-dmc.html' title='jackyl and dmc'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TP7qdCnn7GI/AAAAAAAAAME/uINNUw4l7MQ/s72-c/2010-11-24_22.24.05.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-9070893107990885979</id><published>2010-12-07T19:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T20:04:55.934-06:00</updated><title type='text'>coat fiasco</title><content type='html'>Mr. Grumpy Pants and Captain Energy seem to think they dont need to wear coats and its really starting to annoy me. My problem started when i bought them fleece jackets at walmart a few weeks ago. They were like $7.00. and while they were too light for more than a couple warm days last week i figured they can use all the coats they can get once they go back home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the day we gave them the fleece jackets it was near 60 and that was actually all i sent them to school in. But then the next day was 40 and windy so i told them they would have to wear coats. They wanted to wear the jackets again so i bargained. I told them they could layer...so if they wanted to wear a long sleeve t-shirt and the fleece I was cool with that. BUT they still had to wear a coat to school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easy enough right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next morning i come downstairs and they are both wearing their fleece&lt;br /&gt;so i say ok guys get your stuff...meaning bags, lunches, coats. Im get my stuff and turn around and they are both standing there with just their bags. Coats people...i need coats. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning i come down and Captain Energy has on a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie and his fleece. Looks ridiculous. So i tell him he's going to need to take one of those off. Why? Cause you have to wear a coat. I'm wearing a coat. Uh...no...youre wearing a ridiculous combination of jackets. My frind says this is my fault as after all I did say he could layer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning 3...I get Captain Energy to put his coat on and i turn around and Mr. Grumpy Pants is standing by the door in just fleece. Seriously people. That morning i had enough and I told them that at no point from here on in will they NOT need a coat...and it has to be WORN. Some mornings they try to carry it to the car defeating the purpose as my car stays outside..duh! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning 4....Mr. Grumpy Pants winds up with his coat on but Captain Energy is standing there with no coat...holding his fleece...back pack on. So i tell him you need a coat. He proceeds to take his back pack off and pull out his coat...puts the coat on and then the back pack. He's still holding his fleece. Im LATE at this point. So i say put the fleece on the couch. No i want to take it. Ok...if youre not wearing it then youre not just carrying it in...youll lose it between the car and the classroom. So he then proceeds to attempt to take the back pack off so he could take the coat off to put the fleece on and then put the coat back on and then the back pack. Uh...no. Fleece not on, it stays home! That morning i told them they have to have EVERYTHING on they are wearing to school when i come downstairs or you can't take it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning....Captain Energy is standing in the kitchen with his back pack on and JUST HIS FLEECE. I say...you need a coat. Im wearing a coat. NO YOURE NOT. Now I tell them we have gone over this for a week. A WEEK. Next time either of you pulls this the fleece is mine. Then I go...its 12 outside. 12!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-9070893107990885979?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/9070893107990885979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=9070893107990885979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/9070893107990885979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/9070893107990885979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/12/coat-fiasco.html' title='coat fiasco'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3477921087340140688</id><published>2010-11-27T23:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T23:14:11.502-06:00</updated><title type='text'>between the lines</title><content type='html'>Somewhere over the course of the last year I have lost the ability to park correctly.  I have been driving for 20 years at this point in my life and I've been parking all this time...parking correctly, between the lines.  But for reasons unknown to myself about 75% of the time I now do a bang up job on the parking and get no where near to being in the lines.  I cant for the life of me figure out where or how I lost this skill.  But I do know that backing out and trying to fix it never helps as I do not have ANY backing up skills...never have.  Don't worry though if you find yourself in the same parking lot as me...if I have two cars to atually pull in between, I'm rockstar.  I won't hit you...unless I'm in reverse...then you might want to avoid me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3477921087340140688?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3477921087340140688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3477921087340140688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3477921087340140688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3477921087340140688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/11/between-lines.html' title='between the lines'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3512728104702458735</id><published>2010-11-12T22:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T22:58:03.223-06:00</updated><title type='text'>cube land theft</title><content type='html'>My Diet Dr. Pepper was stolen today.  I sat it next to my cup in the kitchen while I went to the restroom.  It was 10:00 AM and it was my morning routine of getting out of the confines of my cube.   I came back and the cup was there but the Diet Dr. Pepper was gone.  How did someone not know that it wasn’t theirs to take?  They have to know they didn’t take it into the kitchen.  And they have to know that the company is not prone to offering free beverage in the way of random cans left in the kitchen.  So why on earth would you just pick up a can of Diet Dr. Pepper that wasnt yours and think it was ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later a fellow employee’s creamer goes missing out of the same kitchen.  She had her coffee cup and a jar of creamer sitting on the counter while she also ran to the restroom.  She comes back and the coffee mug is there but no creamer.  Now...you REALLY have to know that the creamer is not yours.  This time, even if you were confused and thought perhaps the company had supplied the creamer…its not yours to take.  It would have been for the employees to share.  She sent out an email in search of the creamer…it never showed back up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that week we heard someone had bought a fellow employee a box of Klondike bars for his birthday.  Put them in the freezer for him and his co-workers to enjoy later that day.  When they went to retrieve said Klondike bars, the box had been opened and one was missing.  Ok, really…who does that?  You KNOW you didnt buy the damn Klondike bars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point complaints are submitted to our main administrative assistant (or in this case babysitter) and an email goes out telling people to stop stealing.  And I’m sure she cursed at us as she typed it.  This may be cube world people but respect other people’s belongings.  If you didn’t buy it, it’s not yours to have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3512728104702458735?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3512728104702458735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3512728104702458735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3512728104702458735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3512728104702458735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/11/cube-land-theft.html' title='cube land theft'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2699772450341327320</id><published>2010-10-11T19:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T19:58:35.986-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ground hog day #345</title><content type='html'>Captain Energy and Mr. Grumpy Pants had well doctor checks last week and Captain Energy wound up with strep. After hours at the doctor and a trip to Dillons for medicine the husband and the boys roll home. Captain Energy tells me that neither of them brought home slips for the day. So I looked at him and said "you didn't bring home a slip but you brought home strep." He looks at me and says "I have strep?!?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2699772450341327320?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2699772450341327320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2699772450341327320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2699772450341327320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2699772450341327320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/10/ground-hog-day-345.html' title='ground hog day #345'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-145124456402621095</id><published>2010-10-10T19:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T19:51:14.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1. Hearing the giggles pouring out their bedroom window as I walked up the driveway after my run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Make a friend nearly spit coffee out on his computer Tuesday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Our waitress Friday night accidentally forgetting to put 4 of our drinks on the bill. She got herself a nice fat tip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Yoga on a Saturday morning and lunch at the Merc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Captain Energy and Mr. Grumpy Pant's Wii characters. Mr. Grumpy pants went with a mean looking african american with a hella afro while Captain Energy went with a Caucasian male with spiky hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-145124456402621095?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/145124456402621095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=145124456402621095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/145124456402621095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/145124456402621095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/10/favorite-5-of-week_10.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-520072184918787781</id><published>2010-10-09T17:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T18:11:41.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>silence is golden</title><content type='html'>Due to unforeseen circumstances I found some space in my life by choosing to limit communications with a few different people. At the time it stressed me out that it had come to that point. But a couple days later I had a couple of really great days which have since turned into a really great weekend....and I suddenly realized that these people were the ones causing a lot of the turmoil in my life. It was their constant calls and their problems and there stupidity about how they lead their lives that had been occupying my time and making me crazy. I have a friend that spends a lot of time under a rock....its quiet there. And I've decided to join him there for a while. I've always been a fan of small intimate gatherings...I'm gonna leave it at that for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-520072184918787781?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/520072184918787781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=520072184918787781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/520072184918787781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/520072184918787781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/10/silence-is-golden.html' title='silence is golden'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3182871865843773921</id><published>2010-10-09T17:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T17:47:33.418-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ground hog day #234</title><content type='html'>Transport for Captain Energy and Mr. Grumpy Pants fell through a couple weeks ago and we had to help out with pick up after their visit with mom. Mom lives in Topeka and its always around dinner time on Saturdays they have to be picked up. So on our way back through Lawrence we stopped for dinner at Quizno's. Kids eat free and they always get prizes with dinner so it works out. We ate there and then headed home. It was nice out so we let them work off some energy riding bikes before we came in to start a movie. I was in the kitchen fixing drinks and Captain Energy wanders in and asks me "Did we eat dinner yet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really with that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3182871865843773921?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3182871865843773921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3182871865843773921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3182871865843773921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3182871865843773921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/10/ground-hog-day-234.html' title='ground hog day #234'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2093254463249417560</id><published>2010-10-03T17:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T17:51:09.867-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>1. My new found quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Disappearing on a Wednesday afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My new (although stolen) cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Sunday at the zoo (specifically when we were standing next to this older man watching the monkeys and Captain Energy said "he has a funny butt").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Being told it was his best party ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2093254463249417560?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2093254463249417560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2093254463249417560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2093254463249417560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2093254463249417560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/10/favorite-5-of-week.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2181888585817046184</id><published>2010-10-02T17:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T17:52:24.847-05:00</updated><title type='text'>don't mess with Chad</title><content type='html'>I am still fairly new at dropping the kids off at school in the morning and I'll have to be honest...until just recently it made me nervous every morning.  Apparently there is a drop off "dance" that one has to assume and there is one very small man who orchestrates this dance every morning.  His name is Chad (I've now determined), he stands out front of the school every morning and you don't want to cross Chad.  Chad is about my height and can't weigh much more than me, but he has pretty clear ideas about how this dance is supposed to go and he is not afraid to call you out when you mess this dance up.  Unfortunately for me...no one told me about this dance.  So it took me a couple weeks to determine what would get me in trouble as I drop off the kids.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the first days I got in trouble because i was too slow in letting the boys out. The cars in front of me had pulled away and I wasn't empty yet to pull up.  I got the frantic wave on from Chad before my back door was even shut.  The next time i got in trouble b/c as I passed Chad to drive away the car in front of me stopped.  This car was already past him so he thought I was stopping and I again got the hurry up wave on...until i pointed at the car that had caused the back up...then he felt stupid.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I was now determined to not get in trouble again.  So I started paying attention to what got people in trouble.  I determined how far i was supposed to pull up and when to wait to unload if I already had cars unloading in front of me as I pulled up.  The boys play along and are always ready to go as I unlock the door and move quickly to avoid us getting yelled at for holding things up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the fun part is watching all the other cars get in trouble.  Our most recent episode saw two cars get in trouble on the same morning.  When we pulled up there were already 4 cars there unloading so I knew we needed to wait to unload so as not to hold anything up.  We were sitting in line and car #2 gets done before car #1 and proceeds to pull out and around car #1.  Before we knew it Chad was out in the drive in front of this Ford F-its so big its tires are bigger than my car-truck and throws his hand out to stop it.  I go 'oh oh' and the boys start giggling.  Chad lets  them move on after car #1 finishes and so now cars 1, 2, and 3 pull away.  The car in front of me has also waited to drop off so now they pull up and I follow.  However, now this car doesn't pull around the curve far enough and they start getting the frantic wave on from Chad.  I go 'good god, now they're in trouble' and the boys are rolling at this point.  We some how made it through without any trouble that morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have since met Chad when I dropped off b-day treats last week and he is very nice.  I also think i caught some leniency as he is a runner and I have a running sticker in my car window.  But you definitely don't want to piss off Chad at drop off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2181888585817046184?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2181888585817046184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2181888585817046184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2181888585817046184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2181888585817046184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/10/dont-mess-with-chad.html' title='don&apos;t mess with Chad'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7690237400223994304</id><published>2010-09-19T16:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T17:00:10.769-05:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite 5 of the week</title><content type='html'>This was a hard week to start this back up as it was probably the worst week of the year right now....so I've only got three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Winning one against the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Captain Energy busting out the butt dance in the garage as I pulled in the driveway with my stereo thumping (that's right my stereo thumps).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My new ring...I think it changed my energy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7690237400223994304?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7690237400223994304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7690237400223994304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7690237400223994304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7690237400223994304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/09/favorite-5-of-week.html' title='favorite 5 of the week'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-8808132906727360535</id><published>2010-09-12T20:59:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T22:23:55.848-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a confused state of faith</title><content type='html'>I stay away from religion...i don't participate in anything religious, i don't partake in discussions about religion, I don't express my feelings about religion...i don't think much about it really. But the other day i read an article about teens today who are "fake" Christians. The article actually warned parents their children are following a "mutant" form of Christianity. The article got me pretty worked up. And not because i don't share similar thoughts of anyone religious but b/c I think its absurd someone would accuse a Christian of not being Christian enough. They accuse these kids...kids who say they think god wants them to do good and feel good, kids who participate in community service and want to make the world a better place...of following a watered down version of their faith that doesn't do them any good. And that doesn't make ANY sense in my head. Why on earth would you fault someone for not being articulate enough about their faith? What difference does it make if they can't spout scripture if they are helping others and bettering society? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This thinking is probably what caused me similar confusion a couple weeks ago during a conversation i had with the step-mother-in-law. We were down at the lake house with the boys and we stayed Saturday night. She had told me the day before she was going to get up and go to church on Sunday. We were fine with that...we figured we would hang out at the house until she got back home. Sunday morning she decided to forgo church and instead go to the beach with us. We don't see each other often and i actually thought it was cool she wanted to instead spend more time with us before we left. And while she did make the decision to not attend church, she then subsequently beat herself up for the better part of the day for not going. When we arrived at a near empty beach she made a couple comments about how all the "good people" were in church. And how she should probably be there too. And it made me a little sad. Because in my head I would think a god i would be interested in would want her to spend time with family out in nature ...even if that meant she wasn't going to sit in a man made place of worship for one Sunday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My confusion continued again last Saturday as I rounded the corner of my street on the end of my 4 mile run. There was a mini van parked in front of my house...I wasn't expecting anyone. As i walked up my driveway I could tell there was like 5 people inside. I was home alone so i just headed on inside as I wasn't sure what was going on. I watched after I got inside though and out of the car pours 5 adults and two little girls...all armed with bibles. I've seen this before and will see it again...i get it. But what i want to know is what is their success rate? They spent about 30 minutes on my street. I'm assuming they didn't get in anywhere. I'm assuming that much like me, I'm set with what I think and its not going to change b/c an old man and his granddaughter show up at my door with a bible. I guess the thing that confuses me the most is...why can't they take that 30 minutes they spent here and all the other minutes they spent getting no where that morning and instead go do something helpful. There are soup kitchens that need servers and habitat houses that need to be built. There are battered women's shelters that need volunteers and who knows what else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, everyone has their own opinions and I'm not faulting anyone or ridiculing anyone for their religious beliefs. I think what I think and they think a different way. I guess it just makes me sad the ideas and values and ways of existing that religion is supposed to instill in people are lost in the arguments of whether someone is Christian enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-8808132906727360535?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/8808132906727360535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=8808132906727360535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8808132906727360535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8808132906727360535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/09/confused-state-of-faith.html' title='a confused state of faith'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3950981666430978142</id><published>2010-09-12T13:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T13:57:58.077-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ground hog day</title><content type='html'>I posted not too long ago about Captain Energy's short term memory. Since then I have decided that more times than not its much like that movie Ground Hog Day around my house. After the phone incident it happened again as we were getting ready for a weekend at the lake. My father-in-law has a lake house and we were invited to bring the boys down for a weekend. Once we had told the boys about it, we had then talked about it on numerous occasions throughout the week. We are sitting eating dinner the night before we leave and I tell Mr. Grumpy Pants and Captain Energy that we need to finish packing after dinner. Captain Energy asks what we are packing for. The conversation continues like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: We're packing for the lake.&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: What lake?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Remember...Jeff's dad has a lake house?&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: Yea&lt;br /&gt;Me: And remember we're going down to the lake this weekend?&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: We're goin to the lake?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3950981666430978142?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3950981666430978142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3950981666430978142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3950981666430978142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3950981666430978142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/09/ground-hog-day.html' title='ground hog day'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1684603575226812383</id><published>2010-09-11T22:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T22:29:57.462-05:00</updated><title type='text'>our favorite little man</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxJEWeEcAI/AAAAAAAAALc/k63ZjCpsJKQ/s1600/IMG_2631.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxJEWeEcAI/AAAAAAAAALc/k63ZjCpsJKQ/s200/IMG_2631.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515863982722019330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1684603575226812383?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1684603575226812383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1684603575226812383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1684603575226812383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1684603575226812383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/09/our-favorite-little-man.html' title='our favorite little man'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxJEWeEcAI/AAAAAAAAALc/k63ZjCpsJKQ/s72-c/IMG_2631.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6056043188900234077</id><published>2010-09-11T22:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T22:27:55.561-05:00</updated><title type='text'>mya</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxInmbmdYI/AAAAAAAAALU/Oqn3xwowpN4/s1600/IMG_2736.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxInmbmdYI/AAAAAAAAALU/Oqn3xwowpN4/s200/IMG_2736.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515863488790427010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxImZfKZLI/AAAAAAAAALM/JPHqf1GbFWk/s1600/IMG_2729.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxImZfKZLI/AAAAAAAAALM/JPHqf1GbFWk/s200/IMG_2729.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515863468135834802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxIl7qMjNI/AAAAAAAAALE/xa9A25fKOgg/s1600/IMG_2714.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxIl7qMjNI/AAAAAAAAALE/xa9A25fKOgg/s200/IMG_2714.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515863460129049810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6056043188900234077?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6056043188900234077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6056043188900234077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6056043188900234077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6056043188900234077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/09/mya.html' title='mya'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxInmbmdYI/AAAAAAAAALU/Oqn3xwowpN4/s72-c/IMG_2736.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-8921798137833675923</id><published>2010-09-11T22:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T22:20:31.467-05:00</updated><title type='text'>they're on a boat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxG6xqGhWI/AAAAAAAAAK8/byBDp-NgLys/s1600/IMG_2746.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxG6xqGhWI/AAAAAAAAAK8/byBDp-NgLys/s200/IMG_2746.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515861619198297442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-8921798137833675923?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/8921798137833675923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=8921798137833675923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8921798137833675923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/8921798137833675923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/09/theyre-on-boat.html' title='they&apos;re on a boat'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TIxG6xqGhWI/AAAAAAAAAK8/byBDp-NgLys/s72-c/IMG_2746.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6724206891201560572</id><published>2010-09-11T21:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T22:10:58.409-05:00</updated><title type='text'>dirty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6OblGbemYf4/TIxEgu-yNuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/jeatCrhmMbw/s1600/IMG_2711.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6OblGbemYf4/TIxEgu-yNuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/jeatCrhmMbw/s320/IMG_2711.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515858972779886306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6724206891201560572?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6724206891201560572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6724206891201560572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6724206891201560572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6724206891201560572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/09/dirty.html' title='dirty'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6OblGbemYf4/TIxEgu-yNuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/jeatCrhmMbw/s72-c/IMG_2711.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7163905204026807460</id><published>2010-09-02T08:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T09:00:25.178-05:00</updated><title type='text'>back at it</title><content type='html'>Tonight's 3 miles was accompanied by Brett Dennen, Matt Hires, Imogen Heap, Jay-Z, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Lil Wayne and Pitbull (while it may seem like a weird combination it works for three miles) and included a neighbor who some how managed to get pulled over in their own driveway by the friendly Eudora cops and a dog on the back 1/4 mile that about made me piss my pants and the jump start of some words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7163905204026807460?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7163905204026807460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7163905204026807460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7163905204026807460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7163905204026807460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-at-it.html' title='back at it'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5790849775756223208</id><published>2010-08-15T12:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T12:04:44.499-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sunday worship</title><content type='html'>3 boys on bikes, my running shoes and 3 miles. Thats how we do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5790849775756223208?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5790849775756223208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5790849775756223208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5790849775756223208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5790849775756223208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/08/sunday-worship.html' title='sunday worship'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2497726655398730515</id><published>2010-08-07T15:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T15:36:19.497-05:00</updated><title type='text'>short term memory</title><content type='html'>I got a new phone last night. Captain Energy and Mr. Grumpy Pants were fascinated with it...as am I. I showed them some of the features and they watched part of a movie on it. This morning the bag from the T-Mobile store is sitting on the table when the two wander downstairs. Captain Energy sees the bag and then has the following conversation with the husband:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: Did you buy us presents?&lt;br /&gt;Husband: No, why?&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: What's in the bag?&lt;br /&gt;Husband: That's the bag that Krista's new phone came in.&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: Krista got a new phone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously with that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2497726655398730515?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2497726655398730515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2497726655398730515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2497726655398730515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2497726655398730515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/08/short-term-memory.html' title='short term memory'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6059312740395768816</id><published>2010-08-07T15:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T15:24:55.413-05:00</updated><title type='text'>missing in action</title><content type='html'>I cleaned Mr. Grumpy Pants and Captain Energy's bathroom the other day and decided I was tired of the toothpaste sitting out on the counter...so I put it in the drawer. This was the first time since they arrived I had rearranged anything in their space like that. So I'm laying in bed the next morning and the two yahoos are up along with the husband. The husband has given direction to brush teeth and then wandered downstairs. So I hear Captain Energy head into the bathroom. Not two seconds later he is at the top of the stairs yelling for the husband. The husband asks what's up to which Captain Energy answers 'the toothpaste is gone. Someone took the toothpaste.' Not only was it funny to me that the fact the toothpaste may belong in a drawer seemed foreign to him but I thought it was hysterical he would think someone took it. Who exactly did he think had wandered in during the night and ganked the toothpaste. When the husband found it in the drawer Captain Energy responded with his usual....hmmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6059312740395768816?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6059312740395768816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6059312740395768816' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6059312740395768816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6059312740395768816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/08/missing-in-action.html' title='missing in action'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-6831728939068600122</id><published>2010-08-07T15:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T15:12:58.248-05:00</updated><title type='text'>harness the feelings</title><content type='html'>I watched a show last night where one of the choreographers created this dance which he said came out of the anger he recently felt when someone close to him stabbed him in the back. And while it was angry and sad and heartbreaking it was also poetic and amazing...i was envious he had created something so beautiful. As a creator myself I understand how to harness those feelings into the creation process...some of the best words that come out of me are based on anger and sadness and fear. What i wish is that everyone knew how to harness their feelings like that. We spend so much time as a society talking about our feelings and how we should deal with certain types of feelings and how some feelings are unacceptable. But what if there was more emphasis on taking those feelings and instead redirecting them at the creative process. Can you imagine how much more creation...creation of anything....would happen?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-6831728939068600122?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/6831728939068600122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=6831728939068600122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6831728939068600122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/6831728939068600122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/08/harness-feelings.html' title='harness the feelings'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7698669781571970596</id><published>2010-08-01T19:32:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T20:30:39.808-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the system fails</title><content type='html'>I know a lot about the foster system these days. How its set up, why it exists, how it breathes, how it protects the kids. And I get it all. I get that these kids need a safe space to stay while their parents need time to figure things out. I get that everything is set up for the best interest of the kids. And that there are time frames and plans that ensure they wind up somewhere permanent within two years...whether that's back home or some place new (and ultimately better). And why wouldn't it be about the kids? They need people looking out for them seeing as how they can't stand up for or defend themselves at that time in their lives. But with these kids comes their parents who are the reason these kids are in the foster system. And these parents usually need help. They are asked to clean up their act, find better places to live, provide what they weren't providing, change the way they raise their kid, quit yelling, quit hitting, quit drinking, quit anything addictive. Simply put...they are asked to be a better parent. And this is where the system fails. These parents have no idea how to do the things they are being asked to do. They don't know how to quit or change the behaviors because these behaviors (or faults) didn't start with them. Shit, who knows how many generations these behaviors have been in place. These parents probably come from generations of addicts and abusers and neglectors. So of course they have NO idea how to change their behaviors...especially change them in the short time frame they are asked to do so. And while the system offers up all sorts of money to protect and assist these kids, there is no assistance for these parents. No classes offered, no financial assistance...nothing. There are parents out there with no high school educations, no drivers licenses, no jobs, and basically no know how to even go and find themselves a lawyer. How the hell are they supposed to shape up with no basic life skills in place. These parents are asked to put in place what i have spent the last 15 years of my life putting in place...they don't have 15 years. And no matter how much i want to be angry at a parent for the fact their child wound up in my home, i can't not feel sorry for the her. For while I'm taking care of her children, at least I have the ability and skills to do that. She's trying to figure out how to negotiate a situation she is completely unequipped to negotiate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7698669781571970596?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7698669781571970596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7698669781571970596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7698669781571970596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7698669781571970596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/08/system-fails.html' title='the system fails'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2385920883917522375</id><published>2010-07-31T21:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T21:18:54.037-05:00</updated><title type='text'>found object #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTYyhAGuQI/AAAAAAAAAKs/d7U8NYv8t44/s1600/IMG_2592.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTYyhAGuQI/AAAAAAAAAKs/d7U8NYv8t44/s200/IMG_2592.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500259407290087682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have the most random shit show up in my house now.  This feather showed up out of no where...I'm assuming it was in a pocket.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2385920883917522375?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2385920883917522375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2385920883917522375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2385920883917522375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2385920883917522375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/found-object-1.html' title='found object #1'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTYyhAGuQI/AAAAAAAAAKs/d7U8NYv8t44/s72-c/IMG_2592.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1395277135422448691</id><published>2010-07-31T21:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T21:14:28.465-05:00</updated><title type='text'>is that a banana in your pocket?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTYC4ntsAI/AAAAAAAAAKk/JhVvgBzo1d8/s1600/IMG_2590.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTYC4ntsAI/AAAAAAAAAKk/JhVvgBzo1d8/s200/IMG_2590.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500258588996513794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this after everyone left the other morning...I have no idea why it's on my couch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1395277135422448691?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1395277135422448691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1395277135422448691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1395277135422448691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1395277135422448691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/is-that-banana-in-your-pocket.html' title='is that a banana in your pocket?'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTYC4ntsAI/AAAAAAAAAKk/JhVvgBzo1d8/s72-c/IMG_2590.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1614967695801912272</id><published>2010-07-31T20:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T21:10:51.474-05:00</updated><title type='text'>groupies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTXjmxlynI/AAAAAAAAAKc/kYapMWOWPKo/s1600/IMG_2587-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 128px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTXjmxlynI/AAAAAAAAAKc/kYapMWOWPKo/s200/IMG_2587-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500258051630156402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy is popular with the ladies.  He has an addition on his bike that makes it sound like a motor bike revving when he turns it.  The girls stand up on the end of the cul-de-sac and he 'revs' it when he drives by and i here them giggle 5 houses down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1614967695801912272?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1614967695801912272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1614967695801912272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1614967695801912272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1614967695801912272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/groupies.html' title='groupies'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTXjmxlynI/AAAAAAAAAKc/kYapMWOWPKo/s72-c/IMG_2587-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-1451188060980689630</id><published>2010-07-31T20:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T21:20:57.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>yet another rogue sock</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTUa3hHWeI/AAAAAAAAAKM/YwJfpYzBml8/s1600/IMG_2514.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTUa3hHWeI/AAAAAAAAAKM/YwJfpYzBml8/s200/IMG_2514.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500254602970749410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-1451188060980689630?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/1451188060980689630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=1451188060980689630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1451188060980689630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/1451188060980689630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/rogue-sock.html' title='yet another rogue sock'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTUa3hHWeI/AAAAAAAAAKM/YwJfpYzBml8/s72-c/IMG_2514.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5522439986433438501</id><published>2010-07-31T20:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T20:58:48.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>another one bites the dust</title><content type='html'>Captain Energy had this action figure for only two days before he launched it 2 stories in the air onto my neighbors roof.  He asks about every 5 days if we can go see if "mohawk guy" has fallen off the roof. &lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTTZz13lII/AAAAAAAAAKE/Zg-nk8Tflh0/s1600/IMG_2379.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTTZz13lII/AAAAAAAAAKE/Zg-nk8Tflh0/s200/IMG_2379.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500253485292557442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5522439986433438501?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5522439986433438501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5522439986433438501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5522439986433438501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5522439986433438501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/captain-energy-had-this-action-figure.html' title='another one bites the dust'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TFTTZz13lII/AAAAAAAAAKE/Zg-nk8Tflh0/s72-c/IMG_2379.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-146835891626353331</id><published>2010-07-31T08:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T08:45:37.139-05:00</updated><title type='text'>cause ive got one hand in my pocket</title><content type='html'>I heard Alanis Morissette on the way home and thought of you. You bought me the Jagged Little Pill CD the day it came out. You gave it to me that night I got stuck walking 2 miles to a gas station so I could call you to come pick me up after my piece of shit Ford broke down for the 80th time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll cry every time i hear bag pipes for the rest of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to close my eyes still if I'm watching a movie that involves a helicopter crash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time I talked to you, you said I should give parenthood a try cause it was pretty cool. You would have liked the boys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-146835891626353331?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/146835891626353331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=146835891626353331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/146835891626353331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/146835891626353331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/cause-ive-got-one-hand-in-my-pocket.html' title='cause ive got one hand in my pocket'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-7206542312751868071</id><published>2010-07-27T09:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T10:04:11.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>radio edit</title><content type='html'>Captain Energy was in his room on Sunday having a solo dance party. They have a little CD player/radio and they like to listen to The Rock. So i wandered upstairs for one thing or another and i can now hear the music better but every minute or so the music goes quiet...just for a second though. So i wander closer to the room and it goes silent again and i hear Captain Energy say 'bad word' then he turns it back up. Apparently my husband edits his unsuitable CDs for them in the car by turning down the sound as inappropriate words are said...kind of like his own dump button. Obviously radio stations are fairly kid friendly but apparently Captain Energy now believes all stereo listening requires self editing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-7206542312751868071?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/7206542312751868071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=7206542312751868071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7206542312751868071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/7206542312751868071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/radio-edit.html' title='radio edit'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4608843257290076219</id><published>2010-07-24T11:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T11:26:42.744-05:00</updated><title type='text'>too many toes</title><content type='html'>Captain Energy is fascinated with my upkeep of my nails. Today he sat and watched while I took polish off my toenails...he thought that was pretty awesome. While he's watching he counts my toes and we then have the following conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: Why do you have 5 toes?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Everyone has 5 toes.&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: No they don't.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes they do.&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: I don't.&lt;br /&gt;He takes his sock off and counts 5 toes&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: Oh wait...maybe not on my other foot.&lt;br /&gt;He proceeds to take his other sock off and again counts 5 toes&lt;br /&gt;Captain Energy: Hmmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4608843257290076219?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4608843257290076219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4608843257290076219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4608843257290076219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4608843257290076219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/too-many-toes.html' title='too many toes'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-2879756685851262923</id><published>2010-07-22T10:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T10:40:57.457-05:00</updated><title type='text'>just add water</title><content type='html'>Captain Energy has decided he wants my husband to wash him on bath nights instead of me. The husband is a little more laid back in all tasks and so often times both boys take advantage of the situation. Captain Energy requests the husband again last night so I wander into our bathroom to wash my face...they were in the bathroom on the other side of the wall. Apparently no more than 5 seconds after my husband enters the bathroom Captain Energy decides to stand up and then proceeds to lose his balance. He hits the wall so hard i think he's coming through the wall and then based on my husband's response displaces over half the water in the tub onto the floor, wall and ceiling. After he confirms Captain Energy is ok it gets pretty quiet as the husband explains to him how he's worked all day and doesn't want extra unnecessary work like cleaning up the pond that now exists in our bathroom. And because Captain Energy comes from a background of the non-working there is then a conversation about what work is, why we work and what it pays for....including the water that is now on the floor. I'm sure most of the message was lost as soon as the door opened and Captain Energy was on to the next one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-2879756685851262923?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/2879756685851262923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=2879756685851262923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2879756685851262923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/2879756685851262923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/just-add-water.html' title='just add water'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3119178243013488330</id><published>2010-07-10T21:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T21:25:01.811-05:00</updated><title type='text'>good "e"ffort</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TDkramVGDUI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/bghlZPklK4I/s1600/IMG_2372.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TDkramVGDUI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/bghlZPklK4I/s200/IMG_2372.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492468956520648002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lost a bouncy ball and hot wheel under the fridge.  The Hot wheel was found but even after 15 minutes the bouncy ball was never recovered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3119178243013488330?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3119178243013488330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3119178243013488330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3119178243013488330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3119178243013488330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/good-effort.html' title='good &quot;e&quot;ffort'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TDkramVGDUI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/bghlZPklK4I/s72-c/IMG_2372.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-5432090246313060676</id><published>2010-07-10T21:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T21:22:14.468-05:00</updated><title type='text'>another rogue sock</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TDkqr5ZXTGI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/9z7wQrrF_tk/s1600/IMG_2374-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TDkqr5ZXTGI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/9z7wQrrF_tk/s200/IMG_2374-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492468154184977506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously...why is it there and where is the other one?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-5432090246313060676?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/5432090246313060676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=5432090246313060676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5432090246313060676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/5432090246313060676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/another-rogue-sock.html' title='another rogue sock'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gqu6N_Q56Gg/TDkqr5ZXTGI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/9z7wQrrF_tk/s72-c/IMG_2374-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-3653938567212846977</id><published>2010-07-10T20:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T20:43:07.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>uninhibited</title><content type='html'>Captain Energy and Mr. Grumpy Pants just met the girl who lives around the corner...and therefore so did I.  Here is the conversation I just had with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened to your hand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you their mom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm adopted and my dad is in jail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we were only all that forthright...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-3653938567212846977?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/3653938567212846977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=3653938567212846977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3653938567212846977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/3653938567212846977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/uninhibited.html' title='uninhibited'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1440794269108407626.post-4545107296975011406</id><published>2010-07-10T18:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T18:22:07.152-05:00</updated><title type='text'>girl approved</title><content type='html'>We're in the grocery store the other day and Mr. Grumpy Pants and I are waiting while jeff and Captain Energy are on one of many pee breaks (apparently lots of energy means lots of pee) and he sees some Axe body wash. He tells me that's the kind of body wash he likes to use. He then asks me if I want to know why he likes to use it. I say sure...although I'm not used to 9 year old boys and I'm not real sure what I'm getting in to at this point. So he tells me to look at the back of the bottle and points to the description. There on the back of the bottle it says that Axe is girl approved. That's right...he's 9. Is it bad I bought him some?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1440794269108407626-4545107296975011406?l=alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/feeds/4545107296975011406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1440794269108407626&amp;postID=4545107296975011406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4545107296975011406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1440794269108407626/posts/default/4545107296975011406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alteregodonniedarko.blogspot.com/2010/07/girl-approved.html' title='girl approved'/><author><name>Word Girl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
