tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70707035070730054162024-03-21T00:16:17.046-07:00Housewife In HeelsKaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-61703474587483452612010-08-18T12:58:00.000-07:002010-08-18T13:51:00.863-07:00How To Get Rid Of Your Horribly Misapplied Fake Tan (In 5 Easy Steps!)<div align="center"><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=faketan-170x200.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/faketan-170x200.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">So I just finished with an AMAZIN trip to Lake Powell (pictures to come ASAP) and have quickly realized that my skin does NOT tan! Well, I guess I kinda know that already. I've been self tanning (fakin it) for YEARS! So I thought I'd share some tips!<br /><br />My first experience with sunless tanner was while I was still a youngin in high school. We were having a school dance and I decided that instead of looking like my typical hip albino self, I would like to look like a glowing bronzed sun goddess. Obviously, since I am a mole person untouched by the elements it’s not as though the actual sun was going to be involved in this goal.<br /><br />So instead of “tanning” I decided just to buy some lotion from the store and rub it all over myself. It looked nonexistent at first so I smeared it on extra heavy. Then I went to sleep. And then the next morning, I woke up. And I looked like an orange with psoriasis.<br /><br />That day, I learned valuable lessons about how to get off your horribly misapplied fake tan.<br /><br />1) Boil yourself: Jump into a tub. A tub filled with hot water. Anything to loosen the skin is good.<br /><br />2) It rubs the lotion on itself. Specifically, baby lotion.It softens up the skin.<br /><br />3) Use a loofah. Maybe your first inclination will be to scrub in off up and down motions. This will not work. It will only make it look more streaky. Instead, try to exfoliate in circular motions so it can at least blend a little bit.<br /><br />4) If life gives you lemons, you should apply them to your streaky fake tan. Lemon juice will lighten the darker areas, and it make it look more “natural” with the rest of your skin.<br /><br />5) Just give up and buy the tan remover. It works. Not completely, but it works pretty well. I like <a href="http://www.sttropeztan.com/thestore/">St. Tropez sunless tan remover. </a>Mostly I like it because they sent some and it was in my medicine cabinet as I was deperately squeezing lemons onto my freshly exfoliated skin.<br /><br />Bear in mind that all of this will take about an hour, and it will kind of suck. I guess the moral of the story is “don’t apply fake tan lotions horribly.” I’ve found that spray on tans work a lot better in general because, well, at least you can see the process as it’s happening. </div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-76147109846332269842010-08-03T08:31:00.000-07:002010-08-03T08:39:46.221-07:00Boobs. Jugs. Cans. Whatever You Call 'Em, This Is a Post About Having Big Ones.<div align="center"><br /> Hey you. Up here.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206283063564866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6UaMzzeNEco7NQbOICD4vL2hmhPizUSRPegOguFXtGpxxJkXJKJr3ZvGmVKrtRcycKR6-Xs2Pxz92vhK73qEmWJnP27PhZv2iekuoVUJTXTMDW3mKVk9zU0VuwGvgDuUBBH5wwDZJWMl/s320/untitled.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />Oh, hi there. Did you think I didn’t notice you staring at my rack? No, you knew I was going to notice but you thought it wouldn’t matter. You thought because they’re so big that I probably get it all the time, and don’t even mind anymore. I bet you thought because you’re a straight woman, it’s totally kosher to check out my chest.<br /><br />Hey! I said to stop looking. Get your eyes out of the gutter—and out of my 32 DD cleavage.<br /><br />Thanks.<br /><br />Look: it’s not easy having big breasts. Sure, they’re a beach-body bonus and a super hubby date-night accessory. But most of the time, having big boobs is a a big buzz kill.<br /><br />I spent a couple months for christmas (discounts baby) working as a Victoria’s Secret salesgirl in a mall near my casa. Not only did 85% of women wear the wrong bra size, but 100% of large-chested women looked positively miserable as they surveyed the overpriced sateen garments. They weren’t looking for a sexy push-up, they were looking for mammary redemption.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206286292919682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNYA9y9Ve8H9BJIol1tUSyXKIuT-o53I4Ld_kio55XZCLRm2dLYZMKfwsKEmXjM26FO4k7mJw5XdGo2ES3twD0aZlf7Z1kEFW6qoH9UIUHkHhyphenhyphenj5aVcMKXhNoom1De5C3ZhwGmn7KiZ8X6/s320/1.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />It was all I could do to not throw my arms around them—but not too close—and say, “I know! The push up bras and the little convertible wonders are just mocking us! Get out now before they talk you into uncomfortable thongs you’ll probably never wear!”<br /><br />No one takes a woman with huge tits seriously in the business world. In an office, big balls are praised, but big breasts are just stared at. And it’s difficult to appear professional when I’m bloated and I swear to god my breasts have swollen to a F, which I think stands for “F off, I’m cranky and my chest hurts.”<br /><br />Even worse, nothing fits. Cardigans hang off my shoulders and buttons snap off the front. Clingy tops pull in the wrong places, and sundresses always hang too low and look too provocative for everyday wear. And I can forget going bra-less in the summer—which means I can’t wear cute strapless, backless, or halter dresses.<br /><br />“But Kasey,” you counter, careful to look me in the eyes this time, “why can’t you just buy a strapless bra?”<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206293633641698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi831qQ3IDOtj8IUWeGF3ClItFed4HUl99ypMdIck-GC1m3VIzgGUMJgwkF8fBpdsreYFMplOogtkLfAEx4906mo-J9hf3TLHCQCF1q9Mdc6XIw6bF1VqZbUvZ2SvXVbZG3sgDhyphenhyphencmK-tt7/s320/2.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />Because strapless bras were obviously invented by some 34 B chick who wanted to torture us full-figured ladies with a wired contraption that inhibits both breathing and ever letting go of the sides of your dress. I’d like to be holding onto a cocktail, not tugging at my tethered boobs all night, thank you very much.<br /><br />I don’t own strapless bras, or fancy bras, or pretty sheer bras trimmed with lace. They don’t make the delicate, sexy strappy cups in my size. I must have told hundreds of desperate Victoria’s Secret shoppers to look elsewhere to support their massive breasts. We want cute convertibles, but we really need pickup trucks to haul these babies around.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206297882511394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHiV0ddN8_zoM_zXgNGR8m-UezPYiNjg5uypJm06x8tv215DxevSuiYp6fuTeiU2numsKJICNduhJiD2dEOXvNjmjfYTHYNRR4pzl-PjFYWGQB19ggRHvpxC3-4mIoJkcdLO4gGq-7nR00/s320/3.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />We need to really belt them in—and I do belt them in! I really, really do. I swear to god, I have more support around my chest than Betty White has on Facebook. But the fact of the matter is even when they’re strapped tight against me, I still have huge breasts. I have melons. I have the qualifying skills to be a Hooters waitress.<br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206302450860914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 201px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxc3Vm0XlJIRmGbFwkQmmxbVoLl5m6RhXikb2tpIBElBw62M011mdO_c5u1aF7dL7dKiZAVlXjpQ1m88azQ18poIWCkdtcB7HGY8fGVjGcG1zCoAYvZ6VKKrpM1-Ji-X83fuTLZ9O4f8I/s320/4.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />I have just started exercising more often, an activity that I’ve come to loathe since puberty blessed me with gigantic jugs. Low impact? How about no impact. Even with the tightest sports bra on the market,running is an exercise in futility. Which is to say: I will run about 20 yards before I double over in pain. Think I’m crazy? You try jogging around with two ten-pound balloons secured near your lungs and live to write about it. They say the whole city can be your jungle gym, but I’m still waiting for whoever “they” are to install a few elliptical machines in the park.<br /><br />Of course, having a large rack is not always negative. When I take a break from my feminist responsibilities, owning a pair of enormous tits is terrific. Men are more likely to hold doors, buy drinks and offer you their seat which is kinda nice. However, I'm married, HAPPILY and They’re also more likely to hit on you in an incredibly inappropriate manner, treat you like a piece of meat and try to cop a feel.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501206394573651026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnyJ8-D6FQmuonswg32vNctduS7cnsE84im0RaOqokszsw5XmBnhlAOLEHhMbru5RNvtB4NVcTafvk8Sbe_9zqNPCkeUiM9YmZWS7wevVZRNrmZ31ABmqxU97hj4We5qpJrpKmfj9g0VH/s320/5.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />So is a wired, elastic, slightly minimizing, usually uncomfortable T-shirt bra the product of a masochistic society? Hell no. I will not burn my bra—it would really be lewd, you guys. It would be too much. It would be seriously profane.<br /><br />Hey! Goshdarnit. Eyes up here</p>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-16774895685418449902010-08-02T12:58:00.000-07:002010-08-02T13:03:16.060-07:00The Last Thing In The World I Want To Own<p align="center"><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=contacts_std-2.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/contacts_std-2.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">You know, I never thought I’d see a pool float I didn’t like…but yep, this would be it.<br /><br />You can <a href="http://www.baronbob.com/inflatable-giantcockroach.htm" target="_blank">buy</a> this GIANT INFLATABLE COCKROACH (seriously? This is something that has to exist?) for just $29.95.<br /><br />This way kids will enjoy hours of…total, soul-crushing, incapacitating terror.</div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-5026313729886504702010-07-20T10:28:00.000-07:002010-07-20T10:30:18.328-07:00Husband Tech SupportDear Tech Support,<br /><br />Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and noticed a distinct slow down in overall system performance particularly in the flower and jewelry applications, which operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0.<br /><br />In addition, Husband 1.0 uninstalled many other valuable programs, such as Romance 9.5 and Personal Attention 6.5, and then installed undesirable programs such as NBA 5.0, NFL 3.0 and Golf Clubs 4.1.<br /><br />Conversation 8.0 no longer runs and Housecleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system. Please note that I have tried running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but to no avail. What can I do?<br /><br />Signed,Desperate<br /><br />———————<br /><br />Dear Desperate,<br /><br />First, keep in mind that Boyfriend 5.0 is an entertainment package while Husband 1.0 is an operating system. Please enter the command: ithoughtyoulovedme.html, download Tears 6.2 and be sure to install the Guilt 3.0 update. If those applications work as designed Husband 1.0 should then automatically run the applications Jewelry 2.0 and Flowers 3.5.<br /><br />However, please remember that overuse of the above application can cause Husband 1.0 to default to Grumpy Silence 2.5, Happy Hour 7.0, or Beer 6.1. Please note that Beer 6.1 is a very bad program that will download the Snoring Loudly Beta.<br /><br />Whatever you do DO NOT under any circumstances install Mother-In-Law 1.0 (It runs a virus in the background that will eventually seize control of all your system resources.)<br /><br />In addition, please do not attempt to reinstall the Boyfriend 5.0-program. This is an unsupported application and will crash Husband 1.0.<br /><br />In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have limited memory and cannot learn new applications quickly. You might consider buying additional software to improve memory and performance. We recommend Cooking 3.0 and Hot Lingerie 7.7.<br /><br />Good Luck!<br /><br />Tech SupportKaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-90936527453278124682010-07-16T09:15:00.000-07:002010-07-16T09:40:43.527-07:00Hot and Spicy...<p align="center"><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=pheromone.jpg" target="_blank"><img height="392" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/pheromone.jpg" width="496" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><br />I saw this on TV yesterday, and was riveted by the 60+ white woman wearing pearls and a neckline that came up to her ears telling me how “hot and spicy” this scent is.<br /><br />And yes, she did mean it that way.<br /><br />Standing next to her was an equally mummified, also white lady nodding vigorously, which further eroded the product’s credibility.<br /><br />And so, I looked it up.<br /><br /><br />Made by some con artist named Marilyn Miglin, this is one of those perfumes that claims to bring out your natural pheromones.<br /><br />I suspect that the general public learning a little bit about pheromones has done more harm than good in this world — people now seem to think that they will be able to sniff out their soul mate, and that for <a href="http://www.marilynmiglin.com/product/pheromone-perfume-in-crystal-1000.cfm">$500</a>, their pheromones will be…what?<br /><br />More alluring when Johnny Depp walks by?<br /><br />Make you smell more like yourself? Isn’t the whole point of pheromones that they are how you smell? And isn’t the whole point of perfume to make you smell other than how you already smell?<br /><br />What am I missing?<br /><br />And also, why the hell are there incense sticks?</div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-51482177302975434992010-06-25T08:26:00.000-07:002010-06-25T08:43:48.065-07:00Breaking News: Miranda Kerr Has 'Embraced her Curves'<div align="center">If this isn’t a step forward in body acceptance, I don’t know what is!<br /><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=2010-05-18-MIRANDAKERR2-327x445.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/2010-05-18-MIRANDAKERR2-327x445.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Miranda Kerr, the supermodel whose collarbone, ribs, and hipbones were recently on display in GQ making her look like a naked bobblehead, has learned how to <a href="http://elletv.elle.com/video/84365267001/fashion/inside-fashion/behind-the-shoot-miranda-kerr">embrace her curves</a>.<br /><br />What a long, hard road that must have been for the size-0, 100-pound heavyweight.<br /><br />But bravo, Miranda — no doubt you’ve given other Victoria’s Secret models the courage to come forth too!<br /><br />But seriously — am I to understand that the curvy model trend, made popular by <strong>Crystal Renn </strong><em>(LOVE HER)</em>, means that other supermodels are going to try to fool us into thinking that they’re plus-size too?<br /><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=curvywomancrystalrenn407tb.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/curvywomancrystalrenn407tb.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Cause, um, Miranda? <span style="font-size:180%;">We can see you!</span> </div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-69530658796517976952010-06-23T09:42:00.000-07:002010-06-23T10:11:42.806-07:00True Blood: Nazi Werewolves and Blood Gelato<div align="center">Hey chicklets, we’ve got an awesome True Blood for you guys this week. We find out about Nazi werewolves that are more then Nazis, that crazy people can be both racist and homophobic and get to meet the Closet King. Anyway, enough intro-ing, lets’ get to the rich red good stuff.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013870763125586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdgi16dP_nn6NwlrUNP_0WVSbLwKOo2ZpnQp2ISicWhJhs_sCQWxZX2NP2BO209QteSTlPhjWluhvK69LihhOTY0yLeGmbl0w4R4maUrn_miWgede3HYncvgBudECbmzvFZur2_IITHuL8/s320/22.jpg" border="0" /><br />Our episode starts almost right where the last one left off. Bill is spitting some big furry clump of something out of his blood stained mouth, which I was able to figure out was one of the werewolves ears. It also helps that the guy screams, “my F-ing ear!”, and has blood pouring out the side of his head, but hey I’m pretty intuative about things like that.</div><div align="center"><br />It’s easy to forget that Bill is a pretty bad ass vampire, what with the recycling, and spending big blocks of episodes saying I wuv you to Sookie, so this scene is a nice reminder that Bill is good for more then trips to the mall jewelers for engagement rings. We see that Bill has done a serious number on the werewolves because the ground is littered with bodies, and in a couple of cases, pieces of bodies.</div><div align="center"><br />Bill is just about to settle up with the last werewolf, when this guy with semi-Elvis hair rides up on a big white horse. It turns out the guy is the vampire king of Mississippi, which means the fight is officially called on account of plot twist.</div><div align="center"><br />We find out the the vampire king sent the werewolves to escort Bill to talk with the king. The king isn’t too concerned to find out the werewolves kidnapped Bill, and bound him with silver, but when he finds out about the werewolves using Bill like a pony keg of V, he no likee. The vampire king shoots one of the werewolves, but not the leader of the werewolves, because his name is Cooter, so living is punishment enough.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013861444041874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuN2w6DZKYK_bcb5w3tzHB0F-yyCfzLuiAoSbzQy-z2Psqt2Zok56PEoxDQp4o-2lCULsVv1AxmLBNaewwp-Ge7o9M0cbJ3v7ljKaHuto5fhNUVqJmGBb6r_kaVktXel7qd6OTBAzcn5ch/s320/21.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Oh my God, you just made Mr Ed an accessory to murder!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013753591269410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74HHBCVcV9_ZooTFqUpUJHpYfnc1LcD8nXKXXsfvE3soVImA3AHn6vuoYLkQsbQI6G2d97Fg1MM8JvPXkHexlb94QjqYAdtCd-bEKsel8tVEQmdUHogvot-yJBsAfmFM2Iy68ZKAR_Bkb/s320/20.jpg" border="0" /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Dude, seriously, Cooter?</strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br /></strong>The vampire king then tells Bill he will answer all of Bill’s questions, but not until at least the second act, sorry I mean in good time. He then gives Bill a ride back to his place. Congratulations Bill, you just been rescued by a man in riding clothes and he’s taking you back to his mansion on his big white horse; you are now officially a heroine on the cover of a Harlequin romance novel. I guess that means our glimpse of Bad Ass Bill is over. It was fun while it lasted, and then the credits come up.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013747008426946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKNdMxm15FqyMzEvQR8-5iJi52HsfAgtRVXNHwnZwC73vu4Ru9EQK0OWgJ1Dte_57_RvleinenlZL1qvNa33C6UMwHORiXk4Dv5RH2w2gJA7hsyAdbWHnfA7sVXIVbQpSVN48LawQojCX/s320/19.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Calgon, take me away!</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />When we come back from the credits, Lafayette has battered down the door to his bathroom and finds Tara gobbling up all of his pills. We then get to see Lafayette do some serious multi-tasking, because he gets Tara to upchuck in the toliet, and reads the riot act to Tara’s mom for being more of a Jesus groupie then a mother to her only daughter. Man, it’s a good thing Lafayette doesn’t know about Tara’s mom trying to get frisky with her hot dog headed minister or this could get really ugly. Well not as bad as the back of that guy’s noggin, but pretty close.<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Anyway, Lafayette announces that he is taking Tara to the hospital, and that Tara’s mom is officially out of her life. Like I said, the guy seriously multi-tasks in this scene.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">If you thought we could go more then three scenes without finding out what Sookie is up to, you’re living in a fantasy land. By the way, what’s yours like? In mine I get to ride around in the General Lee from the Dukes of Hazard, and it’s made out of chocolate.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">Anyway, Sookie and Jess have stopped by Fangtasia to see if Eric knows anything about this Operation Werewolf symbol that Jess looked up on her magic phone last episode. Eric says he doesn’t really know anything about this, but Sookie should stay away from werewolves, because they are bad news, and have unfortunate names, like Cooter.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013741876789266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXq0mSLDsKcrcbYZpLBfwd59Yg_4aqaWdt8edm-5VWz-h3QBlyojhz_o8hj0RzAMeol2FpQXDdWs36bfQNAO1boPlvsmW7joWmkVR1JRq4jeymlM2cRzCvZEEfcU1ERTV7KmrjdSzEvQo/s320/18.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">While Eric is telling Sookie that he really doesn’t know anything, Pam and Jess spend a little girl time in the powder room. Jess asks Pam for tips on feeding on people without killing them, because Bill didn’t teach her about stuff like that. Pam tells Jess the most important thing is to not drain the suckee dry, and for her the best way to stop feeding is to think about crying babies in dirty diapers, or maggots. Wow, now I totally don’t want to finish that jumbo bag of Tootsie Rolls, it does work. You rock Pam!. In fact I think I’ll celebrate, with Tootsie Rolls. On second thought, I guess it must be a vampire thing.</div><div align="center"><br />Anyway, it’s good advice, but eventually Jess gets to the question she really wanted to ask. What would Pam do to get rid of the hypothetical body of a hypothetical long long haul trucker, if say you accidentally ate him after breaking up with your boyfriend?<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013741985403442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv8_a8bKAkGIf2yNHbuICZLZceZ0JOSnnMeRAcb73jHBs9479ol-IZXhLCL9nBytzzxXA08B79n-JL0VeJiPI63am8-WhmJH_1R8VHcO0YQsvqf_E2WrjUB-04zKPzvBDwyNgwt0LycOCz/s320/17.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>What if the guy really starts to reek? I mean hypothetically?</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />We don’t get the answer to that question because we kick back to Sookie and Eric. Seeing as Eric hasn’t told her anything, Sookie thinks this would be a great time to remind him and us in the audience with no short term memory, that “Beil is out thar somewhere, en DAN-Jur.” Then, Sookie brings out the big guns, and begins to sniffle about how much Bill means to her and how sad this is making her.</div><div align="center"><br />Eric gets surprisingly emotional over this. Well not that surprisingly, because with Bill out of the way it opens up the opportunity for that Eric Sookie romance that everyone wanted last season. Still he doesn’t give Sookie any more information. This is right when Jess and Pam come out of the ladies room , and Jess announces she needs ride home before sunrise. Sookie and Jess exit stage right, and Eric looks off into the distance, which means, <em>FLASHBACK!</em></div><div align="center"><br />We find out it’s Germany in 1945. We’re in some bombed out farm house, and we can hear Eric and Godric talking in German, but can’t see them. Some extra like a GI busts into the room, and finds some naked chick in a closet. The GI suddenly gets very nurturing, and tells the naked chick everything is going to be all right. This is right when the naked chick turns into a werewolf and tears the GI’s throat out. Okay, lets clear this up. Things are going to be all right for the naked chick, for the GI, not so much.</div><div align="center"><br />This is right when Eric and Godric, Eric’s maker, shows up dressed like they are in the SS. The werewolf goes to tear Eric’s throat out, but Godric does that super fast vampire running thing and ends up pinning the Werewolf to the wall with the now seriously deceased GI’s bayonet. The werewolf turns back into a naked chick, and starts yapping about how they all serve the same master. Eric checks out her neck and finds the same mark that was on that dead guy Sookie and Jess found last week and tells her, “no, we don’t.” Then he pins her other arm to the wall by ramming a knife through it.</div><div align="center"><br />We then cut away to the next scene. Oh come on, sure it’s just getting good, but we’re still in the first act. We’ve got a lot of TV to get through before we can find out what happens. Now who wants to see what Bill is up to? Besides Stephen Moyer’s agent? Wow. looks like a lot of you are in for a long two minutes.</div><div align="center"><br />Bill and the vampire King arrive at the vampire king’s fabulous mansion. This is where we meet the vampire king’s long time male companion, who does his level best to make Bill feel welcome. They do this by locking Bill in a room and posting guards at the door, but on the plus side, the decor is fab-u-lous. Naturally, Bill wants to know what is going on, but Long Time Male Companion points out that the sun is about to come up, and everyone needs to start making with the sleepy time so we can get on to the second act. Bill gets locked in his fabulous room, and the last we hear from the vampire king and his male companion in this scene, is the vampire king saying he thinks they are going to need to bring in the girl.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013730671895954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_2hbpjx8wq3yNqQ9THDW-VLDauKDbT-j0a8I2z7iviH0gYidSr25sdPKONFEs0MqnDhtH6M2YSyB_zrYKNW-BI_WsBCBL8IUwv6C4kBocSdHrzNrWg04iLLRQuaAjLU0TeWBUK5gpGOx/s320/16.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Long Time Male Companion</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="center">We go from that to Tara and Lafayette who are driving to the hospital. The only thing is that Tara tells Lafayette that she’s puked all the pills and that if she tells the doctors what happened with Egg and Maryann, they will lock her up in the loony bin and throw away the key. Lafayette then tells Tara she has a lot to look forward to, like a long life of pain and sorrow, and she can’t kill herself because that would mean that Lafayette would have to face it all on his own.</div><div align="center"><br />Wow, I love me some Lafayette, but with a pep talk like that, it’s a wonder Tara hasn’t wrapped her lips around the exhaust pipe of the car and started sucking down carbon monoxide like a sorority girl with a whippet during Spring break. Anyway, Lafayette finally does give Tara a reason to live, because he tells her he is going to take her out to get something to eat, and then he has something he wants her to see.</div><div align="center"><br />We cut from that to Sookie dropping Jess off at Bill’s house. Hoyt is waiting for Jess, and starts telling her that everything is going to be okay, and that he totally overreacted when Jess tried to suck all the blood out of his momma. Ah, the complete capitulation, always a sure fire way to work past a bad argument. Only is doesn’t work here, because Jess says her nature makes her a bad person. Hoyt says they can work past that, but Jess says it’s too late, and goes inside. Jess starts crying, Hoyt gets mad and kicks the door, and the whole situation is completely F-ed up.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013629339983586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 249px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0f4Mddc-0TtWD0dPkM7a6NSFR5RjkbkOT0GQxFrs6Gt49Q7TtCo2viS4hqL0BmL20qhBOyxtWi1DN7Y5tHMOhq6uu5pbdmKxSH_WqrO3uX8bs_gXRVtqtlNUf0MSCMEiRvLYf7IgEiCbr/s320/15.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>This is so F-ed up</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />It doesn’t get any better when Jess goes to turn in for the day and sees that dead trucker is starting to turn green. Let that be a lesson to all you kids out there. Eating even one long haul trucker can screw up your entire life, just say no.</div><div align="center"><br />Sookie finally makes it through the door of her house and hears somebody creeping around. Luckily she’s able to get the jump on the guy and whomp him right in the family junk. Too bad that guy turns out to be Jason.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013620420295666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg32DqiCAx_LNqQCE9Tm6Md6r0pm63DKtQEPHI1jDLZ89iKrQjFCjgHZwWNZbr_1IIyDJCbx63zOEjTZAZtO-inSQstfMj4FnqQA1CuavX_UWSNLHh3GnQsOm8YdBxZbdoHGfTN5em_D3eA/s320/14.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>The odds of Sookie ever becoming an aunt just plummeted</strong></div><strong><div align="center"><br /></strong></div>Jason tells Sookie he couldn’t sleep so he decided to come over and clean her house in the middle of the night. Amazingly, Sookie doesn’t wonder just when her brother turned into the stalky version of a housemaid.<div align="center"><br />Sookie fills Jason in on what’s happened, and how it all makes her feel terrible. Jason tells Sookie that he’ll see if Andy can dig up any info for here because Andy is really smart. Well, next to Jason.</div><div align="center"><br />The next thing we get to see is Sam getting a wake up call in his car parked in front of those people he thinks might be his family. In this case the wake up call is that creepy Tommy kid holding a shotgun to Bill’s head, and telling him not to move, and to get out of the truck<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013618561972482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcBoINiODf5RJZ-T3rsWJK0EoV9wBxglfpQhXm0m8f7yUNnBwNx-BY-6PLjDVCFopBK_Os1sDg8s1LUFhci97YnySlAxxaLR46mhYvBqzgE8_0I9qslWO1OCqwGdWvc-VpbXC7u9XDZrz/s320/13.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Wakey Wakey eggs and backey</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />Sam goes inside, and the main thing his family wants to establish is that Sam isn’t a bill collector, because they mailed that check. Eventually it comes out that Sam is there long lost son and everyone looks like they just ate a bug. Except for Creepy Tommy who looks confused, but I get the feeling he has a lot of practice at that, so I’m not worrying about it.</div><div align="center"><br />After a satisfying meal off camera, Lafayette takes Tara to that place he wanted her to see, and it just happens to be a mental hospital. Tara immediately loses her poop and starts screaming about how Lafayette can’t have her committed without her permission. That might be true Tara, but I have a feeling that screaming like a lunatic in the lobby, might get you at least a complimentary shot of lithium.</div><div align="center"><br />Eventually Lafayette gets Tara calmed down, and we find out that this is the mental hospital where Lafayette has his mom at. Yep, Lafayette’s mom is completely out of her tree. Still she recognizes Lafayette, and calls him a faggot. She also tells Tara and Lafayette that her nurse Jesus is a metsican, but he hasn’t rapped her yet. Wow, she’s racist, homophobic, and completely bug nucking futs? Man between her and Tara’s mom it’s no wonder nobody in Tara and Lafayette’s family gets taken out for brunch on Mother’s day.<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">We catch up with Jason right as he shows up at the sheriff’s office. It turns out they are having a press conference about Eggs being a serial killer, and Andy saving the day. Andy tells this TV reporter that he isn’t a hero, and he certainly didn’t cook up some story to keep the town meathead from going to jail for murder.</div><div align="center"><br />Andy sees that Jason is there, and turns the press conference over Sheriff Bud. Andy then finds a very private place for he and Jason to have a super private conversation, translation, the sidewalk. Andy asks Jason what part about laying low and not attracting attention to himself is the one Jason doesn’t understand. My vote is both, and also how the picture gets in the TV, but that doesn’t have anything to do with the recap, so we’ll just forget about it.</div><div align="center"><br />Jason tells Andy about how Sookie is all messed up because she thinks she’s responsible for Eggs getting killed. Well, that’s only because she kind of is, but Jason tells Andy they need to do something to make it right.</div><div align="center"><br />Andy can see that Jason is really in a bad way, so he does the one thing that can fix any situation. He tells Jason they are going out for a second lunch.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013610455633474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBS_BilRDANG3kMLpES8kNvKj1WLITNXh4fjy7_pNvcCFql3ZS1QiV4KtNKlWR84atIlQb5pIz7aUegKEM_berpfyoICTfKrw0W3U-mzkg41Z_iLr1Vck6vElz_VfjHRO_31aV8aqAqlXE/s320/12.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Second lunch? As in two? I never thought I’d be saying this, but Andy Bellefleur, you are a genius</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />We cut from that back to Sam, and his long lost family. Hey, you keep making that face and it’s going to get stuck. Anyway, Sam is finding out all sorts of stuff about his family. Like his dad’s been in prison, and that they have a credit score of “if you give them a hamburger today, there is no way in hell they will pay you back next Tuesday.” Not that matters, because what Sam really wants to talk to them about is being left with another family, and how sad and lonely he’s felt his whole life. Sam’s mom and dad reach the appropriate levels of boo-hooey, but Creepy Tommy is cheesed because nobody told him he had a brother, and he stomps out of the house. Personally, I think he’s just pissed, because it looks like Sam got all the height in the family.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">We cut back to Lafayette and Tara who have finished up with their visit to Lafayette’s mom. Lafayette tells Tara there is a darkness in there family and if she doesn’t fight it, she could end up in a room right next to his mom. How this is supposed to make a person not want to kill themselves is a little bit beyond me, but Tara promises not to try to kill herself any more and the exit stage right. Look all I’m going to say about this is that Lafayette is a good cook, an above average V salesmen, and a super duper go-go dancer, but as a motivational speaker, well, he’s a hell of a go-go dancer.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013604854704658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7Nj8YnZLKZkkkZJcdk_rdm707LR_xW8QfoeJcfM2-XbfXNSIOLHbqKusoWkilTAnbjfker9gO6vZZ6DAwhBAGsL806WoN93S9kUXscP2iXVwXPHtXSBk3V2yMcVYkU_r4iS80vl_Dbcv/s320/11.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />Back with Sam, he’s gone outside to try to bond with his new brother, Creepy Tommy. Too bad Creepy Tommy has decided this is the perfect time to show off his one true talent, being a surly little jerk. Well, Creepy Tommy is playing to his strengths so we can’t get too cranky. Creepy Tommy is giving Sam a hard time for living with a nice, well to do, normal family growing up. This interferes with that pity party Sam’s been throwing for himself, so Sam counters that nobody was around to tell him about shifting like in Creepy Tommy’s family. Sam sees the situation is getting out of hand, and even he has noticed that his mom and dad act like they wandered away from a Tennessee Williams play, so he concedes the crappier childhood to his little brother.</div><div align="center"><br />Creepy Tommy then announces that he is going for a run, and doesn’t mind when Sam invites himself along. Sam proceeds to turn into a collie, which Creepy Tommy thinks is kind of wimpy, because Creepy Tommy turns into a pit bull. Personally I think Creepy Tommy is just working through issues brought on by being a legal adult who still can’t ride the roller coaster by himself.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br />This is right about when nightfall hits, and we head back to see what Jess is up to. In this case she is going through a can of Lysol in about five seconds and calling around to find a hardware store that rents chainsaws in the middle of the night. Jess finds a place, but needs some money, which requires her to go through the now deceased truckers wallet. This is when Jess finds a picture of the guy with a small child, which immediately makes Jess feel lower then whale poop. Still, this guy’s corpse is stinking so bad, it could make a skunk’s eyes water, so she gives him one last spray of Lysol and exits stage right.<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">We then head over to Bill in Mississippi, where he is just sitting down to dinner and exposition. It turns out the vampire king of Mississippi wants to offer Bill a job as one of his sheriffs. Oh and he also wants to take over Louisiana, and marry their vampire queen.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">Now we really need to talk about that last part, because the vampire king lives with his long time male companion in a house full of beautiful antiques, and he wants to get married. To a girl. Okay, as of right now, this guy’s nickname is Closet King.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013450622236866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcb3X_ClVu2khmnE83mjNHzGjjqMyrPzOh4Vt7mrTwCI1SZHiHWzIuw9HhXgp2e2H8IhHziSZZ71TqiTtA4AwC_80wrhuPSeAzaxxdmN3_APDDkjGvuzfTp-fjHwIdWZnSI06H7osG4QD/s320/10.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>All hail the Closet King!</strong></div><div align="center"><br />Over at Merlotte’s Andy and Jason are still enjoying their second lunch, or might have even stayed on for dinner. Anyway, they just happen to be in the restaurant when Andy’s press conference comes on the TV. We see Andy telling everyone he isn’t a hero, but nobody buys it, and everyone in the restaurant gives him a big round of applause. This includes Jason, who ends up getting up on their table and toasting Andy by saying he’s the wind beneath Jason’s wings. I mentioned that Jason is pretty much completely poopfaced here, right? Andy gets Jason down off the table, and tells him to quit attracting so much attention.</div><div align="center"><br />We then find out that Jason is really down on himself, and it isn’t doing anything for his ego for everyone to be treating Andy like a hero for doing something that is just tearing Jason up inside.<br />This leads to Andy having to give Jason a little pep talk. Andy points out that Jason has a good heart, and he is prettier then most girls. (Both these statements are true, but just for the record when was the last time Andy had a girlfriend?) Andy tells Jason he just needs to use his talents for something positive. Good advice, but seeing as how Jason excels at putting things in wood chippers, capture the flag, and humping, it might be hard to fully maximize this particular skill set.</div><div align="center"><br />Still this little bit of encouragement puts a smile on Jason’s face and gets him to tell Andy that he’s his best friend. Andy says that’s just sad, and it is, but Andy is still way better at pep talks then Lafayette.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013447107646290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 168px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXfx_hMsndpLVZLmdiYNskbGYwaObTVJ_OnngQAFlwlBkThrifze_OekuXqNHrR-61VwOS-CTw1NVfG94WuC3wYfPsJiHCoq_GWJW2dk4kJGNWyb-UHma3fhdvh52Zv5pthyphenhyphenTZU3EmP3i/s320/9.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>My second lunch with Andy</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong><br />Cut back to Sam and his new little brother, Creepy Tommy. Well the two dogs that are supposed to be Sam and Creepy Tommy as they run through the woods having a great old time. That great old time comes to a screeching halt when Creepy Tommy stops in the middle of the road in front of an oncoming truck. This gets Sam to stop, and then Creepy Tommy turns into a bird and flies away. Sam darts out of the way at the last second and doesn’t get run over, but he does end up naked by the side of the road. Apparently when it comes to sibling rivalries, this is what passes for nut punching for shape shifters.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013435959410898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLoCDLaPZY27Yb-f5p7YPry2KOyGZAx8e96S_LO3957dKZyQA4lGh62OAqOBaijgE8ZLRMCaqxg8bqz81LQSHME35SoljYh3XawHTkqbxrnZoJM0LvX6ayNvJBaouPN-f6a3y0TGCIgRq/s320/8.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>You know, for a responsible small business owner, Sam ends up naked on the side of the road an awful lot</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong><br />We cut over to Bill’s house and somebody is going through his stuff. Who? We don’t know because we don’t see their face, but whoever they are, they like boots with long pointy toes By the way, normally we would be a lot more upset about somebody going through Bill’s stuff, if they didn’t happen to find a big jumbo file on Sookie, and her family, and even press clippings says that she won a spelling bee as a kid. Wow, that’s super stalky. Help me out here, is super stalkly better then boring, because right now I can’t decide.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013432119939730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1iL2FfquWXJA7U5rHFeMI_kMO7suAKNgYQyMaOoNK-d2pflz48XwmKnJq2aN2yuFfdYxUf5gEaS-2J6Tt4m15ZrDoFl76toTZG7zgIn7SnzDk25FzYoUh9DObWoA0y4xuNzSDlbbfhgp/s320/7.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>Sookie, your word is Dan-Jur<br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center">This is a perfect time to cut over to see what Sookie is up to. In this case, she’s sitting on her couch in the dark, holding this gun that Terry the Cook gave her earlier. I know your summer viewing choices on the boob tube can be a little slim, but QVC sounds better then this for an after dinner activity.</div><div align="center"><br />Not to worry, because Sookie hears a noise and goes to investigate it. Who could it be? Some bad guy? A werewolf? Bill? Santa? (Sorry, had to give a shout out to Jason there) No, in this case, it is Eric, and he says he just stopped by because he lied to Sookie the other night. Now Eric lies to Sookie all the time, but what makes this one different, is that we get another <em>FLASHBACK</em>!</div><div align="center"><br />Eric and Godric have that naked werewolf girl still pinned to the wall and Eric wants her to tell him who her master is. The girl tells Eric if he will give her some of his blood, then she will spill the beans on this whole master situation. Godric reminds Eric that their blood is scared, but Eric gives naked girl a little pick me up. The good news is that the werewolf girl tells Eric that her master is another vampire. The bad news is she doesn’t say which vampire. The extra bad news is Eric’s blood gave her like extra super human strength, so she is able to rip her arms off the wall, push Eric to the floor and get ready to stab him through the heart. Luckily this is where we get some just in time good news, when Godric does some super duper fast vampire running and snaps the naked werewolf girl’s neck.</div><div align="center"><br />Godric then reminds Eric that a true vampire is always in control of his emotions. This leads to a very rare shot of Eric looking guilty.</div><div align="center"><br />We cut from that back to the present day with Sookie and Eric. At first all Sookie takes away from this story is that Eric and Godric were in the SS. Eric points out that they only dressed like they were in the SS, because hey, outfits by Hugo Boss. Sorry, what I meant to say there was, acting like they were in the SS helped with their search for these Nazi werewolves.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013422104018418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 201px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9t6LiMhwhFl57PwGM1uOgaNi7WLUTl6l5K9Awnky9owfIPnHsozfxuASQfXGWWx8-tgIsk8TAFm6SNJUzah_sntDvFjZ0cjkw0ujs1cCBe4G9Phyphenhyphen1M9C2PkzA66JdKNpI6svcc97vP3nT/s320/6.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Hey, if you want that designer label, you do what you gotta do</strong></div><div align="center"><br />Eric then goes on to explain that these particular werewolves are extra bad news, because they are super strong, super well trained and financed, and hopped up on Vampire blood. This is why he doesn’t want Sookie nosing around, because these guys would kill her in a second.</div><div align="center"><br />This is right where Eric changes the subject by suggesting that he and Sookie boink like lust crazed weasels. Sookie tells Eric he isn’t going to distract her by talking nasty, and Eric points out that he already has. Man, Eric might not have a pulse, but he is smooth with the ladies.</div><div align="center"><br />Hey, seeing the woman he just bought a big honking engagemnet ring is getting chatted up by his rival, now would be a great time to check in on Bill. Well that, and he’s where they have the cameras pointed now, so we have to go with it.</div><div align="center"><br />Closet King is still making his pitch for Bill to sign up for Team Mississippi, and while he is doing it, he says the queen has been wasting Bill’s talents by sending him to Bon Temps. Bill tells Closet King that he came to Bon Temps because that’s where he lived before he got turned into a vampire. His queen had nothing to do with the move. This is when Closet King points out that there is no way in hell that the Queen would let a vampire like Bill move to some hick town and fall in love with a waitress.</div><div align="center"><br />Wow, with what we know thanks to seeing that big file at Bill’s, this is starting to bring up some interesting questions about just what Bill’s been up to since the show started. And, it doesn’t help Bill that he is starting to look extra guilty and they are only on their blood soup course at dinner.</div><div align="center"><br />We cut from that over to Merlotte’s where Lafayette is coming in to start his shift. He’s bringing Tara with him into work, because, well that’s what people do when you attempt suicide and they don’t trust your own mother to watch you.</div><div align="center"><br />We don’t really concentrate on that right now, because Terry the Cook is hanging out by the ladies room. Wow that doesn’t sound good. How about he’s waiting for Arlene to come out of the ladies room? Not perfect, but a little better.<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Anyway, Terry the Cook doesn’t know that Arlene has been freaking out because she’s pregnant again, so when she comes out of the ladies room he presents her with a list of ten reasons why she can trust Terry around her kids. The first one is that Terry the Cook is very nurturing, and has an armadillo named Felix living under his bed to prove it. Terry the Cook also has a diploma in anger management, which is pretty cool, and Arlene thinks this is sweet, but her morning sickness kicks in again and she bee lines back to the ladies room. When we leave the scene Terry the Cook is still reading down his list and we find out he’s never killed anything by accident. Normally this one might be a red flag, but I think that diploma in anger management takes care of this one, at least I really hope it does.</div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013308212790498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnN65mOHqfiToTQ4gxaMBTj3bnHg1AhMO23OpGM_4FDFs_dpdYhlbq2MPFTooNtoHYXGCBIQnQK28tlcNIBmSP9wm0Lf-_uDyhyUAlyu6_LqpL2XqAYkL2SHpAQSkVsmDIm_S0GvCh6kIz/s320/5.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>His name is Felix? That’s adorable</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />Out in the bar, it looks like Tara’s made a new friend. Aww, how sweet, now all we have to do is figure out what the hell is the matter with him. Hey, don’t make that face, everyone Tara goes out with has issues. That’s how it works when you’re a fictional supporting character. Besides, Tara’s new pal is a vampire who is wearing the exact same shoes as the person who was going through Bill’s stuff earlier. I told you the guy was going to have issues.</div><div align="center"><br />Jess comes home with her rented chainsaw, and an instructional video entitled, So You’ve Finally Decided To Dismember That Rotting Trucker Under Your Floorboards. The only problem is that the trucker’s body is gone. Jess makes an awesome I just pooped my pants face, because she just blew 50 bucks on a chainsaw rental for nothing. Sorry, I mean because there is a body floating around that can link her to a murder. Either way Jess is sporting one of the most panicked faces ever for a person who didn’t find a dead body in their house.</div><div align="center"><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013303280537586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbW6NPU-PUdK6EMB0J0iBLuU8tzVX-HbAs52hQ3H3OGKf0ccaNJZQlscYC6Jl95FFQtS88o79_YovN4nlzHkQPAtrXmZIFWB-VMYzOXlzznwcRbtzGNrutYWz2xzI5ZwUEi48xHJcAQc73/s320/4.jpg" border="0" /> <div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>When home repairs go horribly, horribly wrong</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />From that little mystery we head over to the parking lot at Merlotte’s where Jason is telling Andy he is fine to drive. By the way, to anyone out there, if you ever have to convince people that you are not too drunk to drive, guess what? You are, and you might want to give them the keys for the ride home, unless you really have your heart set on getting punked in the drunk tank. Anyway, enough with the PSA, on with the show.</div><div align="center"><br />Andy gets Jason into his car, which Jason thinks is cool because he’s never ridden in the front seat of a cop car before. This is right when Andy finds out that Kenya and the rest of the cops are raiding some meth lab. Andy decides to go check it out and brings Jason with, because what’s the worst that could happen? Yeah I can’t wait to see what happens next either.</div><div align="center"><br />When Andy and Jason get out to the meth lab raid, Kenya isn’t happy to see either of them, but seeing as Andy is a detective she has to put up with him. Andy tells Jason to stay in the car, but that doesn’t make for very entertaining television.</div><div align="center"><br />Also Jason sees this really pretty girl standing in the woods. Jason gets out and tries to talk to her, but the pretty girl doesn’t say a word. She just runs into the woods. Jason is about to follow her, when he hears a noise coming from the house the cops are raiding. Some low life guy hops out of the window and starts making with escaping the scene of the crime. Too bad for the low life, Jason just creams him with a open field tackle, and when Kenya and Andy show up, Jason is pulling a bag of crystal meth out of the guy’s pants that looks like a season worth of product on Breaking Bad.</div><div align="center"><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013296439771938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-q39A7hhwQSbSjHHzZ6s6491uFkMT-9iR7Se8T_xzBq17JWpL9s19MOBzTKyFTlNmv6zJUXp1fUgb_rgQRNcZcMyraubv4fxZfzGcnSBQw_LgYUs0WjEjaX5bvyRX_l0AKV4mq-MaoH_m/s320/3.jpg" border="0" /> <div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of her this season</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />You know how earlier Andy was telling Jason he just needs to find the right activity to harness his talents? Sadly for everyone else in law enforcement, crime fighter seems to be jumping to the top of the list.</div><div align="center"><br />Well things are still cooking at the parking lot at Merlotte’s. Tara is in full on suicide mode, and trying to kill a fifth of Wild Turkey all by herself. This is why she gets extra cranky when two racist redneck guys decide to piss on the spot where Eggs got killed. Tara takes out the first guy with a quality sucker punch, but things are looking kind of dicey for Tara with the other racist redneck.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">That is until Tara, new friend, the creepy looking vampire guy in the pointy shoes, shows up and grabs racist redneck peckerwood from behind. The vampire guy tells the racist redneck peckerwood to apologize, which leads to the racist redneck peckerwood swearing something fierce, which leads to Tara putting a pretty savage beat down on the guy. As Tara keeps wailing on the racist redneck peckerwood, the vampire guy’s fangs come out, and love is in the air.</div><div align="center"><br /><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013289753970386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEY8Dj9eoWlDoGuEdksF7mdqXGFb5QtL4rhUFvia7UTS30O_4QB1olP_fR7WRQo_mX-eelanf9IQJAOU0y0QJbHzbqVT2GrRjrRDkMH9PYIcMzd-szuGA4ZrJB941QkXYGn1jNRyGvHKp/s320/2.jpg" border="0" /> <div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>By the way I called when I said the next guy Tara met wouldn’t be as good looking as Eggs</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />Hey you know how I always go aww, when Jess and Hoyt get together? Totally didn’t happen here.</div><div align="center"><br />Okay, time to go back to Mississippi, where the Closet King is telling Bill that he knows he’s in love with Sookie and would do anything to protect her. This is right when Bill’s maker, Lorena shows up saying it’s more like ridiculous. So’s wearing that riding helmet indoors sweet cheeks.<br />For those of you who don’t know her, Lorena is Bill’s maker, and last season she tried to keep him from rescuing Sookie from an anti-vampire cult. Oh and the only way her southern accent could get any worse, is if she started to make repeated use of the phrase “youse guys.” And double oh, because Bill can’t stand her, and last season he went Keith Moon and tried to crush her head with a big plasma screen TV at a hotel.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486013280981386722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwJ0bj6YYc3UEdltK1BB1zi_MJw4OR7IEdbedLNF_ADKhW5_UKIX7fY_JDI62M9fBUVUjVs0qYfKzJEogTr2wXLwR68bOCTnbq1lULPJ07rbl4KNgghCCVDA1sVHj-EEFg4uqNikRbpET/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /> <div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>looks like somebody is prepared in case somebody else drops a plasma TV on her head</strong></div><strong></strong><div align="center"><br />Luckily for Lorena there aren’t any big screen TV’s here. Not so luckily for her, there are some lit oil lanterns, and Bill moves super vampire fast and beans her with one. This wouldn’t be as bad as getting your tatter whomped with a plasma TV, but the oil catches fire, and Lorena is well on her way to being a vampire torch.</div><div align="center"><br />Well that brings an end to this dinner party. Too bad, they didn’t even get to have their blood gelato.</div><div align="center"><br />We are in the home stretch of the episode when we cut back to Sookie and Eric. Eric is flirting up a storm with Eric, and even though she keeps saying she belongs to Bill, Sookie doesn’t seem too upset that Eric is doing it. Suddenly Eric tells Sookie to invite her inside. At first Sookie is telling Eric he can’t bully her around, but once she figures out that Eric isn’t angling for a makeout session, she does what he told her.</div><div align="center"><br />Eric and Sookie go inside, and sure enough, there is a werewolf in Sookie’s house. The werewolf starts growling, Eric sprouts his fangs, and Sookie pulls out that little gun Terry gave her. The last thing we see in the episode is that gun going off. The End.</div><div align="center"><br />Wow, a pretty cool episode in my opinion. All the plots seem to be moving forward. Bill’s trapped in Mississippi, there are Nazi werewolves running around, a vampire war could be right around the corner, and we might even see Sookie and Eric make out in a non-dream situation.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">This season seems to be off to a promising start.</div><div align="center"><br />Hey, what do you guys think of using real wolves as werewolves on the show? I saw a thing with the show’s producer, Alan Ball, and he was saying werewolf special effects are old hat, but at least for me, the real wolves don’t seem as scary as vampires. I think they went with real wolves to keep the makeup budget from bankrupting the show this season, but that’s just my opinion.</div><div align="center"><br />Anyway, thanks for stopping by, and we’ll talk again soon.</div><div align="center"></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-76164315715851647932010-06-23T09:15:00.000-07:002010-06-23T09:29:39.261-07:00There is nothing better than a True Blood TVgasm!!<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"> WARNING: If you are not a crased true blood fan or do not enjoy the soft core porn that is HBO in general; this post is not for you... but come back next time! :)</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /><br />Well after nine long months we get another taste of the best show about southern vampires that features actors from New Zealand, Great Britain, Sweden, and Canada. It’s time to talk about getting kidnapped by angry break dancing crews, what to do when that body of that long haul trucker you have stashed under the floor boards begins to turn ripe, and while slutty veterinary students may come back to your house for a three way, they don’t want to hear about you picturing them with bullet holes in their taters. Yep my friends, it’s time to talk True Blood. </div><div><div><div><div><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485741786742598098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9OybEsLFHHzv4O3SEz-K5I_tNhr3A1tMhvWs1wuIvhxlYLztb0Xb_XMIaRt-YW8zft26o-7buYrRA2LTsmkV6S44symRR8wDfQsKVwqu28Xvt6OrKm6-vaQt7stW3dX70hWPdQwWIVgp5/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center">Our Episode starts with four quick little scenes that catch us up to date on the plots that are going to kick off the new season. Sookie is pitching a fit with the lady who owns the restauraunt because her vampire boyfriend went missing before she could officially turn him into her vampire fiancee. Well Sookie maybe if you hadn’t have disappeared into the powder room to check out that engagement ring with a jeweler loupe, you would have gotten to accept your undead boyfriend’s marriage proposal. Just saying.</p><p align="center">Jason is quietly freaking out at Merlotte’s because he shot Eggs, but Andy is telling people that he shot Eggs in total self defense; so nobody will wonder how Jason was supposed to be wandering around with a concealed handgun when he wears skintight jeans and tee-shirts at all times. Err, I mean because Jason wasn’t supposed to have that gun in the first place.<br /><br />Over at Bill’s house we see Jess come home and find the flowers Hoyt left for her to try to make up for their fight. Aww, and that’s just what Jess says, aww. We all immediately start feeling all sentimental because our favorite couple on the show (okay, my favorite couple on the show) might be patching things up. This is right where we hear some guy groaning, and Jess drags that trucker she was chowing down on at the end of the last season into the house by his leg. Awesome. You know if stuff like this had ever happened on Friends I might have given a crap about Ross and Rachel. Okay, maybe not, but it’s still awesome here</p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485743252309516370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81rvWfuzdUF2UqM_lDxJXhvCM5UiGVy4VhmMiG445IWxjuaKjE9Cbcky102USkyOPFxXjL2c6dKXv6QPNTMXVF7pNhJhNGv4_6GDmQE_MkXnMs50YS4iuHWTKgG4x9SiYSG5pm03cgMXn/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><strong>Remember no eating in bed; It's messy</strong><br /></p><p align="center">We then find out what happened to Bill, sort of. He’s in his car with a bunch of yahoos who’ve looped a silver chain around his neck. We don’t really know who the yahoos are, but they do introduce themselves to Bill as the "F**k You Crew". Great, Bill’s been kidnapped by angry break dancers. This isn’t going to end well, and we cut to the best opening credits on TV.<br /><br />When we come back to the show, Sookie is getting all bent out of shape because Kenya doesn’t understand that Bill’s been kidnapped. Kenya points out that when you don’t say yes right away to a marriage proposal because you have to go in the ladies room to check out the four C’s of your engagement ring; your sweet baboo might wander off. Sookie pitches a very low key fit, buy Kenya won’t issue a missing person report on someone who has been missing for 20 minutes</p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485743682219208290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-CkIINvhzCdA2m2oZ8fACvIzNA265JzZbn-GQXQVMrvgjI130Tpdzr5at65WyG9sT0Qov0UEid9BYMPz5sNCzZGAZe_3wCPwWpn548rpv9Ntu292CuAmSqGz4WWuVbwEuTxCxw6HtaSJ/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /><br /><strong>Lots of people make this face when they have to deal with Sookie.</strong></p><br /><p align="center">Back at Merlotte’s, Sheriff Bud is interviewing everyone to find out what happened with Eggs getting shot. Andy is elevating looking guilty to an art form, as Arlene is pretty much backing up his story. This is right when Tara proceeds to go bat shit, because she had a smoking hot boyfriend with six pack abs, and now he’s gone to the big casting room in the sky. Arlene proceeds to turn the situation into a race thing in the most awkward and stupid way possible. Luckily for us in the audience, Lafayette is around to hustle Tara out of the bar and get off one of the lines of the night when he says “And we gonna steal this chere bottle of tequila, but I doubt that surprise any of y’all.” </p><p align="center">We cut over to Jess, who is spending some time with her snack, I mean that truck driver she bit. The truck driver’s in a bad way, and wants to go to the hospital, but Jess doesn’t want to explain the big hole in his throat. This leads to the truck driver calling her a whore, and not surprisingly doesn’t lead to a trip to the emergency room for anyone.<br /><br />Not that it matters, because Sookie shows up looking for Bill. Sookie notices that Jess kind of looks like a mess and has been crying blood again, for I think the 6th or seventh episode in a row now, but Jess says it’s just because she and Hoyt broke up. This is good enough for Sookie, because she really just stopped by to look for Bill, and to get Jess to promise to call Sookie if she hears from him. Then Sookie wanders out of the scene, so she can find more people on the show to remind them that she is the main character.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485744387746320562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 248px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjut7z6FRmG-G4YlATjfRrSCGxPXI_S4sRv5dtyHTdcWV5UqN0D8pXb_ypdfqVgUFxJkfol9MWTwoOjy0HlZ1dGxu4qYRHLpuNgIY9O581dRuDvhuWPHRi2QeEhLxYi1rKGGzoSO1xgi-fC/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /><br /></p><p align="center"><strong>Oh I’ve just been hanging around the house, doing sodokus. What I haven’t been doing is eating truckers!</strong><br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center">Speaking of Bill, he and the "F You Crew" are really getting along now. Okay, no they aren’t, The F U Crew is using Bill like a Slurpee, getting high off his vampire blood. A guy in the front seat of the car wants to stop so he can get a hit off of Bill, but the head F U says they need to stay on the road. He tells the guy sitting next to him to spit Bill’s blood in the other guy’s mouth, but the potential blood spitter doesn’t want to do it, because it’s “gay.” The head of the F U Crew points out that spitting blood in another guy’s mouth isn’t any more gay then playing with your nipples in front of a car full of other guys, which is what the potential blood spitter was doing. Sigh, it’s a sad situation when the head of the Fu Crew becomes the voice of reason.<br /><br />We cut over to Jason, who’s gone home so he can throw beer bottles at the wall and curl up in the fetus position on the floor. Not to worry though, because a magical man has come to make everything all better. What? No, not Santa, but he shares the same body type as the big man in the red suit, it’s Andy. Andy has crawled in through Jason’s back window to give Jason a much needed pep talk.</p><br /><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485990493361222514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxQ6EmaK715BRu8KvB_7vKzRhaC5tkkUFUb35GhdrWtw6dy3jXOD1TPQfQg1mjld8Z4jE9VTkbRze81XbfvsMqNJHNqbr6Y0uF42znPpO5BwhNqMDd6_6TFszKJNEpQwhaBv5pb7TCwrT/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /><strong>Come to think of it, Andy is just like Santa, with a bad tie</strong><br /></p><br /><p align="center"><br />Andy reminds Jason that they need to stay on message, translation, that Andy shot Eggs after he confessed to killing all those people last season, because Eggs was coming at him with a knife. Andy says that this story, unlike the truth, that Jason shot Eggs from behind, will keep them both out of jail, as long as they behave normally.<br /></p><br /><p align="center">Well, normally for Jason and Andy. Andy explains that this means Jason has to try to have sex with everything that moves, because this show is on cable and people expect a certain level of nakedness when they are coughing up 12 bucks a month. I mean because Jason is a world class poon hound. Jason isn’t to happy to hear this news because he was all set to become a more serious and responsible person. Andy tells him tough noogies, and has the line of the night. “Conscience off, dick on, everything will be all right.”<br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center">You know, if it were up to me, the show would just be Andy and Jason. They are gold every time they get together.<br /></p><br /><p align="center">Seeing as Sookie has made sure that everyone in Bon Temps knows Bill’s missing, she takes her act on the road, and heads over to Fangtasia to see if Bill has maybe shown up over there. Pam tells Sookie she hasn’t seen Bill, so Sookie immediately demands to see Eric. Pam says he’s indisposed, but Sookie doesn’t want to hear about it, so Pam takes Sookie to see what our favorite room temperature stud is up to.<br /></p><br /><p align="center">It turns out he’s bonking some girl he’s got tied up in the basement. Sookie is minorly appalled by this. Incidentally, Pam immediately jumped five places on my Christmas card list for fictional characters in this scene. So thanks to Pam, Eric gets to wander around naked, and Sookie gets to try (unsuccessfully by the way) not to check out his doodle. I mentioned Pam rocks, right?<br /></p><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485991714430541474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrS7qY7X1nDfGCFFFvYcedkpP29vK2qhGvktrNdjGjI7BGn21E2Pva5NJay0hVNqMbuftA4iXdXqggKffLx3vKHFsKRoj19zJQ_R0Q6wD0KLuaBvM6U3VdLkZWTry4-ESthvIbpfKjhfUN/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485991894312833378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHw6Vc_IZF02VrLGxE8rV17NafsFiq-W-0i1Bbt3irDt78ByqFVRiy-3OKCnbracJnJxpk362aXuBUvzZ9pIp4RsbT_aLAt7xTxdM3Gmw8azIxjd77AgoG0BTuziY2ezhB0sEPr6cEn46t/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center"><strong>We children of the night spend our time doing situps. Lots and lots of situps<br /><br /></strong>Sookie announces that Bill is missing, and that she thinks Eric kidnapped him. Not surprisingly Eric doesn’t immediately confess, but he does have some good news for Sookie. If Bill has been kidnapped, it’s Eric’s job as vampire sheriff to find him. Of course if Eric did kidnap Bill, it’s going to probably make that whole finding him part moot.<br /><br />Anyway Sookie checks out Eric’s peen one last time, snippily mentions that he owes her 10 thousand dollars for when she went to Dallas last season, and exits stage right.<br /><br />We cut from that back to Bill and the F U Crew. It turns out that one of the F U Crew is now riding on the roof of the car and having a good old time, because what’s the worst that could happen in this situation? Well in this particular situation, that would be Bill breaking the car’s driver’s neck so the car goes flying off the road killing the whole F U Crew. You know, it’s bad for them, for Bill it’s an improvement over being used as a sort of human bong. Seeing as Bill is already dead, he can’t get killed in the car crash and proceeds to stagger off into the night.<br /><br />We head back to Bon Temps, where Sookie is ready to call it a night, after making sure everyone in the state is aware that Bill is missing. Lafayette has brought Tara home, and Tara proceeds to tell Sookie about Eggs getting killed. Tara points out that the whole part about Eggs confessing to all the killings has to be BS because he couldn’t remember any of the stuff Maryann had him do.<br /><br />Oh, isn’t this awkward, because now Sookie has to admit she used her mind reading powers to help Eggs remember that stuff, but how could she have known that something bad would happen to a character whose story arc was over?<br /><br />Tara goes completely ballistic over this news and attacks Sookie. I think Tara has figured out there is no way the writers give her another love interest on the show who could pass for an underwear model. Eventually Lafayette pries Tara off of Sookie, and they exit out the door, stage left.</p><br /><p align="center"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485993464592768162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3htLkZyG05aPUTArkEHpWbKb1B_IEc5iLbhCxk813hU6aXlk6dZQPAfbeWUckWUnBNLA_fuq7ZSbF2WUxsQjH3e7fjV91mB4a9ujQ_vChc7bwnq8Q6qY3iv2YwirNWAXr16rhZDZvH3v/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><strong>He had six pack abs! Six. Pack. Abs!</strong></p><p align="center"><br />We cut back to Fangtasia where we find out that Eric didn’t have Bill kidnapped. We find this out because Eric is screaming into a bluetooth at somebody who was supposed to kidnap Bill, but found out that someone had beat them to the punch. Eric is freaking out because Bill can link him to that V ring, and the vampire queen (or as we like to call her around here, Not-The-Dita), wants Bill out of the picture ASA-frigging-P. Pam tries to get Eric to calm down, but it doesn’t work, so she doesn’t even try to mention that an open robe with track pants is kind of a fashion no-no.<br /></p><br /><p align="center">Hey who wants to talk about Sam now? Well too bad, because they have the camera pointed at him.<br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center">Sam is at some motel up in Arkansas trying to track down his real parents when there is a knock at the door. It turns out Bill is in the neighborhood, and wants to use Sam’s shower. Well first he wants Sam to take off his shirt, and then he asks Sam if he wants to shower with Bill, because the water is extra hard, annnnnnnnd…<br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center">Sam gets woken up by his cell phone.<br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center">By the way, all of us regular watchers of the show know this racy dream doesn’t make Sam gay, because when people drink a vampire’s blood they have super sexy dreams about said vampires. And, as we all know, Sam had to drink a poop ton of Bill’s blood last season when Maryann almost cut his heart out, so this dream is totally not gay. The one where Hugh Jackman rides Sam into a long train tunnel made out of fudge while Liza sings “It’s Raining Men”? Not only totally gay, but flamingly gay.</p><p align="center"><br />Anyway, luckily for Sam’s straightatude, some faceless lady has called him with mounds of exposition to keep his part of the plot in motion. It turns out that address Wheezy McVentilator gave him at the end of the last episode isn’t good any more because those people had their house foreclosed on. The good news for the plot is faceless lady just happens to know that the son of Sam’s real family works at some tire place. Sam thanks the faceless lady and hangs up so he can spend more time not thinking about whether the TV in his room gets the Logo network. </p><br /><p align="center">Well, it’s a brand new sunshiny day, so Hoyt and Jason are out cramming dead brush into a wood chipper. Who says a high school education doesn’t prepare you for the real world?<br /></p><p align="center">Hoyt is catching Jason up to speed on him finding out his mom had been lying to him all those years about his dad to keep him at home, and how Hoyt broke up with Jess and he needs a place to stay. Jason isn’t really paying attention to what Hoyt is saying, because, well, paying attention to things isn’t Jason’s strong suit. Finally Hoyt has to flat out ask Jason to stay at his place, and Jason says sure, but there is no reason to get snippy about it. This is right where Hoyt figures out that living with his mom maybe wasn’t all that terrible.</p><p align="center"><br />We then cut over to Lafayette’s where he has to go to work and is leaving Tara with her mom. Tara’s mom starts right in thanking Jesus that she and her baby girl get to spend some time together. Lafayette isn’t the best audience for this bit, because he is still pissed at Tara’s mom for shooting that rifle at him in the last episode. Oh Lafayette, really? Why if my family held grudges against each other for inter-family gun play, nobody would ever show up for Thanksgiving every year (and the cops would get bored too). Still Lafayette says there will be no bridge building, and exits stage left. </p><p align="center"><br /> </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485995256525912658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheArBMoGLR-xnxwZyG6XNGhaqxnH721WixBCF-CX0Y5PtX7MNCOr6w7nQOiCboblDfvaGUV4v-PWMiqUNTV1EXpKjQqcNQ99llzrbG-C6_WFuAiardhIs8ElylF_MQkbW8f2l1ZOWwXXHh/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><strong>Every day is causal Friday for Lafayette</strong><br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center">Sookie hasn’t reminded anyone that she’s unhappy for hours, so she has headed down to talk with Sheriff Bud. Sheriff Bud isn’t much help, because he doesn’t really think Bill is a person. Sookie asks him if her imaginary friend put that 2 1/2 caret engagement ring on her finger? Sorry, I mean she points out that she and Bill are in luuuvvvvvv, and should have the same rights as everyone else, so there. Then Sookie and her big honking rock exit stage right.<br /></p><br /><p align="center">Sam heads out to that tire place and sees a guy wearing a jumpsuit with the same name that the faceless phone lady said the kid he’s looking for has. The only thing though is that this kid says he’s a completely different Tommy and unless Sam wants a deal on some bald tires, he’s poop out of luck. Sam says he might pick up some tires when he leaves town, but right now he needs to go back to his motel and not dream about Bill with his shirt off. Sam then exits stage left and the daylight portion of tonight’s episode is officially over.<br /></p><p align="center">As the moon comes up, Bill wakes up from his dirt nap. Wow, he’s moving awfully stiff. Wreaking that car with the F U Crew must have taken a lot out of him. I mean just look at his hair. Oh wait, it looks the same way it did when he left to pick up Sookie for their date the night before. That’s so sad, but for completely different reasons. Anyway, Bill wanders out of the scene and we cut back to Bon Temps.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485997027850667714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioE1-_08byD6zN4zFloYPplVu1HZtGhGx8fSS13ZYxbjUYQYAFctHvuJlJIo7Ofv1XX2jxKP3YGGllZa2-lKnQspibCu-yqtDenK0GRpuMqsfERrQKAmdRmtZzLD6BG3m5BAMWaUTniiVP/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /></p></div><div> </div><p align="center"><strong>Say, your Bill Compton crop seems to be coming along nicely</strong></p><p align="center"><br />Jess gets woken up by a phone call from Hoyt. Hoyt just wants to know if she got the flowers he left for her the night before, and Jess thinks this is so sweet. The only problem is she stuffed that trucker under the house, and not only is he dead, but he’s starting to smell a little funky. This is why we don’t get a cool make up scene with Hoyt and Jess.</p><p align="center"><br />What we do get, is another trip to Fangtasia, and Not-The-Dita has shown up with that Magistrate vampire, who made Bill turn Jess back in Season 1. If Eric could poop, he’d be popping out one the size of a bundt cake right now.<br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486000624657428530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQf7HmlC7espgBBXoQEOdBZa2ewOcnEinKDA-vkWoW3yuyKr4PlNSNLFj5BbAfU4HV4GSZ-xx3tKR4MyVZ8nxK6xjg2Aj5osOFuMnJpgzA8OsgOLokx_iM40im5bkU8HMNjVN4wVh50SGd/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><strong>Only guy on the show who doesn’t need makeup to look like a vampire</strong></p><p align="center"><strong></strong> </p><p align="center">After they clear everyone out of the bar, Eric finds out that the Magistrate is in town because somebody is selling a bunch of V, which means a vampire must be involved. Vampires have super strength, heightened senses, and in some cases they can actually fly, but apparently what they can’t do is recognize facial expressions. At least that’s my only explanation for why the Magistrate doesn’t immediately figure out that Eric and Not-The-Dita are who he is looking for, because guilty signs start flashing on their foreheads as soon as he brings up the subject.<br /></p><p align="center">Anyway, Eric promises to put a stop to this V ring just as soon as he figures out who to frame for it. Sorry, my bad, I mean who’s responsible for it. They get the Magistrate out the front door, and Not-The-Dita tells Eric not only are they going to keep selling V, but they are going to mark it down to half price and dump all they have left by tomorrow night.<br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center">Eric tries to point out, that not only is the Magistrate breathing down their necks, but Bill is out wandering around and he can link Eric to this V selling. This prompts Not-The-Vita to hop about half way up his chest, dig her shoe into his crotch and put her fangs up to Eric’s throat. She tells Eric she’s got the IRS breathing down her neck, so Eric better get her that V money, or, or it will get worse then a foot in your groin and fangs on your throat. Oh man, I feel for Eric here, and this is also reason 22 why I never got into middle management.</p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486001190257672050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3T_m6kjzqDW4J5QzJsUsUjk4m3v3AILUGVoZDQFZUXUbkqd7OVzjPmbNOr4ElToIPMTgEAsZL1qZY6MT_8nHKLEBUXeXHcdrra_z11EUy2gFo823_hoQIIaMnnKxWe5IJiLcr6so-IMYT/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /></p></div><div><br /> </div><p align="center">You know what? Fangtasia sucks tonight, lets go to a happy bar. Over at Merlotte’s Jason is trying to put Andy’s plan into action. Jason is doing well on the scoring tail front and has found not one, but two slutty girls on their way to veterinary school. With pretty minimal effort Jason gets both girls to come home with him and Hoyt. Yes, our Hoyt, but to be fair, Hoyt points out that he’s not really comfortable with this, what with him and Jess only being sort of broken up. Jason doesn’t want to hear about this, because he expects his roommates to pick up the slack on the occasional “overflow” over at Casa de Jason. Hoyt doesn’t look to happy about this news, but as far as the weird stuff roommates expect you to do for them, banging slutty vet students ranks pretty low on the totem pole.</p><div><br /> </div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486001800131075234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyP7fC5IrAB0Zt2-7x2NCCfs4wHs0O37FzZWH15-PfPjgn-2W580S93Jvc5NM6D0mB9XNA3KLRFx04JyyIPiukg-XKWS1mpvA22LH2zwEaC0lIc3drXnKR2HkDolqYlH0jh-4PjXYMeitl/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center"><strong>Ladies this is Hoyt Fortenberry. He just moved out of his mother’s house</strong></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486002036845727202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 237px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OfNg7oqcGBQC244Z_1AJrdPMXDeJT8OxVbYEfg8ZtU-PFDuWfgocuDb64w8WJOP6Vjdndgvjj3ClodlOtcU5rjjCiJeM8tzXr743WF6YGR6BHthRksbQz9HjmrJC99y8Kh7c9l-o72zJ/s320/TB030115-Slutty-Vet-students.jpg" border="0" /></p></div><p align="center"><strong>We like puppies and penises</strong></p><strong></strong><div align="center">We cut away from Hoyt’s rocky new career as Jason’s wingman, to Sookie’s house where Pam has stopped by with a check for Sookie, and a valuable clue to keep the plot moving. While Pam is giving Sookie her Dallas money, Pam suddenly closes her eyes and shudders much in the same way I do at the grocery store whenever Tootsie Rolls go on sale. She explains that Eric sent her a sort of psychic phone call, and she exits stage left.</div><p align="center"><br />Pam’s not done spreading joy for the night, because she stops by Merlotte’s and drops off a mess of V and tells Lafayette he has to sell all of it by tomorrow night. When Lafayette points out that this is crazy, Pam offers to bite his throat out if he calls her a hooker again, or doesn’t have the money by tomorrow night. You know, after rereading this paragraph, maybe saying Pam is out spreading joy isn’t the phrase I was really looking for. Well, too late now, the plot waits for no man.<br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486002537952783986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiskNRGgWWsnkuvXoq4munB24-uHqBAAX8vNsdXZTQUVLL3ysVs_uNE8kt2bPr38yfk9y9zLepC_sUmTLI7z322Xy5kMfmdlUGd1PlNA2iL8vOls6S6FuI6VqfVYlfL135klY4UGau5gzGD/s320/TB030124-cast-photo.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><strong>The winner of the sales contest gets a new Cadillac, second place gets a set of steak knifes, third place is you get your throat tore out</strong></p><p align="center">We see that Sookie has hauled butt over to Bill’s and after explaining the whole psychic phone call bit to Jess, asks her if Bill has checked in with her. Jess says she felt something the night before that made her feel sick to her stomach, like that time she tried Kulula. Oh and she also had a feeling that Bill was out there, “somewhere.”</p><p align="center"><br />That’s good enough for Sookie and she demands that Jess come driving around with her until they find Bill.</p><p align="center">Just as they are getting ready to leave, she asks Jess what stinks so bad in the house. Jess tells Sookie a possum crawled under the house and died. Possum, long haul trucker, tomato tamotoe, what’s the diff, right Jess?</p><p align="center">Speaking of Bill, we cut back to him, wandering around out in the woods without his shirt. He finally comes up to this house in the middle of nowhere and a sweet little old lady on oxygen lets him in. She then makes the mistake of asking Bill if he’s hungry and out come the fangs.</p><p align="center">We cut from Bill using the elderly as human pudding pops, to people being used for other less then savory pursuits. Namley, Tara’s mom has had her minister come over to tell Tara that her getting used to further a maynad’s plot, and her hot boyfriend getting shot is all part of God’s super extra awesome master plan. Tara politely excuses herself to take a shower. This is fine by Tara’s mom because she is trying to get in the reverend’s holy scriptures. God, I liked her a lot better when she was completely estranged from her only daughter.</p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486003180378919842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9j85DHmx1UOZ-itSFK-xOmjt414cuCdBy39KVI1-dOHQ8sfRG6Oqax18pxW_NP1zO63jhBsa6KJN7jwkkFlKUDIJeM25JsHnODbMK48faz_6M_AohDsl1twDMwdWrXeFMtqfHy58Rwpt/s320/TB030120-Taras-mom-gets-friendly-with-the-minister.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center"><strong>Hey you two, save some room for the Holy Ghost (also am I the only one who’s noticed the back of this guy’s noggin looks like a pack of hot dogs?)</strong></p><strong><div align="center"></strong>We cut from that back to Sam, and he’s followed that kid from the tire store back to the kid’s house. Sam waits for the kid to go inside, and then checks the mailbox, jackpot! The people really do have the same name as Sam’s real family. See? It really does pay to follow young guys from the tire store back to their homes. You know, if you can turn into a collie, and are searching for your long lost family. Otherwise it’s super stalky. Still, it worked for Sam here, so yay!<br /></div><p align="center">Back at the sin bin that is Jason’s house, well there isn’t a whole lot of sinning going on. The slutty vet student Jason paired off with is playing his passion piccolo,and well, let’s just say Jason can’t hit a B sharp tonight. Not that Jason isn’t being game about the whole thing, even when the other girl wants to play, because Hoyt is too busy talking about Jess, Jason tries to get up for the situation. Too bad Jason keeps seeing both girls with CGI bullet holes in their heads. Eventually Jason makes the mistake of sharing this info with the slutty vet students, and the making the sexy time is officially over. Oh man, when erectile dysfunction happens to someone it is a barrel of laughs. </p><p align="center"><br />We cut back to Bill and the old lady. Bill is glamoring her, which is pretty easy, because she’s older then dirt and her short term memory is for poop anyway. Bill also gives her some money, and tells her that it’s from her son and that he came to visit her. That’s kind of nice of him, considering he just sucked about a quart of blood out of her.<br /><br />Bill then gets the old lady to tell him where he’s at, and when he finds out he’s in Mississippi he looks like the world is coming to an end. This is odd, because normally only people from Alabama get this expression on their face when they unexpectedly end up in Mississippi.<br /></p><p align="center">We are in the home stretch of the episode, so we don’t spend any time thinking about that, because Lafayette is home after a long day of almost getting his throat bitten out. He asks Tara’s mom where Tara is at, and she tells him about Tara going to the shower. Lafayette freaks out when he hears this, and it makes sense, because Tara has locked the bathroom door and if wolfing down every pill in Layfayette’s medicine cabinet. So if Lafayette can get the door open in time we can look forward to Tara getting her stomach pumped next week, but this week still isn’t over.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486003996911315154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxizpIbT4LRsccXpsy22qbz4wpfSvyByblQ1qmNMm1LNIOvBNhx97P_FiVnVEISf14FKjXoeLgCZf1QdJKzITeco6p2eAv5SkUiHUxFkgdebAr-c8IA3N3hCrcIXwXyq5aau92urqduoOa/s320/TB030120-Taras-mom-gets-friendly-with-the-minister.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><p align="center"><strong>There’s nothing really funny about this picture, I just like the idea of Tara’s mom reading Men’s Health</strong><strong><br /></p><p align="center"><br /></strong>We cut over to Sookie and Jess, and they have found Bill’s car flipped over on the side of the road, and the dead members of the F U Crew. Sookie makes Jess pull one of the bodies out of the car, but they don’t find any ID on the body. They do find a weird sort of mark on the guys body that looks just like a symbol that Jess looks up on her phone and sees is associated with something called “Operation Werewolf.” Sookie goes werewolf? Yes Sookie, werewolf. Am I the only one who watches the previews around here?<br /><br />And we cut to Bill running super duper fast through the woods and running into a whole mess of wolves. Bill then proceeds to have a Doctor Doolittle moment, because he warns the wolves he just fed, and then out come his fangs. The End.</p><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486004521253413026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1MIOWLn8QT7F8BvVhgt5zFeumlM5-hUJKAiA_hy9KtHcipJapUQ9Wtdrj1Y2SBdSrRjyTg1RCvtVfrXue-qW3aFYBRQuqBUVhQ1IXrW8UYeGCP5N6IRsj2RGaCCQdGUeOJzvhCVamqio/s320/TB030120-Taras-mom-gets-friendly-with-the-minister.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Well, the first episode of the season in the books and I thought it was a pretty good one for the first one of the season. Between reminding everyone about what happened last season, and getting this season’s plots in motion there usually isn’t a lot of time to spend with the characters. Hopefully we’ll get to spend more time with people as the season goes along.</p><p align="center"><br />I hope I wasn’t too negative about Sookie for some people out there. Sorry, but the way she just seems to wander around completely convinced that everyone wants to do whatever she wants gets on my nerves. I know that in the books, Sookie is the narrator of the stories so the stories are built around seeing her internal logic which we don’t on the TV show but then again maybe Anna Paquin is notso hotso as an actress? </p><p align="center">By the way, once you give somebody a Golden Globe for acting, you’re stuck with their accent for the rest of the show. Sorry just the way it works.<br /></p><p align="center">Oh, I didn’t mention it in the recap, but what did you think about Arlene announcing she was pregnant? Was I the only one who started counting backwards to see if Terry the Cook was the dad?</p><p align="center"><br />Speaking of Arlene, I loved when she told Tara, “so you were dating a serial killer, who hasn’t done that?” Also was I the only person who was surprised to find out that in real life she’s married to the guy from Lost?</p><p align="center">So what did you guys think? Was this episode worth the wait? Are you excited to check out this whole werewolf thing this season? Anything else you want to talk about?</p><p><br />Anyway, thanks for stopping by.</p>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-17940047861558957392010-06-22T14:51:00.000-07:002010-06-22T15:05:42.594-07:00L-word<div align="center">I am one that throws around the L-word quite easily.<br />I feel like my heart is bursting full of the stuff, and I have quite the reserve to share and give.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">I am a lucky, lucky girl because I have one huge source of the love stuff. This lady-<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485717866928539986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3C2eI7KyyB4PfwutjFJlG3DVJhrT03K-hJcf2MG6przOm_vbxCfOXk_XWj3O-R-gf3zZE5e0Q34dwe9T-mb-784l_K6hUX5VvbmH4rLtQdGJ3jMbuMec0ctpeGRsB737YZ49TGPz9NI2n/s400/mom.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">My MOM! :)</span><br /><br />I've always had my mother with me through thick and thin and she has never let me forget how much I am loved. I can not honestly remember a time in my life when I felt completely unloved and unlovable, and the thought of someone else feeling that way absolutely devastates me. Because of that, I am always quick to share the love-what does it hurt, after all?<br /><br />Sure, you may be rebuffed, you may not receive the same sentiment in return, but you could make the difference in someone's life.<br /><a style="MARGIN-LEFT: 1em; MARGIN-RIGHT: 1em" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1K1yh-VCGiIvI18VBm_QZMfLwJDVl_wGHP_ZhPfPkrKv34Kq2JsAbllo6tztFKlcFXdtqN_ofoTQdg7R8ap3rEbnq5V1BmadHTEWVQf9zQhaI3rVwKkKUQM3QTzRQ3Du1jq7paCAZU4xz/s1600/thebooness.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><br />I firmly believe the reason I am so able to love others (including myself) freely is because I know my heart is so safe in the hands of this one. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485718302508518562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 247px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkHB51kVHHEM5A93Eh3iNfgmLmsYcGFsDkD91UEKb2f8lSyHdJS69J5Svb64ppG7XW_0GlZ39OVESoEpidrkMWfrQiQ74YAzKiHijwFIizimbGernDwvnhSrbEtnlNEkvuXTKZl3ngJ7p/s400/mom.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Her love for me knows no bounds, and I am consistently amazed of the depths of her heart, towards not only me, but everyone she encounters others in this life. She has taught me how to truly love completely.<br /><br />And while there had always been certainly lots of mommy hugs, the most touching ways in which she shows me that I'm loved are the silly ones. She reads my blog all the time and gives me constructive criticism on all my pieces (usually along the lines of "I agree, and you are so right, sweetie!" What can I say? She's smart, too.) </div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485719295867064706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIzuWqnH5VZxl9_GcX83nezW3WKr_SanoQImZNBMrPAlWUhLDhQ09-y-aCyR8DETwFDJDtMq8KF1LvLiTVebz0aWyZrYa1EjvEzCCW1Mp6pcP0t48ihPD7NJ4e1O-fFkm_8NipFHKtWC_a/s320/smarty-pants-logo-with-photo.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">She gives me words of encouragement every morning on my way to work. She never calls me a crazy biotch, even when I am TOTALLY acting like a crazy biotch. In fact, she is even more loving when I'm cranky, if you can believe that.<br /><br />Most importantly, I believe she has raised me to show others what love truly is. I think that if I can teach my furture children the same way that they will be able to learn how they should love and respect others in their lives, and even better, how they should expect to be treated.<br /><br />I feel so blessed to have always had such a good example of this growing up from my mother, and accordingly, I have now as an adult been able to make amazing friendships that I never thought I would have and I also scored a pretty amazing husband out of the deal.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485719664461894978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfH5tNTGYeXY17rf7nrsu3HDgNgiHZ8poXYmUlobtqyp-U4615bwU7d3b0MjOryzBVuh3zT_ykissV1iKZXpqbrCAf2a3nnYIerNuatWIx7JNWcPCF47VhnKdmOQE_rlMGZkMcfVo-LVUF/s320/love-wallpaper81.jpg" border="0" /><br />Wow, this love thing. Who knew how sweet it could be.<br /><br />What is your love? What are you lovin' on right now, and who is loving you?</div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-68334062438454000592010-06-21T12:50:00.000-07:002010-06-21T15:42:53.172-07:00Your period? There's an app for that!<div align="center">Since we are on the subject of "natures gift"! :)<br /><br />You can do a lot on your phone: read the news, manage your money, shop, make music – these days, apps seem to be breeding like rabbits. But if you don’t want to breed like one, then there’s an app for you, too.<br /><br />It’s called…iPeriod. And I'm not iKidding. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=contacts_std-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/contacts_std-1.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div align="center"><br />Made by Winkpass, iPeriod allows you to map your menstrual cycle. Once you’ve entered data for two periods, the app will predict your next twelve cycles and keep track of changes including weight, mood, and even body temperature.<br /><br />Set it to pregnancy mode and find out when to preheat your oven in order to bake a bun; conversely, make it remind you to take your birth control pill.<br /><br />Worth $2.99? Maybe not, but somehow, creating a graph out of mood swings makes them seem so much more rational.</div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-15314697838427354312010-06-17T08:36:00.000-07:002010-06-17T14:03:42.449-07:00Bitten and fanged<div align="center"><br /><br /><div align="center">I am having underwear issues.<br /><br />It is that time of the month, people. I tell you that because during that time of the month? I<br />must wear my “that time of the month” underwear. </div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473403126718771506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWf7aWkHaCo6KBuOfbZ5FYe3_Q4rq-qLOQy300iSHVAXX2Cwt-ZmmAniHfKGVaGBdy0eMXbThjQJCqFAxV3eEleyEkT4XnnoDnFFwPu4_3exIFYHRdx4rTXEUJ2N_um-UaQyFKdvfeDQps/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br />I don’t usually wear underwear. It’s annoying.<br /><br />There, I’ve said it! So freeing. I am a commando-going sort of girl.<br /><br />But guess what?<br /><br />Going commando is not an option today.<br /><br />But guess what else? I can only find one pair of my “that time of the month” underwear. Which is not that big a deal, because one pair will do. And to those of you wondering how it is possible that one pair of underwear will do? I direct you to my expert on all things fashion, <strong><em>Miss Allie Brosh</em></strong>, who clearly states that a new maxi pad or panty liner makes any dirty pair of underwear brand new again.<br /><br />You cannot argue with fashion experts, as they will make you the hell over.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473403170260072914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7GcPoLK62X9ifEqkQJiv2eAz-HhfMht8fMn1wuvOw8fq_HO9xuHkywMBlCAmtNfjX3AqF3ZdPwVVJhD0r8wBqa-wySukeCj1KJPvAAsV7oXKnfTnAinshHzxSiJ6lT5wnTh2idrWvrYz/s320/2.jpg" border="0" /><br />And also? I have known this particular fashion tip for a long time.<br /><br />I am fashion-forward and ahead of my time, apparently.<br /><br />But back to the missing underwear? I would just like to say . . . what the hell? Where have the other pairs gone? It is a mystery.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473403218514781586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorFwLu5PL2Azh3QE4hZXUAbOJ9LaurZA9gsDfbj7HJ-O0qNiHqJ2N754dG4aLuEGMMZAMQfffQWq6F_Ta2holIcN94mh9fRcH2uYysEqTxWZVUBEL1QSeD9td2ttSuowG6GX1byY_wQI-/s320/3.jpg" border="0" /><br />Anyway.<br /><br />So imagine me, in the bathroom, going about my business . . . when suddenly I am attacked by an enormous freaking black spider!! In my freakin lap, there is the biggest, most evil spider I have ever seen!!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473403265938651074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13qlfqJsNdFZIJSemyqxogrvyuuviilYGH3RJdsHs_rkIpXViXlXNSyRbjs-g0lRDuomx8opQwr2cfrdYa9TPoIj0xj7VGNbZTnyS_8azbUd95SrShGYDtMlI0HsIxHYhKrJHThxxqK41/s320/4.jpg" border="0" /><br />I am leaping and hopping and panicked and trying to get this enormous spider off of my thigh, but it will not be dislodged! I am about to have a freaking heart attack, because I am going be killed by a giant spider, and I will be discovered, all half-naked and messy and bloody and dead<br /><br />(not bloody because of the spider . . . duh . . . but because of . . .you know).<br /><br />It is not a pretty picture, but I know it is one the paramedics will snap and post on what I am sure is a hilarious website somewhere, entitled Stupid People Who Died in an Awesomely Stupid Way, Preferably While Half Naked.<br /><br /><a onclick="javascript:pageTracker._trackPageview('/outbound/article/www.spwdiaaswpwhn.com');" href="http://www.spwdiaaswpwhn.com/">http://www.spwdiaaswpwhn.com/</a><br /><br />Don’t you just know those photos are out there, and that the paramedics are giggling at them?<br /><br />Paramedics are some sick people, if you ask me.<br /><br />OK, so I am making little shrieks and hopping and flailing about, when I realize that the spider?<br /><br />Is in fact a tangly ball of black stretchy threads. Not a spider at all. I am saved!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473403319101489810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm12-0mjO9bKbEW9Thd7gnN_5RtkeqQYgxjQeCRR9javrSGZgPDxukg9THiI_g7sJfc91cJZ1aDIbLJCne1AMRMGDk7CIhofTWLqW7_SfVsF3XuR32lSjWfPKuH3E_4nzjaIQiVb2Pp0ga/s320/5.jpg" border="0" /><br />I take a moment to appreciate how narrowly I have escaped spider doom and humiliation.<br />The air is suddenly sweeter!<br /><br />Although not that sweet, because I am still in the bathroom, remember.<br /><br />I sit my naked ass down and follow the strings back to their source, and I realize that my underwear are unraveling! Stupid only pair of underwear. I grab the ball of thread and twist and pull it off. All better! I finish my business, flush the toilet (and wave goodbye to the spider), and go about my day.<br /><br />OK, twenty-four hours later? The spider has attacked me five more times!<br /><br />I am not embarrassed to report that I have panicked a little each time. I hate giant spiders sitting in my naked lap! It is never safe to assume that this time it is an unruly ball of underwear unravelings. Because the moment you are all cocky and say to yourself, “Oh, that’s just my underwear coming apart, no big deal,” and you ignore it?<br /><br />That’s when there really is a giant spider in your crotch area! And then you are bitten and fanged and you fall to the bathroom floor . . . dead and half-naked and bleeding.<br /><br />And the paramedics laugh their freaking heads off.<br /><br />And so now? I am wearing about three quarters of a pair of underwear. I would say it is going to be a race to the finish line, except my underwear seems determined not to complete the course.<br /><br />Will I have enough underwear to see me through?<br /><br />Will I end up all commando, adhering maxi pads to the lining of my jeans?<br /><br />Will I be bitten and fanged by an enormous spider?<br /><br />And will photos of my hilariously dead body be posted on the internet for all to see?<br /><br />It’s like an episode of an amazingly wonderful Soap Opera.<br /><br /><div align="center"><br />“These questions—and many others—will be answered in the next episode of <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Housewife in Heels</span></strong>.” </div></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-79681806064085686602010-06-09T20:53:00.000-07:002010-06-10T09:36:19.157-07:00FIVE IRRITATING THINGS<div align="center">FIVE IRRITATING THINGS THAT HAPPENED TODAY:<br /><br />1) Go to the mall to shop for crap I probably don't need or even want. But I'm trying to be a supportive girlfriend and go with the girls. Anyway, I have enormous headache and somehow wander around for a full hour (!!) without actually focusing on a single item.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472757999282088818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6r63CdmflaXL7g0j3UoHuj-z89yRwkmYsGJRVGKv_RoHOWIqglbbgvjYQ3SHwHY_1-u_OuOearQgIyQ_ocoVgauYEjoEwVohBoDes38XKhYxkBTIUzU3iVbI1j6cyM8bAXu6xL716tnp/s320/1.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />2) Still at the mall, realize that along with massive headache, I now have urgent need to use the bathroom. I do not know where the bathroom is, and I would like to find it quickly. But there is a GIANT fat man draped across the mall directory sign. With arms outstretched and belly planted, he is hogging the entire map of the mall. I am not entirely certain that his is not a sexual posture, so I do not interrupt.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472758004898186210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYmDQjqNc4d2TNHodJNm0p28Ojbxo_fGUqR-ZHRpkp9mkHx9Q-2qusySnuQ_AYP4Wi6V7IqO7B4Sq3Lix_0ph996uOE1IW0Lal-Wsi614jLMETdagpiiew7SAwGklhqySD3A4PpKtpDRmd/s320/2.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />3) Still at the mall, still in dire need of the bathroom, and now feeling headache nausea as well. Nice woman takes pity and directs sweaty desperate me to bathroom, which was . . . closed for cleaning. Hell. </p><p align="center"><br /> </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472758009823787730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h8Eod7A0fxmzKbM8GCVr74OQwzi7fESgf68VrnIVUk4ZoJJhik4MwVNfLtAlXkCf2oobIg-nntp5RtjzY36B2Wc8DUx9dLwul0ulnaB2SVur6tMeUXmYqHQ0gv2x1kCsesld4Mnnl3SP/s320/3.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />4) Race to the other end of the mall, find bathroom. Select stall. Select wrong stall, because my toilet’s automatic flush-sensor is set to go off at the slightest hint of movement. I am on toilet for perhaps three minutes, and in that time, the toilet flushes 10 times. Maybe more. Audible snickering and mocking from other bathroom users.<br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472758011965728834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 179px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnt1S_d0elnLJXU3Bf7PReyU4nKok3qbzHNxOBjn9kYdC8-yT_VKMvMCfKRreelTYYrtkMzwp9LLuHwEA8Q_573Zpa341MJzEGXqGX_cUaT2gB1Sh4z1IC1zOwAA8af__y4Ckew2jj2GAc/s320/4.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />5) Not all of that crazy-powerful flush water goes down, people. Wet freakin ass.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472758015087790066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmtcGyMCcwlCb3ZQRmlYMViTgVrLvfdim805HG6Rxa7ynbNKeaWLJFamXZG6Wp8unVMspX3p60j1i33l6D0g8NqLmKJCh2WzhdyzhAZGgT5jIkGyOXrQKQu1u2Y3xIWtBauTBP9xpml4t-/s320/5.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">So done with being anywhere near malls. Let's hope for the end of this bonding experience shortly.</div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-941385597342456392010-06-07T15:41:00.000-07:002010-06-17T14:09:05.604-07:00Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be - Abraham Lincoln<div align="center">So today was an eyeopener... Let's not get too tied down with details, but it was bad. Not just your usual oh she'll get over it sooner than you know type bad but the real unforgiving<br />someonewasatotalbiotchandyoudliketokicktheminthenardsbecausetheymadeyoucryandthatisjustnooootcool kinda bad. But again, let's not get too ties down with details.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">The point is: it was an eye opener. You'd think that I would have cowered down and felt the impending defeat but instead I took it with a grin and started to figure out solutions...<br /><br /></div><div align="center">Which leads us to the topic today::<br /><br /><br />hap·pi·ness [hap-ee-nis] –noun<br /><br />1. the quality or state of being happy.<br /><br />2. good fortune; pleasure; contentment; joy.<br /><br /><br />My personal definition used to be quite different than what it is now.<br /><br />Even as recently as a year and a half ago, my list of happy things would have consisted of:<br /><br />*a rocking pair of black heels<br /><br />*many cocktails, bonus happy points if they were bought for me<br /><br />*an unexpected day off of work<br /><br />*going home from the bar with a super cute boy<br /><br />*sleeping in uninterrupted until 1 pm<br /><br />*a perfect pair of jeans that were tight on the ass but flared at the leg<br /><br />*road trips to see a good concert<br /><br /><br />Happiness now? Just as simple, yet not nearly as shallow.<br /><br />*waking up before the husband so I can suprise him with breakfast<br /><br />*going to lake powell with the WHOLE family and burying my feet in the sand<br /><br />*talking Mr Responsible into ditching work for a day so we can stay home, alone together, in our jammies and just be<br /><br />*piling into moms' big king bed for a rare family nap<br /><br />*cooking a warm delicious dinner that everyone will eat- extra points if the parents come out for dinner<br /><br />*a cold glass of fresca with my feet on the hubby's lap, discussing the day just finished<br /><br />*being exactly where I am right now and not wanting to be anywhere else<br /><br />Even the worst days are still happier than my old life's good days.<br /><br />They, meaning my family, my husband, are my happy.<br />It doesn't matter what happens, it is better with them than perceived bliss without them.<br /><br />Before I had a family, a husband, my happiness was based on my surroundings, my possessions, my situations.<br /><br />If this happens, I will be happy.<br /><br />If I get this, I will be <em>so</em> happy.<br /><br />Now happy just <strong>IS</strong>.<br /><br />I grew up with so much happiness, and I want my husband and future children to know nothing but.<br />I want them to know that even if we had no money, no beautiful home, if the world was to literally crumble around us that all we need is each other to be happy.<br /><br />And I think my thought of happiness is really growing, I really, really do.<br /><br />What is your happy?</div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-83919616586995767732010-06-05T12:13:00.000-07:002010-06-05T12:34:57.067-07:00A bit funky...<div align="center">Hello.<br /><br />I'm currently finding myself in a bit of a funk.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479372159700163506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 311px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MG2cStsE-mQVfO6VfCbSP156A8bsoOzdnEoW5zkX68Uo8agrvmAERzzNOjOWfcBr_R8ZGhJiNARyOqLQedltgxyknsvaGCZbLIG8qsgCANbqDSnknkG2suI7NufWCMcns6aHDfe8Gxh-/s320/rhan1337l.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />It may be due to the past 5 days of rent week (oh I hate having to deal with peoples eviction excuses) and the 5 more we have to look forward to. It may be due to the inevitable letdown after a long weekend. It may be due to The Hubster being out fishing ALL the time. It may also be due to the new hair cut and my love HATE relationship with said cut. And it may be due to some hormonal chaos on the horizon, thanks to the upcoming mother nature present.<br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479372441209898418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 295px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6mjEc1fu_vDOc9xT_lntqcybb4OhSpb9YQUM6QNY4-X6-oqo3l5djvkjI5O4Lg1qJU-MkpYSsGlUg_XEvgQA7vKP4q5r3X1OqcFdtpolr9SL6go7MHEWle5z7NcEfIzYp3nPsZGTEiPb/s320/rhan1337l.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />Whatever the case may be, I have been as funky as the last episode of Glee and not wanting to write. Whatsoever.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479372763841025074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3fThxJIfGZbXFe3eH-AJ4qBetwfQvlBjpWCzw4JyP04oFs1r0EM09l4J-9AOMOFhyphenhyphenBSz25gR2y-aaygaTF76DMQNTtHvImhYL8_1EmdXOCeids9OR_iSkD2mBNPJEkm5WMhyphenhyphenQGESvOx-/s320/rhan1337l.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br /><br />I prefer to share funny, happy, fluffy things, so blogging "I pretty much hate everyone and everything and I want to go hide under the covers with Season 1 of The Office, the entire Taco Bell menu, and a pint of Ben & Jerrys Chunky Monkey ice cream" doesn't really sound appealing.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiriTZ8vyXCz1S4UYIdArr6hh_SWUFNZFxcczw32axqRwEBPgCZx1icIxEuLAxiogtMkWLTC8QNhzlJ8fL6V4xgOoPawhndfps6FA5Dd9nGpwYTNZ0waUc0butwhjbp7QtTeZa9HyUcjR2l/s1600/rhan1337l.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479373654456504098" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiriTZ8vyXCz1S4UYIdArr6hh_SWUFNZFxcczw32axqRwEBPgCZx1icIxEuLAxiogtMkWLTC8QNhzlJ8fL6V4xgOoPawhndfps6FA5Dd9nGpwYTNZ0waUc0butwhjbp7QtTeZa9HyUcjR2l/s200/rhan1337l.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNXdikLUKxZKXZGdXs4qc5gvfdTxEpRLrWAYFaK3k4h3YjMWqALxahkdphbV4Mx8yqBv0Y7Z1rKtP9jH7PAAolqNQuzsmzCOW3QnSa2l9Us-sXPvcKEO-HYPh9bD6izIfON5u658gQ5T8/s1600/untitled.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479373776383939202" style="WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNXdikLUKxZKXZGdXs4qc5gvfdTxEpRLrWAYFaK3k4h3YjMWqALxahkdphbV4Mx8yqBv0Y7Z1rKtP9jH7PAAolqNQuzsmzCOW3QnSa2l9Us-sXPvcKEO-HYPh9bD6izIfON5u658gQ5T8/s200/untitled.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KE6Vvfl4WaxuTz66I4e03jzSQwYT84hugDUoffR61GVdY6SjUivh8S2EKasA2fRs-0f6CuGgWJma_ByDGEzcQL2ZKjQp0P9-4omMy-_RqBG0hv7hYw_8hBfZgPqaYk7v89omfSHGkphK/s1600/fairtrade-chunky-monkey-2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479373668300519842" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KE6Vvfl4WaxuTz66I4e03jzSQwYT84hugDUoffR61GVdY6SjUivh8S2EKasA2fRs-0f6CuGgWJma_ByDGEzcQL2ZKjQp0P9-4omMy-_RqBG0hv7hYw_8hBfZgPqaYk7v89omfSHGkphK/s200/fairtrade-chunky-monkey-2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Alas, it's all I've got right now. I'm not very good at owning the funks. I'm always pushing myself to snap out of it, "faking it until I make it" (which totally works, thank mom!), and pretending like everything is always one hundred percent of the time SO! DAMN! FABULOUS!<br /><br />And when that inevitably fails, I beat myself up for not being perfect and end up sinking down even further.<br /><br />So, this time, I'm just going to own it a little bit. It's okay to be a little funky once in awhile. Mr. deMik will eventually come home from fishing, I can wash my hair and try again on the cut relationship, my period will eventually come and take away the backup of estrogen strangling me (or, rather, making me want to strangle others) and the sun will always come out again.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479375068501169282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1K3hYR4qEf2qgKWkBW8MVLuBLtB5dOMpM0X9VrxlV4p0JtMCN2EyQKr0hPihlMIjt5cbiL1tau9QpCOzYXcMB1mVtJb5b8KULzPDhiv4wfJXjyu-HovKPKMVgBwVrPZ1qRL9PqaM1Y8JV/s400/funny-animals1.jpg" border="0" />Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-59809734434035470302010-06-02T13:28:00.000-07:002010-06-02T13:30:28.412-07:00Feeling Overlooked?<div align="center">Tired of being invisible?<br /><br />Do you sit unnoticed on the sidelines while others are picked?<br /><br />Try the latest scarf fashion and you too will be the center of attention.<br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474228357302115346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjigim5gUdrpByfLNylcyC6-yD5oyUWkG0SLl9QkHHFsRYxHZJkNKEWJQqIYlgyxJj8Aj0dnsOnbc6ArYPVcoGa_7k_Xid70Mm0mcCFBSg8f98aSt_DYGgj_pybDaOwTLGMKttMwB4q9VGS/s400/Scarf.JPG" border="0" />Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-10951052726849734272010-05-27T12:48:00.000-07:002010-05-27T12:51:56.276-07:00Courage<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgCAx0lVwDpT6bHw_mTs-mqiuzet-yjNr5iGXKnhsVbOS54VsD6feNTyc5ECPX0JDoUamfeSXm2A7o9814e7w4Nm0SkTyxmqsUe84UziFPtTnwHm4nsvh6x80qlCM2xwjZ4aoSdAWej8Y/s1600/courage.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472698690764169762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 350px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 350px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgCAx0lVwDpT6bHw_mTs-mqiuzet-yjNr5iGXKnhsVbOS54VsD6feNTyc5ECPX0JDoUamfeSXm2A7o9814e7w4Nm0SkTyxmqsUe84UziFPtTnwHm4nsvh6x80qlCM2xwjZ4aoSdAWej8Y/s400/courage.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">The official dictionary definition:<br />Courage: cour·age [kur-ij, kuhr-]<br /></div><div align="center">–noun 1. the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">My definition:-</div><br /><div align="center">Courage is making the right choice, even when it breaks your heart.</div><br /><div align="center">-Courage is waking up every morning and making the choice to be the best you can be.</div><br /><div align="center">-Courage is taking the hard road, because it is the right thing to do.</div><br /><div align="center">-Courage is admitting when you're wrong.</div><br /><div align="center">-Courage is sacrificing yourself for the betterment of others.</div><br /><div align="center">-Courage is facing down your demons and laughing in their faces.</div><br /><div align="center">-Courage is coming back from rock bottom and thriving<br /></div><div align="center">.-Courage is taking those first steps, no matter how small, towards a better life.<br /></div><div align="center">-Courage is you.<br /></div><div align="center">-Courage is me.<br /><br />Take today to be courageous.<br /><br />Whether that is taking on a task that might seem a bit out of reach or just making it through another awful work meeting. </div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-78946561718456697022010-05-26T09:17:00.000-07:002010-05-26T09:45:41.258-07:00One of those days...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK08C2XUykzhgUn_I2W6CWN5WbHXKZV3GGn1-IGm3uyeIOFTTDV0HMqA0nunlwe4mdTl8lpJofOxdNilKulPjEawzOyxspSq-QKYIzhyogNXGnIcRwUUeJjFNvtuzyB9OfOh6jkAKjpVDI/s1600/IMG_0003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474231259661184258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK08C2XUykzhgUn_I2W6CWN5WbHXKZV3GGn1-IGm3uyeIOFTTDV0HMqA0nunlwe4mdTl8lpJofOxdNilKulPjEawzOyxspSq-QKYIzhyogNXGnIcRwUUeJjFNvtuzyB9OfOh6jkAKjpVDI/s400/IMG_0003.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-12447454832853333692010-05-22T09:11:00.000-07:002010-05-22T14:34:41.914-07:00Vampires have ruined my life...<div align="center"><div><div><div>Why, Stephanie Meyer, why?<br /><br />Why can’t I put Twilight on a shelf and let it sit there like a normal book?<br /><div><br /><div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419563796508834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwZC732zAWTDsW_2U0grLmhTb2B668OdE6PIqO2JJP75OpCS0UMCYJCOx30qSOCAVhny5tcqzIoAxEtWkZvkAPYjwXlZks7-eSb5GErXaSX7mobEdyP6Rzd6sRdC12j6kCnoA-_u5Y905G/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br />What subliminal messages have you slipped into the angst-filled narratives that compel me to re-read your books ad nauseum?<br /><br />I have nothing in common with teen vampires or werewolves, and I have a stack of books waist-high in my study, some of which I’ve been on the wait-list to get for months.<br /><br />I also have a husband and plenty of things I need to be doing. Laundry, exercising, cooking, cleaning, showering, figuring out how my dog got a black eye, etc. And yet, each spare minute finds me delving deeper into the Edward and Bella saga, despite the fact that I’ve read the entire series at least five times.<br /><br />The dialogue annoys me with its simplicity and unrealistic cleanliness. (These are teenagers, hon, and nobody knows more than they do about how to drop the f-bomb into everyday convo. They can make the word a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, alliteration, hell, probably even an acronym. Yet all your characters deliver, despite being tracked by bloodthirsty immortals, is Bella’s not-so-endearing, “Holy crow!”)<br /></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419573222084114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0GHBMUfPc8PUaHVtx3ie8nJlg_9PYNtIocrFsxMiv-S61wzBCt5q5FxVsmPp8a35tHxsJgnJ9AYLydvmNYpFHmUncz_06FbewboazI9GwDNa7ikst6Z6SRYDyL5qAFhyavxk4LZK4Dwd/s320/2.jpg" border="0" /><br />I am simply confounded by the degree of my obsession.<br /><br />Even the movies are addictive, though I look at Robert Pattinson and see only Cedric Diggory in dire need of a hairbrush. (JK baby, we’ll get to you in another post. You’ve taken literature as crack rock to a whole other level).<br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419580449140882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdVk9Kb5Uivk3L2h9lQtPOVvLzQHbBOzZR-8B92sdI9gAQ8EWQi15k-w3euWUKhqJg-6OF9AYBhIv0pepfqTB3_iAosMt6J11oXkdaITYco2lHsheDpnsYUSN_00H03mF94QlNN1bT_wj/s320/3.jpg" border="0" /><br />The script (and book) are pretty flimsy on developing the initial relationship between Edward and Bella, but hey, Shakespeare didn’t give Romeo and Juliet a whole lot of time to declare themselves for all eternity, either, and it doesn’t seem to have hurt his sales.<br /><br />The entire Twilight phenomenon is enough to drive a person insane.<br /><br />As I sit typing, the piano melody of Bella’s lullaby from the movie is stuck on repeat in my head.<br /><br />While better than, say, “Tiptoe through the Tulips,” “Copa Cabana,” or “Sexy Back,” it’s still driving me to distraction.<br /><br />Why, though?<br /><br />What is so special about this story?<br /><br /><br />What elements of the formula for successful literature has dear Stephanie used?<br /><br />Let’s examine:<br />Denial of self, denial of nature. Star-crossed lovers. A vulnerable woman (girl, really) and an invincible man (physically, at least) who is also possessed of an uncommon sensitivity and a sense of honor, duty, and humility that can only have come from an early 20th century upbringing. We’ve also got fantastic parlor tricks—mind reading, predicting the future, being able to manipulate the emotions in a room. And these are just the extras, in addition to everyone’s super-human speed, strength, agility, grace, beauty, hearing, and oh, let’s not forget, immortality.<br /><br />What’s not to like?<br /><br />She’s also included that all-time favorite device of the writer, the love triangle. Oh, and in this case, the underdog is actually a, well, dog. Both guys in the triangle have that other bestselling quality—the bad-guy persona. Everybody’s gorgeous and either wears designer duds from Paris (the Cullens) or runs around ripped and half-naked (Jacob and pack).<br /><br /><br />In the Cullen family, there’s a vampire for everybody.<br /><br />Carlisle represents culture, perseverance, self-denial, and inherent goodness.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419581298220082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 227px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4Ee54OjaPP_G9Qaigz8-_WZPbBArhFDBuu9qQM64ywBqlGyMJ9zFovFtplL7wjIOqV_-kpeRLZsQwwsm1t41EtHYODmBDitnLnf0zmXvIybiGmSL5OEPhCvOJEpo1dMxRoijJd3jNEl1/s320/4.jpg" border="0" /><br />Esme is largely glossed over, but she represents strong maternal urges and a huge heart, and in the movie version, reminds us she’s the chick with amnesia from Grey’s Anatomy.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419591317457922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmg2zKI6JplAT59biCduepyd2yNqajbC3PdkDCW1CS9ySPrW-LjgrlZwNe_UAVXtjlz8DtiNrjdCenDwdsQ00ei4zr4HAtxEfyRXMG7wfgSeXBhc7ReXLSqaSPnp5LiymhmBnetC7K1D8g/s320/5.jpg" border="0" /><br />Rosalie is the classic bitter beauty (though with good reason).<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419707501105890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFIemR0GT1YCTZVDlV34X16cayQV7J3F1oBY8d9q-WkNLpAkor2MKwUBSInVrKPawLaHkvY52UHOB7G7QIGXZ07QQBS-2KRGiuWD-ca1rf6KplkSqC_qlumSeE8Zp-caX-5qeDqFz4pLcv/s320/6.jpg" border="0" /><br />Emmett is the guy’s guy. I mean, the dude hunts grizzlies. You can’t get more Bear Grylls than that.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419710111337698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 230px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4UgLFBW2JcAeIXmomFgAbyC3WS-vteaHPBmvR7yo-hrvqJvx1jCxLkI1GmtYsVLTDSnn5_VCrYK_i8OpMYMdCXujWW4H9UKgSnOqJRaNm8dzj26brXTuRDleLTZvvS_SxA2FToPNPCvI/s320/7.jpg" border="0" /><br />Alice represents the quirky, and Jasper the reformed.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419723494887522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIX2a9dAVh3pAUfz_A0atLQVKiytsQZgzR7RXOsUmaZ-uMc3-oZuJPdMY71OOtyzCJ5XSW4Ni215QfLLQV5sJATRMFoPp8msGChGEDEM93u0XzAA-Q4h-pzuanbhxCuN_DZ1fyt6KSmm6/s320/8.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419732486156770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 237px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtJUi5jCnfa7vo0Zsqe2X-D5Ud5h_P65KwQZowAO6eKeWJ8-tyQpNVKvy_3cE3ZgBK0SsEROMlZ1RCkQhMmSMYT03BgvnGcgolwIOLlTMTMwTqNbBwcjz__c8L-Uij7rOVTnuXObRlvBk/s320/9.jpg" border="0" /><br />As for bad guys, they’re present in spades. The Volturi eat Chuck Norris for breakfast and Jack Bauer for dessert. ‘Nuff said.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419738653905922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2uRwU8z7pZufdLP5XlhXpYVwQyXsfN15dYMh7jt22QCtR-oRneL-_PMg0E5Nsx8Ka8gMvZQG4nzbWKRB6FMDWwotoOWQUmGn6WEChpZLXE1RKIBdDkRU5l_iJovlI9tR78Wxtr2_gOto/s320/10.jpg" border="0" /><br />There’s something for the spiritual person, too. All this talk of souls and whether the vampires will go to hell kind of smacks you in the face with it, but there are some subtler things as well. Once bitten, it takes three days to make the transformation from human into vampire and then to rise again.<br /><br />Three days.<br /><br />Anyone?<br /><br />Bueller?<br /><br />Bueller?<br /><br />Alice’s abilities put her in the role of prophet, and the very nature of the vampires and the wolves inspires thought about the ability of a character to be both fully human and fully other at the same time. Which leads to thoughts on the nature of Christ.<br /><br /><div align="center">Stephanie was a Utahn... BYU... The whole nine yards..<br /><br />Then we have the constant narrative of self-sacrifice threading through the stories, in an especially powerful way for Bella. Her willingness to quite literally shed her own blood to help those she loves …<br /><br />Well, hell. I meant for this to be funny, not to turn into a book report. Maybe Twilight actually does have some literary merit. (You can take the English lover out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the English lover. Sorry!) </div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419813109935138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 294px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbtk4bXyEkiXWKR-HVkWHzGEuBA-YHN_hFlBmKlTYjcmD5hTuVOBX_ro4uAZP5LNX3ukeuY4sy7BD63fabUZDDcgZTnkF3y3EkHxPVdn1D2_2ndAgZcdXVniBTgl-GmqBgBcdJzEQC_RC/s320/11.jpg" border="0" /><br />Another major theme is abstinence.<br /><br />At first, it’s from a purely practical perspective, as intimacy with Edward might very well kill Bella, but in the later books, Meyer makes a point of having the characters want to wait for marriage.<br /><br />Going back to the formula, all this pent-up sexual desire, frustration, romantic angst, and the sheer logistical impossibility of an Edward/Bella pairing versus the relative ease of a Jacob/Bella scenario practically guarantee that readers will want the impossible to happen.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473419818207270130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfzhm6wJCDFIPVuvRPrSkr12EF9cwEoyhqGp6F8TwyoPcJGdSFyrd8NkDBNJ-1ck8n8OD7dEFNmNwjyDED1aHzpyXTVXxfySSURgd8b22h5mIaBLrnN9V-J4l81zXw2BSbUyfn5IichzYn/s320/12.jpg" border="0" /><br />Perhaps Stephanie Meyer just thought of a good story and told it, and I’m blowing it way out of proportion. But I’d be disappointed to think so.<br /><br />Also, don’t get me wrong. I love these books, and I’m not faulting her for being formulaic. I’m just jealous that I haven’t written a bestselling quartet of vampire books.<br /><br />And more than slightly ticked off that her appallingly appealing vampires have rendered me incapable of putting her books down long enough to write the bestseller that could possibly be lurking somewhere in my own brain. </div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-80759344722979543342010-05-21T12:02:00.000-07:002010-05-21T12:25:37.792-07:00How to not be a beeyotch...<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">And make friends.....</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=mean-girls.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 288px; HEIGHT: 268px" height="312" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/mean-girls.jpg" width="314" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Today's topic involves something that's a little tricky for me.<br /><br />See, I'm not perfect (despite reports to the contrary).<br /><br />I have lots and lots of issues, one of which is my inability to make girl friends.... </div><br /><br /><div align="center">I often push away people, and yes, I can sometimes seem like a jack hole.<br /><br />However, I am never intentionally a she-devil, although some girls I knew in high school would probably beg to differ.<br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=1.jpg" target="_blank"><img height="179" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/1.jpg" width="258" border="0" /></a><br />This, I believe, is what distinguishes those who are just clueless (like I often am) from those who are just plain spiteful: intention..<br /><br />I had a very unfriendly education in biterhood during my time as an high school sweetheart. I had an ungodly large chest at a very young age, started dating early, had a relationship that when sour and (even though we did <strong>no</strong>thing) ended up being rumored as the girl with a bad reputation.<br /><br />Those ingredients combined made for a rather large helping of haterade coming at me from ALL directions.<br /><br />I was lucky enough to make a really close girl friend in <strong>Charlotte O'Hare</strong> when I was a junior in high school, and if it hadn't been for her, I think I might have lost it completely.<br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=2.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />She was an amazing girl. We met in drama class. She was an exchange student from Germany with the most amazing accent! :) </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">We would have sleepovers, lunch together and support each other in all of our drama-filled high school lives! She was with me through break-ups, make-ups and "supposed" hook-ups that all the girls gossiped about me.<br /><br />Years later, we met up in Costa Rica for a week to celebrate my birthday and her new marriage. It was amazing and, honestly, a time in my life that I felt a bliss that is unimaginable. This was the last time I ever saw Charlotte but I'm glad that I was able to have shared so many wonderful memories with her.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><em>I love you Charlotte O'Hare and I will always keep you in my heart.</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em><br /></em></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>Back to school.....</strong></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">As it was, I knew that girls talked about me. I'm sure I said some stupid things, did some stupid things, pissed off the wrong people. but only the girls who really liked to be mean had to make my life miserable..so those are the credentials that qualify me to write this list on how to not be a beeyotch and make friends...!<br /><br />Anyhoo, here's my starter's guide to not being a beeyotch and making friends in the land of girl. These bullet points are in no particular order:<br /><br /><em>Save the drama for your mama.<br /></em><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=3.jpg" target="_blank"><img height="164" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/3.jpg" width="216" border="0" /></a><br />gossip is a part of every woman-to-woman relationship. and don't try to lie (to me or yourself) and say that you never gossip--you know you do. and it's ok; one of the perks of having best girlfriends is that you can tell them everything without fear of judgment. at the same time, though, don't get sucked into being your social circle's news syndicate. trust me, that blabbermouthing will come back to bite you in a hot minute.<br /><br /><br /><em>Keep the competition friendly.</em><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=4.jpg" target="_blank"><img height="169" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/4.jpg" width="296" border="0" /></a><br />Life is not about seeing who can wear the most fabulous shoes or spend the most money on their car. Although sometimes it's fun to talk about those things, the purpose of existence is not to make other women feel bad because they use wal-mart makeup. In fact, wal-mart carries some fabulous makeup at a very good price (Hello, lashextend!).<br /><br /><em>Don't cheat.<br /></em><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=5.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 268px; HEIGHT: 194px" height="287" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/5.jpg" width="308" border="0" /></a><br />Whether it be on your husband, your significant other or even with your friends significant other. Don't do it. It's not cute, it's cruel. and greedy.<br /><br /><em>Be loyal</em>.<br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=6.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/6.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div align="center">One of my biggest complaints about the mean girls that I've known in the past is that they carry a long, sharp knife in their purses and are just waiting for you to turn around so they can slide it right between your shoulder blades. No matter if they were just at your house the weekend before asking you for your enchilada recipe, they'll just as soon turn on you. That doesn't sit so well with me. <strong>Stand up for your friends</strong>, even if it makes you look like a jerk. It's good karma.<br /><br /><em>Be honest</em>.<br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=7.jpg" target="_blank"><img height="348" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/7.jpg" width="304" border="0" /></a><br />This one is difficult, because honesty is kind of a fluid and subjective entity. Of course you never want to shout out things without putting them through your mouth sphincter, and the thoughts in my head should NOT just come out without warning. What I mean is don't deliberately lie with a malicious intent, like when you want to look like the shiz in front of other people. it's not cool.<br /><br /><br /><em>Be selfless.<br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=8.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/8.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></em>I have had a couple "friends" who didn't understand this principle. Good friends put others before themselves. I'm not saying you should sacrifice the happiness of your family or husband in order to be nice to your friends, but it's my firm belief that if your comfort is the only thing standing between you and serving someone you love, the choice is easy. If you wear a thong, this should be a cinch to understand.<br /><br /><em>Be humble.</em><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=9.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 334px; HEIGHT: 220px" height="313" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/9.jpg" width="334" border="0" /></a><br />This is by far the hardest point for me. I have a healthy sense of pride, and I am constantly trying to be more teachable. I know that my pride has started many an argument between my friends and me, so I'm working on it. When it comes to friends, put your ego away--you have nothing to prove. And if you do feel like you have something to prove, chances are your friend is a beeyotch.<br /><br /></div><br /><div align="center">So what say you? Am I being too harsh? Did I miss something? I am open to disagreement--in fact, I relish it; so regardless of your opinion, leave a comment.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><br />These "rules" may not be perfect and they might, too some of you, be off base. I have just really started getting the hang of friendships and to be completely honest with ya'll....<br />I have more friends now than I have ever had...<br />Sad but true.<br /><br />I really want to take the time to point out those who've had a huge impact on my "friend count" in the recent years.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">My mother has always been an amazing friend to me and I feel so blessed to have her. I know that without her holding my hand each and every day. I would not be standing here.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=10.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 178px; HEIGHT: 127px" height="157" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/10.jpg" width="238" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div align="center">I really need to take time out to truly thank my best friend, <strong>Shellaine Biersdorf. </strong>For not only being an AMAZING woman but really helping me to learn these rules. I have honestly never had someone like her in my life and don't know how I made it this far without her.<br /><a href="http://s605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/?action=view&current=11.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 264px; HEIGHT: 184px" height="273" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i605.photobucket.com/albums/tt137/MissKaseyB/11.jpg" width="420" border="0" /></a><br />Obviously I am blessed to have my amazing husband to always support and love me throughout whatever life throws at me. I thank the stars that somehow I got so crazy blessed to have Shellaine enter back into my life as well.<br /><br />We met when I was in elementary and lived just down the road from one another.<br /><br />She and I had the usually "friendship" which was very juvenile and I'm sure both of us did not follow these rules. I can actually pick out instances to which (at that age) we bluntly disregarded and rebelled against the rules.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">But through the magic of the all mighty facebook we met up again 4 years after seeing each other. She has been there with me through the hard times when I just wanna cry and she was a HUGE support to me at my wedding, there from the very beginning to the car ride home. She threw me a bachlorette party and picked me up when I was falling over drunk (the first and ONLY time I've been drunk)</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Thank you for being the best friend I could ever ask for Shelly-Lane.<br /><br />Thank you for being my rock Mom-a-mia.<br /><br />Thank you for the wonderful memories you've left in my heart Car-lotta!</div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-86326537679256865802010-05-20T09:56:00.000-07:002010-05-20T09:56:47.477-07:00Pardon me, but your mustache is showing<div align="center"><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">it's awkward thursday, y'all!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /></div><div align="center">today's topic: grooming rituals. you know you have them, and i wanna hear about it.<br /></div><div align="center">i was getting manicure a couple weeks ago when i heard a story that made me wish i was a man.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473391440518859042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiw6aJnSU2Lgo2H3tnuqUhbZxfFwNKEy3RQX92st1MLNGgRfFm9yLqvwK4_vO0xUICvfRniTjPikBUv34IClwqIOKBn_zSmYs-GULEakGdKv_lcVrd3X8FN2LAXWjhhNNBpM9GCAjVlkgc/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br />the manicurist came and got me from the sitting area a few minutes late, directed me back to her station, and sat down across from me as she said, "i'm so sorry i'm late. my last client passed out during her brazilian.</div><div align="center"><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">"ummm, WHAT?!</span><br /></div><div align="center">one leg to heaven, lady parts splayed like she was on the delivery table, first rip, and boom--knocked out. she came to quickly, but still...how embarassing.<br /></div><div align="center">i think i would have ran out there with my one little waxed bit and never shown my face there again.<br /></div><div align="center">but that girl called her friend on her cell, asked her to bring some candy to rev up her blood sugar, and finished the wax like it was no big deal.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473391654984336482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGGyG9nH2jyUrt26tM3v2tGY4ZbpBJ2hrVRezYqOlBN3wHc8Rg6BUQxkhQjFSuytNT4olnaRM2pChNQgj_6GlouYpzkAOfUxoOg2jOqeQHBmMuBBaXpYLqm0WRLYzrnmLyMVgiFkWiTJ3/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">talk about a commitment to hairlessness.</div><br /><div align="center">i try to go to the gym a few times a week, and i usually look like a homeless person when i do.</div><br /><div align="center">i don't spend a lot of money on workout clothes (because i'm just gonna sweat in them), and my beauty routine before the gym generally consists of brushing my teeth and making sure i'm wearing socks. </div><br /><div align="center">but i live in america where the gyms are a meat market, so a lot of the girls that work out at my gym look like they're competing in a beauty pageant. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473392151216886098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 183px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQz1cImhly0R3x-K5ro82pY0L8tu9SxFn8zxz0v7LFBJCPiPQ0K9DjZf_KbgwC7ZRM0E-5Y2tZZlIshuzgW9a-IiY9ze0B_pGwJ-qyJIHUP58PJMRD9xlbucdz_HP1Lxj0GtYtyqjUzuei/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">the men, on the other hand, seem to be the same everywhere: </div><br /><div align="center">50% meatheads with large veins and likely very small testicles,<br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473392353912750514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_b8C3GSHORt1bAS1ek8WOtGSZBBYIhADPSjMu_BnGpHBmANh9pq8503AHNaDLje_qmZyahJNP5XfbdWht1WlQ0QoCKHP_CE3ffmA5enshf4uotbdryxl-UniZQ4btnc0xmkSmrbMwdwJ/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">25% old men wearing headbands and short shorts, </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473392616616563554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzcFrUnJZf4EioI5G5Vj3pPzy_1uyq48vXWWG0fhZY02OrfdG8K4wWqn8tucdEvw4mFw8RTiPzqVxjJne_3T2UWI0W-whfCEpFIBZT-HFDsJAAathPmOiLngzeFzteElg3CcvvVCHVsM_/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">and 25% clueless people walking around staring at pageant-queen boobies.</div><br /><div align="center">i don't hold it against the women who go to the gym in ru paul makeup; that's their choice. i just think it's kind of laughable when women act like they wake up like that in the morning. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473392951223556642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7mFx0_xZXQQL1NPPOwmN6SagKr_9U6psvAzoGtelGb6bZUwrbNdletFk0uA7lpOy0ZRJcKPpIvsJq1GnG_bKGGq2QvRW_hYUnoezODdSiMrMrtUsbcIOnI_NgbwlN5t4XLqVeREnNSNN/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">and <strong>even more</strong> laughable that men believe them. </div><br /><div align="center">then they act all surprised when they see them for the first time without makeup and they look like swamp thing.</div><br /><div align="center">personally, i think almost all women look better with just a little makeup. i understand the urge to cover flaws like undereye circles or blemishes, and to spruce up what you've got , but woman: you don't need to spend an hour in front of the mirror before you do the drivethru thing. </div><br /><div align="center">ronald mcdonald doesn't care if you have bushy eyebrows.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473393214851562834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 228px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2UrIk2lIIJ5qP7jnd8PtRkEcNypbZ2_YjRjhacRrdrl4fUA06nyzVFk59USHqoe37kHnCMKYHdvoGEX7zdvmWWfIW-GvxzD9LJTPfaazhWA8CzuGBeQWWy-SYl-Qz9lUmglqztoUC52X/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">up until the wedding date, i had never waxed anything. NO-thing. i gave in for the big day and got my legs done. it wasn't terrible. but going all brazillian... not happening and i have no plans to do so. </div><br /><div align="center">razors are my friends, and we are on good terms. call me old-fashioned, but the only person i want seeing my netherbits are my husband and my doctor. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">here's my typical beauty regimen:</span></em> </div><div align="center"><br />i wash, crub, and moisturize my face religiously in the evening. i am very scared of acne, and i have oily skin, so if i don't scrub that stuff, my skin starts overproducing oil like crazy. </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473393670863247154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yiU5ynsV-2R5oqEk2y6YGhUXf2BDkRWpn5wPVq9c5ubbsqYp1EL9PRb31tGed7U4YTDwtRjKqiSjpeEvL-XKNt_F4fKWwgzv6dzp4pKzf6Hn0IBG-fMRM1FTkK8T_kHNUmmc39VAB9Us/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br />i brush my teeth with an electric toothbrush. i floss when i remember. <div align="center"><br />i wash my hair twice a week. if i do it more often, my hair looks like a bale of hay. </div><div align="center"><br />i shave twice a week (in the summer. in the winter, it's a craps shoot). my hair is naturally blonde, so i'm lucky in that sense. </div><div align="center"><br />i tweeze my eyebrows once in a while. eyebrows are my thing. i am obsessed with always having perfectly groomed eyebrows!</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473394087572812242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VSFiY-owLcFSswBYmzPT99UVRT_h4173fhuQWo1xb-df0i49AD85I58ORPN6LhlMxZf-OPxqOWVyvf77sbm5GJXiMnTwj1xWB8TpRZ51KgfoihtjTUWz0mJXu-jn6WoknLazGMBdJruz/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center">After cleansing and such, i fix my hair. it really depends on my mood whether or not i go the distance here. i've gotten into this phase of just showering and scrunchin the crap out of it with gel which is kinda a messy crimply curly look.</div><div align="center"><br />then comes makeup: concealer under the eyes, bronzer (im well aware that one day i will look back and say "was that much bronzer really necessary?" but i'm ok with that), </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473394914370669634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 205px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DCo4Dw8v1KoHcHX4PGi0XVus4s6VF1YgRoJc26gd4Q02SLIGgeztE13pj385ZW6xSAlxljvdQ0tKBW3UZPHOaAtUAvenX-HsbhbpYmfZe0L0U-w2i4R__hoRGarhKCHKDS7ScoOM9PaR/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">i really like to take time on my eyes and do a cool shadow to make them POP, than mascara. </div><br /><div align="center">i usually put on my trusty old red lipstick as i'm leaving the house. sometimes i forget.</div><div align="center"><br />i love body spray, scented lotion, perfume. i have like 6000 half-empty bottles strewn all over </div><br /><div align="center">my dresser. my favorite right now? dior's j'ador. my husband picked it out all by himself (well maybe had a few hints) for one of my christmas presents, and it smells delicious. </div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473394916108901714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 312px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUkPZJj2yHi4yU8JtsJRvQEFrafipw8VELEgvXCGZA4zHA7bCJbo9idrMveuYvEqQmHTyrezxrO80zWeCOkq_54Itanb0uiIqI5BlT6UX2pY0KQmJKuRkcktfWxySbb4QzVyY4M7enXKp/s320/2.jpg" border="0" /><br />i think that's a pretty good representation of how i get to look like all of this everyday. </div><br /><div align="center">bwahahaha. </div><br /><div align="center">but seriously. i'm sick of women being expected to look like they were airbrushed before they left their house for the grocery store. and don't get me wrong, i'm not saying that you should let yourself go and stop caring about what you look like. </div><br /><div align="center">i know that outward appearance has a good deal to do with how you feel on the inside. i am a <strong>huge </strong>believer in that. i know that i feel sooo much better when i look pretty. :)</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">but wouldn't it be nice if the world liked the way you looked before you spent an hour getting ready in the morning? </div><br /><div align="center">how awesome would life be if people thought saggy boobs were as beautiful as fake ones that face the ceiling? </div><br /><div align="center">and if unibrows were cool, and botox was a cure for cancer instead of frown lines? </div><div align="center"><br />anyway, that's how the world would work if i were master of the universe. unfortunately, i am not master of the universe (yet), and women are probably going to be judged based on appearance for a long, long, long time. </div><br /><div align="center">but let's be honest; your mustache didn't wax itself off. what's your beauty routine like? </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473394919572125074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BzbE0Lcnda3absIagkyg3AyqMfZj7YUezbLgsMcEujm9wrdYTILVP15YbqJDuiP_Rm7dw2b_N3vLd_3howfwh4MqPnj0xVij4MuNL0YgTbEeaZ9rB06QXKzOfIlNiqwO5Hm4ZB_Jsmo7/s320/3.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center">how long does it take you to get ready in the morning? </div><br /><div align="center">how long do you have to know someone before you let them see you without makeup?<br /></div><br /><div align="center">let's hear it, ladies (and gentlemen, if you're brave enough--i know there are several of you reading/stalking). gimme what you got, and it better be good. for example, if you're the girl who passed out during your brazilian, i expect you to 'fess up. </div><div align="center"><br />p.s. in case you hadn't noticed, i officially passed 5 followers yesterday. cue me jumping up and down and clapping like i just won the lottery. </div></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-63706206303562842822010-05-19T08:42:00.000-07:002010-05-19T08:50:44.674-07:00Ear Moth<div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><br /><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div align="center">Did not sleep well last night. I know, I know . . . like you freakin care. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472702350744689458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 232px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97BAcjaxKe-OYDP4WspJDxGwbddGiHJJzNsWM7uf_SAL7KdoSqBQ9m6dm5I3xF-lWXCvwlQVizDQzdJlSFdvs0TCvsPWgKL4qLj7tNhP7e8osAqaSEVDxnEEioqfoNzeysqunKwMecmau/s320/courage.jpg" border="0" /><br />Sometimes I get what my doctor calls an <em>“ear flutter,”</em> which is this weird little rhythmic thumping sense of movement deep within my ear.<br /><br />My doctor says it’s no big deal, tied to my allergies, and to think of the flutters it as “ear hiccups.”<br /><br />My doctor uses the phrase “no big deal” entirely too much, I think.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472702896474116098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbp4tmA-re3ZxIHmSZg_iQ8c1Nhx1uXhRHP3QmEO9WfwGrtwdtq9pcIgn_jNfvmsxL22Fe3vGvxObO8VTy5OaAVN5-AZAzdGWuwgzefYOdbXakh1K0RMfrrGJyeGXTdt6H0MAILi7loP7x/s320/courage.jpg" border="0" /><br />Ear flutters do not feel like hiccups.<br /><br />Flutters feel like an enormous fuzzy moth is rearranging furniture and making grilled cheese sandwiches . . . in your ear.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472704251898505458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1MAVpyPqCQq2c_O7Sz-GVUQCZXvtET-5l2uBR3T2isCgNasyn3LD6VFqUHKtJbTfKJDt9ZszceMurtTysYOlzqaAV0RPAcWVpwgMplHejX3ptWa0TgrBnaxNj5zvPAUm509wDTWrGuv63/s320/courage.jpg" border="0" /><br />My personal ear moth is usually drunk, I think, because he bumps into everything as he makes himself a late-night snack.<br /><br />Listening to a giant tipsy moth make cheese sandwiches in your ear is not conducive to sleeping. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472706399094409234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHatUu6wQ5W2MSdE0ahntWW9Y_NwqDXJHPjztPlXajoq8uxnPeSDTiiNWtxctIMBg68QmUS8AXRTtYqWa32UrHCfnt8e7jAW3_H3jgvFv59eD-O62mCQvEZ_nN-WBzaHgPDJG593pcr7pt/s320/courage.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div><br />So I stay awake and worry.<br /><br /></div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472706685687109618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8AJ8zhYEpwql1UQXncC3lbPXD9sQE-4n_Q5NboSqDR5-0NcmN833xyWR_QZlBwY2qWfH73avvP5wUhu171s0qNJLcEnCnA45HnTfIpOk6FCVsBx5kICI21gSbXaYYe2xFgkdGKTr6LNsY/s320/courage.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>Worry comes naturally to me. </div><br /><br /><div>And mostly, on nights like this, I worry that the giant moth will kick a hole right through my ear and into my brain. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472707358399612546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihR28zCTFCXwE4MQCAR72g0Vm-ljS2XQxtzW75IKV4Xz2SZP8FQjWeBz7RynPMszfsLEHYvHPkIN6Dbp3nIE1ruwuzlXls656LJlc3Jfm2y1d6TAIysFB7-J56xN_8My9ZULL1nBUM-dU/s320/courage.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><div>A moth-drilled hole into my brain would be bad, I think, although I am sure my doctor would probably look into that hole, wave to the moron moth, and say that it is “no big deal.” </div><br /><br /><div>Imagine me in bed, sitting up, but with upper body thrown as far forward as I can stretch.</div><br /><br /><div>Head face-down into the blankets between my knees. </div><br /><br /><div>In this position, the ear moth is silenced. </div><br /><div><br />This position is not conducive to sleeping. </div><br /><div><br />Stupid ear moth. </div><br /><br /><div>I go to bed at nine - I know I'm old!</div><br /><br /><div>After about an hour I assume the "I can't sleep, HELP ME!" position<br /><br />All the while, my personal ear moth is dragging the settee closer to the window and slamming bedroom bureau drawers. Tripping over the coffee table on his way to the fridge. And now he’s issuing lunch orders.<br /></div><br /><div><br />I’m sure my doctor would agree that it is “no big deal” that I am now able to converse with the moth in my head.<br /><br />A cheese sandwich does sound tasty.</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472707774077786850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdM8Ems1xYfd4sHBnvnz7hX3pwD-OEk04B80CxBRpNgU9qYeAQxIcOONuWnkrDD9Y0SzJVUUV2VLBNcepVMKb4g5UxvoxpDOtDOrcb63bUUzeNzs0qT-IUNJk6d7UaEzuwsJSQW5g7dd1G/s320/courage.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-37732798206578264372010-05-18T08:59:00.000-07:002010-05-18T10:56:24.923-07:00Passion Has Red Lips!<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrSpmO2arOPQhDL4HSbrKpWLeuo8AdLkQcwkTImg_Gv6q-nfDgwHnW92D-BnW0UhNprTcCbQwC_EyNFKy43g9SRrfHEa8MJJAzL_yadx6Y3XI86LkOGkgt-KPN6kqDwwrdBAeMzLlX1eE/s1600/me1.JPG"></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">"Beauty, to me, is about being comfortable in your own skin. That, or a kick-ass red lipstick."</span></div><br /><br /><p align="center"><br />So I have a secret....<br />Know what it is.....?<br /></p><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I Freakin <del>Love</del> <del>Adore</del> WORSHIP <span style="color:#990000;">Red</span> Lipstick!</span></div><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=lipstick.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 152px; HEIGHT: 139px" height="266" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/lipstick.jpg" width="152" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br /><p align="center"><br /><br />I don't quite know what it is about red lipstick that I love most but I really felt the need to write a blog dedicated to my one true love... the glory that is... <span style="color:#990000;"><strong>BIG RED! </strong></span><span style="color:#990000;"><span style="color:#000000;">Word on the street is that red lipstick is staging a comback. Well my friends, according to yours truly, red lipstick has never really left!<br /><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=red-lipstick1.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/red-lipstick1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I had my first encouter with the incredible stuff when I bought an issue of Spin Magazine WAY back in 2001! It seemed to jump out of my hands and magically turn to a picture of Gwen Stefani, bindi on her forhead, all platnium blonde hair and red lipstick. <strong>Goddess! </strong>Since this time it has never left my lips. While the platnium blonde hair doesn't seem to suit me to a tee, I still follow in the diva-like footsteps of my eternal love- Marilyn Monroe wherever I go! :)</span></span></p><br /><br /><p align="center"><span style="color:#000000;">It's true; I love red lipstick. And though on occasion I'll dabble in pinks and mochas, I always come back to my trusty, old Fire Engine Red. You see, pink may be young and frivolous, and mocha grown up and mysterious, but red, red is bold and unapolagetic, daring and feiry, energetic and free.</span><span style="color:#990000;"><br /><br /></span>Red lipstick is like magic. I love how it can instantly transform the most basic ensemble. For example: Please turn your attention to the Prada Spring 2010 show... Oh-la-la. Red lepstick even made pigtails-- <em>pigtails</em> -- look impossibly chic! Only this magical substance could pull off such a feat!<a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=prada.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 315px; HEIGHT: 206px" height="351" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/prada.jpg" width="388" border="0" /></a><br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center"><br />There’s no doubt that red lipstick will give you confidence.. the first time I wore it, at the tender age of thirteen, I was getting all sorts of comments and looks. Some not as welcomed as others but regardless. I just felt completly powerful. You have to have a sense of power when you slip on that red wonder. You have to hold your head just a little bit higher, walk a little taller and know that <strong>you. are. woman.</strong><br /><br />It is a known truth that women wore red lipstick to draw attention as early as in ancient times. It has been said that Ancient Egyptians painted their lips red and the geishas paint their faces white and their lips red. It seems that red lips are a universal symbol of beauty. With this knowledge I encourage every woman to experience the force of this magic color. I do need to add, though, you have to be on your guard, the situation will certainly get out of control.<br /><br /><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=Passion-has-Red-Lips-Posters-741258.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/Passion-has-Red-Lips-Posters-741258.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Now I know that many of you may think that red lipstick is "<em>not for me"</em>. I know it's a transition, kids, but one that is worth making. Gwen is a red lipstick crackerjack and Mariyln just a sexy bombshell who could pull of any color of the rainbow. It just suits her. Unfair but true. I know Gwen and Marilyn are seductive, sexy ladies and you may be thinking that it is just for the femme fatal type... I realize that red lips deliver an aggressive message, It depends, though. Did gentle Audrey Hepburn look like posing any threat to others? She did use red lipstick! The trick is to find the right shade. If you’re blonde, go for a blue-ish red. If you’re a brunette, you want to think along more orange/coral lines.<br /><br />If you are unsure as to where to start let me point you in the right direction.. My top Brands for Red lipstick are…. Drum roll please!<br />1.<a href="http://www.narscosmetics.com/acb/stores/1/Lipstick-C10_category_1.aspx"> <span style="color:#000000;">NARS </span></a><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=untitled-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 120px; HEIGHT: 110px" height="188" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/untitled-1.jpg" width="135" border="0" /></a><br />His reds are sooo red. There is a red for every occasion, every skin tone, and every preference. My favorite is Manhunt, a sheer poppy red. Gorgeous for an evening out on the town or the office. Or try Scarlet Empress, a semi matte blue red. Makes your teeth their whitest! Also other good reds by NARS are Red Lizard, a semi matte true red (great for blondes) and Fire Down Below, which is universally flattering. Plus you gotta love those names.<br />2. <a href="http://www.sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P8925&shouldPaginate=true&categoryId=3268"><span style="color:#000000;">Delux Beauty</span> </a><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=untitled-2.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/untitled-2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Their reds are right on target. And the creamy texture combined with rich pigment makes them hard to beat. Add to that the boy’s names attached to the colors, and you have a red for every occastion. I love, Clovis, when I’m feeling sultry, Nigel when I’m feeling classy and Vinnie when I’m just feeling it.<br />3. <a href="http://host154.ebm.bestsoftwarehost.com/iwwidb.pvx?;multi_item_submit"><span style="color:#000000;">Lola Cosmetics</span></a><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=untitled-3.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 102px; HEIGHT: 114px" height="164" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/untitled-3.jpg" width="156" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#000000;">That</span> cosmetic Guru of the ‘80’s Victoria Jackson has a gorgeous makeup line. Her red lipsticks are perfect. And, she has more than I could ever use in a lifetime. But that hasn’t stopped me from stocking up. The colors are true and rich. The ones I can’t live without: Ruby, a red flame, true red. Brick House,(ahem, that’s ALL me!) Red with a hint of brown. For the shoe lover in me, Stiletto. The ideal vampy purple red. And for the lover in me, Bitten, a deep wine red.<br />4. <a href="http://www.benefitcosmetics.com/gp/product/B000GJSE76/sr=1-16/qid=1164813290/ref=sr_1_16/104-3705686-8403917?ie=UTF8&n=164992011&bcBrand=core"><span style="color:#000000;">BeneFit</span></a><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=untitled-4.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 96px; HEIGHT: 110px" height="141" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/untitled-4.jpg" width="136" border="0" /></a><br />Can’t forget my favorite red that they discontinued. Ankelstrap. I still have the tube, even though those genius (<em>not</em>) Ford girls ditched the color. Now, I have to opt for First Class, a sheer true blue red. Beautiful with clean face makeup. You will truly look and feel first class.<br />5.<span style="color:#333333;"> </span><a href="http://www.gloss.com/product/index.jsp?productId=1131060"><span style="color:#333333;">CHANEL</span></a><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=untitled-5.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 75px; HEIGHT: 78px" height="168" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/untitled-5.jpg" width="94" border="0" /></a><br />Last, but certainly not least, Chanel. I must have a couple dozen of their reds. The quality of these lipsticks make them worth the splurge. The reds last, and don’t fade. I’m still partial to Vamp. How old is that? Remember when that dark brown/red that almost looked black hit the runways? It’s still inspiring color today. While I'm not a black lips person, one shade of this bad boy leaves you feeling like a covermodel<br /><br />Good luck with all of your beauty endevors! Try it out and send me a picture or a note of how the change went! :)<br /><br />Yours truly in red...<br /></p><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=untitled-6.jpg" target="_blank"></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472670249161133218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 357px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksNWdrnBmp240kRzngu1CVuFk-S8-xrpk_7Ce2NDnPAoiLDNSO4_ejva66ZZM8ri42NgrAhtexiT_-74C4lm-niOyYELlTIxp6QXWBzXmeYpZJbjKyHrQ17j96pyUBc7YMWQsC9bQrSJf/s400/me1.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="http://s33.photobucket.com/albums/d75/toobratti/?action=view&current=signature.jpg" target="_blank"></a></p></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-6894926268776922142010-05-17T13:03:00.000-07:002010-05-17T13:49:48.319-07:00New Addition...<div align="center">You all gasped!</div><div align="center"><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><br /><div>I just know it. I'm kinda shocked too.<br /><br />About two weeks ago, right before mothers day I decided it was time for a new addition to the family.... After much begging from my husband we made it happen!<br /><br />We got a baby.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342472659517394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5sY7uLmQzEtOO1EMa5ZbAamIYWRwptm1sSK4-FAvkc0eI08uA_3qJrYNy2tG4Zx96tRH4VHHQ1a4OjYDS_MlECp_htF9kTX6UKJf9rfV4Qfl6J5ijBmdrbnqP3OqMMVjpFt7homy_epQ/s320/1.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>* collective gasps and screams of horror abound*</div><br /><div><strong>OH <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">LORDY</span>!</strong>..... just hold your breath for a second while I explain. </div><br /><br /><div><em>SO </em>ever since Hubs & I met he has been wild about his need for the hunting season. Seriously peeps, anything he can kill, he will! </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342482848813570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vwYwhOYC0tXcqVKxRxc2VwWD6_QwR4MOh4gsvYo1gcvrH3tATzB6V74IWzO5K2Dnzx-BK9PFkKzwvMK-Vz6Q5qAdedSs2vWa6ucuM72OCQD76pk-1Bm358y4Jgh341EsrySezljpGAXf/s320/2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>That sounds bad... but with the exception of yours truly (<em>and all of man kind) , </em>He is just a little too trigger happy.</div><br /><br /><div>Ducks, Pheasants, Elk, Deer... any cute animal that you wanna take home!! </div><br /><br /><div>So last year when the hubs and I were making this whole eight year relationship thing....<em>official</em>. He let me know that a child was in the future. A child of the black, furry, shedding all over sort. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342485103688898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlqu1tK5Ue4xsCBqqQnDO7rMtbLaoKx7wk_yCoYgeGwBS8RwmTSp9Yy11SA1ZKZpYtEdMQv-lMd96IhDH3NceUPTLbEyO4dDUN1eFHFMYRRGfpXNYkjvkhRPXxIRafdfKkXjJB-dQI-f-/s320/3.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Yes peeps, I'm talking about a lab.</span> </span></div><br /><br /><br /><div>I wanted to punch him in the throat for the mere thought of a shedding puppy running around my brand new gorgeous house. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">WTH</span>!!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342491351332050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC2DHhsUrER-xIJF9nlJmI2p4fEnX2fEogbL-C0xTEktBkhXXTHNVDeuEh_VB_6m2xDVE2k7j6xZQ0u3ngXTDFS9RtdyJHNQetnsMh92sCtbKETyT6tzUEJvr_ZS2xfVVDIKlJHzkq5WPX/s320/4.jpg" border="0" /><br />You see... He went about this <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ALLLLL</span> wrong. It's about how you present something.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342499718561314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 292px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE53BOqr6hfcEOwohk3PggwHcZIExfy4PQgSe8VSbALMd3tFbwwfuH1QsPT7spvGKWhkLYc2oBxsTbZu5y7VRWLqfcJdRhQRY7c3vSob1YCIjIWAmSjTtIiwudCKR1_Qj_ow9VyPN8kAzr/s320/5.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>He caught onto that pretty quick and cleaned the house (at least some parts of it), rubbed my feet, told me how gorgeous I am <em>*gag* </em>and promised how he would take care of the new dog all alone and make sure to keep him out of my hair...</div><br /><div>And I was sold..... all about presentation people.<br /><br />So I decided for the day before mothers day I would <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">surprise</span> him.</div><br /><div>Bought a few "<em>puppy training for dummies" </em>& "<em>all about labs" </em>books...<br />Put them in a little black bag outside the door....</div><br /><div>And when I heard the hubs trying to open the <strong>super </strong>locked door<br />I let the dog run to meet him.<br /></div><br /><div>Meet Duke....</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342864835495298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AlaDUSEqy66edtJPbEhH6udGB1J2aBO10QjylyKqZ7_qjmDE_aa9Bwhh6iJTigEO5UeZS6lDWKvjQ3JK6_F8HVDwlDJQq_cRgfJZjGislnYrTPOIzDfrqPLthn4sCqE8eR6JolFrEeZT/s320/duke.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Don't stone me!</span></div><br /><br /><div>I am all about making the hubs happy and every once in a while I don't even have MY needs involved! <--- CRAZY TALK</div><br /><br /><div>In the end, I regret it. He is an evil little devil dog who haunts my very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">existence</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">torments</span> my beloved little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">yorkie</span>, Louie.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342853989705858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJs3XirQCHkb7p6zBU34xgpl2jF258GCCO1KGHu9E9LVuqfdbk50u25niKd5FgUchXQ1uhJuyKBm6dpi8rdKBl-9qniy-5IXTQfncIczDH26iBZYNbAWXQgQ6rXKV-WulH-rFHigIE-GW/s320/6.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>But hopefully he will grow up,<br />The world will continue spinning,</div><br /><br /><div>The damned devil dog will learn to stop crying at night, pissing on EVERYTHING, and leave my Louie the HELL alone!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342854081309794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04OcM3jKSHUp27_le07hRGPoTbeDcJnWKAlOGfKf6lYkMJPaCxuSDRvQ-GgM6m8QrtHZfsaKdfG_NoUwmuxhqnOF4ba_9l8JKBESp2n0lDtmScNif6cLTnTyfT1fjCEEZdle4L1JDNSRS/s320/lougotahaircut!.jpg" border="0" /><br />And we will all continue to be.....<br /><br />One little happy family.. ;) <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472342870366332626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtNdbZ-cizf4TduTPWjEvGQgNJhn8de5jy0De3_a-wwc6PfO4RT7wkU7Ef4JlysPsFP7rSxvrw15L4Be0EcZXqIb9ODftesjP4poOqHqNaFvTvqIr_WSnX9INsvyYWNhlko8EF6BOhqrb/s320/lou.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-57675609957982099212010-05-09T13:48:00.000-07:002010-05-17T09:43:10.123-07:00Ode to the momma!<div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYsewRtlcW3FXh9FjqNi5L7CwIkcKrjBHn53gDJuqxKzfOUN_SpOdlHnilTw82-CEb667B30eH17C1LECd_Q4ny5wd-TI3MFjMUxy8Cu0mBhb-VVLF2OMadLHyN1DlaSc5CLjuul_H2S4W/s1600/mom.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472279932239236882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYsewRtlcW3FXh9FjqNi5L7CwIkcKrjBHn53gDJuqxKzfOUN_SpOdlHnilTw82-CEb667B30eH17C1LECd_Q4ny5wd-TI3MFjMUxy8Cu0mBhb-VVLF2OMadLHyN1DlaSc5CLjuul_H2S4W/s320/mom.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><div align="center">Mom-a-mia....<br /><br /></div><div align="center">if you're ever wondering if you're a good mom, take a look at me. i have a great job, a ton of friends and i'm basically a sexpot.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472271329726301026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 151px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOz-YIV5avLE3ROFh-M6ixMW7oNIHxpBspnYHCHEfsqMKFhdgJMPF0OtgPrcpOQyWe5C8vap_nUjvYlJzHanvZRjs6GvS6qzJouyEL60RmZq35unpjS3T9w6dn5WJzq8nIGaAw4O_talyx/s320/1mom.JPG" border="0" /><br />just because i don't see you every day doesn't mean i don't think about you every day. besides, maybe i do see you. maybe i'm watching you right now.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472271336263925634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNfPQIQtUJfp0CrD07-w3eibdM3l5x-uCr5b54ItTQrSyEQlnjxS_-7w8V35iVZJk-alxmbQB75HB84RyRM8J0KmLaYOhTjmnXUtHgysSSbqe9WmsmqkGCdBDgrpGahXt632hH_H-YzCe/s320/hiding.JPG" border="0" /><br />you're such a great mom i don't even care that i inherited your chubby, bad nose body features. well, actually i do but today's not the day to make you feel bad about it. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472271970631973810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviewmXmnLF5imh5O1NRaiADsp1E9N56_V_4eVbckvMNh4eHm82Z-brGW46XKPPmEKcYgiKb9bsGqDwtsGfjwd2MqdWmxfTaR4KGX62HY-SvXgLz22FC2LIycfgZVw0l0zKgPvn1sIkq-r/s320/genes.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><p align="center">but really, honestly, i so admire my amazing mother....<br />so let's get a little corny <strong>up in here!<br /></p></strong><br /><br /><p align="center">There's a certain kind of woman who makes a great mom...<br />The kind who wants what's best for the people she cares about.<br />The kind who's always there whereever and whenever.<br />The kind who loves with her whole heart.<br />That is the kind of woman I can call my mother. </p><br /><p align="center">You have always had so much positivity and keep my spirits high.<br />You see the good in everyone...<br />It must be because there's so much good in you.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472279937038266306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 313px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVmpA5N9DI1U4hWaK1fWZzK84iK6BHQsjKPl2YzbNqcBBhmgNF2pzPCyW1IQhJfw3FyaTyS_UxhYbm_eECwN7hlcsN9J3HptHaGHYdMQJvz5c-HelIs-fvndWkzJ4lIDbHQdhUVh1oYFlS/s320/mom1.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="center">I know I wasn't the easiest child to handle<br />but you were <strong>always </strong>there for me and you still are there<br />when I need a friend, a gossip buddy or a shoulder to cry on<br /><br />Thank you for being an amazing mother...<br />I don't just love you for it... I double-love you.<br /></p></div></div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7070703507073005416.post-36932486309373008942010-05-05T12:32:00.000-07:002010-05-05T12:43:30.486-07:00What is your definition of romance?<div align="center">I was reading some posts over on the local housewives board that I belong to (yes, I still gag when I hear the word "housewife"), and I came across a young mom who was asking advice about leaving her husband.<br /><br /><br /><br />She said that her marriage is not what she thought it would be and that she wants to have a chance to find someone else, someone who is more attentive to her and is more romantic.<br /><br /><br /><br />I paused, seriously considering if I should reply.<br /><br /><br /><br />I considered: I don't actually know this girl and being "more attentive to me" might be code for "stop sleeping around with every woman that he meets at the titty bar" or "admit he's gay."<br /><br /><br /><br />"More romantic" could possibly mean "stop beating the shit out of me and the kids" or "stop spending all our grocery money on booze."<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Besides, she was asking about how to leave him, not if she should.<br /><br /><br /><br />So, I clicked on out of there before I opened by big ol' mouth and inserted one or both of my feet.<br /><br /><br /><br />But, now that I'm safely back on my blog, where I say what I think, I'm here to tell you: romance is overrated.<br /><br /><br /><br />We don't live in a chick flick where there are grand sweeping gestures of romance on a continuous basis.<br /><br /><br /><br />This isn't some Nicholas Sparks novel where everyone weeps at the beauty of the love between a couple.<br /><br /><br /><br />It's life.<br /><br /><br /><br />Before you go get all huffy and tell me all about the romance in your life, let me clarify a bit.<br /><br /><br /><br />I DO love my Hubs. He loves me.<br /><br /><br /><br />From time to time he will still suprise me and do romantic things for me.<br /><br /><br /><br />Most of the time I laugh at him and tell him he was a big cheeseball, though I do appreciate them.<br /><br /><br /><br />But, flowers, gifts, spontaneous trips, love letters, and other such romantic gestures have been replaced by more practical things.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It's romantic to me that Hubs chooses to come home every night to a house full of stress and dishes in the sink and a wife who is exhausted. Because no one is making him.<br /><br /><br /><br />That he works his ass off to provide for us is romantic as hell to me.<br /><br /><br /><br />He lets me fall asleep leaning on his shoulder, even though it means that his shoulder will be soaked through with my drool.<br /><br /><br /><br />I'll even take that he doesn't always fluff the comforter after he farts, as romance.<br /><br /><br />It might sound boring.<br /><br /><br /><br />And he does still occasionally throw in a big romantic gesture every now and then.<br /><br /><br /><br />But, the real romance to me is knowing that I have a husband who will always be there for me. Who loves me through my worst days and <em>many every changing </em>moods. Who is a true friend to me. Whom I don't worry that he'll ever leave- we're in this for the long haul.<br /><br /><br />Really, anyone can be romantic in the beginning of a relationship. It's time that is the test for how a relationship really is. I believe that love is a decision and that we'd never stay with anyone if we left everytime the romance seemed to fade.<br /><br /><br />Romantic comedies and novels...well, they can suck it. I have my own version of happily-ever-after here. </div>Kaseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11950084972280263647noreply@blogger.com1