<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:59:02.483-07:00</updated><category term='frank'/><category term='cursing'/><category term='Perfect Prefect'/><category term='Henry'/><category term='Joe'/><category term='dad'/><category term='red'/><category term='Business Class'/><category term='Barbie'/><category term='airplane'/><category term='books'/><category term='Chuck'/><category term='SBT'/><category term='Julia'/><category term='Jas'/><category term='harris'/><category term='boys'/><category term='Bex'/><category term='Dominique'/><category term='che'/><category term='Aubrey'/><category term='Bee'/><category term='hypocrite'/><category term='sexy boarding school guy'/><category term='Julie'/><category term='physical therapy'/><category term='Monica'/><category term='economy class'/><category term='Lucy'/><category term='Roy'/><category term='TK'/><category term='Jordache'/><category term='dances'/><category term='cheating'/><category term='becky'/><category term='tears'/><category term='family'/><category term='angry friend'/><category term='henry s.'/><category term='alice'/><category term='SBSG'/><category term='Manny'/><category term='keagan'/><category term='mom'/><category term='Kenzie'/><category term='Calvin'/><category term='Penn'/><category term='Will'/><category term='Faye'/><category term='sister'/><category term='dance'/><category term='Penn G.'/><category term='stewards'/><category term='Sophia'/><category term='Father'/><category term='Oklahoma'/><category term='cranberries'/><category term='SAT'/><category term='cj'/><category term='Mrs. Cat'/><category term='hunter'/><category term='sydney'/><category term='PJ'/><category term='music'/><category term='james'/><category term='school'/><category term='robin'/><category term='Mark'/><category term='Jake'/><category term='spain'/><category term='boarding school'/><category term='taylor'/><category term='first class'/><category term='obsessions list'/><category term='chase'/><category term='drew'/><category term='food'/><category term='IDG'/><category term='Cherie'/><category term='Cameron'/><category term='Wes'/><category term='concerts'/><category term='Jason'/><category term='Sam'/><category term='gage'/><category term='Alexandra'/><category term='sexcapades'/><category term='matt'/><category term='Delilah'/><category term='Livia'/><category term='natalie'/><title type='text'>Taffy's Past Blather</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm past this. Not completely, but I've changed.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>139</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-240889192757817999</id><published>2009-01-12T06:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T06:21:41.604-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting Over</title><content type='html'>I've read over a couple of my old posts.&lt;div&gt;They're too depressing to handle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can find me at the same URL (blather-a-la-taffy.blogspot.com).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hope you keep reading.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Taffy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-240889192757817999?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/240889192757817999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=240889192757817999&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/240889192757817999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/240889192757817999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2009/01/starting-over.html' title='Starting Over'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4201153970192124009</id><published>2009-01-10T13:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T16:56:55.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Contemplation of Some Sort</title><content type='html'>I made my first snow angel today.&lt;div&gt;I plopped down right in the middle of a school sidewalk and made a God damn snow angel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The weather outside is fantastic, my desk in our room is right in front of our window seat and I can see the snow falling quickly outside. It's covering everything in this fine, powdery whiteness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My toes were about to freeze off earlier. I was wearing my favourite pair of flats which I use so often that there's a little hole in the bottom. They sound disgusting, but they really aren't, promise. Anyway, I love being able to see the tracks everyone makes and the whiteness everywhere. It makes me feel so anonymous. I wrote the word dildo in caps on the windshield of someone's car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realised also that I'm halfway through my schoolyear here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's gone by so quickly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not ready for it to end, but I always look forward to the next break.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm worried about next year, everyone says that usually, your friends change from freshman year. And I really don't want it to be like that. I also feel myself drifting away from friends back home, and not really knowing what to do about it. I'm not exactly sad, yet, just nostalgic. Because it's inevitable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me me me me me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The world becomes such a romantic notion when I think about the asteroid headed our way."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4201153970192124009?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4201153970192124009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4201153970192124009&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4201153970192124009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4201153970192124009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2009/01/contemplation-of-some-sort.html' title='Contemplation of Some Sort'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-666184554601547036</id><published>2009-01-03T20:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T12:55:36.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happiness is Bottled</title><content type='html'>I'd explain the title, but then I'd sound like an alkie.&lt;br /&gt;(i'll probably read this over in the future and realise i sound like a four year old).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was recently tagged by the ever-fantastic &lt;a href="http://thesearesilverwings.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ana&lt;/a&gt;. So I will:&lt;br /&gt;Share 6 things that make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;Tag 6 bloggers that make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sitting in cars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I seriously think that I'm anti-claustrophobic. I love it when it's raining outside and you're all cozy in a moving car. I know there's a lot of shitty drivers and stuff on the road, but I just feel so safe. Cars are amazing.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="http://searchbeta.playlist.com/tracks#cars%20fear%20factory"&gt;Cars- Fear Factory&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hair pulling during a hookup.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I don't know if it's the somewhat masochistic side of me, but something about it is so hot. Okay, except when hair actually gets pulled out... then it looks like you're a shedder.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="http://searchbeta.playlist.com/tracks#crazy%20bitch%20buckcherry"&gt;Crazy Bitch- Buckcherry&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TJ Moss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I love this man. He is incredibly sweet and he has an incredible voice. I promised to text him next time I'm in the city and we'll get Dunkin Donuts, even if no one ever goes for the donuts anymore.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmYDhDwmDI4"&gt;It's Over- TJ Moss&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Neopets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; In the fourth grade, I used to wake up in the middle of the night just so I could play Neopets on our family computer. If you've never played, I would start now. I don't even know what's so amazing/ addictive about it. It's like FaceBook, but BETTER! Neopets is life.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="http://www.metacafe.com/watch/733547/the_neopets_song/"&gt;The Neopets Song&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Having deep red nails.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I once read an article in an etiquette book about this being the worst colour to paint your nails. It said something about red being the colour of blood symbolising savageness. I don't know about you, but there's definitely something incredibly sensual about that.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="http://searchbeta.playlist.com/tracks#lola%20sarah%20vaughan%20gotan%20project%20remix"&gt;Whatever Lola Wants- Sarah Vaughan [Gotan Project Remix]&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Numbers that don't involve 6.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; It isn't even a superstitious thing. I don't even think the number 6 is ugly! I just think it shouldn't be there.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="http://searchbeta.playlist.com/tracks#when%20you%27re%20evil%20voltaire"&gt;When You're Evil- Voltaire&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 Bloggers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;a href="http://nicespeech.blogspot.com/"&gt;Karine&lt;/a&gt;. A fantastic writer, and always so sweet.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;a href="http://memoirofaredhead.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mary Kate&lt;/a&gt;. I love the random tidbits on her blog.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;a href="http://myraspberrynights.blogspot.com/"&gt;Raspberry&lt;/a&gt;. Always so down to earth.&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;a href="http://piecesofjocelyn.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jocelyn&lt;/a&gt;. Pretty much all I need to know about the college experience.&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;a href="http://canyousayfashion.blogspot.com/"&gt;Aren&lt;/a&gt;. I read this when I need some time to just think.&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;a href="http://retrolifestyle.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cate&lt;/a&gt;. Great taste in music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I finally called out this really hot teacher (I WISH I was in his class) at my school for not knowing my name. It wasn't that random, I mean, we stop and have conversations and stuff, I've just never introduced myself to him. And I know that. I think he just thought that he forgot my name...&lt;br /&gt;The conversation:&lt;div&gt;Me: Hey!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: Hey there (said completely normally, not like he's searching for a name)! How was your break?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: It was really good. I got to see all the people I wanted to see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: That's good. How are you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: I'm doing well. You don't know my name.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: What? Of course I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Um, no, you really don't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: Well, why don't you tell me again, to remind me, ya know?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: It's Taffy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Him: Cool, well I'll remember that. So what's up?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Not much. Um... this is an incredibly awkward conversation. I'll talk to you later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-666184554601547036?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/666184554601547036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=666184554601547036&amp;isPopup=true' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/666184554601547036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/666184554601547036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2009/01/happiness-is-bottled.html' title='Happiness is Bottled'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-631878814263970939</id><published>2009-01-02T16:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T16:17:50.085-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry I've Been Gone!</title><content type='html'>Dear Extremely Cool People,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I'm so sorry I haven't been reading and commenting on your posts recently! I've just been really busy since I've been back in Houston and the only time I use the internet is to sign on to Facebook to create plans. (and Neopets, shhhh).&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, normality will be reinstored this Sunday (or the Tuesday of that week).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lurr,&lt;br /&gt;Taffy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-631878814263970939?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/631878814263970939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=631878814263970939&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/631878814263970939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/631878814263970939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2009/01/sorry-ive-been-gone.html' title='Sorry I&apos;ve Been Gone!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1763403889435868886</id><published>2008-12-24T19:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T19:28:36.869-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><title type='text'>Questionable</title><content type='html'>My mother:&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know how healthy this is. I want to get her drunk under our surveillance so she see drinking is not good. So she see what happens."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, right, like I would EVER voluntarily get drunk in front of my parents.&lt;br /&gt;This is why I need to stop asking for alcohol at family dinners.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1763403889435868886?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1763403889435868886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1763403889435868886&amp;isPopup=true' title='30 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1763403889435868886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1763403889435868886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/12/questionable.html' title='Questionable'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>30</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-9018976567712798291</id><published>2008-12-21T18:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T18:39:27.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Home!</title><content type='html'>We'll see how this works out.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry that you guys have to keep commenting on the same post, I just have nothing particularly interesting to write about.&lt;br /&gt;(i love my friends, but i personally think it's more fun to read about misfortunes)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-9018976567712798291?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/9018976567712798291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=9018976567712798291&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/9018976567712798291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/9018976567712798291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-home.html' title='I&apos;m Home!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-2064387277141584632</id><published>2008-12-14T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T11:57:22.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Ball</title><content type='html'>Not much to say.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently I looked a tad like a blow-up doll?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I'm the type who would take this as an enormous compliment).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sandstorm was like a fucking mosh pit.&lt;br /&gt;Not fun in 4&amp;amp; 1/2 inch heels.&lt;br /&gt;Except still extremely, unbelievably exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also walked into this random creeper at our school and busted my lip...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two essays due tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-2064387277141584632?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/2064387277141584632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=2064387277141584632&amp;isPopup=true' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2064387277141584632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2064387277141584632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/12/holiday-ball.html' title='Holiday Ball'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5072115760991320858</id><published>2008-12-12T11:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T11:54:35.254-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Monica'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Perfect Prefect'/><title type='text'>Walking on Sunshine</title><content type='html'>So there's this beautiful seniour who goes to my school.&lt;br /&gt;He's a prefect in the freshman boy's dorm.&lt;br /&gt;Let me describe to you how perfect this prefect (sorry, i couldn't help it) is:&lt;br /&gt;+he's on varsity WATER POLO&lt;br /&gt;+he's smart (because he's a prefect)&lt;br /&gt;+he is in arts concentration (actors are generally attractive, eh?)&lt;br /&gt;+he is the leader of student council&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Swoons.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently he doesn't associate with freshman, though, so I'm not getting my hopes up. Or at least I'm trying to think realistically. Basically, at the beginning of the year I used to go up to him and go "what's my name?" He'd say "Taffy" and I'd walk off. Then I stopped because I realised that it was probably really annoying and I'd assumed that was the end of the "Taffy-Talking-to-Perfect-Prefect" phase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;False.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monica and I decided to try out for student- directed scenes the other Wednesday. Basically, one student at the school writes a scene (like from a play) and another one (usually an upperclassman) directs it. I did a monologue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to give you some perspective:&lt;br /&gt;I didn't expect to actually get in. First of all, our school is really intense regarding theater. Several alumni have gone on to win academy awards and shit. Like, I really enjoy acting, but I'm not GOOD enough to continue with it. I mainly auditioned for moral support for Monica, because it sounded fun, and because I found out that Perfect Prefect was one of the student-directors (I obsess). On the slim chance that I would make it, it would be amazing to be in the scene that he was directing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monica is a really intense actress. Back in Houston, she was represented by one of Houston's most prestigious agencies, but she left it. To come to boarding school. She handed me a huge stack of scenes and I chose one (not at random). I practiced and then we went to our auditions (I told her to sign me up).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know for a fact that Monica did really well, and I'm not just saying that in a "I'll never be good enough" kind of way, she's just really good at acting. The next day, during one of our free periods, we went to check the cast list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No freshmen made the cut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha, build up, no? But apparently like... eighty people auditioned, only thirteen made it. So I was okay. Honestly, I really wished Monica had (just as long as she wasn't in Perfect Prefect's, she's already in costuming with him).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today during community lunch (read sit-down and waste-a-free-period lunch), I was talking to my prefect and Perfect Prefect said my name. "Taffy...?" He said it kind of quietly and the slight pause was for me to turn and acknowledge him, I wasn't sure if he had actually said my name, "You did really well in your audition."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, thank you."&lt;br /&gt;"We were all talking about it and (something something something... i was too stunned at the moment to remember what he actually said)."&lt;br /&gt;My prefect cut in and said, "Oh, that's funny! I'm pretty sure that's the one where you walked in [to the dorm] and the first thing you said was 'my audition sucked'"&lt;br /&gt;Perfect Prefect: "She was actually excellent."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Glad you feel that way."&lt;br /&gt;My prefect: "Wait, then why did you say you didn't do well?" (i genuinely thought i hadn't)&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Well... like, I didn't. And (a bit of blathering here)... I don't know. I'll probably try out again in January or something." Then I quickly walked off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so now that I'm thinking sanely again, I realise that this moment wasn't that significant. But I figured out that even if I had done really well, Perfect Prefect didn't need to stop me and compliment me. So the basic ending of the story is that: Perfect Prefect does not hate Taffy/ does not find her particularly annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the überlong post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5072115760991320858?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5072115760991320858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5072115760991320858&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5072115760991320858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5072115760991320858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/12/walking-on-sunshine.html' title='Walking on Sunshine'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4939404346804455695</id><published>2008-12-07T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T16:53:38.561-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><title type='text'>New York is a Money Vacuum</title><content type='html'>So the whole class thing was cleared up and I escaped sunday-detention free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New York was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;Total damage: $110&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I barely have any money for my next two weeks at school... plus I can't ask my mom to put more in my account because she doesn't know that I actually went... Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But &lt;a href="http://www.geisharestaurant.com/"&gt;Geisha&lt;/a&gt; is absolutely delicious.&lt;br /&gt;And we got breakfast at this restaurant called &lt;a href="http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/36072604/new_york_ny/brasserie_maison.html"&gt;Maison&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;a href="http://www.pinkberry.com/"&gt;Pinkberry&lt;/a&gt; twice :)&lt;br /&gt;Long story short: taxi rides and food add up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I somehow ended this trip being the owner of a fur coat made from silver fox. What was weird is how entirely simple this came to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia's Mom: "Taffy, come here sweetie."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Um... alright"&lt;br /&gt;Julia's Mom: "Well since Julia has this whole anti- fur thing going on, could you do me a favour?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Sure, Natalie (Julia's mom's name)."&lt;br /&gt;Julia's Mom: "Would you just go into... that thing and try on the coat?"&lt;br /&gt;Julia: "What thing, mom? People don't really know what you're talking about when you just say thing."&lt;br /&gt;I come out with the coat.&lt;br /&gt;Julia: "It fits reaaaaally nicely."&lt;br /&gt;Julia's Mom: "It needs to be steamed. Taff, let me get that steamed sometime and I'll ship it to you along with a hat or something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude... What?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4939404346804455695?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4939404346804455695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4939404346804455695&amp;isPopup=true' title='24 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4939404346804455695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4939404346804455695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/12/new-york-is-money-vacuum.html' title='New York is a Money Vacuum'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>24</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8537361141577215835</id><published>2008-12-04T05:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T12:27:09.686-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sophia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><title type='text'>OH, You Mean Taff? That BAMF!</title><content type='html'>So I figured I'd open this post with something amusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's this girl who lives on the third floor (where I live), her name is Sophia. She tried to sell me her printer.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, you'll go into the bathroom and all of the lights are on but it doesn't look like anyone's in there. (we're really environmentally conscious here, the last person in the bathroom turns out the light). You'll go into a stall to do your business (PEE, YOU DUMB SHIT!). You'll wash your hands. You'll turn out the lights and walk out. Then three seconds later, you'll hear a loud&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"HEY, HEY!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Sophia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do in there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time I walked into the bathroom right after she left it, it smelled like meat.&lt;br /&gt;Ground beef, to be exact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm going to New York with Julia this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;My parents are very strongly against it.&lt;br /&gt;Normally, I would say "but they can't do anything about it!"&lt;br /&gt;But actually, they can.&lt;br /&gt;Due to the code "2222" next to my name.&lt;br /&gt;(which means I'm a prisoner at the school with my parents' permission)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found a way to overcome this!&lt;br /&gt;I forwarded an "e-mail from my mom" to our dean's assistant telling her that I have permission to go to the city.&lt;br /&gt;In actuality, it's a letter listing specific reasons why I'm not allowed to go.&lt;br /&gt;I even let all grammar and articles go to the wind!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I accidentally cut class yesterday to have lunch with Matt.&lt;br /&gt;This is getting very bad.&lt;br /&gt;(also, I might miss out on NY because I have Sunday Detention...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to let you know, I was being completely sarcastic throughout this entire post. Never would I refer to myself as a BAMF, even when meant as a compliment, it's an insult.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8537361141577215835?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8537361141577215835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8537361141577215835&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8537361141577215835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8537361141577215835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/12/oh-you-mean-taff-that-bamf.html' title='OH, You Mean Taff? That BAMF!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4399185772242613857</id><published>2008-11-29T06:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T07:36:05.295-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBT'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frank'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jake'/><title type='text'>It's My Birthday!</title><content type='html'>-Breakfast with the sis, her husband, Jake&lt;br /&gt;-Lunch with SBT&lt;br /&gt;-Dinner with the fam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a celebration of food!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4399185772242613857?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4399185772242613857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4399185772242613857&amp;isPopup=true' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4399185772242613857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4399185772242613857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/its-my-birthday.html' title='It&apos;s My Birthday!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-169711371445353541</id><published>2008-11-28T19:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T20:00:35.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Thankful For</title><content type='html'>HOUSTON.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IS AMAZING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had almost forgotten all of the inside jokes I have with people here, and how many of them are just... generally awesome. Seriously, forget Dallas, H-town is the shit. (forizzle my nizzle... not really, because that has derogatory undertones)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-169711371445353541?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/169711371445353541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=169711371445353541&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/169711371445353541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/169711371445353541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-thankful-for.html' title='I&apos;m Thankful For'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-434617037225628043</id><published>2008-11-25T06:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T06:41:07.797-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Henry'/><title type='text'>Give Thanks, Bitches</title><content type='html'>It was my mom's birthday yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;Like, I know the date, November 24th&lt;br /&gt;And I knew what day it was...&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't really make the connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we had a bunch of pissed off calls yesterday over the unaccompanied minor fee (there is one!) and she was convinced there wasn't. Plus, I don't have a card, so I wouldn't have been able to pay for it, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, she went&lt;br /&gt;"By the way, you forgot to wish me a happy birthday."&lt;br /&gt;And I, being the quick thinker I am (even though, now, I feel awful about it) went:&lt;br /&gt;"No, today's the 23rd!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, apparently today on the shuttle from the school to the airport, it was really awkward for everyone to listen to me talk to my mom on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously need to work on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, there's more to write about, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to write about it. And when I am, I might not want to anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Movies with Henry Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so stressed out about Houston, it's unbelievable.&lt;br /&gt;I have so many errands to complete!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, lovers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-434617037225628043?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/434617037225628043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=434617037225628043&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/434617037225628043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/434617037225628043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/give-thanks-bitches.html' title='Give Thanks, Bitches'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5168707438616547384</id><published>2008-11-21T09:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T11:00:35.241-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matt'/><title type='text'>This is Peculiar</title><content type='html'>So remember fork guy?&lt;br /&gt;HOT fork guy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We go out for lunch on Fridays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But maybe this is the last Friday since my schedule is fucked up next term...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, it's weird.&lt;br /&gt;It's like he hates me (or we hate each other)&lt;br /&gt;and then, every Friday, we go to a local cafe and get a pizza.&lt;br /&gt;He pays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I don't think he likes me.&lt;br /&gt;(trust me, he only dates girls UNDER 100 lbs)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're paying next time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So there's going to be a next time?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5168707438616547384?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5168707438616547384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5168707438616547384&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5168707438616547384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5168707438616547384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-is-peculiar.html' title='This is Peculiar'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4041758330787770789</id><published>2008-11-19T09:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T16:48:18.315-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cruising</title><content type='html'>I'm the proud owner of a new Sector 9 Padang Longboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's excellent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I've made a huge hole in my favourite pair of jeans, I have an unbelievable amount of bruises on my legs, and I've done the splits about five times. Involuntarily. All worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good, Hunter is awkward.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, I'm past this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, my life is boring.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going home in 6 days!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4041758330787770789?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4041758330787770789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4041758330787770789&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4041758330787770789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4041758330787770789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/cruising.html' title='Cruising'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4391676782735917281</id><published>2008-11-14T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T20:36:30.582-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Monica'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>Oh.</title><content type='html'>Basically, here is what happened since I posted last:&lt;br /&gt;(you might want to read that, first)&lt;br /&gt;I talked to Hunter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Hey... I think we should break up."&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: "What?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "I don't really think it's working out. I don't think that I can BE in a relationship."&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: "Oh. Why?" &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fucking awkward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "I don't think there's any chemistry between us. Don't get me wrong. I love you, so much, but as a person. That's why I stayed in this relationship for so long, er... um... what was long for me. Because I care about you so much and I wanted this to work out so badly."&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: "I understand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;blahblahblah&lt;br /&gt;yaddayaddayadda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(saving you from more awkward conversation... which I don't exactly remember)&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: "Wait... Does this have anything to do with... you know, that thing we discussed the other day? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the feeling up&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "No, not at all."&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: "Because I don't even know what that was."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "It's alright. It happens. I promise, this has nothing to do with it. I just... don't think this was really working. And I hate this, because I really want to stay friends, but I don't feel like we CAN stay friends after this and... I don't know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;blahyaddablah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: "So I think our main problem was the age difference. Because I'm a sophomore and you're a freshman, we never got to see each other." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;NO! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Yeah..." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what do I say? "No, I just don't like you in that way"? I'm not that much of a bitch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: "So, do you want to hang out for a bit?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Sure."&lt;br /&gt;We walked to the student activities center and watched TV for a bit. Then I walked with him to our school box office so he could get a ticket for the play tonight. We half hugged, and I walked off. I thought that he had taken this extremely well, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(I know this is selfish&lt;/span&gt;) I was actually kind of pissed off that he didn't care that much. I promptly went to the internet cafe next to the grill and logged on to Facebook to cancel our relationship. I'm obsessive like that. Relatively good ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right?&lt;br /&gt;Wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm hanging out with the group of friends who DIDN'T go to New York this weekend (don't even get me started on this) when I get this text from Monica.&lt;br /&gt;"HUNTER IS CRYING"&lt;br /&gt;I immediately responded with something along the lines of "how do you know?"&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, it's (insert other friend's name), but ya he's so upset. hahahahahahahahah hehehehehehehe so happy week. I kinda feel bad but whatevs"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I feel sick to my stomach&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got the full details after eating a stomachfull of carrot spice cake. Bundt cake, to be exact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, during the show he had his hands over his eyes and was wiping with his shirt. The full nine yards. During intermission, my friends talked to one of his friends and she asked them why he was so upset. "He won't talk to anyone. He's been like this all afternoon. What happened?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of me wants to slap him for being so affected by this, part of me wants to take it all back so he doesn't have to suffer, part of me is relieved that I'm no longer with a guy who would cry after... this, part of me feels like a complete and total bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to New Haven tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully that will take my mind off of things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4391676782735917281?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4391676782735917281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4391676782735917281&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4391676782735917281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4391676782735917281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/oh.html' title='Oh.'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3509015462867822529</id><published>2008-11-14T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T12:13:36.766-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>The Beginning is the End is the Beginning</title><content type='html'>One month.&lt;br /&gt;I counted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I checked from my last blog post...&lt;br /&gt;You know, the one where I told Hunter to kiss me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I hadn't ever done it.&lt;br /&gt;There is no PHYSICAL chemistry between us.&lt;br /&gt;I love him.&lt;br /&gt;Like LEGITIMATELY love him.&lt;br /&gt;As a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I don't know how to start this break up.&lt;br /&gt;It needs to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. I can't be in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;B. I especially can't be in a relationship if it's just based on how much I care for the other person's personality. That is a close friendship.&lt;br /&gt;C. I get jealous too easily, even if I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;D. I don't want something after I have it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or I do. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to feel something for him so badly, it's unbelievable.&lt;br /&gt;And now I don't know what to say to him.&lt;br /&gt;And I want to stay friends with him, but Hunter is the kind of person where that doesn't really happen... I don't think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wants to meet up in like... fifteen minutes.&lt;br /&gt;I haven't seen him all week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a semi-fight on Wednesday about me telling people about his inability to massage breasts (ha!), but I handled that really well. And he always tells me that he loves me. And that I'm amazing. And I can't handle it. It isn't me being afraid of commitment, but this just doesn't feel right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry that this post is so incredibly disorganised.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3509015462867822529?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3509015462867822529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3509015462867822529&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3509015462867822529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3509015462867822529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/beginning-is-end-is-beginning.html' title='The Beginning is the End is the Beginning'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8621329251467894076</id><published>2008-11-08T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T20:48:44.942-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>One Big Disappointment</title><content type='html'>Hunter tried to feel me up tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not as in he tried and I shut him down,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but as in he tried and he failed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MISERABLY.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8621329251467894076?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8621329251467894076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8621329251467894076&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8621329251467894076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8621329251467894076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-big-disappointment.html' title='One Big Disappointment'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-943864671254010465</id><published>2008-11-06T07:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T07:45:16.225-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dominique'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>Is the Boyf Cheating?</title><content type='html'>Hm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hunter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he likes me more than I like him. And I was thinking about this the other day, like... there are so many guys here who I find more appealing than him. And I feel like such a bitch for thinking so, because he's sweet, and he's become a better kisser. I even flirt with others&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But:&lt;br /&gt;Hunter is a flirt.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter is also kind of awkward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not that physically attracted to Hunter.&lt;br /&gt;And what if what happened with ME happens with some other girl?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why it didn't come as a huge shock to me when my friend, Dominique (y'all need another name) and I were starting to practice acting and she told me that she needed to talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dom: "Earlier, I was walking back from the dining hall with Jake (her boyfriend) and Jake told me to look over at something. There was this girl and guy and the girl was like... groping the guy. Guess who it was?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Hunter? Or Mike, Erica's boyfriend (Erica is my prefect, who has a boyfriend named Mike who looks exactly like Hunter... but hotter... and less awkward... let's not discuss Mike, other than to say that him and Erica are adorable)."&lt;br /&gt;Dom: "Nope, Hunter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And do you know what my response was?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank god."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that awful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yes, Dom told me how Jake didn't know who it was. And Jake, being the funny little kid he is, called out "hey!". Hunter saw Dom and she ran away. He caught up to her and asked what was up.&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing. What were you up to?"&lt;br /&gt;"Studying."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And apparently, he said it with no guilt. As in, he actually didn't notice the girl was flirting with him (which is actually very probable), or he just sees nothing wrong with it. Or he is a bad liar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Advice?&lt;br /&gt;And Dominique is a reliable source. She's not from the catty group of girls that I hang out with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-943864671254010465?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/943864671254010465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=943864671254010465&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/943864671254010465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/943864671254010465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/is-boyf-cheating.html' title='Is the Boyf Cheating?'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1834285876493174902</id><published>2008-11-02T06:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T06:17:00.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FUCK FUCK MOTHERFUCK.</title><content type='html'>I dropped my phone in the toilet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1834285876493174902?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1834285876493174902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1834285876493174902&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1834285876493174902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1834285876493174902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/11/fuck-fuck-motherfuck.html' title='FUCK FUCK MOTHERFUCK.'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1288805950467487093</id><published>2008-10-31T04:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T05:03:39.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY HALLOWEEN, MUTHAFUCKAS!</title><content type='html'>Just kidding, I pretty much love you guys.&lt;br /&gt;Our English teacher drove us to Starbucks this morning :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran the full three miles.&lt;br /&gt;Piece of cake.&lt;br /&gt;Even though I'm still fat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Costume:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I don't exactly know... but it's a cohesive costume.&lt;br /&gt;I bought some sort of jumpsuit thing from Walmart...&lt;br /&gt;Fake, fingerless, leather gloves.&lt;br /&gt;It's like a biker-dude (dude, not chick) outfit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not attractive, at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm feeling hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are you guys?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1288805950467487093?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1288805950467487093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1288805950467487093&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1288805950467487093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1288805950467487093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/happy-halloween-muthafuckas.html' title='HAPPY HALLOWEEN, MUTHAFUCKAS!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1315835335988958327</id><published>2008-10-28T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T07:41:24.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taffy is (not likely) on TV</title><content type='html'>You might get to see what I look like!&lt;br /&gt;Except:&lt;br /&gt;-25 pounds heavier (camera adds ten, I managed the other fifteen on my own)&lt;br /&gt;-with glasses on&lt;br /&gt;-disgusting face&lt;br /&gt;-beyond corny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were eating at this restaurant called the Barking Crab in Boston yesterday, and some guy from this new show Man vs. Food on the Travel Channel was there filming! Anyway, it premieres on December 3rd, but I don't know when they're showing the Boston episode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three Mile Run on Thursday. Wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND I STILL NEED A HALLOWEEN COSTUME!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1315835335988958327?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1315835335988958327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1315835335988958327&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1315835335988958327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1315835335988958327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/taffy-is-not-likely-on-tv.html' title='Taffy is (not likely) on TV'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4739988582477234956</id><published>2008-10-26T10:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T10:40:57.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Freshman 15</title><content type='html'>It happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went on a scale for the first time in two months today.&lt;br /&gt;Today, we had Brunch on the Roof at the Taj Boston.&lt;br /&gt;Look it up, it was my "last meal"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From now on I'm only eating salads. And oatmeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuckkkk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4739988582477234956?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4739988582477234956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4739988582477234956&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4739988582477234956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4739988582477234956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/freshman-15.html' title='The Freshman 15'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-282118442474234290</id><published>2008-10-25T09:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T09:34:24.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parent's Weekend...</title><content type='html'>Save me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-282118442474234290?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/282118442474234290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=282118442474234290&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/282118442474234290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/282118442474234290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/parents-weekend.html' title='Parent&apos;s Weekend...'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-2160380216204072191</id><published>2008-10-17T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T20:34:40.284-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>Taffy is...</title><content type='html'>In a relationship?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last sentence of the conversation before this became a semi-fact:&lt;br /&gt;"Hunter, just fucking kiss me already."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-2160380216204072191?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/2160380216204072191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=2160380216204072191&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2160380216204072191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2160380216204072191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/taffy-is.html' title='Taffy is...'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5392603867734667082</id><published>2008-10-12T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T16:02:35.548-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alexandra'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>So Remember the Time When</title><content type='html'>Taffy was a huge bitch and nothing is ever good enough for her?&lt;br /&gt;No, he hasn't broken up with Cherie. He might as well have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I basically spent all of today and yesterday with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then- I don't know when this happened- I COULDN'T.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just couldn't spend any more time with him today. No, we haven't run out of things to talk about. No, nothing's become... awkward. It's just... I couldn't. And now I feel really bad about it. It's just, I spent SO MUCH FUCKING TIME WITH HIM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up yesterday and had breakfast. Then at around 11.30, Hunter texted me to hang out. I met up with him half an hour later. We walked into town and then we sat in a graveyard. (Which I've been doing a lot, lately. It's actually really relaxing.) The whole time, I was sitting in between his legs (because I was cold) and he had his arms around my front. We did that until 1.45 (which was only supposed to last until 1.20). I had a field hockey game and then I was supposed to meet up with him to watch our movie, but he was playing football. And before he was done I decided to go to Walmart with another friend.&lt;br /&gt;So I texted him when I came back and we were going to watch then but I went to the common room to meet with him and he was laying on the couch. With Alexandra resting her head on his chest. Which didn't really bug me because she's like that... (who the fuck am I kidding, I wanted to KILL HER!). So basically I redecided that I wouldn't say yes if he asked me out. Fucking flirtmonster bastard asshole. I was pretty much fed up when he asked if he could enter her number into his phone, so I went back upstairs. He texted me like... 15 minutes later.&lt;br /&gt;"Will you please come down? I really want to watch to movie with you."&lt;br /&gt;FUCK TO THE NO! IT TOOK YOU FIFTEEN MINUTES TO FUCKING TEXT ME!&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, meet me in ten." (I know, I'm a wimp).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we didn't watch the movie. Instead, we walked around. And crashed an old person performance being held in our campus theater. And then I ran away from him and he chased me. And we layed in the middle of the road waiting for cars to run us over. At one point, I was straddling him. We left unscathed :). He tried to get me to ditch this dance thing for him, but I didn't. So I didn't see him again until 11. And we sat and cuddled some more. (there is a lot of sitting involved in this relationship). Then he let me back into the dorm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the other frustrating thing is that his girlfriend texted him last night asking him to hang out and he turns to me and says "doesn't she get that I'm going to break up with her?" and in my head I was going, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;NO YOU DUMBASS! You haven't even spoken to her about it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't really annoyed with him last night, but today...&lt;br /&gt;JESUS CHRIST, HE'S TOO FUCKING CLINGY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't even know what changed (no worries for those of you "rooting for us". I've changed back.) I met up with him for brunch this morning, I even ended up feeding him part of my omelet. I think what started my weirdness is when people were calling themselves third wheels and he wasn't even denying it anymore. And after brunch we hung out in the field and it was one big cuddle fest. But I was actually getting kind of agitated. So I left to go do work in my room and was supposed to meet up with another friend to go to the culinary club meeting. And then he asked me when we were meeting up to go to the meeting. The following conversation made me kind of want to kill myself.&lt;br /&gt;I deleted most of the texts, but the gist was:&lt;br /&gt;+Hunter wanted to go with me&lt;br /&gt;+I said go with another one of our friends because I was going with mine&lt;br /&gt;+He said why don't we all go together&lt;br /&gt;+I said that I was going with my friend and to just call mutual friend&lt;br /&gt;+He said that wasn't working out for him&lt;br /&gt;+I said to not go&lt;br /&gt;+He called me a bitch&lt;br /&gt;And my friend and I went to the club anyway. And so I was ranting about how he was just TOO FUCKING CLINGY and he actually appeared ON CUE outside the window looking sort of pissed off. I smiled to make things less awkward, and then I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent him a text  apologising to for being a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;He invited me to free swim.&lt;br /&gt;I said hells to the fuck no (or that I had too much work to do, I can't quite remember).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and SBSG wanted me to sleep over last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5392603867734667082?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5392603867734667082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5392603867734667082&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5392603867734667082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5392603867734667082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-remember-time-when.html' title='So Remember the Time When'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7472934106008393381</id><published>2008-10-11T20:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T20:46:55.211-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn G.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>Ouchies!</title><content type='html'>Wow, the title makes me feel really immature.&lt;br /&gt;I stepped in a fucking ear ring today.&lt;br /&gt;Like... the needle part went up my foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talked to Penn G. (who is still amazing)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fell asleep on Hunter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7472934106008393381?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7472934106008393381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7472934106008393381&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7472934106008393381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7472934106008393381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/ouchies.html' title='Ouchies!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8954737003458271671</id><published>2008-10-10T06:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T07:01:33.877-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>One of Many Weird Convos</title><content type='html'>This happened over IM so the convo is a tad scattered...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hey&lt;br /&gt;okay... so&lt;br /&gt;i reread texts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;k&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i realised that earlier's explanation was kind of off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;ok&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because yeah, you're dealing with more shit than me&lt;br /&gt;but&lt;br /&gt;idk.&lt;br /&gt;did that make any sense?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am&lt;br /&gt;what do u think people are saying about me and cherie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't ask.&lt;br /&gt;so... yeah, i don't know.&lt;br /&gt;because i don't want to be like "bitch girl who comes between guy and his girlfriend"&lt;br /&gt;like, we're friends&lt;br /&gt;you get that&lt;br /&gt;i get that (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i don't actually get that)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;other people don't fucking get that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no im saying that people are talking about me and cherie&lt;br /&gt;but anyways i think im breaking up with her (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;YES YES YES YES!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know, but apparently people are saying stuff about me&lt;br /&gt;which makes no sense&lt;br /&gt;wait, what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think im breaking up with her&lt;br /&gt;we don't see eachother much&lt;br /&gt;and there is hardly a relationship between us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;shouldn't you like... talk to her about it first? (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i don't know why i do this. i just... try to patch relationships. don't ask&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am&lt;br /&gt;im really confused/unnerved&lt;br /&gt;i don't really know what to do, but cherie isn't helping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why unnerved?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just cant stand this&lt;br /&gt;people are talking shit to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;about what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;about me cherie and u&lt;br /&gt;people are saying we hooked up (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hahaha, WHOOO! THREESOME!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuck my life.&lt;br /&gt;she knows we didn't, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know&lt;br /&gt;but she hasn't said anything so i don't think so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hm...&lt;br /&gt;can you just explain to her that you need to communicate more&lt;br /&gt;or you will break up with her?&lt;br /&gt;because it just makes more sense&lt;br /&gt;so at least it clicks in her head if you break up with her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't really wanna go out with her anymore though&lt;br /&gt;i like her, but i feel like this relationship was premature&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahah, in what way&lt;br /&gt;if you go back now then there's no progressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we rushed it&lt;br /&gt;and im not really into her anymore&lt;br /&gt;pls just let me do this on my own&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;you just said that you liked her!&lt;br /&gt;okay, fine&lt;br /&gt;god, now i feel guilty&lt;br /&gt;new topic&lt;br /&gt;we kicked (other school)'s ass today ￼&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hunter:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i like her as a friend&lt;br /&gt;not as a girlfriend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just changed the topic, bitch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8954737003458271671?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8954737003458271671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8954737003458271671&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8954737003458271671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8954737003458271671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/one-of-many-weird-convos.html' title='One of Many Weird Convos'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3432311220175729163</id><published>2008-10-08T16:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T16:30:06.699-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>Another One?!</title><content type='html'>OH MY GOD! There's a hot Asian in my grade! Like, I met him the first night, and I thought he was hot, but then I thought that that was just first night weirdness. But now I've confirmed it with other people (even white people!) ROBIN IS FUCKING HOT (for an Asian). It's undeniable. Today we had like four stare-downs. This was just a little rant...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the real reason for this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started in the locker room.&lt;br /&gt;One of my team mates, who's a sophomore, asked me who my boyfriend was.&lt;br /&gt;And it wasn't like... rude, since she's super sweet.&lt;br /&gt;"Um... I'm not going out with anyone right now. Why?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, nothing."&lt;br /&gt;"No wait, tell me."&lt;br /&gt;"Well... there's some rumours going around about..."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh. I know. Yeah... Hunter, right?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, but I stood up for you. Because I was like, guys, if you ever met Taffy, you'd know that she's one of the sweetest people and she'd never do that. He has a girlfriend."&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I know. (awkward laugh)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO then I decided that I couldn't be friends with Hunter anymore. Like, I'm one of the "sweetest people", WTF? I've never been one of the sweetest people! And I definitely don't want to ruin this girl's opinion of me... it's like having a little puppy (but not an annoying one) dislike you! So we had another text conversation. This one is really short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I don't think I can talk to you anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: Perche&lt;br /&gt;Me: Apparently sophomores are saying shit about me so... yeah. Was that latin?&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: No, Italian. And I'm getting much worse shit than u but I'm not ignoring u&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm not ignoring you. But when it gets to the point that people you don't even know say shit, something's wrong with the picture.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: That doesn't mean u can't talk to me&lt;br /&gt;Me: It means I should stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No response. Like... ever.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't WANT this friendship to be over.&lt;br /&gt;It's just like... I don't want to be "that girl"&lt;br /&gt;(bitch girl)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll text him saying that's a lame excuse and we'll like... talk it out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I talked to a couple of guys today.&lt;br /&gt;One of them told me this story about how one of Hunter's friends went up to him, randomly, and said "Dude, your girlfriend is fucking ugly."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3432311220175729163?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3432311220175729163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3432311220175729163&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3432311220175729163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3432311220175729163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/another-one.html' title='Another One?!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-9204583029997783998</id><published>2008-10-06T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T16:29:58.257-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>Too Many Signs</title><content type='html'>So I'm probably hooking up with SBSG this Friday.&lt;br /&gt;I promise this is not to:&lt;br /&gt;+make Hunter jealous&lt;br /&gt;+become more "advanced" (trust me, I'm fine with where I'm at)&lt;br /&gt;+spark a relationship&lt;br /&gt;And I've already considered that:&lt;br /&gt;+guys talk&lt;br /&gt;+I may become the slut to all the juniours&lt;br /&gt;+he may try to get me to go farther than I want to go&lt;br /&gt;But:&lt;br /&gt;+I'm horny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's basically it. And that should show you just how horny I am!&lt;br /&gt;But um... Hunter knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or not WHO SBSG is, but he asked me if I wanted to hang out Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;I said no. I'm busy. And of course I told him that I was going to hook up with a guy because I'm ME for god's sake. That doesn't make it a reason for my hook-uppage with SBSG, but isn't it just so tempting to tell? And he obviously cared.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, he spent a lot of time trying to get me to tell him who SBSG was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO... now we're having this conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Done (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with sports&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: I can't hang out now, sorry. (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the fuck? did I SAY that I wanted to hang out?!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Me: Dude, it's Monday. I can never hang out Monday. (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;total BS but I wanted the last word&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: Come to my dorm (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;NOW he wants to hang? Hells to the no.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: When? (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;playing dumb&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: Now.&lt;br /&gt;Me: It's Monday. I'll see you tonight. (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;we're eating breakfast&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: What? U just said u could. Come on.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I just said I was done. Not that I wasn't busy.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: OMB (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hehehe, another typo boy&lt;/span&gt;) u r such a tease&lt;br /&gt;Me: A tease of what? Hanging out?&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: U lead me to believe that u would hang out now&lt;br /&gt;Me: How? I even specifically said that i can't hang out on Mondays.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: U said meet me at the bench. (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yes, "the" bench. we have a bench&lt;/span&gt;). That is hang out talk.&lt;br /&gt;Me: When did I say meet me at the bench?&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: When we went to the X. U said meet me out there&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah. To walk back.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: R u gonna hang out now or what&lt;br /&gt;Me: What.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: God ur boring&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm aware. See ya tonight :)&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: Good night. And what is happening with the junior?&lt;br /&gt;Me: I already told you. What else do you want to know?&lt;br /&gt;Me: And wtf, good night?&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: I just said that to show that I don't care about u (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;THE FUCK KIND OF RESPONSE IS THIS?!&lt;/span&gt;). And I wanna know his name and how much farther u are with him&lt;br /&gt;Me: That is such a pointless answer. What do you mean "how much farther"? In relation to what?&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: Where u were when I got the cuff links&lt;br /&gt;Me: In planning?&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: No, in hooking up with the guy&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm still sick.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: Bs. Jump the guy.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hunter, don't be a tool.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: How am I being a tool? This is not at all what a tool is.&lt;br /&gt;Me: You're being a tool. I'm going to go. See you tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: Can't u just spare 30 minutes&lt;br /&gt;Me: For what?&lt;br /&gt;Hunter: Hanging out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time I got to be the one who doesn't reply.&lt;br /&gt;In fact, this is the time I decided to take a shower, instead.&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, even if he DID dump his girlfriend to be with me (btw, she is random girl from the other night), I would say no.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even kidding. I genuinely have logical reasons for this decision.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-9204583029997783998?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/9204583029997783998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=9204583029997783998&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/9204583029997783998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/9204583029997783998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/too-many-signs.html' title='Too Many Signs'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3874569801382380826</id><published>2008-10-03T19:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T09:03:51.238-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Monica'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>HOLY CRAP, WTF?!</title><content type='html'>So the good thing is that Monica has NO CHANCE with Hunter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we walked around town last period. I was actually afraid he was going to flake, but he didn't. We went into this small thrift shop and I got him to buy turtle cufflinks. And basically walked and talked for an hour. I made fun of him for being a freshmore and he was like "you're the only freshman I hang out with".&lt;br /&gt;"Um... don't you hang out with Monica?"&lt;br /&gt;"To be honest, Monica's been a little annoying lately, she is kind of clingy."&lt;br /&gt;"She gets like that sometimes."&lt;br /&gt;"You've known her for what, four weeks?"&lt;br /&gt;"Still."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other good thing is that it wasn't really awkward after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we walked more. And chatted more. And I got him to buy me ice cream. (Pistachio is the best ever). And it's homemade and delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I had field hockey (which we walked to together).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after we hung out at the tuck shop. And he bought me a soda (because he likes to buy me stuff) and looked for my school ID card. Which also lets me into my dorm. And gets me money... And we never found it. So we went to his dorm, got his laptop, and walked to mine and watched Superbad. Which is fucking amazing. There was a lot of leaning-on-top and arm-arounds. And annoyance with other people for watching the movie with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO then we went back to his dorm.&lt;br /&gt;And I found out that he has a girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;Named Cherie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I totally built that up and shut you down.&lt;br /&gt;Kind of sad.&lt;br /&gt;Kind of relieved.&lt;br /&gt;(NOT MONICA)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3874569801382380826?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3874569801382380826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3874569801382380826&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3874569801382380826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3874569801382380826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/holy-crap-wtf.html' title='HOLY CRAP, WTF?!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4260896719101372774</id><published>2008-10-03T10:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T10:21:05.893-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Monica'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>So the Monica Thing</title><content type='html'>Ugg. What happened to the good days when EVERYBODY used to get annoyed with Monica? (okay, so that was like a week ago). Now it seems like it's only me who seriously, desperately, STRONGLY dislikes her. Jealousy, most likely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; annoying. All of the guys in our grade think so (thank god). Sadly, not ALL OF THE GUYS in general agree.&lt;br /&gt;*cough* HUNTER *cough*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fucking Latin class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or they're in Latin together. And they flirt now. Err I thought I was paranoid, but apparently not. If it makes me sound any less obsessive, I started disliking her MUCH before she and Hunter began talking. Fucking social-climbing, compulsive-hugging (it's a lot worse than it sounds!) bitch! (this is a rant).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, I was particularly annoyed with her yesterday because she found me while she was walking out of the dining hall (and in my mind, the refrain is: fuck my life, fuck my life, fuck my life) so she decided to come back in. And sit. And ask me what I am doing afterward.&lt;br /&gt;(whiny voice) "But I need someone to walk with me to the SAC!"&lt;br /&gt;"Um... I'm hanging out with Hunter after this."&lt;br /&gt;"Fine, then I'll get Hunter to walk with me."&lt;br /&gt;"Um, okay." (fuck my life, fuck my life, fuck my life)... "Aren't you going to go find him?"&lt;br /&gt;"No. Because I don't know where Hunter is. But you're going to go meet up with him after you're done eating and I can ask him to come to the SAC with me."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I don't know what rational thoughts were going through my mind when I decided to text Hunter going "Monica wants you to go to the SAC with her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I was REALLY hoping for a text back going:&lt;br /&gt;"I thought we were going to hang out!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week ago, this is what would have happened.&lt;br /&gt;But a lot can change in a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither ended up happening, but still. And according to one of my friends in their retard Latin class, a lot of flirting has been going on lately. And I didn't even bring HIM up!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Wow, this sucks. Everyone is starting to like Monica all of a sudden.&lt;br /&gt;Friend: Wait, what? OH! You mean Hunter?&lt;br /&gt;Me: THE FUCK?!&lt;br /&gt;Friend: You should see them during Latin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Hunter and I are going to walk around the town together.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm going to a stupid football game tomorrow where I get to dress up in Yellow.&lt;br /&gt;I DIDN'T EVEN THINK THIS GAME WAS STUPID UP UNTIL I MADE THIS POST!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I tried to rant but now I'm feeling even more pissed off.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for making you read this.&lt;br /&gt;It's okay if you stopped halfway and just leave comments going:&lt;br /&gt;"OH MONICA! THAT BITCH!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4260896719101372774?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4260896719101372774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4260896719101372774&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4260896719101372774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4260896719101372774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-monica-thing.html' title='So the Monica Thing'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7518559147009851313</id><published>2008-10-02T10:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T10:47:01.810-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Monica'/><title type='text'>Not Much is Going On</title><content type='html'>Except Hunter bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and that I sometimes want to shoot Monica in the face.&lt;br /&gt;Whoops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7518559147009851313?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7518559147009851313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7518559147009851313&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7518559147009851313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7518559147009851313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/10/not-much-is-going-on.html' title='Not Much is Going On'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8959294921696496730</id><published>2008-09-28T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T09:51:38.992-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>Fucking Devil Frosting</title><content type='html'>Uggg. So. Sophomore. Hunter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes me kind of angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week ago, I was feeling really down for some reason. Don't ask why, I don't have an explanation. He spent the whole week trying to cheer me up and making comments about frosting. So yeah, Hunter and I:&lt;br /&gt;+walk to sports practice together&lt;br /&gt;+hang out during free periods&lt;br /&gt;+hang out during break (where he generally buys me food)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I was approached by a whole bunch of people asking if we were going out. (Jesus, this sounds so pathetic)&lt;br /&gt;And I was starting to like him.&lt;br /&gt;A lot, actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday I ran into him while walking back from the Student Activities Center and he was holding frosting. And walking with some random girl (who I didn't think was that pretty so I didn't really acknowledge because she wasn't that pretty). We had a short frosting conversation in which he mentioned how he sometimes needs to go to Walmart to buy frosting for people who are acting depressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I assumed he meant me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that I think about it, he was acting kind of awkward the whole time we saw each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until I was walking into this dorm where all the freshman guys live and he was sitting on a bench outside. With his arm around random, unpretty girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this was the only reason why I never met up with SBSG. But I'm in dire need of a hookup. And as soon as my friend's sister (who is the all-knowing, all-seeing sophomore girl) gets back with info that's he's only sort of sketch, and not REALLY sketch, I'm going for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next weekend I think I'm fairly unbusy.&lt;br /&gt;This week I have too much shit due.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLOG READINGS, I PROMISE!&lt;br /&gt;DON'T LOSE FAITH IN ME!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8959294921696496730?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8959294921696496730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8959294921696496730&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8959294921696496730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8959294921696496730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/fucking-devil-frosting.html' title='Fucking Devil Frosting'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-466708843577487550</id><published>2008-09-24T18:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T18:35:00.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Recurring Conversation</title><content type='html'>It was kind of weird earlier.&lt;br /&gt;I was having this sophomore in my physics class check my work,&lt;br /&gt;when all of a sudden,&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry, I can't really concentrate right now. You smell really good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, the way I smell must have come up in conversation at least five times in the past week. And this sophomore isn't even hot. It was kind of creepy. At the end of class, he ran to catch up with me. It's nice feeling likcd, but still.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-466708843577487550?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/466708843577487550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=466708843577487550&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/466708843577487550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/466708843577487550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/recurring-conversation_24.html' title='A Recurring Conversation'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8019373817871234894</id><published>2008-09-21T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T03:04:55.057-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Monica'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drew'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alexandra'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>My Cheek is Itchy</title><content type='html'>Okay, so, I just got back from New York with Alexandra, Julia, and Monica. We stayed at Alexandra's apartment... which happens to be a four bedroom one... on Park Avenue.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, they're all pretty much richer than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went and ate the most delicious food... EVER.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, next time you're in New York.&lt;br /&gt;Go to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Brio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Italian. For the pasta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shabu-Shabu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;asian... for the mesclun salad. and the shabu shabu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pinkberry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mmm... original. basically frozen yogurt that's actually yogurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sarahbeths&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;best. breakfast. ever.&lt;br /&gt;- french toast&lt;br /&gt;- pancakes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Buttercup&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cupcakes.&lt;br /&gt;lady baltimore=love.&lt;br /&gt;basically Mongolia, but not as famous.&lt;br /&gt;(just with the Upper East siders)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;I was left broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we went to some party.&lt;br /&gt;With and heir to Estee Lauder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and you know Matt?&lt;br /&gt;The one with the fork?&lt;br /&gt;He's really good friends with Conrad Hilton.&lt;br /&gt;(THE Conrad Hilton).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, it was really good. This morning, we met up with a couple of guys from our school who were also in New York to eat breakfast. Which was... love? And shopping. At this place called Intermix. And I saw the most amazing Chloe bag in the world. Which I couldn't afford.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I've turned into a whiny little bitch.&lt;br /&gt;It's depressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live  a good life.&lt;br /&gt;I don't need to bitch around like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was sort of annoying because on the train ride back, Monica decided to take some really unflattering pictures of me asleep. They'll be up on Facebook some time soon... Julia and Monica also started doing this thing that these three guys in my grade like to do.&lt;br /&gt;"Taffy, take pictcha!"&lt;br /&gt;(asian accent)&lt;br /&gt;I tell Monica it pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;She can be a little annoying, sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drew:&lt;br /&gt;Just a random juniour i run into at least 20 times a day.&lt;br /&gt;He looks like Channing Tatum &amp;amp; Jonathan Rhys Meyer's love child.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this man is beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um... SBSG:&lt;br /&gt;Random sightings.&lt;br /&gt;Like... everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;We see each other, we don't say hi.&lt;br /&gt;Or we did once, it was really awkward.&lt;br /&gt;And a second time today. While I was with Hunter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hunter:&lt;br /&gt;Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know.&lt;br /&gt;Sort of reminds me  of Gage.&lt;br /&gt;A shitload.&lt;br /&gt;Except sweeter.&lt;br /&gt;But idk.&lt;br /&gt;I tried to explain this earlier, and tried to sort of end our friendship?&lt;br /&gt;Didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so awkward.&lt;br /&gt;Friday night, we walked to this play thing together.&lt;br /&gt;I had just taken a shower, so I was sniffing my hair.&lt;br /&gt;"Smell it." (me)&lt;br /&gt;"okay... it smells like you always do."&lt;br /&gt;"oh."&lt;br /&gt;"no, but it smells nice, like you generally smell nice."&lt;br /&gt;"awww."&lt;br /&gt;"don't read into that"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fucking fuckbastard assface.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a little disorganised.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8019373817871234894?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8019373817871234894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8019373817871234894&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8019373817871234894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8019373817871234894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-cheek-is-itchy.html' title='My Cheek is Itchy'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8433082067210946104</id><published>2008-09-17T03:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T03:49:13.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nueva York?</title><content type='html'>I'm taking an overnight to New York this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this type of thing is SORT of why I'm at boarding school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auggg, I'm so excited!&lt;br /&gt;Except for that it means that I'm missing the Asian Association fun night...&lt;br /&gt;(dumplings until TWO in the morning?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Longer post about... the trip? by Wednesday the next week.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, I'm running out of money quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WILL READ YOUR BLOGS!&lt;br /&gt;sorry sorry sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8433082067210946104?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8433082067210946104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8433082067210946104&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8433082067210946104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8433082067210946104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/nueva-york.html' title='Nueva York?'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1274814785573633412</id><published>2008-09-11T16:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T16:33:33.229-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='matt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='becky'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TK'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hunter'/><title type='text'>Those WASPs? GHET-TO!</title><content type='html'>So I almost got knifed today.&lt;br /&gt;One of these guys who's in three of my classes, Matt, we sometimes chill. So today during dinner, I promised to go with my friend Becky to get her food. I saw him so I ran up, tapped his head, and went "NICK!" (because he totally looks like a Nick). Bad Idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first he turned around angrily.&lt;br /&gt;I thought he was kidding so I was just like&lt;br /&gt;"Just kidding, MATT"&lt;br /&gt;and then he goes&lt;br /&gt;"no."&lt;br /&gt;"what?"&lt;br /&gt;"I know you know my name is Matt. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;blah blah blah about how that doesn't matter&lt;/span&gt;. I don't know why you hit my head."&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry?"&lt;br /&gt;"No. In the city that's a sign of disrespect. If I wasn't at a new school, and I wasn't afraid of getting in trouble, I would have beat the shit out of you."&lt;br /&gt;"oh." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;scampers off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And the thing is he isn't even like... from the Bronx or Brooklyn. He's an Upper East Sider. And he's not like a creepy loner, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and we had that whole conversation with him holding up his fork to my neck. Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um... TK keeps doing the flirt thing after things went back to normal after the dance. I almost don't want to go to this weekend's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH! And I met a sophomore named Hunter. Who is adorable. And a soccer guy (favourite). He invited me to sit in the sophomore section today (yes, our school has a 50 year old Freshmen section, Sophomore/Juniour section, and a Seniour section). I said I would if I could have a bite of his Coco Puffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kay, that's all for now. Time to do more work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHOO!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1274814785573633412?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1274814785573633412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1274814785573633412&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1274814785573633412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1274814785573633412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/those-wasps-ghet-to.html' title='Those WASPs? GHET-TO!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-2475625980143125271</id><published>2008-09-09T06:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T15:02:23.221-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><title type='text'>101 Dalmations</title><content type='html'>Boarding school is so difficult.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, if I were you I would skip this post.&lt;br /&gt;Essentially, it's me basically complaining the whole time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have time to hang out with any of my friends (most of whom aren't in any honors classes). I'm the nerd of the group. I've never been the nerd of the group. I even stay in between the breaks during study hours because THERE IS SO MUCH SHIT TO DO. On Monday it was the worst. I literally wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Except then I wouldn't be able to finish my work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so awkward, I've been seeing SBSG everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;Especially after this conversation.&lt;br /&gt;It starts with me seeing him on my way to acting class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Meeting earlier- way too awkward. I say we schedule another one and have sex or something. Deal? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;KIDDING&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Haha wow your quite the assertive one. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I liked this response&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You already knew that.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: U know where my dorm is. Just keep it on the dl. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I did not like this response quite as much... Hopefully he was kidding?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ha, thats a no. Maybe on the third meeting or something. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;trying to keep the light vibe...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: I live in ck. I was coming out of there this morning. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;obviously not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I meant the sex part, silly. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;haha, hahaha?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Your the one that mentioned it. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WHAT IS HE, RETARDED?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I was kidding. By the way, this is turning into a really awkward conversation.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Respondez-vous, si vout plais.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Alright u can give me a call sometime &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;DOUCHE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Gee, thanks for giving me that option! I'll take it to heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss you guys.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully comments this weekend!&lt;br /&gt;If not, you can disown me forever.&lt;br /&gt;I really miss reading y'all's stories!&lt;br /&gt;uggg. i suck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-2475625980143125271?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/2475625980143125271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=2475625980143125271&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2475625980143125271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2475625980143125271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/101-dalmations.html' title='101 Dalmations'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-478139258531236929</id><published>2008-09-07T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T14:47:27.787-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Monica'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alexandra'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Henry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TK'/><title type='text'>Hi Hi!</title><content type='html'>100th POST!&lt;br /&gt;I would add stuff celebrating it, but I don't really have all that much to say.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No SBSG.&lt;br /&gt;Just putting that out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having fun.&lt;br /&gt;Getting numbers, et cetera.&lt;br /&gt;But I've already taken two quizzes in Spanish and I've only had one day of class!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sorry for not being able to comment on your recent posts!&lt;br /&gt;There's just so much work and the internet shuts off at eight.&lt;br /&gt;I promise promise promise to try as hard as I can to comment this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which reminds me.&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I've been on campus, I have this habit of repeating words.&lt;br /&gt;"hey hey"&lt;br /&gt;"what, what?"&lt;br /&gt;"yes yes!"&lt;br /&gt;"hi hi!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah... I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um... the dance was pretty eventful.&lt;br /&gt;First of all, it was the craziest one I've ever been to.&lt;br /&gt;Because EVERYone on campus goes to this one.&lt;br /&gt;But just the first and second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, Hurricane (tropical storm) Hanna is up in the New England area so it was raining... a lot. I ended up walking mostly in the rain because it was so much fun :). I went with my group of friends who I will eventually describe... later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my friend Alexandra (who is GORGEOUS) ended up hooking up with this guy like twelve times on the dance floor. I was also with Julia and Monica (who also lives in Houston) and we were avoiding TK grinding with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TK... I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;I met him on orientation.&lt;br /&gt;We got real close.&lt;br /&gt;Real fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except now I only like him as a brother.&lt;br /&gt;And we didn't even make out or anything.&lt;br /&gt;He lives near Houston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup. I felt bad.&lt;br /&gt;We would move.&lt;br /&gt;AND HE WOULD FUCKING STAY BEHIND ME.&lt;br /&gt;UNCOMFORTABLE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nuff said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, by the end I was drenched in liquid.&lt;br /&gt;Sadly to say, it wasn't rain water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there was more to this post but I forgot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think y'all will be proud of me,&lt;br /&gt;I joined the Asian Association Club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should make an alternate 100th post.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and Henry called :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-478139258531236929?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/478139258531236929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=478139258531236929&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/478139258531236929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/478139258531236929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/hi-hi.html' title='Hi Hi!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1938714186202161153</id><published>2008-09-06T15:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T15:43:11.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CONNECTICUT IS FREAKING HOT.</title><content type='html'>roomie- not as bad as could be.&lt;br /&gt;friends- the popular ones :)&lt;br /&gt;schoolwork- over three hours and it's just orientation day.&lt;br /&gt;internet- slow, slow, slow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dance tonight.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1938714186202161153?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1938714186202161153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1938714186202161153&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1938714186202161153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1938714186202161153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/connecticut-is-freaking-hot.html' title='CONNECTICUT IS FREAKING HOT.'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5739658420612121267</id><published>2008-09-02T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T18:03:32.796-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><title type='text'>The Sad Thing About Travel</title><content type='html'>Is that you usually don't know anybody but your parents.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, unless you're on a cruise, there's really no way to really meet people.&lt;br /&gt;I ended up becoming friends with the freaking doormen!&lt;br /&gt;(who were hot)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New York is fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;I finally have a hat with earflaps!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm so sorry for not being able to keep up with your stories as of late, I had no way of accessing the internet for the past three days. Apparently I won't have a lot of time to blog in the near future, either, so I'll try to read all of your posts, but if you could leave summaries, that would be great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm... The school is gorgeous. Lush green courtyards, shady trees, it's like a freaking movie, for Gage's (heheh) sake. And my roommate... was in the National Spelling Bee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I've moved in some of my things, and stole the big closet from her side of the room... Whoops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we went to Walmart to get sheets and stuff... NOT COOL.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this town is like... hickville?&lt;br /&gt;(or at least some of the people are. Especially Pat, our checkout lady. Other people are kinda cool. and nice)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and SBSG has shown interest.&lt;br /&gt;But he seems like the kind of guy who would look at me oddly if I approached him in front of his friends. And would ignore me or give a blase "hey".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I'll humour you with this recent conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: So how do you like [dorm name]&lt;br /&gt;Me: Maybe you should come visit some time and find out for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Haha, okay, will do. (typos, but they irk me too much to type out)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;later on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Your hair looks better short.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: U look hotter with those glasses on.&lt;br /&gt;Me: aww, shucks.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Don't take that the wrong way. U look fine both ways. Me, my hair was only short freshman year.&lt;br /&gt;Me: And when I saw you. And thanks. And youre hot either way (as well), but the short hair's just a preference.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Well its short just for you. &lt;em&gt;DOUCHE!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Thanks. I really appreciate that (only half sarcasm)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I accidentally put the name Taffy&lt;br /&gt;(which is actually a nickname)&lt;br /&gt;As what I want to be called.&lt;br /&gt;All the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(shoots self)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5739658420612121267?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5739658420612121267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5739658420612121267&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5739658420612121267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5739658420612121267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/09/sad-thing-about-travel.html' title='The Sad Thing About Travel'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7348158874252175963</id><published>2008-08-28T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T23:05:49.077-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alice'/><title type='text'>I'm Leaving (pt. II)</title><content type='html'>So I'm off to New York tomorrow.&lt;div&gt;We have to do some shopping for winter clothes before my three long months in Connecticut...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had a goodbye dinner with Alice, Sydney, and Natalie tonight. It was good, the food and such. It wasn't really sad until I said goodbye to each of them. The dinner itself was actually kind of awkward. I still didn't feel like I got enough time to say what I wanted to say to each of them so... I guess I'll say it here?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um... I'll ask that you only read your message but I doubt that would do any difference. I love each of you equally, though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alice- We have been friends for the shortest amount of time, but I feel like I have known you for a while. Our friendship has had many up and downs for a relatively short period of time, but our ups are the best... and we get over our downs with a little bit of cussing and such. I love you so much and I wish I could be at your Quince! I'm glad you are having fun at St. Paul's. Seriously, all of the stuff about popularity... BULLSHIT. I just want you to be happy. I want you to find friends who understand you and love you as much as Natalie, Sydney, and I did. We weren't the most popular, however, we had the most fun BY FAR of any fucking group in our grade. You will go so far in life, just remember me when you do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sydney- I think I've been friends with you for the longest if you don't include the period of time where you left our cozy little school. And when you first came back with your bitter attitude towards me due to a previous scissor fight... I'm sorry I get annoyed with you over little things. Actually, you are the best. Ever. Seriously, I don't think those fucking ribbons would get any use without you spaztically waving them all over the place. I can't believe you're almost getting taller than  me! I can tell everything to you without you judging. You're like my own crazy doctor. Eventually, I'll begin trying to bum Adderall off of you, and it's up to you to tell me no. I'll miss your talkativeness and ability to un-awkardize any moment. Thank you for always being an amazing friend to me, even when I'm being a freak. And thank you for always rationalizing situations and telling me the truth when I need it. Keep up the art, you faggot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Natalie- We became friends over your (and now my) Angry Friend's love of popcorn. Medium-length. Although, I think we've gone through a lot. Sorry for the ending of this summer, it was weird. And I don't think our friendship will ever go back to the way it was. But that isn't exactly a bad thing... We're stronger. I'll miss you so much, you have no idea. It was hard not to cry in front of you while we were saying goodbye but I didn't want you to be sad while you were in the car. I really hope that I'll find someone else I can talk about boobs with so lightly, but I doubt that will happen. And for some reason, I'm also okay with that. Because that is something that's so signaturely you. I'll also miss the awkward, unintentional boob grazes, and also the equally awkward, intentional boob hits. Hopefully the five bajillion (just kidding, maybe like... three) kids you have in the future won't have a problem breast feeding (sorry, I couldn't help that). You'll make a great mom. And homemaker.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So yeah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Suck it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(said to all three)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7348158874252175963?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7348158874252175963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7348158874252175963&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7348158874252175963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7348158874252175963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-leaving-pt-ii.html' title='I&apos;m Leaving (pt. II)'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-6580154444577883996</id><published>2008-08-26T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T18:54:50.729-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barbie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boarding school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='james'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Calvin'/><title type='text'>Thank Gage!</title><content type='html'>James called just to talk.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gage didn't come... but neither did Calvin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead, Barbie and I watched Crossroads. (aka the best movie EVER)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm packing for boarding school now...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Short post, man!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-6580154444577883996?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/6580154444577883996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=6580154444577883996&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6580154444577883996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6580154444577883996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/thank-gage.html' title='Thank Gage!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3178098536335109325</id><published>2008-08-24T16:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T17:06:27.414-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taylor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='james'/><title type='text'>Bitchslutmistress</title><content type='html'>So today I went and saw the Dark Knight for the third time.&lt;div&gt;It's still an amazing movie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was with Jas, a couple of my SPS friends (Alice's school), and James, who is one of Jas' best friends' boyfriends (and also one of my friends). It was cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Except for when James kissed me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No worries, it was just a peck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But still...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I texted Taylor about feeling like a bitchslutmistress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;His response?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"ya..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3178098536335109325?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3178098536335109325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3178098536335109325&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3178098536335109325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3178098536335109325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/bitchslutmistress.html' title='Bitchslutmistress'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-2696237420202450040</id><published>2008-08-23T23:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T23:49:41.270-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boarding school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taylor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Calvin'/><title type='text'>I'm Leaving</title><content type='html'>So the cool thing about boarding school is that the week before you leave is packed. It's nice feeling busy :). And loved. (no, I'm not depressed or anything).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though my roommate sucks. And hates neon colours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(SERIOUSLY, what's up with that?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, I'm going to hang out with Calvin this Monday. Which I would be excited about if it wasn't for what I'm going to tell you next.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had discussed Calvin's coming over with him over the phone. Essentially, the three big points are that a. natalie's 5-foot-1-ex's mom would have to drop him off; b. that or both him &amp;amp; gage &amp;amp; calvin would have to come; and c. I DO NOT WANT GAGE TO COME.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, ever since he started high school, Gage has become an even bigger asshole than normal! He's cockier (was I stupid to assume it would get better?) and a lot more annoying. So yeah, I no longer even have an odd affection for him. I just don't like him. At all. I am going to fucking kill that kid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, he texted me on Friday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gage: Hey! WHATS UP!!! &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he's rarely this enthusiastic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Not much. Um, I have to go pack. Bye. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bullshit. i was walking around aimlessly through stein mart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gage: Why have you been so moody towards me lately?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: I haven't been. I do seriously need to pack, though. I'm leaving in a week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gage: I know, so when are we going to hang out?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Um, I'm really busy all weekend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gage: Can't you squeeze me in?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: I'll see you at the yearbook signing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gage: Wat about Monday?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;eyes widened...&lt;/span&gt; You talked to Calvin?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gage: Ya&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Ha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no reply&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: If you want to come monday, come monday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gage: Okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WHAT DO YOU MEAN "OKAY"?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DON'T YOU GET THE FUCKING HINT?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, yes, he does!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got Sydney to text him about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What I've learned:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+he knows we're not fighting and that I just dislike him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+he's not actually kidding about coming&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+he knows I don't want him there&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+he's coming just to say "bye"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+he's probably staying for as long as Calvin is&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And on top of this, I'm trying to help Taylor decide his major!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-2696237420202450040?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/2696237420202450040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=2696237420202450040&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2696237420202450040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2696237420202450040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-leaving.html' title='I&apos;m Leaving'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3298331012066328038</id><published>2008-08-22T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T16:48:53.650-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><title type='text'>Argumentation?</title><content type='html'>Yeah, I sort of told my mother that I hoped she would die in a car crash.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Progress is back in the negative numbers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3298331012066328038?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3298331012066328038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3298331012066328038&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3298331012066328038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3298331012066328038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/argumentation.html' title='Argumentation?'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3183837275075822471</id><published>2008-08-20T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T18:21:01.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If I had a Restaurant</title><content type='html'>I'd name it Nosh.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, that's all that I was thinking about last night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was sitting in my bed, going "nosh nosh nosh nosh nosh nosh nosh".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was pretty entertaining.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a newfound love of ska music.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, by the way, there's a large hole in the wall of my closet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And there are these two guys downstairs who hit on me while I was walking my dog... One was hot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3183837275075822471?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3183837275075822471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3183837275075822471&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3183837275075822471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3183837275075822471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/if-i-had-restaurant.html' title='If I had a Restaurant'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-6514310388958528972</id><published>2008-08-17T21:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T13:09:05.390-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='che'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mark'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frank'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PJ'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jake'/><title type='text'>I Didn't Even Get Any Freaking Cake</title><content type='html'>Hey, thank you to all of my readers for being awesome!&lt;div&gt;Sorry for not being able to comment on any of your pages recently, it's been kinda hectic  considering:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-weight: bold;font-size:x-large;"&gt;LIVIA AND FRANK JUST GOT MARRIED!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I was rather excited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During the days leading up to the wedding, I basically sat around for hours on end tying bows, bows, glorious bows. (which pretty much all came undone during the reception) ((wich was gorgeous)). It was all pretty surreal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was promoted from and demoted to the title "Juniour Bridesmaid" multiple times. By the time everything was over, I was still left a tad confused.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Way before the ceremony, we had gotten our hair and makeup done. My lovely hairstylist, Sukie, and I had a great conversation. It was nice. Afterward, I was mistaken for an 18 year old multiple times. (compliments are the best ever)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Livia was pretty stressed out for most of the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Soon, it was time for the ceremony. I cried during the beginning, although it never really hit me. Then... nothing. Afterward, I bustled Livia's dress and we hopped into the limo to drive to the reception. I think I minorly screwed up while I was walking to the alter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We arrived at the tower the reception was being held in and were immediately whisked into a bar area. It was nice that we got to avoid the crowds, but that also ruined my chances of making something at the candy bar. Then, they introduced all of the wedding party, we stood in the back while Livia and Frank danced their first dance as a married couple. I was seated at a really awkward table with a bunch of Asians. I made friends with these two sisters who were next to me but everyone else at that table... sucked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was this one [unhot] guy who made several comments under his breath. Eventually, i got agitated and went:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"sorry, what?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"...nothing"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"no. say it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"it's no big deal."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"seriously, i won't get pissed off."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"otherwise i'll just think you're a pussy."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(all around "OOOHHH"s from the table)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"i asked if it was middle school" (the conversation was right after i said i was going to boarding school)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"oh. nope"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later on, he said something else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"(quiet)"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"what, sorry, i can't hear you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"(a little louder)"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"speak up"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;("ooooohhhh")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"you're very vulgar"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"thank you, fucktard"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I rub people the wrong way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've become a lot more... confrontational than I was before this summer. Mostly with people that don't know me well. Hopefully, I can establish this personality at boarding school so I won't have to deal with always being polite and dealing with crap that I don't want to deal with. Seriously, y'all should try it, it's nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a result of the awkward conversations above, I left my table frequently to talk to other people outside of the room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of those people was Mark.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mark is Frank's best man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mark is amazing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mark is 28 years of age.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's not like Jake, who is another one of Frank's close friends (remember, rodeo?). Jake is just a talented conversationalist with a sex god accent. But although I am somewhat attracted to him (and I can stay in conversation with him for hours) ((which happened at the rehearsal dinner)), he is more of an older brother figure to me (I've fallen asleep on him multiple times).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mark is different.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's not particularly attractive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Slightly balding (like SBT). Math obsessive (has a PhD).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not saying that he's unnatractive, either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In [great] shape. Piercing blue eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It works for him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Throughout the night, I found myself constantly drawn to him. We shared looks from across the room, one would eventually gravitate toward the other, we would talk. He's hilarious. He speaks well. He's honest. He challenges me. Jesus, I don't even have a clue anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He also has issues. Mark's been on antidepressants for the past five years. His prescription is so high that he's constantly twitchy. Sometimes I just want to slap him and be like, STOP, which I ended up doing at some point during the night. At first meeting, he's slightly awkward. He's a lot more blunt than some prefer, either that, or really quiet. He's chill with his friends, though. His students, as well. And people he likes. Not really with people he doesn't know if he likes (which explains awkward first meetings). He gets nervous in front of large groups of people... unless he's buzzed... which he was when he gave his toast. Of course, it was a smash hit (his personality is... complex. a shitload of people stopped us mid-conversation to commend him for it). he was really good for when I was feeling antisocial.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We slow danced twice. The second dance was a disaster:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+half-drunken turns&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+PJ faux- making out with him from behind...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Certainly nothing is going to happen, though. I haven't completely lost my mind. But it's times like this that I truly wish I was older instead of just appealing to older men.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now I'm going to stop gushing about Mark so I can talk about PJ&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First of all, PJ is weird. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+He gave Frank a machete for his 25th birthday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+He had a switchblade in his pocket during the whole wedding (I saw it)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+He collects knives&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;+And guns&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But he's funny weird. He's so outrageous that people just forgive him for it. No one seems to figure out that he does it for the attention. Everyone loves him, though. Even Alexis Bledel (who used to be a geek, keep that in mind) once had a crush  on PJ. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I gave PJ Che's phone number.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can't wait to see where that goes :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the end of the night, I felt pretty much dead. Mark and I were just sitting off to the side and talking. Eventually, a bunch of Frank's other friends joined the conversation. Including PJ. Our convo was interesting. I left feeling a lot more... educated? They're interesting people,  though. We got together to pose for a picture, when all of a sudden, PJ goes:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Someone should grab Taffy's ass!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About a second later, I feel it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I glance over at PJ and he's laughing his ass off...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the reception was over, when Livia &amp;amp; Frank drove off in their limo, I was basically left to clean up the mess. All of the REAL bridesmaids seemed to have already untagged themselves as "it". Jake helped me load everything into the limo at twelve and he escorted me back home in it. Even so, I was majorly pissed off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry for the uberlong post.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-6514310388958528972?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/6514310388958528972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=6514310388958528972&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6514310388958528972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6514310388958528972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-didnt-even-get-any-freaking-cake.html' title='I Didn&apos;t Even Get Any Freaking Cake'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5844065128589252369</id><published>2008-08-14T12:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T12:20:25.402-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><title type='text'>Tree- Pruning as Therapy</title><content type='html'>Today I basically chopped off a bunch of tree leaves.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that doing so could be so... depressing.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, it's a really thoughtful process.&lt;br /&gt;I've grown a lot in the past 12 hours, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother and I are forming a closer relationship.&lt;br /&gt;It's been like a week since I've cursed at her (baby steps, baby steps).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, this summer I can figure everything out.&lt;br /&gt;Nat- I want to be a better friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5844065128589252369?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5844065128589252369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5844065128589252369&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5844065128589252369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5844065128589252369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/tree-pruning-as-therapy.html' title='Tree- Pruning as Therapy'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1878790693291963923</id><published>2008-08-12T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T19:56:13.597-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alice'/><title type='text'>Yo Homies</title><content type='html'>I now own three pairs of dress pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, not much has happened lately.&lt;br /&gt;(translation- taffy is a loser)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hanging with Nat tomorrow! (i think)&lt;br /&gt;And Syd yesterday night.&lt;br /&gt;(she ate 5 cinnamon rolls)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALICE CALL ME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you all :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1878790693291963923?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1878790693291963923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1878790693291963923&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1878790693291963923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1878790693291963923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/yo-homies.html' title='Yo Homies'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-2468272013839525432</id><published>2008-08-11T09:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T10:44:16.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Case You Were Wondering...</title><content type='html'>Copied from Cady's Blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ABOUT YOU:&lt;br /&gt;001. real name → y'all know me as Taffy :)&lt;br /&gt;002. nickname → taff?&lt;br /&gt;003. single or taken → single&lt;br /&gt;004. zodiac sign → saggitarius&lt;br /&gt;005. male or female → female.&lt;br /&gt;006. elementary → it's anonymous :)&lt;br /&gt;007. middle → anonymouuuuuuuuuuussss (same school)&lt;br /&gt;008. highschool → boarding school in connecticut.&lt;br /&gt;010. long or short → long nails. long hair. long.&lt;br /&gt;011. are you a health freak → god, that would make everything more convenient.&lt;br /&gt;012. height → 5'3...&lt;br /&gt;013. do you have a crush on someone → multiple.&lt;br /&gt;014. do you like yourself → occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;015 piercings → ears.&lt;br /&gt;016. tattoos → eventually.&lt;br /&gt;017. righty or lefty → right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIRSTS:&lt;br /&gt;018. first surgery → can't really think of any.&lt;br /&gt;019. first piercing → eight.&lt;br /&gt;020. first best friend → Kerri!&lt;br /&gt;021. first award → best in class, chinese school :)&lt;br /&gt;022. first sport you joined → chinese dance&lt;br /&gt;023. first pet → fish. moon-star or something?&lt;br /&gt;024. first vacation → taiwan, probably&lt;br /&gt;025. first concert → aaron carter! (it was free and we were driving to florida, this was after he was uncool)&lt;br /&gt;026. first crush → Morgan :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CURRENTLY:&lt;br /&gt;027. eating → cereal?&lt;br /&gt;028. drinking → milk...&lt;br /&gt;029. i'm about to → sit on the computer/ hang with sydney.&lt;br /&gt;030. listening to → dig- incubus&lt;br /&gt;031. wearing → cheap-o tank top, adidas shorts.&lt;br /&gt;032. mood → chillfrustrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR FUTURE:&lt;br /&gt;033. want kids → nope.&lt;br /&gt;034. want to get married → probably not...&lt;br /&gt;035. careers in mind? → anything that lets me slack. oh god, this is how i begin my life as... shit.&lt;br /&gt;036. see yourself in 4 years → legal.&lt;br /&gt;037. college → harvard. (probably not, too much... work)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?:&lt;br /&gt;038. lips or eyes → eyes. blue.&lt;br /&gt;039. hugs or kisses → kisses.&lt;br /&gt;040. shorter or taller → tall. er.&lt;br /&gt;041. romantic or spontaneous → spontaneous.&lt;br /&gt;042. nice stomach or nice arms → how can you have one without the other?&lt;br /&gt;043. sensitive or loud → loud? what is that... like... drunk?&lt;br /&gt;044. hook-up or relationship → hook-ups are fun. so are relationships... i like both.&lt;br /&gt;045. trouble maker or hesitant → trouble maker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER: (god, this made me feel so unaccomplished)&lt;br /&gt;046. kissed a stranger → hahahaha&lt;br /&gt;047. drank bubbles → um... yeah?&lt;br /&gt;048. lost glasses/contacts → nope.&lt;br /&gt;049. ran away from home → for like an hour...&lt;br /&gt;050. broken any bones → nope.&lt;br /&gt;051. broken someone's heart → nope.&lt;br /&gt;051. been arrested → nope.&lt;br /&gt;052. turned someone down → roy, henry s., pierce (the second and third time)... wow, 2008 is the year of the turn- downs!&lt;br /&gt;053. cried when someone died → yes.&lt;br /&gt;054 liked a friend → all the time :) (male friends, MALE FRIENDS)&lt;br /&gt;055. drank egg nog → actually, never.&lt;br /&gt;056. gone to therapy → ha, once.&lt;br /&gt;057. played spin the bottle → spin the phone?&lt;br /&gt;058. toilet papered someone's house → aww, i used to all the time.&lt;br /&gt;059. liked someone but never told them → ha, yes!&lt;br /&gt;060. spied on someone → hehehe.&lt;br /&gt;061. stolen anything → oh god... i went through a shoplifting phase when i was ten.&lt;br /&gt;062. gone camping → utah, colorado, GIRL SCOUTS (YES!)&lt;br /&gt;063. had a crush on your sister's friend → heh, yes. except they're all twice my age.&lt;br /&gt;064. gone to a nude beach → espana, baby.&lt;br /&gt;065. gone streaking → god, YES. (nat!)&lt;br /&gt;066. had a stalker → oh, the stalkers... just sort of roy. i'm usually the stalker.&lt;br /&gt;067. gone skinny dipping → every summer.&lt;br /&gt;068. laughed so hard you cried → mhmm mhmm mhmm. then peed :)&lt;br /&gt;069. gone to a party → NOOOOO.&lt;br /&gt;070. been in love → been in... obsession mode :)&lt;br /&gt;071. felt betrayed by your best friend → sometimes. it's usually a misunderstanding.&lt;br /&gt;072. lied to your parents → frequently.&lt;br /&gt;073. been out of the us → yup&lt;br /&gt;074. thrown up from working out → nope. dry-gagged...&lt;br /&gt;075. gotten a haircut so bad that you wore hat → hahah, gave myself a haircut so bad... wait, no, it was a "bang trim"&lt;br /&gt;076. 3 meals from 3 different fast food places → ?&lt;br /&gt;077. done anything hurtful to your classmate → hahaha, oh god, the sam yin-yang sign.&lt;br /&gt;078. been cheated on by someone → um... halfway? not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU BELIEVE IN:&lt;br /&gt;079. yourself → at times.&lt;br /&gt;080. miracles → yes yes yes yes.&lt;br /&gt;081. love at first sight → lust at first sight.&lt;br /&gt;082. heaven → i don't know.&lt;br /&gt;083. santa clause → i wish.&lt;br /&gt;084. angels → i don't know.&lt;br /&gt;085. kissing on the first date → yes yes yes yes.&lt;br /&gt;086. sex before marriage → um... yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANSWER TRUTHFULLY:&lt;br /&gt;087. is there one or more people you want to be with right now → kind of halfway.&lt;br /&gt;088. had more than one boyfriend/girlfriend at one time → nope :)&lt;br /&gt;089. do you believe in God → ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITES:&lt;br /&gt;090. smell → special shirt :)&lt;br /&gt;091. sound → i have to hear it to know... rain, i think.&lt;br /&gt;092. movie → fight club&lt;br /&gt;093. clothing item → mens' long sleeved, button-down shirts.&lt;br /&gt;094. clothing store → i don't really have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RANDOM:&lt;br /&gt;095. still talk with the first person you dated → not really (morgan), never (dylan)&lt;br /&gt;096. are you obsessed with someone → my readers know.&lt;br /&gt;097. best thing about your job → none. (no job, if i actually went than... money?)&lt;br /&gt;098. like more than one person right now → kind of sort of.&lt;br /&gt;099. any compliments today → haven't really seen anyone today.&lt;br /&gt;100. next vacation → new york!&lt;br /&gt;101. friends guys or girls → friends.&lt;br /&gt;102. own any furniture from ikea → a couple of chairs...&lt;br /&gt;103. last book you read → breaking dawn&lt;br /&gt;104. super power → mind reading.&lt;br /&gt;105. lived most of your life → texas.&lt;br /&gt;106. why is the sky blue → ions or some shit.&lt;br /&gt;107. last song you listened to → drive- incubus...&lt;br /&gt;108. if you could be anywhere right now where would it be → room 417&lt;br /&gt;109. mood atm → still chillfrustrated. kind of sick.&lt;br /&gt;110. plans for tomorrow → shopping?&lt;br /&gt;111. last time you slept for more then 12 hours → a week ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-2468272013839525432?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/2468272013839525432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=2468272013839525432&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2468272013839525432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2468272013839525432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/in-case-you-were-wondering.html' title='In Case You Were Wondering...'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3577078644357460361</id><published>2008-08-09T20:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T12:24:50.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today</title><content type='html'>was a good day.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://search.playlist.com/tracks/I%20wish%20you%20were%20here%20incubus"&gt;I Wish You Were Here- Incubus&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3577078644357460361?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3577078644357460361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3577078644357460361&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3577078644357460361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3577078644357460361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/today.html' title='Today'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-626118653494068881</id><published>2008-08-06T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T23:25:59.497-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IDG'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bex'/><title type='text'>My Hands Smell Like Butterpiss</title><content type='html'>Today I went to the mall with Bex. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were supposed to go to Fitzgerald's, but turns out no one was playing. That would have been awkward...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was fun. We shopped for like, the first hour, and went on a quest to find the perfect pair of Rainbows. I like the thin straps in the lightest colour. Nordstroms, Pac Sun, and Journey's didn't have the ones I want! Geez, I almost killed someone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eventually we got tired so we went to eat at Chick- Fil- A. I decided to get the "new" chick-n strips (or whatever). They taste exactly like the old ones... Next time I'm getting nuggets. Then we went to this furniture display and sat in the bunk beds. Then we got kicked out. By a sassy black man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and I was supposed to meet up with IDG... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's how it went:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I texted him Monday night asking him if he was free.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Response? "I might be doing something extremely sexy and important. I'll try to squeeze you in".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh goodie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tuesday I asked him if he knew anything about Fitz.  Short convo about that...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today our conversation went:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: I'm at the [mall] from 3 till... Idk. Are you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Idk is seven.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;constant phone checking...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By six, I was fed up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: [FIRST NAME] [LAST NAME]! Please quit being an ass face (albeit an attractive one) for an hour.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was not at all prepared for the response.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;IDG: What? I'm busy. What do you want?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;heart palpitations...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Oh, sorry, thought you were just being suckish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;IDG: And I cant really go anywhere. I have no car here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Um, yeah, sorry for pissing you off. Promise not to bother you in a while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is where we got kicked off the bunk beds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Wait, you aren't allowed to sit up here?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"NOOOOOOOO!" (said in sassy, saucy black voice)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bex and I ended up in Limited Too... buying candy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was ranting about my newfound hatred of IDG.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(which I do frequently, apparently)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;IDG: Not botherin. Just making impossible requests.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Taffy jumps up into the air and squeals. Bex shakes head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: That makes me feel better. I think. maybe ill visit you tomorrow but you have to tell me when youre free, cos non replies bug the crap out of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two hours later&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;IDG: Working from 1 to 5.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I honestly don't know what to think anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should start writing about cats.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-626118653494068881?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/626118653494068881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=626118653494068881&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/626118653494068881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/626118653494068881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-hands-smell-like-butterpiss.html' title='My Hands Smell Like Butterpiss'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7032342584957968454</id><published>2008-08-05T13:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T13:46:15.478-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roy'/><title type='text'>Things I Don't Enjoy Waking Up to</title><content type='html'>1 new message.&lt;div&gt;roy: whatsupppp&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;get the hint, douche bag.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has successfully ruined one of the most joyous things in life. I used to love text messages...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7032342584957968454?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7032342584957968454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7032342584957968454&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7032342584957968454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7032342584957968454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/things-i-dont-enjoy-waking-up-to.html' title='Things I Don&apos;t Enjoy Waking Up to'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-2667289986352723759</id><published>2008-08-03T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T12:49:17.835-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IDG'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn G.'/><title type='text'>My Boys are Back</title><content type='html'>Thank you all for the trunk suggestions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that just when I want to give up, that's when things start looking... up. Jesus, I need a new vocabulary. I'll look up synonyms later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Penn &amp;amp; I had a conversation all of yesterday where he was sweet and awesome and et cetera. And still taken. But at least he's talking (and back from diabetes camp). Penn and I had just finished our conversation when, lo and behold, IDG reappeared!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not really. You're entertaining :) But Im gone this week. Till monday."&lt;br /&gt;I was confused for a good three minutes until I read all of my sent texts. I think the last one was sent out of desperation, "Seriously, don't you get annoyed?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm slightly pissed off. Cos I'm screwing with him but now he's... screwing back. (and I told him this and how uncool it was). Response?&lt;br /&gt;"Well next week we can continue screwing each other ;) For now though, Im out of town." Yes, I figured out the sexual undertones in this (pahaha), but what y'all need to understand is that right now, I'm just looking for some fun. I think. And IDG is a beautiful man to enjoy oneself with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOW. I'm really inarticulate today. But y'all get the gist, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and Roy (who I had a crush on for a slight period in time...) is nonstop texting and being annoying and not taking the fucking hint. Ask Nat or Syd.&lt;br /&gt;"Want to go shopping"&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;"Lol, okay, maybe tomorrow ;P"&lt;br /&gt;JESUS!&lt;br /&gt;Crushes on Asians never end well.&lt;br /&gt;(and I'm allowed to crack this joke for, I, myself, am an Asian)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Hunting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-2667289986352723759?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/2667289986352723759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=2667289986352723759&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2667289986352723759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2667289986352723759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-boys-are-back.html' title='My Boys are Back'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-500430677896618219</id><published>2008-08-01T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T14:47:05.142-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boarding school'/><title type='text'>HELP</title><content type='html'>I need a trunk for boarding school.&lt;br /&gt;Do any of y'all know where I can find a cute one?&lt;br /&gt;(and Louis Vuitton ones are GORGEOUS, but they're like 2500)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-500430677896618219?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/500430677896618219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=500430677896618219&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/500430677896618219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/500430677896618219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/08/help.html' title='HELP'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4077214059047819968</id><published>2008-07-30T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T19:42:03.581-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Will'/><title type='text'>E-Mail CAN Get you into Trouble</title><content type='html'>Hottie Spanish Bartender (in his late 20s) has reestablished contact.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I have this problem with talking to too many guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Will invited me to a pool party (as friends), but still, he's creepy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4077214059047819968?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4077214059047819968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4077214059047819968&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4077214059047819968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4077214059047819968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/e-mail-can-get-you-into-trouble.html' title='E-Mail CAN Get you into Trouble'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3549261299936244477</id><published>2008-07-28T21:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T01:24:54.672-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IDG'/><title type='text'>I'm a Lazy- Ass</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://search.playlist.com/tracks/i%27m%20not%20over%20carolina%20liar"&gt;I'm Not Over- Carolina Liar. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://search.playlist.com/tracks/she%20doesn't%20get%20it%20the%20format%20acoustic"&gt;She Doesn't Get It- The Format.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, these songs sum up my feelings about IDG.&lt;br /&gt;Which is depressing because I knew him for a total of one day.&lt;br /&gt;(plus talking)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, he doesn't talk. I even told me to tell me to "fuck off, bitch"&lt;br /&gt;and no response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, y'all already know how obsessive I get.&lt;br /&gt;Or do you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3549261299936244477?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3549261299936244477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3549261299936244477&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3549261299936244477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3549261299936244477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-lazy-ass.html' title='I&apos;m a Lazy- Ass'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8022976773530385697</id><published>2008-07-25T12:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T19:44:17.374-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faye'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='concerts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='angry friend'/><title type='text'>Soundtrack of/to/for my Summer</title><content type='html'>I have this newfound love for The Maine.&lt;br /&gt;(who is one of the most beautiful bands out there).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I went to the Sountrack of/to/for (I'm never quite sure which) Your Summer Tour.&lt;br /&gt;+The Maine&lt;br /&gt;+Metro Station&lt;br /&gt;+Good Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;+Boys Like Girls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this uncanny ability to get to the front of crowds at concerts. By the second song of all of these bands, I was only three rows of people behind the stage. (Yes, I'm bragging, and you can't do ANYTHING about it). I went with Faye and our Angry Friend. It was kind of hard to weave through this crowd cos we had a huge bundle of clothing and my little purse. And for some reason, I never learn to wear jeans or shorts to a concert, therefore I'm too afraid to crowdsurf all the way to backstage. Jesus, I felt like an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the last set (Boys Like Girls), we chose a different side to enter from and we met some very nice people. This one guy helped our Angry Friend reach me &amp;amp; Faye. Then he asked us where we were trying to get to. "Up there!" I said. And he went, "Just cough really loudly and hack and stuff". So I pointed out the couple in front of him macking and began my fake cough... Which was interrupted by the male macker. "Nice try," he went, "If you had said you had AIDS I would have let you through." He then proceeded to show me the proper way of getting forward (pretending you're gonna shit) and all of us had a discussion about which method was best to get to the front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for making you read this, guys.&lt;br /&gt;By the way, the ugliest band is Metro Station&lt;br /&gt;(and Trace Cyrus is RIPPED)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8022976773530385697?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8022976773530385697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8022976773530385697&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8022976773530385697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8022976773530385697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/soundtrack-oftofor-my-summer.html' title='Soundtrack of/to/for my Summer'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-2427501812074299517</id><published>2008-07-22T20:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T22:46:33.394-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IDG'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='angry friend'/><title type='text'>Cuts, Hair &amp; Otherwise</title><content type='html'>I recently got a haircut.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, now, people can see my colour again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the college campus again to visit Jas at summer school. Apparently, she's taking some computer class or something. Of course, visiting Jas wasn't the only intention. I was looking for some IDG action, obviously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And things were looking up...&lt;br /&gt;And I was actually going to visit him in his dorm (which still freaks me out)!&lt;br /&gt;Until Jas decided that she wanted to meet him... So I told him and basically:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Haha yall should chill out. Im actually busy with something at the moment. Later."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There was no fucking &lt;/em&gt;later&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I basically sat through three hours of Dreamscape and linking. And realised that the potential of anything happening anymore is... impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I later wrote to him and said "dude, you totally bailed".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went and saw Mamma Mia a second time with Julie and our angry friend. I still hate that movie with a passion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, Ellie, your last comment was spot on.&lt;br /&gt;And Simon 'n Josh, normally I text other people but I'm not quite as obsessed with them as... well whatever guy I'm obsessed with at the moment. I just wanted to make sure you didn't think that all I do is text guys I like... (okay, that is sort of all I do.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevermind, forget everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-2427501812074299517?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/2427501812074299517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=2427501812074299517&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2427501812074299517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/2427501812074299517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/cuts-hair-otherwise.html' title='Cuts, Hair &amp; Otherwise'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7945886559007873260</id><published>2008-07-21T23:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T23:30:19.336-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IDG'/><title type='text'>And He Speaks</title><content type='html'>IDG is worried about our age difference.&lt;br /&gt;Shhh, promise you won't tell?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7945886559007873260?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7945886559007873260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7945886559007873260&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7945886559007873260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7945886559007873260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/and-he-speaks.html' title='And He Speaks'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3974964526861770315</id><published>2008-07-21T21:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T21:15:40.467-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IDG'/><title type='text'>Stress?</title><content type='html'>Hum, so I may have figured out what gets me stressed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is sad, considering anything else would be normal and boys is just... juvenile. Anyway, two days ago, I woke up with three cold sores. And IDG still hasn't contacted me. I have a feeling that he may have checked my Facebook and realised that I was six years younger than him... Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;Livia says to just stop caring.&lt;br /&gt;And I have... ish. (stupid bastard).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I did send him a text message.&lt;br /&gt;Obviously he's ignoring me.&lt;br /&gt;This is sad.&lt;br /&gt;Nat/Alice/Syd- This will only last a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UGH.&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Hey info desk guy, if you're doing the whole 'wait three days thing', stop. If not, hello there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh, what's that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;no reply.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, seriously, I need to find other stuff to write about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3974964526861770315?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3974964526861770315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3974964526861770315&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3974964526861770315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3974964526861770315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/stress.html' title='Stress?'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3778721100108602477</id><published>2008-07-17T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T18:29:00.696-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IDG'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barbie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chase'/><title type='text'>College Boys? Count me in!</title><content type='html'>So, when Nat, Barbie, and I went to have lunch with Chase on Monday, we had a little difficulty finding him. As a result, we spent a shitload of time at the Student Rec center. Where there was an Info Desk. With a hot Info Desk Guy :).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of our time there, I had added IDG on Facebook. Today we started texting. The one big problem is that... Info Desk Guy is going to be a juniour in college. I'm just entering high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is our conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Was that you that walked by without saying hi? &lt;em&gt;(We went to the college to go visit Chase for lunch)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: It might be, i didn't want to seem like a stalker. &lt;em&gt;(honest)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: It woulda been fine. What are you doin on campus? &lt;em&gt;(he responded like TWENTY minutes later. I hate it when people do that)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Soccer camp buddies. Plus i didnt want my high opinion of you tainted by hungover you.&lt;br /&gt;Me: IDG, your non-texts are seriously uncool.&lt;br /&gt;IDG: How old are you, Taff? &lt;em&gt;(DAMN YOU, IDG! Response like 2 hours later)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Depends, do i have to answer that? &lt;em&gt;(I hate that question, you have no idea)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Haha yes. Why, is it a sensitive subject?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Whenever i go and talk to hot guys &lt;em&gt;(me being honest)&lt;/em&gt; they always ask me how old i am. it gets a little annoying :). &lt;em&gt;(More than a little...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Don't wanna get myself in trouble now... &lt;em&gt;(THIS MEANS THAT HE'S CONSIDERING LETTING ME GET HIM INTO TROUBLE!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Then dont do anything to get yourself into trouble. (this is where i change the subject) &lt;em&gt;(I actually texted that&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Punk. &lt;em&gt;(cute)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I don't know how to respond to that... &lt;em&gt;(what, it's true!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Okay, then gimme a general idea. High school? Junior high?&lt;br /&gt;Me: High school. Feel better? &lt;em&gt;(it's not a lie... i just haven't actually GONE to hs yet...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Better, but not great. Youre cute though... &lt;em&gt;(is this a comment justifying my youngness or just a compliment or an insult...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Thanks for that. And as long as youre feeling good(ish), i'm feeling good too.&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Are you from around here?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yup. Houston born and raised. But i go to boarding school.&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Where?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Connecticut.&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Damn. you should live it up this summer while you can. Do you drink?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yup. Never alone, though. &lt;em&gt;(truth is I never really have the opportunity to drink. so duh, I always lie)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Maybe we should hang out, taff. &lt;em&gt;(SCORE, MUTHAFUCKA! I think he's making fun of the signature i have at the end of every one of my texts...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Maybe we should. When are you free? &lt;em&gt;(that's right! i cater 2u!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Never, it seems. Haha this weekend sometime, though there are parties here every night. &lt;em&gt;(Since when do the kids from that school party?)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IDG: I live over at (dorm name here) this summer, got a double room to myself cuz I'm a badass. Gets a little lonely sometimes. &lt;em&gt;(is this an invitation?)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm usually busy on weekends &lt;em&gt;(oh yeah, hard to get, lol). &lt;/em&gt;And many parties means that youll be frequently hungover. Aw, lonely?&lt;br /&gt;IDG: No, i'm usually not. Las night was ridiculous, not the norm. During the week then. Maybe. (&lt;em&gt;maybe?)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Haha, then we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;IDG: Alright girl (&lt;em&gt;for some reason, all the guys I know like to call me that).&lt;/em&gt; Ill keep in touch.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So right now I'm iming one of my ex boyfriends, and listening to him make up a bunch of bullshit about being in rehab for doing "bad stuff". Turns out he's going to boarding school, too...&lt;br /&gt;And my toilet's sweating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3778721100108602477?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3778721100108602477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3778721100108602477&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3778721100108602477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3778721100108602477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/college-boys-count-me-in.html' title='College Boys? Count me in!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1620476350556661449</id><published>2008-07-16T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T22:03:23.335-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexy boarding school guy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barbie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><title type='text'>Sorry to Let Y'all Down</title><content type='html'>I think I'm friends with Gage again.&lt;br /&gt;He's sick... I sort of ended up baking him cookies and dropping them off at his house.&lt;br /&gt;I also dropped off cookies at Natalie's.&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, I didn't really take the time to make them from scratch so they're sort of Pillsbury (which are still good).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now Gage &amp;amp; Barbie are arguing on the phone. She woke up and decided that she was over him :). Then she decided that she hated him... Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, Natalie, lunch with Kenzie, Barbie, Ginnie M., and Kate tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I thought I was going to get blue streaks in my hair. So I messaged SBSG asking if it was allowed. This time I don't think there were any spelling errors!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Would I be able to gave blue hair? &lt;em&gt;I actually fucked up there!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: What &lt;em&gt;he actually seems sort of pissed off&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Have**&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Y would u do that &lt;em&gt;I still hate his non-use of punctuation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Actually I might just get streaks. Because I want to...&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: No. That's really gay &lt;em&gt;Is he saying that he won't let me have them?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Is it allowed?&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Probably not&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: And you would probably get lots of shit from kids for having blue hair&lt;br /&gt;Me: Thanks for the tips. And i'm not dying it all the way blue.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Don't do it at all &lt;em&gt;Dude, WHY DO YOU CARE?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Gage thinks you're right. &lt;em&gt;We had a whole conversation about it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Gage?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yup.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Who is that &lt;em&gt;Getting a little possessive, eh?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: He's... A friend.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: ...A friend? Alright Sketch&lt;br /&gt;Me: What do you mean? We've already established that I have friends.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: K well u seemed to be implying that he was a little more than a friend with the ...&lt;em&gt;  I HOPE YOU'RE JEALOUS, YOU SON OF A BITCH! Okay, I have no idea where that anger came from...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Haha, oh well. What's up?&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Not too much. What's up with you&lt;br /&gt;Me: On my way to drop off cookies at Natalie's house, lol. &lt;em&gt;No reply.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1620476350556661449?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1620476350556661449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1620476350556661449&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1620476350556661449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1620476350556661449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/sorry-to-let-yall-down.html' title='Sorry to Let Y&apos;all Down'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-6160411506511900810</id><published>2008-07-15T21:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T21:56:28.838-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><title type='text'>Oh my Gage.</title><content type='html'>I think I just ended our friendship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-6160411506511900810?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/6160411506511900810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=6160411506511900810&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6160411506511900810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6160411506511900810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/oh-my-gage.html' title='Oh my Gage.'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-714114725653115386</id><published>2008-07-11T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T17:30:37.280-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexy boarding school guy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><title type='text'>SBSG wants to SBS ME!</title><content type='html'>haha, actually the title made no sense at all.&lt;br /&gt;but yeah, SBSG wants to hang out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to do a whole word for word convo reenactment like I usually do when I talk to him, but this is pretty accurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Hey girl, you wana (&lt;em&gt;UG! STOP WITH THE SINGULAR Ns, SBSG!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Maybe I will after you write my name in a text.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: ? (&lt;em&gt;okay, I can SORT of understand why he's confused)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: How about a "Hey Taffy, what's up?" Or whatever the hell&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Hello Tafy. (&lt;em&gt;how the fuck do you spell that wrong? I sent him the fucking spelling in a previous text!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Spelled it wrong, SBSG.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Taffy&lt;br /&gt;Me: So what do you want to do?&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: I have the whole house to myself all weekend and a shitload of weed. (&lt;em&gt;strike ONE&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Wait, you don't have your license, do you?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Nope. And I don't smoke weed so you're gonna have to hide that.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Ok.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Haha, either way, I'm busy all weekend. (&lt;em&gt;clever dodge&lt;/em&gt;) Free any other time?&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Maybe. What the hell you doing all weekend (&lt;em&gt;no punctuation... disbelief...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I have other friends.&lt;br /&gt;SBSG: Haha that's good to know&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm sure it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, fellow readers, should I take the plunge?&lt;br /&gt;-hang out with SBSG and potentially get raped/ become a pothead/ develop a slutty reputation&lt;br /&gt;-not hang out with SBSG and miss out on a possibly good relationship (or one with bragging rights)/ develop a cowardly reputation/ become known as a tightass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;decisions are hard, huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-714114725653115386?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/714114725653115386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=714114725653115386&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/714114725653115386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/714114725653115386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/sbsg-wants-to-sbs-me.html' title='SBSG wants to SBS ME!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5636890179227829366</id><published>2008-07-11T16:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T16:37:13.886-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barbie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taylor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn G.'/><title type='text'>I am Way Freaking Obsessed (WFO)</title><content type='html'>I hung out with Natalie today.&lt;br /&gt;It was awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, well we swam :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life thus far has been pretty... boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reply to Ellie: NOT going shopping with him. My crush on him sort of went WHOOOOOflop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, Barbie sort of added Penn G. on Facebook (even though I told her not to). And I'm not super insecure or anything... but Barbie is REALLY pretty. I'm just sort of pretty. And she's flirty. And et cetera &lt;-- does that make sense?.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, part of the reason I am so weird about this is because I am, essentially, way freaking obsessed. I get like this with guys. It happens about once a year (last year it was Taylor). Basically a guy who:&lt;br /&gt;-has good abs&lt;br /&gt;-is easy to talk to&lt;br /&gt;-has a good face&lt;br /&gt;-is older than me&lt;br /&gt;-doesn't get super weirded out by me&lt;br /&gt;... yeah, that's all that's really required.&lt;br /&gt;But now if Penn figures this out, shit will hit the fan. (and I will spend a crapload of time obsessing over him &amp;amp; his girlfriend's third month anniversary since their second one was 2 days ago). Let's see how long this lasts, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the uber neurotic posts as of late.&lt;br /&gt;I'll begin writing interesting, embarrasing posts again sometime soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5636890179227829366?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5636890179227829366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5636890179227829366&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5636890179227829366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5636890179227829366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-am-way-freaking-obsessed-wfo.html' title='I am Way Freaking Obsessed (WFO)'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8464823362161041021</id><published>2008-07-08T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T22:43:20.573-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn G.'/><title type='text'>Penn is... Gone.</title><content type='html'>Ugg, some Asian kid I know wants to go shopping with me.&lt;br /&gt;Or I guess I can't really call him a kid, he's like seventeen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I shouldn't have flirted with him.&lt;br /&gt;Geez.&lt;br /&gt;Next time I should think about it before I decide I like someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penn is gone.&lt;br /&gt;He left today at noon.&lt;br /&gt;I had a doctor's appointment so I woke up early this morning to meet up with him.&lt;br /&gt;We sat in his hotel room for like an hour and watched tv.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(wes is kinda cute, too).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While lying in his bed.&lt;br /&gt;While he had his shirt off.&lt;br /&gt;While his head was on my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had to go to figure out flight stuff and work out so we parted ways. Later, it was like 11.20 and I had to go to my doctor's appointment. I ran up to his hotel room really quickly (my mom only gave me five minutes) and got a quick, really tight hug. After he had just gotten out of the shower (yeah, it was a little wet).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I got a text going&lt;br /&gt;"Bye! I hoped you liked hanging with me as much as i liked hanging out with you"&lt;br /&gt;"That depends, did you like hanging out with me?"&lt;br /&gt;"LOVED IT"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FUCK YOU PENN G., FUCK YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I need to meet people without any baggage.&lt;br /&gt;I'm only fourteen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also need to get some sleep...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8464823362161041021?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8464823362161041021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8464823362161041021&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8464823362161041021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8464823362161041021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/penn-is-gone.html' title='Penn is... Gone.'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5200442646670822157</id><published>2008-07-06T02:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T02:13:11.668-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn G.'/><title type='text'>Taffy is... Dopey?</title><content type='html'>My neighbors (from the floor below us) have a grandson.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, two, that I know of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penn &amp;amp; Wes G.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wes is boring so we're not really going to talk about him.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, tonight (last night) whatever you want to call it, Penn G. &amp;amp; I snuck out and walked to the village. At 12.30 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time I didn't have to worry about the hobos, Penn is 16 and buff.&lt;br /&gt;Augh, but I didn't know he was this awesome. We literally walked and talked until four in the morning (two hours were spent at the community or whatever area of my condo building). We gave massages (not in a perverted way) and sort of laid there. On top of each other. I don't really know how to write about the time that passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I am such a freak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except the stupid bastard has a girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;(which is why we didn't kiss)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;syd, nat, alice, don't worry about me. i'm not in love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5200442646670822157?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5200442646670822157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5200442646670822157&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5200442646670822157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5200442646670822157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/taffy-is-dopey.html' title='Taffy is... Dopey?'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8739048629523070814</id><published>2008-07-02T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T18:52:34.100-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='henry s.'/><title type='text'>How do You Say Slow Down?</title><content type='html'>So I recently went on an adding binge on Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;Then I added some kid named Henry S.&lt;br /&gt;(he's going to school with sydney next year)&lt;br /&gt;Then it all sort of went downhill from that.&lt;br /&gt;Summary of our convo:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blah blah blah,&lt;br /&gt;"hey"&lt;br /&gt;"hello"&lt;br /&gt;blah&lt;br /&gt;"you're really hot"&lt;br /&gt;"oh... thanks?"&lt;br /&gt;"am I hot"&lt;br /&gt;"uhm, I haven't really looked through all of your pictures"&lt;br /&gt;"go look"&lt;br /&gt;"Henry, you fox!" (half lie, this guy isn't amazingly gorgeous...)&lt;br /&gt;"thanks"&lt;br /&gt;yadda yadda&lt;br /&gt;"so do you have a bf?"&lt;br /&gt;"um, i'm sort of dating someone" (LIE LIE LIE LIE)&lt;br /&gt;"okay"&lt;br /&gt;"yeah, so idk if it's exclusive yet or if i'm allowed to date other people"&lt;br /&gt;"?"&lt;br /&gt;explanation explanation&lt;br /&gt;"oh, so do you not like him"&lt;br /&gt;"i like lots of people"&lt;br /&gt;"do you like me"&lt;br /&gt;"uhm, i don't know you that well yet"&lt;br /&gt;blahhhhhhhhhh&lt;br /&gt;"i'm going to chicago tomorrow"&lt;br /&gt;"cool"&lt;br /&gt;"do you have a cell phone"&lt;br /&gt;"xxx.xxx.xxxx (my number)"&lt;br /&gt;"mines xxx.xxx.xxxx"&lt;br /&gt;"cool"&lt;br /&gt;"text me in chicago"&lt;br /&gt;here i make up some lame excuse about only texting one person at a time.&lt;br /&gt;"but you'll text me right?"&lt;br /&gt;"suuuuure"&lt;br /&gt;"we have to meet"&lt;br /&gt;"um, okay"&lt;br /&gt;"would you ever date me if we met or got to know each other better?"&lt;br /&gt;"if timing works out, maybe"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JESUS FUCKER&lt;br /&gt;LEAVE ME ALONE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8739048629523070814?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8739048629523070814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8739048629523070814&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8739048629523070814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8739048629523070814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/how-do-you-say-slow-down.html' title='How do You Say Slow Down?'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1049211244530188684</id><published>2008-07-01T14:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T15:00:10.278-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='che'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cameron'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Henry'/><title type='text'>This Cameron Kid is WEIRD!</title><content type='html'>So there's this kid named Cameron.&lt;br /&gt;He's like... Manny or Henry's friend or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, today he called me twice&lt;br /&gt;(hung up twice)&lt;br /&gt;and I got annoyed to the point where I called (got voicemail saying that it was Cameron). Then texted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's our convo.&lt;br /&gt;Don't ask me why I played along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Um, who is this? &lt;em&gt;even though I already knew&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Ur secret sex buddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;I no it will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;So how do you have my number?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Y does it matter. Wat position do u like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Cowgirl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Sweet. I like anything thats painful 4 u.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Will u deep throught it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Damn. Well che tld me 2 ask. Where and wat time. And wat kind of condom do u want me 2 bring. &lt;em&gt;obviously this kid knows people from our school, che is like this ongoing joke between everyone in the grade. except for che. who thinks people like him...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Depends how big your dick is. Che is one hot hunk of man meat, are you sure you can beat that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Yea. I got an 8 incher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Ches is an eight and a half. Sorry, bud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;How wide?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron:&lt;/strong&gt; 3. More pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; How does that benefit me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Bigger orgasm and biger (&lt;em&gt;SBSG IN THE MAKING?) &lt;/em&gt;2 suck along w more pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;You Don't get a bigger orgasm from a bigger cock. It depends on the user.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Well its more painful. &lt;em&gt;GOD, What is this kid's sick obsession with pain?!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Doesn't benefit me. Sorry, but i'm going to have to decline your offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;How doesnt that benefit you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Pain= not awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Thats the point of having sex. Ur supposed 2 do it so hard that u cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Wow, I feel stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Yea so tonight im not goin 2 stop till ur bleeding and crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;I already declined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Well ur room works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;What does that have to do with anything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;That way you dnt have to do any work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;How sweet of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cameron: &lt;/strong&gt;Yea. Start geting (&lt;em&gt;sbsg) &lt;/em&gt;the ropes ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Cuffs. Ropes blister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This kid is a freak.&lt;br /&gt;Any suggestions?&lt;br /&gt;(and I know I should stop texting him but I don't want to look weak, so other suggestions)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1049211244530188684?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1049211244530188684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1049211244530188684&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1049211244530188684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1049211244530188684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-cameron-kid-is-weird.html' title='This Cameron Kid is WEIRD!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-472509259500080336</id><published>2008-07-01T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T14:05:47.741-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barbie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Henry'/><title type='text'>Cliffs Notes- Spain</title><content type='html'>Okay, so everything I have to say about Spain is really quick because as you may have guessed, I am still lazy. Therefore I'm not going to take the time I should to write about events in Spain. I will give you a quick overview though :).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+Cam &amp;amp; I shared friendly pecks about twenty times.&lt;br /&gt;+I got into an argument with my teacher (to the point where I started yelling and hyperventilating)&lt;br /&gt;+Apparently Henry called and texted me multiple times while I was in Spain.&lt;br /&gt;+Gage kissed a couple of ninth graders on the plane&lt;br /&gt;+Barbie broke up with Gage&lt;br /&gt;+That same night, Gage made out with a ninth grader three times&lt;br /&gt;+Two days before the trip was over, Barbie &amp;amp; Gage reconnected.&lt;br /&gt;+I met a bartender in his late twenties who still doesn't know how old I am&lt;br /&gt;+I ate snails (shrieking each time... which probably gets a little annoying after 20 snails)&lt;br /&gt;+My teacher called me desperate&lt;br /&gt;+I met about twenty people&lt;br /&gt;+I actually started talking to some people who I haven't spoken to all year&lt;br /&gt;+I made connections with ninth graders&lt;br /&gt;+I have an obsession with Portuguese tour guides named Tiago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That may be it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, well I have a cheerful anecdote for you to take with you after you're done reading this post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Barcelona, I met a group of people in our hotel. Basically, we sat outside in my hallway talking for about two hours. One of the kids started smoking and then was like, "Yeah, I haven't smoked pot in about a week". I didn't really know how to respond (our school is MEGA straightedge) so I went, "GOOD JOB! (enthusiastic thumbs up, smile w/ mouth open)".&lt;br /&gt;Then, the girl went, "Yeah, I stopped smoking about a month ago. Turns out the pot my dealer was selling me was laced with coke". This totally freaked me out. Which explains my next reaction, "Oh, darn-o!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope this brightened your day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-472509259500080336?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/472509259500080336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=472509259500080336&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/472509259500080336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/472509259500080336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/07/cliffs-notes-spain.html' title='Cliffs Notes- Spain'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1054397225728485726</id><published>2008-06-29T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T08:52:51.707-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><title type='text'>GOT HOME YESTERDAY!</title><content type='html'>And that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;I was really awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up until 10.00 when I crashed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, lots of stuff happened in Spain and Nat will probably write about it.&lt;br /&gt;I am much too tired.&lt;br /&gt;Slash lazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1054397225728485726?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1054397225728485726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1054397225728485726&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1054397225728485726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1054397225728485726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/06/got-home-yesterday.html' title='GOT HOME YESTERDAY!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5783430139234475519</id><published>2008-06-11T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T22:38:25.234-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frank'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Today I Became a Woman</title><content type='html'>Okay, not really.&lt;br /&gt;But I did decide to exfoliate my armpits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid, stupid, STUPID idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They hurt like fuck right now. Wait, no, that's not right, fucking is probably a lot less painful than the burning sensation I'm feeling on my armpits.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even kidding.&lt;br /&gt;But seriously, what kind of idiot decides to pumice their armpits?&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do they sell Band- aids in Spain? Because I have a feeling that they're gonna start bleeding at any second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter (actually darker and shittier) note, I found out that my dad cheated on my mom. Jesus Christ, I can't even look at him right now. I was out with my sister most of the day. I started thinking about this maybe a week ago (my sister was still in New York).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I have this vague memory of some woman who wasn't my mother closing the door of my parents' room in our old house in the suburbs. I have another memory of this same woman teaching me how to make a bracelet and me liking her, a lot. The last memory is what I think made my mother find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were sitting in the car and this woman was in the front seat. My mother was fucking dropping her off at a hotel for God's sake! I don't know how the conversation came up, but my mother mentioned something about her staying in our guest room. To this I replied, "No, she stayed in you and daddy's room!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I have issues with my mom, but honestly, I think I love her most out of all the people in my family. And in case I haven't actually described my issues with my mother in this blog, Natalie knows that it goes much deeper than normal teenage angst. My father needs her so much more than she needs him! God, he's just so particular, but she doesn't think he can do any wrong. The problem is, neither does he. I bet you that he probably doesn't think that he did anything bad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I asked my sister about this at lunch today, she was talking about a conversation she had with my father. He was talking about what would happen if Frank ever strayed, and she said that he told her not to get too angry or leave him because &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;IT IS JUST IN MEN'S NATURE! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What the hell kind of asshole excuse is that? It's not like every living breathing male has the right or even the need to cheat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I'm so glad I'm leaving tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I still have to pack, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I swatted down a wasp's nest using AT&amp;amp;T Yellow Pages. I was scared shitless the whole time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5783430139234475519?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5783430139234475519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5783430139234475519&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5783430139234475519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5783430139234475519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/06/today-i-became-woman.html' title='Today I Became a Woman'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-3496275206669566171</id><published>2008-06-10T12:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T12:13:57.651-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><title type='text'>HOLY MONKEY!</title><content type='html'>SPAIN IS IN TWO DAYS!&lt;br /&gt;AAHHHHH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just went to a food tasting for my sister's wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully today isn't too awkward for Natalie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-3496275206669566171?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/3496275206669566171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=3496275206669566171&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3496275206669566171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/3496275206669566171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/06/holy-monkey.html' title='HOLY MONKEY!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7181962079683257854</id><published>2008-06-08T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T10:55:14.523-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SBSG'/><title type='text'>Major Confusion to the SBSG Level</title><content type='html'>SBSG has reestablished contact.&lt;br /&gt;Which is kind of annoying considering he deletes my wall posts on Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humm... I am the booty call in the closet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More like booty text?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I got this text from him today (not really exciting)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey are you in town"&lt;br /&gt;(at three in the morning)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, my reply is idiocy on the fifth level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Indeed I am"&lt;br /&gt;but that's how I talk.&lt;br /&gt;my problem is that I replied.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7181962079683257854?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7181962079683257854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7181962079683257854&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7181962079683257854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7181962079683257854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/06/major-confusion-to-sbsg-level.html' title='Major Confusion to the SBSG Level'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1784645550443217719</id><published>2008-06-07T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T12:13:42.478-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alice'/><title type='text'>My Neighbor is HOT!</title><content type='html'>I JUST REALISED THIS AS I WAS IN THE ELEVATOR THIS MORNING!&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GOD!&lt;br /&gt;HE IS GORGEOUS! (for an Asian)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he's a doctor!&lt;br /&gt;Okay, enough ranting about my neighbor (who looks about 25 :/)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT'S SYDNEY'S BIRTHDAY!&lt;br /&gt;HURRAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I celebrated this at Nat's house at two in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;I ran up and down her street ass naked.&lt;br /&gt;It was pretty cool man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this was the result of the three cups of black coffee I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually Nat had to give me tums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nat, Alice, Sydney, and I went to a restaurant and ordered kickass steak.&lt;br /&gt;(I did most of the ordering)&lt;br /&gt;And I had the whole "I have this situation HANDLED" attitude DOWN!&lt;br /&gt;Until we started talking about STDs and I commented on gnarly Gonnorhea.&lt;br /&gt;Yuppp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Sydney Sex Monkey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1784645550443217719?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1784645550443217719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1784645550443217719&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1784645550443217719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1784645550443217719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-neighbor-is-hot.html' title='My Neighbor is HOT!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4767993873454565251</id><published>2008-06-05T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T20:14:02.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Result of my Fear of Rape</title><content type='html'>Ah, sorry about the boring posts lately.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully this will entertain you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking my dog and it was like... 9:30 in the evening.&lt;br /&gt;I live downtown so I'm always afraid people are going to attack me and stuff...&lt;br /&gt;A car drives up to me and the passenger window slowly roles down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(my heart is beating really loudly at this point)&lt;br /&gt;Random Stranger: Hey, we're Dominoes.&lt;br /&gt;Me: GOOD FOR YOU! (quickly paces away)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Light turns Green&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Taffy realises that the Random Stranger asked "Where's Dominoes"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: WAIT! WAIT! SORRY! I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW!&lt;br /&gt;(while running)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But by then they're already driving off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, yeah, I probably looked like a psycho bitch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4767993873454565251?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4767993873454565251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4767993873454565251&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4767993873454565251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4767993873454565251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/06/result-of-my-fear-of-rape.html' title='The Result of my Fear of Rape'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1997060822629841843</id><published>2008-06-04T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T19:41:47.172-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cj'/><title type='text'>Switched my URL</title><content type='html'>So Julie &amp;amp; CJ just left.&lt;br /&gt;While I was looking at CJ's blog, we tried to log in to her account because I thought I was signed off.&lt;br /&gt;BAAAAAD idea.&lt;br /&gt;IDIIIIOOOOT idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, they found my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went out to dinner and that was pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;I had good ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so that explains the switched URL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1997060822629841843?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1997060822629841843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1997060822629841843&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1997060822629841843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1997060822629841843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/06/switched-my-url.html' title='Switched my URL'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7848217306985978210</id><published>2008-06-03T13:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T13:09:45.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Compared to Last Summer</title><content type='html'>This Summer has been much more eventful.&lt;br /&gt;I even hung out with my madre yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;Who I love. And we didn't fight at all :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At about one in the morning, we went to get McDonalds.&lt;br /&gt;IT WAS CLOSED!&lt;br /&gt;SINCE WHEN IS MICKEY D'S CLOSED AT ONE IN THE MORNING????!!!!&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, we ended up getting Taco Bell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yum Yum Yum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7848217306985978210?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7848217306985978210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7848217306985978210&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7848217306985978210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7848217306985978210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/06/compared-to-last-summer.html' title='Compared to Last Summer'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-6855833125250061905</id><published>2008-05-31T20:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T22:45:33.390-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lucy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Henry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='angry friend'/><title type='text'>We Humped Like Gorillas</title><content type='html'>Gage &amp;amp; I are okay now.&lt;br /&gt;Still awkwardly friendly, but I hate him less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just got back from Bee &amp;amp; Lucy's.&lt;br /&gt;Turns out that we're okay now.&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, this is good.&lt;br /&gt;Julie, Penn, Henry, &amp;amp; Manny were there. As was my Angry Friend (shy, not v. talkative girl who gets mad easily, but is chill too). She's listener, like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Henry was being flirty (hurrah!) but Penn was pretty cool too. Henry was better though. Manny was just sitting there shooting water at everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This really fucky thing happened where Bee &amp;amp; Lucy's HUGE dog tried humping me (think like... 120 pounds). I started running, then I realised that my top had come untied. Everyone was on the trampoline watching me with my arms across me while being chased mercilessly by their dog. And I'm not the fastest person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't stop to tie my top because then I would get humped. I couldn't keep running because my top would come off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Penn may have seen my nipples. I was trying to get a water balloon nozzle off the top of a hose and my top came untied. Ugg ugg ugg. They're really ugly, otherwise I would be excited by this. But I don't think he did because later, I was helping him tie a water balloon and he was able to look me straight in the eye while we were talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a love/ hate relationship with my bikini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out I don't get my phone back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-6855833125250061905?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/6855833125250061905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=6855833125250061905&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6855833125250061905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6855833125250061905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/we-humped-like-gorillas.html' title='We Humped Like Gorillas'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8373011350115016811</id><published>2008-05-31T09:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T10:04:41.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School's Out</title><content type='html'>Scream and Shout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not really.&lt;br /&gt;More like start crying at the end of your school song.&lt;br /&gt;And stop crying about an hour and thirty minutes later.&lt;br /&gt;While sitting down.&lt;br /&gt;On your shower floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to miss everyone. Even the people I don't talk to.&lt;br /&gt;I had five minor freak outs that consisted of,&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God."&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;"I can't... I can't... I can't..."&lt;br /&gt;Meaning that I cant leave.&lt;br /&gt;Or make people cry.&lt;br /&gt;Or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha, I did go commando to graduation as a last "FUCK YOU" to my school.&lt;br /&gt;Good times, good times.&lt;br /&gt;Thank Gage for Spain, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rasp- nothing really happened with Gage, I've just been replacing all "God"s that haven't been actually SAID with "Gage"s. (i.e. the post above).&lt;br /&gt;Cait- yeah, it is :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my cell phone back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8373011350115016811?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8373011350115016811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8373011350115016811&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8373011350115016811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8373011350115016811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/schools-out.html' title='School&apos;s Out'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-6808749690875843391</id><published>2008-05-29T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T16:05:21.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You are not your Fucking Khakis</title><content type='html'>This will be really short.&lt;br /&gt;School ends tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;The culmination of eleven years...&lt;br /&gt;Oh Gage, I'm getting this sick feeling at the pit of my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw Fight Club for the first time yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm obsessed.&lt;br /&gt;I watched it two times in a row, nonstop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-6808749690875843391?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/6808749690875843391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=6808749690875843391&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6808749690875843391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6808749690875843391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/you-are-not-your-fucking-khakis.html' title='You are not your Fucking Khakis'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5266358403971319867</id><published>2008-05-28T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T16:51:51.338-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Joe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wes'/><title type='text'>Suspense, eh?</title><content type='html'>Ah, so after I let my sister out of the closet...&lt;br /&gt;She was like, "I'm really pissed off right now".&lt;br /&gt;But now we're good :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am Penn's favourite girl in the grade :). Oh, and he likes it when I hug him from behind. Perhaps he's having gay fantasies about Joe? Maybe this conversation will help you decide:&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah, but it's like all the guys in the grade have a gay crush on Joe.&lt;br /&gt;Penn: But... he's just so... COOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that kind of killed it for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5266358403971319867?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5266358403971319867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5266358403971319867&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5266358403971319867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5266358403971319867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/suspense-eh.html' title='Suspense, eh?'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5820874792816662000</id><published>2008-05-27T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T18:38:07.749-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><title type='text'>Why Livia Took my Phone Away</title><content type='html'>So I'm not quite sure yet, but this might give you an idea of life with me.&lt;br /&gt;And my sister or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my parents had company over. My sister and I didn't know that so we decided to heat up delicious 99 cent Totinos pizza. Of course Totinos pizza is kind of embarrasing so my sis refused to eat it in front of my parents company. She got bored with the conversation and she didn't want to be rude so she decided to go work out.&lt;br /&gt;This is where things go wrong.&lt;br /&gt;I went into her room with her;&lt;br /&gt;Went into her closet with her;&lt;br /&gt;And locked her in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Joyous Day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5820874792816662000?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5820874792816662000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5820874792816662000&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5820874792816662000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5820874792816662000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/why-livia-took-my-phone-away.html' title='Why Livia Took my Phone Away'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7206663822833533150</id><published>2008-05-27T13:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T13:55:47.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Worst Thing about Finals</title><content type='html'>No, it isn't the fact that you can't talk.&lt;br /&gt;No, it isn't the sitting down until your legs are numb.&lt;br /&gt;No, it's not that you don't really see anyone in your grade for about a week.&lt;br /&gt;It might be the studying, but that's not the point of this post.&lt;br /&gt;Nope, it's the timing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or the fact that finals are timed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is this bad? you may ask.&lt;br /&gt;Hum... maybe it's because right after lunch (and a lotta water)&lt;br /&gt;you digest.&lt;br /&gt;then you don't realise how full your bladder is&lt;br /&gt;until,&lt;br /&gt;LO AND BEHOLD!&lt;br /&gt;YOUR STOMACH IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, not really, but having to choose between relieving yourself and finishing a math problem shouldn't be a problem people have to face at such a young age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally I &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;LOVE&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; finals week!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7206663822833533150?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7206663822833533150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7206663822833533150&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7206663822833533150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7206663822833533150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/worst-thing-about-finals.html' title='The Worst Thing about Finals'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-1799804752055964925</id><published>2008-05-25T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T22:01:27.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>write it on your arm.&lt;br /&gt;keep it on until saturday.&lt;br /&gt;let people know you care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.twloha.com/"&gt;www.twloha.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-1799804752055964925?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/1799804752055964925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=1799804752055964925&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1799804752055964925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/1799804752055964925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7092043104284597700</id><published>2008-05-24T18:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T18:21:14.841-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><title type='text'>I Feel GOOD!</title><content type='html'>nanananananana&lt;br /&gt;I know that I would, now&lt;br /&gt;nanananananana&lt;br /&gt;I feel fine&lt;br /&gt;nanananananana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I don't remember the rest of the words.&lt;br /&gt;(that's what they were singing last night as I tried to fall asleep)&lt;br /&gt;YUP, STILL GOING ON!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reply to Raspberry:&lt;br /&gt;Out on the 30th of May.&lt;br /&gt;And yeah, I'm gonna miss everybody.&lt;br /&gt;Yup, I'm going to boarding school, so y'all get to read about that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shopping was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;I feel very pretty now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Liv still hasn't given me my cell phone back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7092043104284597700?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7092043104284597700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7092043104284597700&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7092043104284597700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7092043104284597700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-feel-good.html' title='I Feel GOOD!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7991611847370887150</id><published>2008-05-23T16:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T16:25:10.978-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natalie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alice'/><title type='text'>50th Post</title><content type='html'>YAY!&lt;br /&gt;In celebration I'm speaking to my sister again.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I'm not sure if that's a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;(I still don't have my phone)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we had sort of a graduation chapel.&lt;br /&gt;All of our teachers gave us talks and et cetera.&lt;br /&gt;I cried so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally I don't cry.&lt;br /&gt;Like, last year, when everybody cried at stuff, I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;But now it's like WAAAAAAAHHH! WAHHHH! OH MY GA... WAHHHHHHHHHHH!&lt;br /&gt;ick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going shopping tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Nat, Syd, Alice, I WILL MISS YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully the performances are over now since its the end of the week!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7991611847370887150?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7991611847370887150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7991611847370887150&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7991611847370887150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7991611847370887150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/50th-post.html' title='50th Post'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-6532392073875318099</id><published>2008-05-22T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T18:25:27.568-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cherie'/><title type='text'>My Family is in the Mafia!</title><content type='html'>Okay, yeah, supreme overexaggeration.&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, they seem to bribe me a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents threatened to take away Spain unless I apologised to my father.&lt;br /&gt;Which, knowing my father, will only piss him off more because I "do not want to apologise".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother isn't letting me go to Natalie's after graduation unless I clear stuff up with my dad. MOM, DO YOU NOT KNOW YOUR HUSBAND?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UGGG!&lt;br /&gt;But in her eyes, dad can do no wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and my sister went out and bought me a Burt Bees Radiance Kit. She even put it into a little purple bag and added tissue paper. I'm not quite sure what to do with it... I just want to be like, "Take your fucking kit! I want a sister who will actually side with me on stuff. Have you heard of any other fucking sister who GROUNDS their little sister? I HAVEN'T!" Eh. Yeah, she still has my cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer: Sorry, Syd, I wasn't gonna write about this but the beginning of my post made me way depressed.&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, I got mad at Penn for liking Cherie more than me (he does this to everyone ALL the freaking time). Yeah, but he flirts with her frequently. Taff and Cherie in the same proximity, guess who he's with? So later, on our way to lunch, he walked over to me and whispered this in my ear, "I &lt;em&gt;definitely&lt;/em&gt; like you more than Cherie". Then he hugged me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I floated down to lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm... this is really annoying. I live downtown so I'm near all the arts and stuff. It can be pretty convenient, but there's ONE thing. We're near ALL the arts. Even the ones that make noise. Like the outdoor theatre. So yeah, it's kinda difficult when I want to go to sleep early because I just hear random segments of words and everything else is just jumbled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be sleeping then:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;WHOO HOO, WHOO HOO, WHOO HOO!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(instruments)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-6532392073875318099?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/6532392073875318099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=6532392073875318099&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6532392073875318099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6532392073875318099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-family-is-in-mafia.html' title='My Family is in the Mafia!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-8774537571591231074</id><published>2008-05-20T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T20:10:51.948-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Livia'/><title type='text'>my sister is a bitch.</title><content type='html'>Literally.&lt;br /&gt;Like she is a dog.&lt;br /&gt;And a female.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I said that, it's not true.&lt;br /&gt;She is a bitch though. (of the metaphorical sense)&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, remember the Mother's Day fiasco with my dad?&lt;br /&gt;Well I confronted him about it (we haven't really been speaking).&lt;br /&gt;And he went: "Well why did you have to get hurt?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Still no apology.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother always takes my father's side. (even though he is an asshole to everyone)&lt;br /&gt;Basically she told me that I still need to lose weight.&lt;br /&gt;A few curse words. (on my part)&lt;br /&gt;Getting disowned.&lt;br /&gt;My mother responding like... a mature four year old.&lt;br /&gt;Missing articles and everything.&lt;br /&gt;The fact that she argued back may not have helped things.&lt;br /&gt;In case you were wondering, I have no respect for my parents.&lt;br /&gt;Yup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;I WILL FUCKING KILL MY SISTER.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, no. I'm (mostly) not a psycho.&lt;br /&gt;She took my phone away.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and &lt;strong&gt;not &lt;/strong&gt;at the bidding of my parents.&lt;br /&gt;No, just because she could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I'm ever getting it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I think she has control issues.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-8774537571591231074?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/8774537571591231074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=8774537571591231074&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8774537571591231074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/8774537571591231074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-sister-is-bitch.html' title='my sister is a bitch.'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-6313382438036621937</id><published>2008-05-20T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T19:28:09.274-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i am no longer speaking to anyone in my household</title><content type='html'>i guess the title sort of sums that one up, eh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-6313382438036621937?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/6313382438036621937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=6313382438036621937&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6313382438036621937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6313382438036621937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-am-no-longer-speaking-to-anyone-in-my.html' title='i am no longer speaking to anyone in my household'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-4684691476757189093</id><published>2008-05-20T14:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T14:25:22.356-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lucy'/><title type='text'>HaRoOoOOo!</title><content type='html'>Okay, yeah, sorry about the title. I've just always had the urge to tYpe LiKE tHis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the dealio!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lately Penn's actually been paying attention to me. (thank Gage!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I'm starting to hate Gage. This has nothing to do with the random flirtatiousness, I just... dislike his character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It might have something to do with the fact that yesterday, he pulled out a shitload of my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pull his hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gage: Pull me up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Okay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I proceed to pull).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gage: OW, STOP!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Gage, you're so softheaded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gage: Let me pull your hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gage takes my hair, puts it over his shoulder and BENDS FORWARD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;crack. crack. crackcrackcrack. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After like two minutes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: OW, STOP!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gage: Hehehehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Jesus Christ, Gage, that fucking hurt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gage: You had it coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF? But yeah, this dislike started before the hair pullage...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I'm also starting to like Bee &amp;amp; Lucy (Bee more).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad that the schoolyear is almost over. I hate all the work we have to do.... UGH, but we're leaving. And that sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Syd &amp;amp; I are better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the short posts lately, I hope this one was long enough.&lt;br /&gt;(not that anyone actually cares, but humour me?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-4684691476757189093?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/4684691476757189093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=4684691476757189093&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4684691476757189093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/4684691476757189093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/haroooooo.html' title='HaRoOoOOo!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-7834338913425773233</id><published>2008-05-18T15:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T16:02:05.938-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sydney'/><title type='text'>RYAN STARTED THE FIRE!</title><content type='html'>Writing a history paper about Marilyn Monroe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haven't actually started yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slight drama with Sydney. I'm not quite sure what I think about it yet. Read about it in &lt;a href="http://www.alicerodriguez.blogspot.com/"&gt;Alice's Blog&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sort of yelled at her earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Radiohead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-7834338913425773233?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/7834338913425773233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=7834338913425773233&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7834338913425773233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/7834338913425773233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/ryan-started-fire.html' title='RYAN STARTED THE FIRE!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-6001599882457219050</id><published>2008-05-16T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T11:26:23.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Field day sort of sucked.</title><content type='html'>You know those days where you just end up feeling a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;LITTLE&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; bit blue?&lt;br /&gt;Today's one of those days.&lt;br /&gt;The end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-6001599882457219050?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/6001599882457219050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=6001599882457219050&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6001599882457219050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/6001599882457219050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/field-day-sort-of-sucked.html' title='Field day sort of sucked.'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-645039961765337024</id><published>2008-05-14T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T17:40:52.746-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kenzie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Henry'/><title type='text'>Doritos are Bad for You!</title><content type='html'>Ah, so turns out that Henry asked out Kenzie this weekend. She "likes him" and she said no! WTF? Henry is gorgeous man meat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, sorry, I fear that my obsession with Henry has gone too far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roy is having girlfriend trouble. Quite frankly, I don't know if I'm attracted to him anymore. Now I'm just praying that they stay together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the weirdest thing just happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone rang our doorbell like five times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was napping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DING!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DING!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DING!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk to the bathroom, I figure the person will just use their key or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DING!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;DING!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, as soon as I got out of the bathroom, I DIDN'T SEE WHO IT WAS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's crazy. I don't think anyone in the world would be enthusiastic enough to see my parents to need to ring the doorbell five times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me on the other hand....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaykay :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-645039961765337024?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/645039961765337024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=645039961765337024&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/645039961765337024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/645039961765337024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/doritos-are-bad-for-you.html' title='Doritos are Bad for You!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-305634072424418301</id><published>2008-05-11T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T20:44:12.335-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Father'/><title type='text'>Mother's Day? I THINK NOT!</title><content type='html'>It's Bash Taffy Day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, so for some reason I hate going out to eat with my father. Maybe it's because he always comments about my eating habits. Perhaps, it has to do with the fact that we don't ever really have anything to talk about and I snap at him, which makes me feel bad. No, I'm pretty sure it has to do with his ability to make me cry at least 20% of the times we go out.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, in public.&lt;br /&gt;And he never apologises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, it went like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;squeezes my arm and makes a face.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"tsk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;looks over at my mother.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;if she's not there, skip to the next part.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You need to work out more."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;points at stomach.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And turns out I have a reputation.&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm already a self proclaimed slut, but it's a little different when someone else calls you one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, Julie was on the phone with Manny and his friend Wesley (not the same one from our school).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wes: So wait, is Aubrey a slut?&lt;br /&gt;Manny&amp;amp; Julie: NO!&lt;br /&gt;Manny: But you know who is?&lt;br /&gt;Julie: Who, Manny?&lt;br /&gt;Manny: Taffy is.&lt;br /&gt;Julie: No she isn't.&lt;br /&gt;Manny: What about all that stuff she did with Gage?&lt;br /&gt;Julie: Gage and Taffy have their own special relationship.&lt;br /&gt;Manny: Suuure.&lt;br /&gt;Julie: Taffy is not a slut.&lt;br /&gt;Manny: Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;Thank Gage I'm going to boarding school.&lt;br /&gt;Manny, you just lost your right to touch me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-305634072424418301?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/305634072424418301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=305634072424418301&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/305634072424418301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/305634072424418301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/mothers-day-i-think-not.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day? I THINK NOT!'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-5202023458723263891</id><published>2008-05-09T13:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T14:47:15.394-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Penn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chuck'/><title type='text'>Sprinklers...</title><content type='html'>Okay, so our school recently installed sprinklers in a field my mother and I walk by in order to get to our cars. For some reason, (EVEN THOUGH THEY WERE FREAKING &lt;em&gt;ON), &lt;/em&gt;I hadn't realised that there&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;were sprinklers didn't until I was drenched.&lt;br /&gt;Ughh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Gage has been extremely flirty.&lt;br /&gt;With me.&lt;br /&gt;AND&lt;br /&gt;WITH BEE!&lt;br /&gt;Indirectly, this means me=Bee.&lt;br /&gt;NOT COOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During English, I accidentally hit Nat's 5-foot-1 ex in the arm. He was like, "that hurt, kiss it!" So, I did. Then he accidentally hit Gage in the eye and Gage goes,&lt;br /&gt;"Taffy, kiss it."&lt;br /&gt;"No, Gage."&lt;br /&gt;"You kissed (5-foot-1-ex)."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay."&lt;br /&gt;So yeah. I have no will power.&lt;br /&gt;Multiple hugs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also used to do this thing while walking to/from English where I'd stop and he'd walk right up behind me so his crotch it touching my ass.&lt;br /&gt;It happened again today...&lt;br /&gt;I sped up really quickly and kept walking.&lt;br /&gt;And then on the way to a class meeting, he decided to ask, "Is it yellow today?"&lt;br /&gt;UGH!&lt;br /&gt;YOU PIG!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's my rant.&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I've decided that Gage has no personality whatsoever and is a less cool version of Chuck. Except chunkier and less sexy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Penn is being flirtier again (thank Gage!). Today he kept sitting on my lap in P.E. then wrapping his arms around me.&lt;br /&gt;HURRAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, I forgot,&lt;br /&gt;Gage also mentioned something I said about him kissing like a fish...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-5202023458723263891?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/5202023458723263891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=5202023458723263891&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5202023458723263891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/5202023458723263891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/sprinklers.html' title='Sprinklers...'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6338993940275125173.post-198754675642198828</id><published>2008-05-08T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T18:45:51.980-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Barbie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taylor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chuck'/><title type='text'>Oh Gage Almighty</title><content type='html'>Hahaha, get the title?&lt;br /&gt;If not, replace Gage with God.&lt;br /&gt;(in case we haven't already established this, I have no life)&lt;br /&gt;Also, Gage is super Catholic.&lt;br /&gt;BAHAHAHAHAH.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, yeah, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now my parents decided to have a random party and invited all of my cousins &amp;amp; et cetera. Cousins &amp;amp; et cetera means all of my neices &amp;amp; nephews (one who happens to have my mobile and is playing tetris as obsessively as I play it :/). AND, of course, my pedophiliac uncle.&lt;br /&gt;He:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;gives overly long hugs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;follows them with back pat/ RUBS&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;corners you and asks you awkward questions&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;comments on how beautiful you look&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;He's just creepy and uncomfortable...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;That isn't the point though. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The point is that Gage has been flirting with me, lately. A lot. Even though he's supposed to REALLY like Barbie... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today in English I was walking by him. He was lying down with his head on the floor. When I walked back to my place by the table where the teacher was trying to show us something. This happened.&lt;br /&gt;"Taaaaaffy".&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;ignored&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;"Taaaff, TAAAFF!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I suppose that didn't really need an exclamation point, he was whispering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;"WHAT, GAGE?"&lt;br /&gt;"I saw."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lecherous smile. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ever since Wednesday, he's been giving me these really tight hugs and staring at my boobs. GUESS WHAT, GAGE?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;IT'S PADDED!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;IT'S PADDED!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, well, sometimes. Anyway, Alice noticed it too. He's being a flirt- monster with me. It seems as though Barbie (GORGEOUS Barbie), is not enough for him. Fucking asshole. Oh, and let me explain the "I saw," thing. It's been an insided joke that started right about when we started being FWB (friends with benefits). Long story short, it means that he saw up my skirt.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Later, I went back upstairs to get Spanish homework and Alice &amp;amp; I stopped at his locker. We were leaving and Alice was talking to someone else when Gage pulled me aside and gave me this really tight hug. Then he whispered in my ear, "Were they yellow?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I gave him a pissed off look.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He gave me a thumbs up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yellow being my thong. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also, after Gage's reflirt started, I think Chuck decided that he didn't hate me anymore because he's been flirty again. Thank Jesus.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And Taylor hasn't spoken to me since Monday.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, and Roy is this guy I know who goes to the brother school of Nat's St. Yellow.&lt;br /&gt;He's a senior and he has a girlfriend. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For some reason that hasn't kept him from flirting with me. Calling me lascivious. Asking me to treat him to York mints. Oh, and referring to me as "my sexy."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I really hate the name Roy, but that's the only name that I could think of that suited him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6338993940275125173-198754675642198828?l=blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/feeds/198754675642198828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6338993940275125173&amp;postID=198754675642198828&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/198754675642198828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6338993940275125173/posts/default/198754675642198828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blather-before-taffy.blogspot.com/2008/05/oh-gage-almighty.html' title='Oh Gage Almighty'/><author><name>taffy.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08032590751725173862</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IyTuB1mnLz4/SaSRXuFM43I/AAAAAAAAACE/bQKvk2ahqm0/S220/pants.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
