tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6529323713979085072024-03-13T23:49:47.306-07:00The Misadventures of Heidi JaneMiss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-43804723723132227412012-05-16T22:59:00.001-07:002012-05-16T22:59:09.026-07:00"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."-Dr.Seuss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7CRf7_AGn6A/T7SS0VbuKLI/AAAAAAAAADk/9jK1IEpvlWQ/s1600/tumblr_lvigqw33YH1qewelwo1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7CRf7_AGn6A/T7SS0VbuKLI/AAAAAAAAADk/9jK1IEpvlWQ/s320/tumblr_lvigqw33YH1qewelwo1_500.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Normally I take the time to write out a rough draft of my blog so that I know how stupid I sound before I submit it for the whole world to see. That and I am a horrible speller. Grammar Nazi yes, Spelling Bee champion, never. But I'm going to write straight from my heart on this one. I sit here in my PJ's, just finished reading <u>Fifty Shades Darker</u>, and my heart feels heavy and my mind is full. I need a drink in my life, but I have too much going on tomorrow to indulge in the sweet, satisfying taste of vodka. It is sad that I have finally grown to the point in my life that I resist a drink, or ten, on a self pitty day because I know I have to get up for work in the morning. But what I wouldn't do for some liquid courage right about now.<br />
<br />
I left my home away from home Crummy's this fine evening for many reasons. One, being listed above, is that that I have something very important to do in the morning for my AWESOME job. Second, I don't really have the money to spend on drinks and I don't know a billionaire who could afford myself and my friend's drinking habits. Third, I was dressed WAY too down to be hanging out in a public place and I was in serious need of a shower. I worked super hard today AND I bowled an impressive 195 so I was a tad bit sweaty. And lastly I left because I am a girl and sometimes a girl just doesn't need to see what she can't have sitting in front of her, within arms reach, not wanting her.<br />
<br />
I told Megan tonight that I would be a strong person and just stop whatever feelings I have for him right now before I end up hurt and reading text messages about other girls while I drown my sorrows in vodka. I told her that if I can just ignore it then eventually it will have to go away.<br />
<br />
And she told me that she was proud of me.<br />
<br />
But...(there's always a 'but' isn't there?) I don't know if I can. I couldn't even look at him as I told my two best friends 'good-bye'. I didn't want to look into his eyes and not see the same thing looking back at me. I left quickly before I could be talked into staying as I was last week. I needed to stick to my guns. I needed to leave. I needed to get in my car and go the fuck back to Haysville and finish my book and take a shower and tweak my slideshow...and sit here and kick myself in the ass for not being the brave girl I want to be. For not being as outspoken as my other friends. For not taking advantage of an amazing situation when I had the chance instead of being so pumped up for a fucking movie.<br />
<br />
I will NOT let this ruin my summer. I fully intend on hanging out with my best friends on Wednesdays and having as much fun as I can. Even if that means not drinking. Even if that means I have to force myself to be strong and MOVE THE FUCK AROUND!<br />
<br />
I'm putting a stop to these feelings. I don't want to, but I know in my jacked up little heart that if I don't quit while I'm ahead, then I'll feel worse in the long run.<br />
<br />
I think I can handle the "Friend Zone". I've been here many times before. They know me here. They save me a table for one near the window so I can watch from afar.<br />
<br />
Heidi JaneMiss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-18053662444762010852012-05-15T18:14:00.001-07:002012-05-15T18:14:15.311-07:00I Love My Job<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pdcIuNcZizY/T7L_WbfKGAI/AAAAAAAAADY/mfH8h6LiZfE/s1600/weezey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pdcIuNcZizY/T7L_WbfKGAI/AAAAAAAAADY/mfH8h6LiZfE/s320/weezey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I sit here waiting on my super amazing slide show for the
up and coming 2012 Pre-K graduation to save,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am reflecting on today. Was it a good day? *eh* Sorta. Was it a bad
day? *eh* Not really. Was there someone who made me wanna throw a chair thru the
window in the style of Chris Brown and then give ‘em a Rock Bottom AND a People’s
Elbow? You bet your ass there was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But does that stop me from wanting to go back tomorrow?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The answer is simple.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I LOVE MY JOB!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll
scream it from the roof tops until I am blue in the face. I freaking love my
job. There are days like today where my name was actually on the list of people
who did a fuck up yesterday where I spend the first 25 minutes of work angry.
But then I remember all the AMAZING shit I do on the daily, and it ten folds outweighs
leaving my cup out. I couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. Nor do I ever
want to. (Unless that dream of a singing career ever happens. And yet I still
hope I on the schedule just in case.) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I make the amount of money that I am worth? Hell to the
no. But I understand that that is what happens when you work in child care,
especially one that supports a church. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I have health benefits? Again, no. But again, I choose to
work here and I knew all this beforehand. I know how my body is and when I
start to feel really shitty I do go to the doctor. I just pay out of pocket. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I work in the most glamorous building in the most amazing
part of town? No. But I love my class room space. I love the neighborhood. I
love that there are several parks within walking distance of us. And a library
and KPTS is just around the corner. We can go to the post office and have a
field trip. We can take a nature walk and see some amazing things. I mean, it
is the North Side and all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love being able to wear my Harry Potter t shirts and
discuss the movies with my “friends”. I love our little Adele sing a-longs on
the playground. For Pete’s sake, I get paid to color!!! How could you ever hate
that? All while helping to shape and mold 25 of the craziest children I have
ever met into amazing, well mannered, talkative people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Would I love to make more money? Yes. Would I love a bigger
space to store things? Yes. Would I love to have a playground for just my class
so I feel safe from the two and a half/ three year olds? That is a wish I could
only hope for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But until we win the lottery or strike oil on our property,
I am 100% happy and content with my job, the people I work with, the children
who attend every day, and yes, even the freaking cat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Heidi Ho <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Miss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-49210181529979910952012-04-28T15:18:00.001-07:002012-04-28T15:19:20.729-07:00Memories.....<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned
upside down. And I'd like to take a minute just sit right there. I'll tell you
how I became the Prince of a town called Bel Aire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Funny how you can go years without watching that show and
yet still remember the words to the theme song. Or better yet:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hey there Lord, my name is Ashley Banks. My family and
friends want to give you some thanks. So before this dinner is all swallowed
and chewed, thank you God for this stupid food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yep. I just went there. That was the rap/prayer that Ashley
did in the first episode. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I didn't get on here to write about my love for the Fresh
Prince of Bel Aire, or to even discuss my incredible memorization skills when
it comes to music. What I came here to write about today is memories. The good,
the bad and the ugly. What makes some of us remember everything (*cough*me*cough*)
and some of us only remember the important things in life? I know it has to do
with certain things in your brain, I’m not stupid. And I know that they say ‘smoking
pot’ can damage your memory. But I literally remember everything. Even when I
have had a wee too much to drink, and wake up the next morning with no memory,
a few days will go by and everything will start to fall into place. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uqkcXjj4QvQ/T5xsyXtiZJI/AAAAAAAAADM/NSWYwu8JpIQ/s1600/pin-up-girls-06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uqkcXjj4QvQ/T5xsyXtiZJI/AAAAAAAAADM/NSWYwu8JpIQ/s320/pin-up-girls-06.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some girls at work were talking about prom yesterday and I
told them all the reasons that I didn’t go to prom and exactly, word for word,
what I did on my senior prom night. I can remember the clothes I wore, where we
went and who we hung out with. And that my friends was nine years ago. I
remember riding the Zipper, drinking Smirnoff, and reading books about Wiccan
spells in the church yard across the street from my house. I doubt any of the
other people that were there would remember. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can watch a movie, like The Devil’s Rejects, and remember
the first night that I watched it with Casey and Krystle. I can remember my
Grandpa yelling at me and Krystle to “quit renting this God damn movie or I’m
not taking to you get movies anymore.” I can remember my dad jokingly getting
on to my and Krystle for not telling him how graphic the movie was, how much
blood was in it and that a lady is “riding the shit” out of the clown in the
beginning. And he let Tammy’s boys watch it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Simple things like that. And even more complex things;
things that most people would try to forget. Like the morning my Aunt Debbie
passed away. Like the entire day before she passed. The song that was playing
as my sister’s ringtone the morning Tammy called to say my Grandpa had passed.
The movie I was watching with Mackenzie the night before Heather woke me up to
tell me Grandpa Baty had passed. I remember exactly which episode of Law and
Order: SVU was playing when my dad walked downstairs to tell me Uncle Randy had
called. They had pulled the plug on my Uncle Timmy, and he had passed quickly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can tell you exactly what my dad bought from the store the
day my mom left and never came back. I know what we were eating the day my dad
said that he was marrying Tammy. I know what I drank the night before I moved
out from my dad’s house. And I can remember every detail of the day my parents
found out that my sister’s eggo was preggo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love to sit around and talk about old times. I love to
take pictures and look back at them years later and remember EXACTLY what I was
feeling, going through, dealing with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because sometimes, memories are all we have. Sometimes it’s
better to look back and laugh. Don’t regret anything that you have ever done.
At one time it was exactly what you wanted. There are no regrets in my life,
just lessons learned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometime I wish that I could store my memories in little
bottles a la Harry Potter style. But until then, I will write them out and hold
on to them forever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>Miss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-81681181189320214562012-04-26T18:29:00.001-07:002012-04-26T18:29:41.866-07:00Halloween 1978...my thoughtsI am pretty sure that I have watched the original Halloween around 50 times this week. And each time I watch it the more I love it and the better it becomes. With that being said, I have discovered some things about the film that I feel could have been avoided. Here I will share them with you. (FYI this is all in good fun. This is my favorite movie EVER and had these things actually happened in the film there wouldn't be a movie.) Enjoy!<br />
#1- At the beginning of the film, poor little Michael is outsde, all alone. At the age of six. Um, who does that? I know in fim number six they say that the old wowan across the street was supposed to be babysitting him and he "wandered" off. But really? Had someone just gave the kid a little bit of attention then *maybe* his sister would still be alive today.<br />
#2- When Mikey decieds that its time to flee the crazy house that he has been in since he was six (because no one wanted to pay attention to the little fucker), he clearly has long hair. You can see it when he jumps on the back of the creepy station wagon that reminds me of the thing I used to ride to church in with my Gma and Gpa Baty circa the 1990's. But at the climax of the film when Laurie manages to remove the mask and we get a glimps of his real face, his hair is short. Did he stop off at the barber shop before his reign of terror?<br />
#3-Little Lindsay Wallace is a bitch. If that little heffer had just said "Okay Annie. I'll ride with you to pick up your boyfriend so you can have premarital sex," then I think the movie would have had a much different outcome. For starters, in the original films, the only kids that Michale has ever gone after to kill have been his niece and his nephew/kid. Yes, he did go after the kid in part five, but I believe that that was a diversion. Anyways, like I was saying. Had Lindsay gone with Annie instead of throwing a fit and going over to Tommy's house, Michael would not have gotten in the back seat of the car and strangled/slit Annie's throat. He would have let her live to play another day. At least until she got back to the house with Paul and they fucked, thus breaking Randy from Scream's rule #2 and getting killed off anyway. This leads me to...<br />
#4- Linda and Bob are getting it on. Why she chose a man named Bob I will never know, but its whateves. It was the 1970's in a small town. You got in it where you could. Anyways. The phone, the phone was ringing. The phone, they weren't right there. They were worried that it was going to be Lindasay "The Bitch" Wallace's mom and dad and Annie would get caught letting teenagers use their house like an old school Bunny Ranch. Not the case. I'm sure it was Paul. I would almost bet my HP movies on it that it was Paul. He was calling to see where the eff Annie was. Oh, wait! That's right! Annie is dead. Somewhere in the house mind you because we all saw Mikey carry her body in. Had Linda asked Bob to answer the effing phone they would have known that Annie never showed up to get him. Then maybe Linda and Bob would have gone across the street to where Laurie was and been all like "Hey Laurie. Annie never showed to pick up Paul. We're kinda freaked out. Maybe we should call her daddy who BTDubs is a cop." But no. They decided to keep on fucking. And thus, Bob is dead, and we all get to see P.J. Sole's tits for two seconds.<br />
#5- Where the FUCK did Mikey get the sheet?!? I mean in Rob Zombie's we see that Bob was wearing the sheet first (I'm assuming Rob Zombie always had this question as well). I mean, did he go searching for a linen closet until he found an all white sheet? We saw how well that worked out for Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin's charaters in Beetlejuice. They had to use flower shit. So, Mikey finds the closet. Now what? He goes on a search for sisscors? Does he use his knife? I'm confused. This guy must have been like the male Martha Stewart or some shit. Anyways. It is pretty clever though. And funny. "What's a matter? Can't I get your ghost Bob?"<br />
#6- Was it socially acceptable to leave kids alone while babysitting in the 1970's? Because Laurie does. And we have already seen from scene one of this movie that old people do it as well (or older sisters, depends on how far you follow the movies). Dear parents of children of the 1970's, You might want to check with your children and all your old babysitters to see how many times they were left alone and how often people fucked in your house.<br />
#7- How come in the whole damn movie, Michael doesn't miss his mark one time with his sister (and he was only six), with Annie, Linda or Bob, but he misses not once but SEVERAL times when trying to kill Laurie? Did he smoke some of Annie's weed? Drink some of Linda and Bob's beer? Or was he tired? WTH Michael? You know Dr. Loomis wouldn't have had a chance to shoot your ass if you had just followed through with your approach in the creepy ass closet/bedroom at the Wallace house. Laurie would have been killed, there would be no guns fired, Dr. Loomis may have never found you. You could have been able to be a regular citizen again. No one except for Loomis really knew what you looked liked. You could have gone off to a small town in Texas and lived a peaceful life.<br />
#8- Michale, why the eff didn't you paint the station wagon when you were getting that hair cut? Again, Loomis would not have found you and you wouldn't have been burned in part two, shot with an oozie in part four, captured and shot with tranqs in part five, beat the living shit out of after having posion stuck in you in part six, stabbed the shit out of in part seven, and burt the fuck up in part eight.<br />
All in all, I love this fucking movie. But these questions have set heavy on my heart since I was five. Yes children, I was five the first time I saw this movie. I'll be 27 soon. That's 22 years of watching this movie, and it still scares the living shit out of me.<br />
"If you do that they'll see him on every street corner; they'll look for him in every house. Just tell your men to keep their mouths shut and their eyes open."- Dr. Sam Loomis<br />
<img alt="" class="photo_img img" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/269169_2284796324374_1382877754_32766063_5901460_n.jpg" /><span class="caption">Anyone down for a Halloween marathon?</span>Miss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-39974787888504638922012-04-22T20:12:00.000-07:002012-04-22T20:15:38.523-07:00100 Things All My Friends Should Know About Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ma9saY5DOec/T5TJUmATHkI/AAAAAAAAADE/--emTtKp9zQ/s1600/7b42a7525a3c6ff6ef0e7cbb61c49b13ceeb8496_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ma9saY5DOec/T5TJUmATHkI/AAAAAAAAADE/--emTtKp9zQ/s320/7b42a7525a3c6ff6ef0e7cbb61c49b13ceeb8496_1.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Symbol; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">01. I dropped out of college.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">02. I'm
deathly afraid of clowns.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4MKYqj5yzGM/T5THQVSiGNI/AAAAAAAAACc/oVa4PwAeVrQ/s1600/imagesCAYQ52D9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4MKYqj5yzGM/T5THQVSiGNI/AAAAAAAAACc/oVa4PwAeVrQ/s1600/imagesCAYQ52D9.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">03. I miss Buffy the Vampire Slayer<br />
04. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I should be sleeping
now.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>05. I love fall.<br />
06. I hate to brush my nappy ass hair.<br />
07.<strong> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I like to carry
around a Camcorder and tape people during awkward, embarassing, or otherwise
amusing moments.</span><br />
</strong>08. My job amuses me.<br />
09. I hate math.<br />
10. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I like to shop at
thrift stores.</span></strong><br />
11. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I hate people as a
whole, but I love them as individuals.</span></strong><b><br />
</b><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">12. I really like this person right now, but am too scared to tell them.</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">13. My
biggest fear is dying unloved.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">14. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I like to read.</span></strong><br />
15. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I drive myself crazy
when I procrastinate, but I do it anyway.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>16. I've never seen <em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The
Lord Of The Rings</span></em><br />
17. I don't really like grape Koolaid<br />
18. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I have a lot to
learn.</span></strong><br />
20. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I sometimes like to
watch the rain and think.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>19. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I worry about
other people dying, but I don't fear my own death.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>22. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I'm anal
retentive about most things, but my room is pretty messy.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>23. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I love hugs.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">24. I've only slept with one person...ever.</span></strong></b><br />
25.<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"> I'm not very
athletic.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">26. I should drink more
water.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">27. Racism really pisses
me the fuck off.</span></strong><br />
</b>28. I wish I was better at spelling.<br />
29. I get upset when my friends choose their significant others over their
friends. <br />
30. I have a dog.<br />
31. I'm no stranger to drinking.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rie5eadjJTM/T5THez69dDI/AAAAAAAAACk/f6ez2EZ_78w/s1600/IMAG0156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rie5eadjJTM/T5THez69dDI/AAAAAAAAACk/f6ez2EZ_78w/s320/IMAG0156.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
32. I'm a slacker.<br />
33. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Whenever I get sick,
it's usually respiratory.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>34. I have lots of CDs.<br />
35. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">it doesn't bother me
when other people drink or do drugs...except meth. NO TWEEKERS!</span></strong><b><br />
</b>36. <strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I hate wearing
socks to bed.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">37. My hair is several
different colors right </span></strong></b>now.<br />
38. I can't wait to see the next Hunger Games movie.<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">39. <span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">I'm a sucker for a guy who can sing.</span></span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">40. I can be really
personable.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">41. I really enjoy
thoughtful gifts, even if they cost nothing.</span></strong><br />
</b>42. I won't drink beer.<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">43. I love blankets.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">44. I'm actually fairly
content with my height.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">45. My room is not pale
blue.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">46. I know I shouldn't
eat at McDonald's or Burger King, but they're so good. *whimpers*</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">47. I live in a world of
make-believe.</span></strong><br />
</b>48. I wish that I was in a band.<br />
49. I am addicted to music.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N674Aa279zk/T5THr07095I/AAAAAAAAACs/sf6W7xWcitQ/s1600/imagesCAFPBWDH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N674Aa279zk/T5THr07095I/AAAAAAAAACs/sf6W7xWcitQ/s1600/imagesCAFPBWDH.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">50. I love my friends
more than anything else.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>51. Peter is my pimp.<br />
52. I want the library from Beauty and the Beast<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">53. I love to find money
in my coat pockets.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">54. I randomly scratch my head, and that needs to stop.</span></strong></b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></strong><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">55. I love the Dallas Cowboys!!!</span></strong></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HV6xzM5MtMA/T5TIDlA8X2I/AAAAAAAAAC0/_9-ovDylT7Y/s1600/ca52e7db811318131be.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HV6xzM5MtMA/T5TIDlA8X2I/AAAAAAAAAC0/_9-ovDylT7Y/s320/ca52e7db811318131be.jpg" width="278" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></strong></b><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">56. I can throw down on some Mexican food and manicotti.</span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></strong>57. I'm a big fan of Surphace! (local band)<br />
58. I hate the idea that my mom still calls.<br />
59. I'm very good at singing!<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">60. In my eyes, I am
unsatisfactory.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">61. I worry about the
next generation.</span></strong><br />
</b>62<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">. Generally, the people who I have crushes on, don't like me back.</span>
63. I can never listen to local music enough.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<strong><span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">64. I've
been up all day.</span></strong><b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">65. I'm apprehensive
about getting older.</span></strong><br />
</span></b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">66. I find religion really interesting.<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">67. I don't like to be
alone all the time.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>69. I get way too excited about upcoming concerts.<br />
69. <span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">My theory is that if someone likes you, then they should tell you. Not their friend. And I need to practice what I preach!</span></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">70. Childbirth scares
the fuck out of me.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">71. I am perhaps too
forgiving for my own good.</span></strong><br />
</b>72. I love owls!!!!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PZlpExmLXgo/T5TIXcuCuLI/AAAAAAAAAC8/0JJVCEp6zF8/s1600/owel_bird7_-231x300.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PZlpExmLXgo/T5TIXcuCuLI/AAAAAAAAAC8/0JJVCEp6zF8/s1600/owel_bird7_-231x300.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">73. I check my Facebook and Twitter religiously.<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">74. My gender annoys me.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">75. I love vodka.</span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></strong><b><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">76. I love to write.</span></strong><br />
</b>77. I still watch WWE. Don't hate.</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">78. I don't really like my mom.</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">79. St. Patrick's Day is in my top three holidays.<br />
80. I learned how to drive when I was 22.<br />
81. I can't spell for shit, but I am a grammar nazi.</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">82. I hate thoes preppy snobby too damn much for a pair of pants stores in the
mall. They are made for skinny bitches who need to endulge themselves in some
McDonalds every now and then.<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">83. I eat meat.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">84. My friends like my
parents.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">85. If I had a
moustache, I would wax the tips and curl them upward.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">86. Sometimes I think to
myself, "Wow. People are really fucking stupid."</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">87. I like getting
dressed up.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">88. My birthday feels
like any other day.</span></strong><br />
</b>89. I can't stand it when people spend more than one hour on their hair.<br />
90. I miss my Grandpa Jerry very much.<br />
91. I have never been in an airplane.<br />
92. I miss my Aunt Debbie and Uncle Timmy.</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">93. Goofing off is fun.</span></strong><b><br />
</b>94. I want to write a song that makes people cry.<br />
95. There is one song in this world that makes me think about my Park City
house that makes me cry everytime I hear it, live or on the CD.<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">96. I like Disney
movies.</span></strong><b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">97. I like flip flops.</span></strong><br />
</b>98. <span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">I wish I had the balls to tell him how I feel.<br />
</span>99. I live for chicken patty days!<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">100. I vote yes on gay
marriages.</span></strong></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span>Miss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-51275425898020445572012-04-16T20:49:00.000-07:002012-04-16T20:49:36.031-07:00My Perfect Man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s7-fiA2cSEo/T4zoOO85olI/AAAAAAAAACU/fjLuSD34RxY/s1600/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s7-fiA2cSEo/T4zoOO85olI/AAAAAAAAACU/fjLuSD34RxY/s320/Capture.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>So, I have compiled a list of things that makes a guy the "Perfect Man" to me. Notice how nothing is a physical trait? Yeah Buddy....</o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1. Makes me laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2. Understands that I hate doing my hair so you’re probably going to see it in the same style a million times.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3. Can go through my CD collection and know more than half of the artists. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(local acts are not included).<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4. Understands that I am not very religious, but that I do believe in God. I believe everything happens for a reason and that God works in mysterious ways.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5. Respects that I don’t need “just because” gifts. Being with them is gift enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6. Can accept that I splurge on myself for important events, but will never pass up a sale. In other words; I'm cheap.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">7. Staying in and watching movies, listening to music and/or just chilling is an okay date with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">8. Does not feel threatened by my male friends. If I wanted them I wouldn't be with you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">9. Likes to cook. Know that I can't cook a whole lot of different things but I am willing to try new foods.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">10. My family is first above all.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">11. I drink like a grown man. But not every day, and not even every month.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">12. I'm nice and quiet with people I don't really know, but become more open with time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">13. My job is something that I love to do, but don't make a lot of money doing it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> 14. LOVES MUSIC!!!</span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">AND <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">15. Respects that I'm not very sexually experienced and is still willing to be with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Miss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-39124461951539874522012-04-15T19:48:00.002-07:002012-04-15T19:54:25.339-07:00Skankzillas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XoeVpfGG1qI/T4uFbBitbLI/AAAAAAAAACM/DMxVrz3cNeg/s1600/070e42c332f3cb665e4d3c9c84964a450f3bf69b_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XoeVpfGG1qI/T4uFbBitbLI/AAAAAAAAACM/DMxVrz3cNeg/s320/070e42c332f3cb665e4d3c9c84964a450f3bf69b_1.jpg" width="312" /></a>I believe this photo's caption with all my heart. I feel in my heart that I don't need to skank it up to get the guy. And yet, I do sometimes. Is it because I want to? Lord no. It's because that is what society has accepted as "normal". Dress like a whore, get the guy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But what happened to the good girls? The ones who used their brains and their charm to get someone. The shy girls who hope that their desperate attempts of horrible conversation, the invites to late night breakfasts, the more than obvious FB posts, get her what she wants. The girls like me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It breaks my heart to see these perfectly nice guys treated like shit by these, excuse my French, fucking skanks. These girls think that they can whore it up and get the guy their vagina wants that night. And once they have this poor boy hooked like a sad pathetic fish, they use him up for what he is worth, then toss him back into the ocean. But he is tainted now. His guard is up. But for the wrong girls. He now thinks that the girl who actually likes him is just trying to get something from him. Trying to get money, gifts, special privileges. But in reality she just wants his heart.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And thanks to Skankzilla over there who broke him, the good girls, the smart girls, the girls who may not have the highest self esteem, the girls who think with their heart first and their vaginas second, are left alone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I will admit I have skanked it up in the past. But shit, I'm almost 30. I either need to start nabbing attention with my brains and my awesome personality (even though I know my boobs over shadow not just those things but life as well) or accept the fact that I'm doomed to be in the Friend Zone forever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This isn't where I wanted this to go. But I'm listening to Bush radio on Pandora and Staind was just on. Nothing like a lil anger music to fuel a blog. Oh and if it still isn't obvious, then I'm obviously not being obvious enough and I should start adopting cats now.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Heidi Jane</div>Miss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-39568455594695667842011-11-21T19:35:00.000-08:002011-11-21T19:35:02.756-08:00Cowboys til I die.....<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have been a Dallas Cowboys fan since as long as I can remember. Legend has it that my father wouldn’t take my mother to the hospital to have me until the Cowboys game was over. I Googled that date and what game was being played. The Dallas Cowboys beat the Philadelphia Eagles twenty-three to seventeen. Couldn’t have asked for a better game to have my birth waited for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any time the Eagles lose to the Cowboys is a great day.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I know every player’s name? Nope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I know what college they all went to? Nope. Do I know who the coach was the year the team was first introduced into the league? Nope. But that does not mean that I am not a fan. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve heard several people say that I am a “band wagon jumper”. Would you like to explain to me what wagon there was to jump upon? Because last time I checked the Cowboys haven’t had an amazing season since the mid 1990’s. So if I jumped on a wagon back then….nope they would still be incorrect. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was born a Cowboys fan and I will die a Cowboys fan. Ask anyone who has known me since I was a wee little girl. I have pictures of me around the age of three or four sliding in a park rocking a Cowboys shirt. On the first day of sixth grade I am photographed wearing a Cowboys hat. I have owned a Michael Irvin #88 jersey since I was thirteen. And yes, I still wear it proudly. I will NEVER get rid of it. If I ever have a kid, they will rock this jersey. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Besides, my dad would kill me if I even thought of liking another team. When I was a freshman, the Titans were going to the Super Bowl. Now, at a young age my daddy taught me that if the Cowboys aren’t in the Super Bowl then we as Dallas fans root for the NFC team. Now the Titans were playing the Rams. And nothing against Kurt Warner or anything but Justin Timberlake was going for the Titans, so naturally I went for the Titans. They had nice little baby blue uniforms. (Ya, I know, I’m special.) Well, my dad told me I was a trader. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Rams won anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That Christmas, the Cowboys played the Titans. I was sitting in the room with my mom, dad, brother and sister. My brother made a comment that I was a Titans fan. My dad gave me “the look” and I replied with: “I like their uniforms.” Oh Lord was that a mistake. I was kicked out of the room and told that I was not allowed to watch another Cowboys game until I learned to “respect the star”. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Cowboys lost 0-31. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">L</span></span><o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I was a youngster, we weren’t allowed to interrupt our parents during Cowboys games. And on one particular cold, snowy day, my siblings, cousins and I were outside playing in the snow. Well, every time that an adult came out we would throw a snowball at them. The apparently we became annoying with our constant running in and out of the house. So they locked us out. In the cold. And the snow. Somehow<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my lovely sister, who was several years younger, came up with the plan to bury the beer in the snow. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let’s just say many lessons were learned that day. One, never bother Cowboys fans when the game is on. Two, don’t piss off the kids when you want your beer. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have only been to one Dallas Cowboys game and it was to see them beat the Chiefs in overtime. Loved it. Does that make me not a fan because I have only seen them play one time? My dad was in his late thirties the first time he saw his team play. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I watch the games with my friends or if I see my friends after a game, I like to talk shit. I like to get on Twitter and Facebook and brag about how AMAZING my team is. I like to listen to people at parties and at the bar talk about how they hate Romo one week and love him the next. I love every second of that. But, for some reason, I don’t really say a lot when I am watching the games with my brother and my dad. I don’t really know why I don’t speak up like when I am with my friends. Maybe I’m afraid that I will say the wrong thing and be thrown out of the family again. HaHa<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are also a few people who like to hate on me because I dislike Michael Vick so much. Um, well let’s see. He is a DOG MURDERER!!!!! Hello! And the answer is ‘no’. No, I would NOT like him if he ever became a Cowboy. In fact, I think that I would petition to have him removed from the team if he were ever be traded to the Boys. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, hate on me if you must, but just know this. There is only a hole in the top of Cowboys stadium so God can watch His team play.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">HOW ‘BOUT THEM COWBOYS?!?!?!<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XcywoFHXGmM/TssXwoZ6T1I/AAAAAAAAAB8/XnAr3mFdRJY/s1600/5-Superbowls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XcywoFHXGmM/TssXwoZ6T1I/AAAAAAAAAB8/XnAr3mFdRJY/s320/5-Superbowls.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div>Miss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652932371397908507.post-41174100574544304182011-11-06T20:23:00.000-08:002011-11-06T20:23:52.375-08:00One Day At A TimeI don't really know how to begin this other than to say how I am truely feeling. It has been two weeks since I lost my Aunt Debbie. Lost her. *psh* That sounds like she was a set of car keys or a cell phone. And like magick she will appear in my purse the next time I look for her. But I know all too well that she isn't going to appear the next time I look for her because she is gone. Forever.<br />
<br />
I've heard people say in the last two weeks that they are having a hard time getting a hold of me; that I've gone M.I.A. I've heard people asking why I'm not out all the time anymore and wondering when I'm going to back to "normal". I'll be the first one to admit that I am ignoring certian people. I am refusing to answer my phone and respond to text messages for a reason. You weren't there before, why should I act like you give two shits now?<br />
<br />
But what is "normal"? Is normal drinking four or five days a week? Is normal spending money that I don't have on stupid shit so that I can appear cool? Is normal going to bed in the wee hours of the morning to turn around and wake up a few shorts hours later and work a full eight hour day? Well, yeah. That is all normal to me. But it's not healthy. It's not good for me. It's not good for anyone. Last year around this time I took a two month break from hanging out, drinking and being "normal". I'm thinking about doing it agin.<br />
<br />
"This all comes from your Aunt Debbie's passing?" Yes, yes it does. And who uses the word 'passing'? She didn't pass a kidney stone, or pass a football to Dez Bryant. She died. She is gone. And she won't ever be back. I lost my aunt, my secret keeper, my fellow Glee watcher, my True Blood partner, my second mom, and the woman who made the best damn tosadas ever. The night before she died we talked about me moving out at the end of the month because I felt that I was spending too much money on fast food, drinking, and clothes. She fully supported my decision and was excited to see me rebuild a relationship with my sister. She was my rock. And she is gone.<br />
<br />
No one will EVER understand or even begin to understand what happened that morning. And I hope and pray that they never will. It was something that I wouldn't wish my worst enemy. I have dreams about it almost every night. What if I had heard her? What if I would have tried to wake her up the first time I noticed her on the floor instead of almost thirty minutes later? I mean I was laying only two feet from her. Couldn't I have done something? In my dreams I hear her fall off the couch and I see her strugle and I call for help, the arrive and she is taken off to the hospital where we all visit her later on that day and she comes home and yells at us for eating all her rice pudding and drinking all of the Coca Cola. <br />
<br />
But then I wake up and remember that it's my dad's couch that I'm sleeping on. And that my Aunt Debbie is gone. That I didn't hear her fall and that I couldn't save her.<br />
It's been two weeks. Two long, sad, emotional weeks. I'm not a cryer. It takes a lot to make me cry. And I find myself crying while I'm watching commercials, Glee, fucking football. Maybe I need someone to talk to that isn't related or a friend. Maybe I do need help. I dunno. I don't know what I want anymore. There are days where I don't want to wake up and face the day because I hurt so much. There are days where I consider sleeping until I'm thirty. <br />
<br />
*sigh* <br />
<br />
But until then, I'll work my 9-5, I'll bowl on Tuesdays and I'll DVR Glee. I'll keep watching the Cowboys play and pray that the Eagles and the Steelers lose. I'll take it one day at a time like an alcoholic.<br />
<br />
But just know that it's going to take time to get back to the old Heidi. I envy those of you who continue your lives and smile all day. Because I ache inside and my smiles are all fake.<br />
<br />
<3 Heidi JaneMiss Heidi Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09496981277078306598noreply@blogger.com0