<?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-22759811197272622</id><updated>2012-01-23T16:06:41.512-06:00</updated><category term='miss behave'/><category term='bros before hoes'/><category term='Truth'/><category term='ex'/><category term='booty call'/><category term='jealousy'/><category term='fairy tales'/><category term='boys'/><category term='competition'/><category term='awesomeness'/><category term='viginity'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='uncertainty'/><category term='Stans'/><category term='flirtexting'/><category term='digits'/><category term='rockstars'/><category term='bad boys'/><category term='being easy'/><category 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love'/><category term='good times'/><category term='please'/><category term='sex'/><category term='loving life'/><category term='hot topic boy'/><category term='cheating'/><category term='Match'/><category term='smiling'/><category term='Boy Survey'/><category term='moving forward'/><category term='happiness'/><category term='lesson'/><category term='sexy'/><category term='sizes'/><category term='friend test'/><category term='friends'/><category term='unique'/><category term='blonde'/><category term='nakedness'/><category term='hook ups'/><category term='assholes'/><category term='boobs'/><category term='bars'/><category term='first time'/><category term='internet dating'/><category term='being stupid'/><category term='music'/><category term='safe'/><category term='single'/><category term='meeting'/><category term='options'/><category term='time'/><category term='life'/><category term='Ty'/><category term='falling'/><category term='passion'/><category term='dirty talk'/><category term='same'/><category term='interaction'/><category term='douche bags'/><category term='the other girl.'/><category term='redemption'/><category term='curves'/><category term='flirting'/><category term='dates'/><category term='walmart'/><category term='men'/><category term='blowjobs'/><category term='players'/><category term='questions'/><category term='equals'/><category term='ting tings'/><title type='text'>lipstick lullabies</title><subtitle type='html'>A vixen's guide to boys, breaking hearts, dressing well, and living life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>157</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8392566034619440865</id><published>2011-07-06T11:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T11:32:59.365-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart and Soulmates</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Maybe our girlfriends are our soulmates and guys are just people to have fun with."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Yeah, I believe that. I know it may sounds awful, if you're a guy and reading this. But let me explain.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;How often do people talk about soulmates in movies and whatnot. Pretty often. And it always seems like prince charming strolls along and sweeps the damsel in distress off of her feet and blah blah blah. Well that's not how real life works.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sorry, wish it did, but it doesnt.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;There was this one time that a boy told me that I was his soulmate and guess what happened with that? He moved to California, then moved back to Wisconsin, got a new girlfriend, and now he ignores me. Cool, right?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Yeah, soulmates, fo sho.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Oh, and I especially love when guys tell you that you're their one and only and they want to be with you forever, but then end up lying to you continuously and treating you like poop. That's also really great.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;So, I'd really like to believe that there is such a thing as soulmates, but their isnt. As the quote states, our true soulmates are our girlfriends.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;And when I say girlfriends, I mean the ones that aren't going to say that they're your really good friends, but talk shit behind your back when you're not around. Quote girlfriends unquote like that can kiss my ass. And I'm sick of friends like that. Obviously we're not really &lt;u&gt;good&lt;/u&gt; friends if you have enough&amp;nbsp;audacity&amp;nbsp;to talk behind my back. If you have an issue with me, be a big girl and bring it to my face. Kay thanks.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Anyway, enough about bitchy immature girls, the true blue real kind of friends. Those are the kind of people I consider to be soulmates. The people who would take a bullet for you and whatever. The ones that will be there until the end. The kind of friend that will hold your hair while youre puking, or the kind of friend that will tell you everything will be okay.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;And as for guys, the quote stays true. They're there to have fun with. And if you really think about it, that's not such a bad thing. I kind of like the thought of having fun with a boy. What's so wrong with fun? Nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;xoxox,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 18px;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8392566034619440865?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8392566034619440865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2011/07/heart-and-soulmates.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8392566034619440865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8392566034619440865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2011/07/heart-and-soulmates.html' title='Heart and Soulmates'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-577412394721452054</id><published>2011-04-20T02:21:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T02:28:35.645-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Review</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I just want to write about everything. It's been too long.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;But! Instead I'm going to write about something I know.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Boys. Because I mean, that's what this blog is about in the first place right???&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Okay, so I know it's been an uber long time. So let's review:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Boys for the most part are boys. Not men. Men are a different species, which I have yet to find. I think men are supposed to be some hidden treasure, that when you find them, and the obstacles you run into before you find them, lead you to the right one.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;So in saying this... &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You know what I dont get?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;How most of them can be so damn selfish.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Okay, I'm going to step off of my soapbox for a moment and say that, yes, women can be confusing, bitchy, cold, heartless, ruthless, and whatever. I get it. I'm a chick and I know how we can be. But come on.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you really want to know why we're like this? You give us a reason to be. You treat us like shit so we have to be all those things to keep you from hurting us or making us look like the inferior.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I will not be 'shown up' by some guy. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;And in the past I've said that not all guys are like this, but come on. They all are. If youre a chick reading this right now and think that your man does not fit into this selfish category, I'm sorry, but he does. You dont see it because he does it behind your back. And you're probably too love drunk to see it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Trust me. Been there, been love drunk, been used and abused, done that. By this time I suppose Im sounding pretty bitter and spiteful. Well damnit, I am. If you follow this blog and the personal ones that we have, you'll understand why I'm so bitter.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Boys suck. They have cooties and they suck. And let me tell you what. You think that you find a really good guy, like genuinely good, like hey mom look at this good guy that i found...good...and he turns out to be a video game-momma's boy-im better than everyone-and you suck-im awful in bed-i have no ambition-or goals-i cant afford to pay for-anything-kind of douche.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very frustrating.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;But to top it off and along with their selfishness, comes their arrogance and ignorance. They all go hand in hand. You know what I'm talking about ladies, because I'm sure they've pulled out all stops on you. And you just wonder if there really is a good guy out there. Im sure you sit there and really ponder and contemplate whether or not you should start collecting cats because you wonder if you'll be alone...and stocking up on cats now is better than later.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Hell. I know that I do that. And hell. If that's what it comes down to, then so be it. I'll be content...because in all honesty, my vibrator does more good and justice than half of the guys that i've been with ever have.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;And you know what? My vibrator hates video games.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;Enough said.&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;xoxxx,&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;vintage vixens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-577412394721452054?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/577412394721452054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2011/04/review.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/577412394721452054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/577412394721452054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2011/04/review.html' title='Review'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5104744639342279361</id><published>2010-12-07T10:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T10:45:48.852-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Job Promotions!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Recently I ran into a dilemma. I wanted more money at my current job. Not out of greed, but damn, I do a lot of work. So maybe that's out of greed...I'm not too certain. But still. The dilemma: when/how do you ask for a raise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;As a successful or semi/trying to be-successful woman, I didnt' want to over step my boundaries and ruin my chances of climbing the corporate ladder. I mean, who wants to get shot down and feel like an ass, and then have to deal with that awkward, oh hey, kind of phase with your coworkers/boss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;I dont.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;So!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;What's a good way to approach this situation? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;And of course, depending on where you work and what kind of job you have, the situation will differ. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;I think in order to ask for a promotion, you have to deserve one. Being at a job for a month or two and doing semi-alright kind of work, will not count. You don't derserve anything then. BUT! If you've been at your place of employment for I'd say, more than 3 or 4 months, and have a pretty good feel for the place...that's a start. I also think, that you have to had shown really awesome work ethics. Like coming in on your days off and working extra hours. And I think a little butt kissing is okay too. You really have to be on good terms with your upper management, otherwise any of kind of promotion is definitely not going to happen. Now Im not saying you should kiss management's ass and do whatever they say, but you have to be willing to work with them and show leadership skills at the same time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;On a side note. If you're one of those girls who tends to start drama in the workplace, I think you can kiss any kind of promotion in the ass. Because most management doesnt like a bitchy little girl. Just saying =]&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;So once you feel that you've been doing a pretty rockin' job, &lt;em&gt;at your job&lt;/em&gt;, then it's time to ask for that promotion you've wanting!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;So, here's what I would do next:&amp;nbsp;Go to upper management, or your supervisor, and ask them what requirements are needed to be promoted. Honestly.&amp;nbsp;You won't come off as being pushy or anything of the sort. By asking what you&amp;nbsp;need to do, they're going to know&amp;nbsp;that you're interested in a promotion&amp;nbsp;and more responsibility. Which will look good on your behalf.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;But that way you know what you need to do to excel. Whether it may be, increasing your numbers or doing a little more here or there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;After&amp;nbsp;you're doing hardwork and excelling, going a little above and beyond, then it's time to ask for that promotion!&amp;nbsp;And make sure you're confident and ready to accept it when your approach management about it. Be prepared to take on the extra responsibility that will come with it. Because by getting that raise, comes a&amp;nbsp;more work. Remember that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Don't be afraid to take risks and ask for more money! I mean, what's the worst that could happen??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;You'll get fired. (then you can collect unemployment like&amp;nbsp;the 11% or more of the population)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Good Luck!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;xoxoxxx,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5104744639342279361?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5104744639342279361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/12/job-promotions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5104744639342279361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5104744639342279361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/12/job-promotions.html' title='Job Promotions!'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5156409113280189746</id><published>2010-11-03T14:54:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T14:55:48.798-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgiveness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We all make mistakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We all take things too personal. Too Far.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We all deserve second chances.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;And we all deserve the good things in life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Like great friends and amazing memories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Vixens are there for each other until the very end.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;No matter what.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;So if you're holding grudges or malice towards someone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Let it go.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Life is too short, and we will all die some day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I'd rather be happy and have forgiveness for my mistakes and those of others, then be unhappy and get upset about every little thing that happens in life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I'm sorry. I'm human, and you're human.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We all are.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;We're all vixens at heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;And that's what I love about you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;xoxoxo,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5156409113280189746?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5156409113280189746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/11/forgiveness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5156409113280189746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5156409113280189746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/11/forgiveness.html' title='Forgiveness'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7271827777678523003</id><published>2010-10-11T11:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T11:05:12.308-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='douche bags'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='liars'/><title type='text'>We're Better @ It.</title><content type='html'>WE HAVEN'T WROTE IN MONTHS.&lt;br /&gt;
OMG.&lt;br /&gt;
We Fail.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, I know it's lame, but in real life I can't seem to meet boys.&lt;br /&gt;
So I rely on the&amp;nbsp;genius&amp;nbsp;that is OK Cupid. I can browse a profile, chat, send email, and all that good stuff to see if I really even like someone. Usually after a while I will meet someone, then we'll add each other on Facebook and Chat on there, or sometimes MSN. Sometimes if I meet someone cool, I will give them my number so we can text.&lt;br /&gt;
Well, I did meet a kinda cool guy, and we talked a little, but then I got a bit depressed and didn't talk to anyone but I did notice that on Facebook, his&amp;nbsp;relationship&amp;nbsp;status changed, and then about a week later, we started talking more, I didn't say anything about him having a girlfriend, but then when I realized I might like him, I asked if he was single.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He said he was. But then I realized, I could like this guy and date him. I looked at his facebook. There was a picture of him. And a girl. I mean, I have pics of me and boys. But the banter between him and friends in the comments seemed to indicate that they are boyfriend and girlfriend. And then by looking at her profile, it was confirmed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I confronted him about it. And ask if He's Sure He's Single. He said Yea.&lt;br /&gt;
Then he asked why. And I told him what I found. And he said "I hope we can still be friends."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I just don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;
Why Lie?&lt;br /&gt;
Why tell me that you want to have a romantic relationship with me?&lt;br /&gt;
Does this girl know? I kind of want to tell her to keep a tighter leash on her boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;
I don't have a problem with being part of his rotating posse of women, but what's the use in telling me you like me, if in the end you don't?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Let's be honest. I have like&amp;nbsp;multiple&amp;nbsp;boys. I don't date any of them. I don't lead them on. I don't post pictures on Facebook for them to see. A girl is better at covering her tracks, and a girl is better at finding these things out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It makes me happy to know, that this girl will find some track he didn't cover, and dump him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
xoK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7271827777678523003?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7271827777678523003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/10/were-better-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7271827777678523003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7271827777678523003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/10/were-better-it.html' title='We&apos;re Better @ It.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-3924374066942865125</id><published>2010-08-05T12:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T12:59:16.970-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good times'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waffles'/><title type='text'>making waffles</title><content type='html'>A few weeks ago, while browsing craigslist, I found an ad for a normal sounding dude living in the dells who wanted someone to hang out with.&lt;br /&gt;
I figured, well what the hey! Why not! He didn't say anything about just looking for a no strings attached friends sort of deal, and a picture of his penis wasn't included, so it seemed pretty legit.&lt;br /&gt;
Well, I messaged him, and didn't hear anything back for a bit, but it didn't really surprise me, but then I did. and he seemed cool. And after a little bit he told me to text him cuz it would just be easier.&lt;br /&gt;
Well, he seemed like a nice guy. and then while we where texting he asked me something facebook couldn't tell him about me, so I mentioned that I really liked turtles, and OMG. HE HAS 2 PET TURTLES.&lt;br /&gt;
Well, He's pretty smart too. This is how I know:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I told him to come to Vintage, and he did. &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;He talked to everyone. &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;He didn't fall off the step when he left, (sure sign a guys no good). &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;He was like the coolest guy ever. &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;He thinks my Bear drawing is funny.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;He graduated college!&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;He has pet turtles.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;After he left, he asked me if I would come watch a movie at his house. And this seemed ok. (I am pretty sure that "watch a movie" is guy code for something else though) And then he asked me if I was going to get on the bed so we could make out or what. &lt;br /&gt;
Well, you don't have to ask me twice! I know, I told Lacey upon leaving that I had no intention of finding out what his penis looks like, but well, I did find out. And I know he said he didn't want to move fast, but we went from meeting to making out to naked in a matter of hours. But, Seriously! He's a total babe! &lt;br /&gt;
It's so weird, he's so nice! I never knew that fooling around could last more than 6 minutes, that not all boys taste like cigarettes, that afterward someone would cuddle and not hand me clothes back and go outside to smoke a cigarette, that taking a shower in the worlds smallest shower stall would be fun, or that it's ok to say what I want and what I don't like. &lt;br /&gt;
And the best thing is, everyone at Vintage likes him. Cortney told me not to fuck this up. Lacey told me not to break his heart,( let's get this straight, i don't break hearts, I just am to nice to boys that just aren't right!)&lt;br /&gt;
So we made waffles, on the second day (I know, I'm an easy slut. Whatever). I can say it was good-ish. I think I'll be a bit more relaxed if I've had a drink or two. I mean this time it was legit first time (I would tell you why but then you'd get grossed out.) So, basically, I'm pretty dang happy on cloud nine right now. I want to flaunt my bite marks to the loser who ditched me, and take him to the resturat the bitch works at and show him off. Call me crazy, but it's good to know that super awesome dudes are out there. cuz, he is most likely the coolest one I've met!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
xo-K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-3924374066942865125?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/3924374066942865125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/08/making-waffles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3924374066942865125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3924374066942865125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/08/making-waffles.html' title='making waffles'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5617232268027862098</id><published>2010-07-21T14:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T14:31:53.102-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='viginity'/><title type='text'>Losing It</title><content type='html'>I am not shy about the fact that I have never had sex.&lt;br /&gt;
And when I imagined having it, it was with someone I liked, in a memorable way.&lt;br /&gt;
But, that's not how it happened at all.&lt;br /&gt;
On Saturday night, I went to go watch a movie with a boy, at his house.&lt;br /&gt;
Halfway through the movie, I decided I didn't really like him.&lt;br /&gt;
He kept trying to hold my hand, and that, I thought was weird.&lt;br /&gt;
And he kept telling me I was beautiful and that he's surprised their isn't a line of guys to date me.&lt;br /&gt;
Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then we started to make out, and ya know. I'm a woman, I am not above just using someone for some fun. And then he asked me if I wanted to go into the other room. (Not really, I'm fine on a couch, but whatever) and admist the removal of clothes I kept feeling his penis poking down there, and I would scoot away from it. But it got to the point where I couldn't scoot away anymore. I had my eyes closed and felt something. There. I assumed it was his hand. but then I opened my eyes and realized it wasn't. I'm not sure how it all happend but then he took it out, and I sat up, and he kept telling me he was sorry that he didn't realize...(how do you not realize???) I told him it was fine whatever, then said I needed to go. So I picked up my clothes, and went to the bathroom and got dressed and left. He tried calling me and he texted me. But I didn't want to talk to him. I called my friend, and just cried. I felt so stupid. I still do! I feel stupid for trusting someone, I mean I told him, I didn't want to have sex. Sure it wasn't that day. But when you get a girl that's never done it before, you remember shit like that. Or not, whatever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, I have learned&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;never take off your panties, they are the last line of defense&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;don't close your eyes just becuase you don't want to look at him&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;oh, and above all, boys are weird&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;xo-K&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input id="jsProxy" onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" type="hidden" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5617232268027862098?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5617232268027862098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/07/losing-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5617232268027862098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5617232268027862098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/07/losing-it.html' title='Losing It'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-564389294189181080</id><published>2010-07-12T23:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T23:38:16.429-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='equals'/><title type='text'>='s not so =</title><content type='html'>So when you go into a relationship and are prepared to share your heart and emotions with someone else, you expect things to be equal, do you not? I know that's what I expect to happen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Before our time, like in the younger years of our grandparents or even their parents, females were not considered equals. They were meant to stay at home, have babies, cook, clean, not have their own thoughts, and sex their man when he wanted it. Which then in turn made more babies for them to cook, clean, and take care of. The men were the primary breadwinners, which I guess gave them the upper hand. &amp;nbsp;Or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So some years go by, and women start getting jobs, and taking on more of the money responsibility themselves. But at the same time a lot of them still have to to do the at home thing, and take care and raise kids. Which is another full time job in itself...hence why I'm waiting a while before I have kids, but anyway...women have more say in the relationship business. They have more independence and a stronger voice to be heard. Women fight for Equal Rights and become more dominant. And a lot of women start to say screw the 'family scene.'&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
BUT for those women who don't say screw it to the family scene and are in a relationship, a reoccurring pattern has appeared.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It seems like a lot of people that I know, or people that I see in the media, are not equal as a couple. There is always a dominant breadwinner or 'ruler' of that specific relationship. I just wonder if it's possible to be equal as a couple?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A few years ago, I had a tendency to date dudes who were less of an equal than myself. They couldn't hold a job and never had any real ambition in their lives. Why did I date such douche bags? Well Im pretty sure it was because I liked the thought of being better than that person. Which I realize now is totally absurd, but then I didn't. I guess, because I had a job and real goals in life, that made me better.&lt;br /&gt;
You should WANT to date someone who has goals in their life and real ambition. That's just a given. I don't think you should ever have to change your standards or stoop down to meet someone else's level.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No. You both should be on equal levels, standards, ,expectations, or whatevers.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Here's what I think. I think people get lazy. In many ways actually, but from a relationship point of view with an emphasis as equals:&lt;br /&gt;
*we date someone who is less of an equal as ourselves because we like to feel superior. It makes us feel good about ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;
*if we don't have money/goals/etc., we date someone who does so we can continue on with our lives being the lazy asshole we are.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So instead of being patient, making a few mistakes, and taking a few risks...we settle. Find someone who isn't on our level and just take what we can get. We either give up part of ourself or take a part of someone else.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ugh, but at the same time I don't want it to seem like you should think you're better than someone else. But let's be real...because that's how it should be...if you're a 20+ yr old with no goals, no job, and no intention of getting one, then I guess I would consider someone with a job and goals more of an individual than the jobless person.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The choice is up to you. Be equals. Or not.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
xoxox,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-564389294189181080?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/564389294189181080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/07/s-not-so.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/564389294189181080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/564389294189181080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/07/s-not-so.html' title='=&apos;s not so ='/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7549804909047984179</id><published>2010-07-02T15:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T15:04:26.362-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Have you ever thrown a handful of glitter in the air?</title><content type='html'>I have been thinking, after getting done with all my boy drama,&lt;br /&gt;
from John to Jerad to Mike to Kyle,&lt;br /&gt;
I think I am done with falling in like with boys for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have been told by all that I am beautiful and smart and funny and sexy and simply amazing.&lt;br /&gt;
Well if this is true, why don't they try harder?&lt;br /&gt;
I told John that I wanted to make waffles with him, I told Mike he could make waffles with me, but no waffles have been made with me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then I find out that most have other girls. &lt;br /&gt;
Ok, well I do have other boys I flirt with, but I would stop if it got serious.&lt;br /&gt;
But really, how special, beautiful, smart, funny, and amazing am I if they are telling it to another girl?&lt;br /&gt;
One that I am fairly certain isn't nearly as amazing as I.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have gotten to the point where I am tired of trying to find someone to make waffles with,&lt;br /&gt;
I am tired of all these pointless guys that I seem to waste my time liking.&lt;br /&gt;
Have you ever settled for something becuase you don't think something better likes you?&lt;br /&gt;
I don't know what I'm looking for anymore. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't know why it's my looks that stun boys first. &lt;br /&gt;
It's not like I'm not smart or funny. and I' do this thing called speaking my mind that gets me in trouble.&lt;br /&gt;
I must do one of two things, get really dumb, or not be cute anymore.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have had a hard year. &lt;br /&gt;
Last summer, the job that I loved more than anything closed.&lt;br /&gt;
Then I didn't have a job for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;
Then I was working 2 jobs that made me want to crash my car into a tree. &lt;br /&gt;
But I met this guy, and although I wasn't my normal self, it felt nice to not have to worry about work for the few hours we hung out. And I didn't feel like I had to pretend to be someone else for him.&lt;br /&gt;
But &lt;em&gt;That&lt;/em&gt; all went well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then there was Jerad.&lt;br /&gt;
He came to town for the car show.&lt;br /&gt;
I was totally and completly comfortable with him. &lt;br /&gt;
But he didn't make waffles with me.&lt;br /&gt;
He said he just wanted booty. &lt;br /&gt;
ummm...&lt;br /&gt;
And it seems to me that he has a thing for girls with babies and low self esteem.&lt;br /&gt;
which is SO not me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then I was content with being friends with benefits with another boy.&lt;br /&gt;
But after we met for a second time, he deleted me from facebook.&lt;br /&gt;
I wasn't commenting on everything he wrote, hell, I hardly even talked to him, &lt;br /&gt;
So I take it I must not be the kind of girl he wants to give him a bj when he's in town.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
and them came Kyle.&lt;br /&gt;
I met him in a very unconventional way.&lt;br /&gt;
But he seemed nice.&lt;br /&gt;
I got over douche bags, and comfortable enough with him.&lt;br /&gt;
I asked him if he would want to go to the drive in. He seemed very excited about this.&lt;br /&gt;
Then the next day he told me, he now has a girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;
But it's nothing I did. &lt;br /&gt;
but how special can i really be, if he's telling a girl the same thing as he's telling me?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I've tried my hand at this dating thing.&lt;br /&gt;
I've decided I don't like it.&lt;br /&gt;
I just feel used.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Douche #1 asked me if he could help me with my waffle problem,&lt;br /&gt;
But I honestly feel like after wards, I'd just roll over and cry.&lt;br /&gt;
Becuase if he really honestly wants to ditch me to date girls with babies,&lt;br /&gt;
What am I then? &lt;br /&gt;
I've made some pretty good choices with my life.&lt;br /&gt;
But sadly, it looks like this princess will never get her happy ending.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
xoK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7549804909047984179?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7549804909047984179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/07/have-you-ever-thrown-handful-of-glitter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7549804909047984179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7549804909047984179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/07/have-you-ever-thrown-handful-of-glitter.html' title='Have you ever thrown a handful of glitter in the air?'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8868659588223505004</id><published>2010-06-18T12:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T12:55:59.375-05:00</updated><title type='text'>These things I am certain of:::</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you have a bad feeling nothing can fix it, except confronting it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;People change, but it won't take long for the pet peeves you had about them to  start coming out again.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't settle when it comes to your feelings. (settling for coke over pepsi is ok though.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't be afraid to let everyone know the real you. Even if she is a blonde barbie doll.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't be afraid to say no to anyone.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't be afraid to say yes to trying anything.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Never do shots with, 'special favors' for, or touch the naked flesh of anyone call your boss.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Never forget where you came from.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Always take time for passion.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wedges are always easier to walk in than any other kind of shoe.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Karma is real.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes, what you think is best for you, really isn't.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Listen to what your friends say about him, they don't have the "he's perfect" goggles on.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everyone should have a cat.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drivers should always stop and help out a turtle in need of a hand crossing the highway.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gay people, would totally make better parents than half the losers who don't understand birth control.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Edward Cullen is a vampire. But he's not that great.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;xo-K&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8868659588223505004?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8868659588223505004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/06/these-things-i-am-certain-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8868659588223505004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8868659588223505004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/06/these-things-i-am-certain-of.html' title='These things I am certain of:::'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7820937004404023335</id><published>2010-06-08T19:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T20:15:06.481-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Womans Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://s69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/Decorated%20images/?action=view&amp;amp;current=l_040f2f80eaecc2fd79534b14048f195a.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/Decorated%20images/l_040f2f80eaecc2fd79534b14048f195a.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;

Recently, my brother has become engaged to a fresh out of high school 18 year old. (He's 21) I have made it no secret that I think they are much too young.
(If i had gotten married then, I wouldn't be half the total babe I am now)
Now that he is ready to live on his own and be a grown up, don't you think he would help out a little more, I mean in a week my mom will be going in for surgery and it's not like she'll want to do the gazillion things she does around the house.

Yesterday, was a typical day for me. I had to take the Doctors kids to day care (I'm her on call sitter. In case she gets called in at night, I'm there to take care of her sons), then I had to run to Adams to get my car looked at, then my mom needed her prescription refilled in the Dells, I had to clean a flat of strawberries, make supper, and pack to go back to the Doctors.

When I was leaving home to go pick up the pills, I asked my brother to unload the dishwasher. A simple task. I knew he wouldn't re-load it. I got home 40-ish minutes later, to find the dishwasher still full. How hard is it to push pause on World of Warcraft? Honestly, it took me about 6 minutes to unload it.

So, why does he think that he is ready to get married when he can't unload the dishwasher, take out the garbage with out being asked 4 days in a row, do his own laundry, help out a little (we live at home Rent Free!), make supper once in a while, or help my dad get a load of hay?

I work 3 jobs, have a social life, make supper almost every night, do dishes, laundry, take out garbage, pick up what my dog drug into the living room, help my mom with any projects, oh, and help any of my friends with anything they need from Jeff's resume, to Katie's pix...

Apparently, A woman's work his never done.
I just hope his fiance knows how much of a slob he is, and how much more work, he'll make for her.

Oh, and she asked me to be a bridesmaid. I wouldn't really have a problem with this, if he didn't make me, my friends &amp;amp; my family feel inferior to him.
And maybe if he wasn't such a douche to everyone he meets.

xo-K
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;" id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7820937004404023335?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7820937004404023335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/06/womans-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7820937004404023335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7820937004404023335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/06/womans-work.html' title='A Womans Work'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/Decorated%20images/th_l_040f2f80eaecc2fd79534b14048f195a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7197216842991177363</id><published>2010-05-30T17:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T18:19:45.757-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alcohol'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='douche bags'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='assholes'/><title type='text'>a little venting about how i don't ever understand boys</title><content type='html'>so, i was seeing a guy for a bit.
and then just one day he stopped talking to me.
but i was just like, ok.
and i went on with my life.

well, he just so happens to work with my best friend.
and one night, he was talking to her about stuff,
and she said she's surprised he cry.

and then I had the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;genius &lt;/span&gt;idea to drunk text him.
I don't think it was that smart when you get the
"who is this and stop texting me" text.

So, don't worry.
Point taken.


But, it still leads me to wonder WTF MATE!
Don't go saying one thing to one person,
then be a complete fucking asshole.
Sure, it wasn't the best idea to drunk text him,
Or let jessika call him and tell him that he should
put his penis in my mouth.

But, you don't have to be a fucking asshole about it.
&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OR! &lt;/span&gt;
Better yet,
Just tell me what I did to make you hate me.

xo-
k


&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7197216842991177363?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7197216842991177363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/little-venting-about-how-i-dont-ever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7197216842991177363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7197216842991177363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/little-venting-about-how-i-dont-ever.html' title='a little venting about how i don&apos;t ever understand boys'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5633633058702875841</id><published>2010-05-25T16:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T17:12:27.950-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nakedness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='comfortable'/><title type='text'>Naked :: &amp; lovin' it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://s69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/?action=view&amp;amp;current=dov01.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/dov01.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;

I know I lack a little in my expirence with members of the male sex. But one thing, that always held me back from really moving to the next level, was my body.
I mean, I like it. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A lot! &lt;/span&gt;
But, I know it's not anything like, let's say...Heidi Montag's. (even though her's isn't even real).
So, it wasn't until I finally had someone go from watching a movie to undressing me that I really liked it. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A lot!&lt;/span&gt;
Like, I want it, again. And again. And Again.

I know not everyone can be comfortable in their own body, like take this weekend, I stayed with a boy, and I was in my naked glory, and he wouldn't take off his shirt :(
I just think that if someone is comfortable enough to be naked with you, it wouldn't hurt to try and take it all off for them.

Being nude is liberating, it's the one way, to truly show yourself and not hide.
It's freeing to lay in bed and feel the breeze over your back.
And, It's just nice to lay naked with someone and feel their skin on yours.

Give it a try, you just might like it, and want to do it more. Like me!
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;" id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5633633058702875841?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5633633058702875841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/naked-lovin-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5633633058702875841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5633633058702875841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/naked-lovin-it.html' title='Naked :: &amp; lovin&apos; it.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-707878529397295123</id><published>2010-05-21T00:54:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T06:32:08.792-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Conformity and Society</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="center"&gt;We, in the United States, have become afraid of being offended. We are offended by body jewelry, body piercing, foreign languages, dissent, questioning authority, non-Christian religions, no religion, socialism, anarchism, anything other than what resides in our suburban SUV-like comfort zones. We are afraid of anything unfamiliar. We attempt to control that which makes us uncomfortable. Institutionalized control, however, necessitates the presence of fear. And, institutionalized fear narrows people's options. And that, of course, is the point. Isn't it?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p align="center"&gt;I didn't write this. But here's what I have to say about it.
&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/S_YgK2PmJVI/AAAAAAAAAJc/dAgZDTqLf74/s1600/IMG00530-791689.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473597767847126354" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/S_YgK2PmJVI/AAAAAAAAAJc/dAgZDTqLf74/s320/IMG00530-791689.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Notice that shiny thing in my ear? Well that my friend is a 1/2" gauge/earring. Do you find this to be offensive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Well apparently some people do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I went into work tonight (3rd shift) and was told that I could potentially be losing my job because of those shiny little things in my ears. Yup, you heard right. I could lose my job that I've currently had for the past 6 years, because of earrings. I wasn't even given an option to take them out. Just being fired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;What is the world coming to? We're meant to conform to some secret standard. I would honestly like to know who came up wtih these standards in the first place. What makes small earring or no tattoos, or anything of the sort for that matter, okay and acceptable? Who made these rules? I know that I didn't. So why should I have to follow them? Yeah, I'm not sure either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I just want to let everyone know out there, that we shouldn't have to put up with things like this in our world. We SHOULD love one another for WHO we are, not WHAT we look like or WHAT we wear in our fucking ears. It just seems wrong to me. And I know there are people out there who will agree to both sides of the argument. But...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;My earrings are not affecting my job. They're not a hazard to anyone, and they're not offensive. So...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;They can kiss my ass. OR fire me. Either way works for me =]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I'm going to stay strong and fight it. In my eyes, I see it as discrimination. We're not living in the 1940s where everyone had to dress and look alike and anyone who was different was pointed out and laughed at. Honestly Mr. Corporation...let's grow up and see the bigger picture. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;And let's stop ridiculing Lacey Mae for her iced out gauges. K, thanks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xxx, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-707878529397295123?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/707878529397295123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/conformity-and-society.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/707878529397295123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/707878529397295123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/conformity-and-society.html' title='Conformity and Society'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/S_YgK2PmJVI/AAAAAAAAAJc/dAgZDTqLf74/s72-c/IMG00530-791689.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8501031719976326035</id><published>2010-05-07T23:19:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T00:27:01.048-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Falling out of friendship.</title><content type='html'>Best friends. Blood sisters. I got your back, and you got mine. The whole she-bang...Friends 'til the end, right?
In most cases, yes. But not in all.

Let's say you have a friend that you've been friends with since high school, or even further back...maybe middle or elementary school. Point being, you've been friends for a hella long time. You're so incredibly close to this person, that you could honestly tell them anything, and trust them with your life. You gossip about boys, girls, life, sex, and everything else in between. This is the kind of friend that you can spend hours talking to and tell them secrets and know that she would never ever judge you, but only try and give you her best advice. Yup, someone you can always count on. Get it?

Okay. So let's say the two of you grow a little older. And all of a sudden things start changing. She suddenly becomes too 'busy' to hang out. And I quote busy, because in all reality she's actually just choosing other people and things, over you. Now, I'm not saying that you're the only person your 'best friend' can and should hang out with. No. I'm saying that she is continuously ditching you. Continuously, like every time you try and make plans. She has no money or something else going on. OR maybe you both have boyfriends now, and it's hard to make time for eachother. But it seems like every time that you make some time, she's mysteriously busy. [AKA in the bar, getting her drink on with her boyfriend and&lt;strong&gt; new&lt;/strong&gt; friends. Which you would have no problem attending with her, except that it would be nice to actually spend some quality time with your best friend. You know catch up and gossip. One on one.]
Needless to say, you're frustrated. It's come to the point that when you DO actually hang out or see eachother, it's almost awkward. You don't know what to talk about anymore because you're not sure if she's still the same person. It's even come to the point that you think she may be judging you. You do the awkward HEEEEYYY how's it going, kind of thing. Which makes it weird for everyone. Ugh.

What are you supposed to do in a situation like this, or one similiar?

Well, you could keep prying and trying to hang out with this best friend. But then you would just come off as being desperate and needy. Which is NEVER cool. So I think one or two more attempts at hanging out would be okay. But if it's still not working out after that, then that's not your fault. You tried.

You could talk to her about it. But then again you're dealing with those awkward emotions and situations. And if you did talk to her about it, it would probably just be brushed off like it's not a big deal. Or 'she didnt even notice it happening' kind of thing.

Personally, I would just go with the flow. Friendships are pretty powerful things...most of the time. And eventually she should realize who her true friends are. You know, the ones who aren't continuously drunk, and the ones who can show who they truly are.

She'll eventually come to you with some kind of issue, in need of some GOOD advice with meaning.
And at that point, it's your turn to decide whether or not you're going to give her what she needs. You could be the good friend, who said she would always be there for her, and be there for her. Or you can be a bitch and ignore her. Either way, it's your choice.
True friendships and friends last forever, and that's the kind of friend I choose to be.

Because true friends will be there long after some douche bag is.

ooxo,
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8501031719976326035?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8501031719976326035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/falling-out-of-friendship.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8501031719976326035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8501031719976326035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/falling-out-of-friendship.html' title='Falling out of friendship.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2489838286869710729</id><published>2010-05-05T21:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T22:22:13.522-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='break ups'/><title type='text'>Delete::From Life</title><content type='html'>Deleting Boys, it's never been easier!

First is the realization it's over.. When he's just all weird. You'll kn0w, when this happens.

Next is the coming to terms with it. I think this shouldn't take too long. I mean it really honestly depends on how long your fling lasted. Everyone is different but, don't be pining a month later, out loud at least.

Then comes the deleting of those cute little texts he sent you and getting rid of the things he gave you. This can be hard when you like to read about how someone finds you sexy, or how kissable your lips are. But once you remember he hasn't talked to you in 2 weeks or so, it's not that hard to know he didn't really mean it. The things he gave you are easy to get rid of (unless it's an STD) stuffed animals are great for cousins! Flower vases, just give 'em to your mom! Candy, toss it!

Finally comes the hardest parts. The first part, deleting him from your phone. Because if you don't you'll have a few too many and text him. Or late at night when you're in bed, you'll text him. Another thing to do is delete him from Facebook. Unless you have enough restraint to not talk to him on there. The second hardest part is giving him his stuff back. Stuff like CD's and Movies. Most girls would just keep it or toss it, but remember we aren't most girls! Would you want someone to toss your things away? That's what I thought. So make it civil. A "Here's your CD back, thanks for everything, see ya around." works well.

 I don't think we have to be man hating babes. I mean, I really admire and respect all the ones who've gotten to know me, I just wish it was easier to understand them sometimes, but I just have to pick myself up, and find a new one.
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2489838286869710729?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2489838286869710729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/deletefrom-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2489838286869710729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2489838286869710729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/05/deletefrom-life.html' title='Delete::From Life'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-9034234481134428044</id><published>2010-04-19T23:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T23:39:14.428-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dumb boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fairy tales'/><title type='text'>Some girls have it all</title><content type='html'>Some girls have all the luck.
They have good hair.
They can shop at every store in the mall.
They have a talent. A real one, like dancing or singing.
They have real jobs.
They date guys who don't think they have gambling problems.


How come every time I meet a guy and it gets kind of good, it just goes down the drain?
I always hope that maybe someday well get to be one of those couples you see at parks just laying barefoot in the grass, but I never expect it, and it never happens.
So I think I should just stop hoping that someday, someone will wrap their arm around me during a campfire, or kiss me in the fog, or lay in the grass barefoot with me.
Because that would be my fairy tale, and fairy tales it seems, just aren't that real.

Oh, and ps to all boys-If a girl says she wants to have sex with you, you know one that you've been seeing, don't tell her you want to wait. Just give her the real reason why you don't want to so she can just stop wasting her time.

xo-K
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-9034234481134428044?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/9034234481134428044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/04/some-girls-have-it-all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/9034234481134428044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/9034234481134428044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/04/some-girls-have-it-all.html' title='Some girls have it all'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-3444062060508107621</id><published>2010-04-12T12:45:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T02:11:02.989-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The weight is over.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Ahhhem, let me clear my throat. Because I have a lot to say. (why I'm clearing my throat to write a blog is beyond me). But today I'm writing on a subject that I have immense feelings about, and one that hits pretty 'close to home' for me. And I apologize in advance if it gets a little lengthy.
&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div&gt;I will also be putting this post on my personal blog for any of you that follow that: &lt;a href="http://www.chaptersoflacey.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.chaptersoflacey.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Okay, well where to start? I guess I should give you a little background information so this all makes better sense.
&lt;/p&gt;

From ages born to 8 years old, I was a fricken cute kid. Adorable. Born with black hair, and tons of it, that turned to platinum blonde by the time i was 3 or 4 with the biggest blue eyes. Super cute kid...and then. Well, I developed a unibrow and my hair turned into this dingy blonde color that wasn't very cute. And I was a little chubby. Not morbidly obese or even really overweight. Just chubby. I had and still kind of have, these 'chubby' cheeks. I just wasn't that cute anymore. That stage lasted from 5th grade to ohhh maybe sophomore year of high school. Then I started to get out of puberty somewhat and kind of find myself, well as best I was going to so far. I still had this issue though...I was still a little chubby.


&lt;p&gt;I never really had a problem with my weight, or the way I seen myself. I never thought that I was chubby at all, and I was pretty confident with my body. I was always running around outside and doing this sport or in this club. I wasn't just sitting on my ass at home eating ho ho's and playing video games. I was active, and I ate healthy full course meals. (I grew up with my grandparents, who believe in home cooked meals for every meal) I mean, I knew that I wasn't the skinniest person, and I had friends who were skinny. Whatever, it didn't bother me and I learned to brush it off for a while...&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I think I first started having weight issues when I got into 8th grade. There was this guy in my class, and not even a guy that I was the slightest bit attracted to, who called me thunder thighs. Now I have bigger thighs and a bigger butt, but by no means are they that deserving of the name, thunder thighs. But that's what he called me. And really for the first time in my life, I started to pay attention to my body. I noticed that I wasn't a 'skinny' girl. That summer I went to the doctor to have a physical because the next year I was going to go out for summer sports in high school. Whatever, no big deal. Well I have my physical and my doctor..who is a 'skinny bitch' tells me that I could stand to lose a few pounds. Ahhem. I was like 13 or 14 years old, probably 5'1" and at that time I weighed 125lbs. But I could lose a few pounds?!?!? By then, it was engraved in my head that I was 'fat'.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;So years go by, and I have this thought in my head that I'm a chubby girl, and that if I were skinnier I would be able to date this boy and that boy. And I would be able to wear these clothes and this swimming suit. Ugh, frustrating. I graduate high school weighing I want to say around 145-150lbs. And about a size 10/12. Now I was chubby. After I graduated high school, I wasn't active in sports anymore so gaining weight was very easy. Not to mention my metabolism sucks like no other. I tried dieting and working out ocassionally, but I'm a pretty impatient person. So if something doesnt show result asap, then I quit. I tried starving myself once too..that lasted about two days..and then I realized how utterly ridiculous that was.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;So in the summer of 2009 I became vegan. It was just a choice that I decided to make, kind of out of nowhere. It wasn't a way of dieting so much as it was being healthy. Diabetes and heart disease run in my family, and I want no part in that. Vegan, meaning no meat, eggs, milk, dairy, no animal by-products. I honestly ate rice, veggies, fruit and potatoes like no others. I never once starved myself though. I lost 15lbs. In roughly a month and a half. I started working out. Running 2-3 miles anywhere from 2-4 times a week. Lifting weights, and I just started to watch what I ate. I had never felt healthier or happier in my life. But I found that being vegan was really starting to put a strain on my body physically. I took a multivitamin, but I wasn't getting all the nutrients that my body needed, so I decided to become vegetarian instead. Which means I still don't eat meat ...&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;So there's the background info, here's my ranting and bitching:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was on the infamous facebook and was chatting with a few friends. On this day in particular I was talking to a guy name Brandon Holsten, with whom I had a relationship with a couple years ago. We actually lived together, but it turned out he was a jerk and a huge momma's boy. Whatever. So him and I were just chatting and all of a sudden he asks me: are you still doing that vegan thing? My response: Well not vegan anymore, but vegetarian still. Him: Ohhhh, I can tell. Me: What do you mean? Him: Well, you've gained wait (he can't spell to save his life). Me: Um. Actually I haven't, still weight the same as I did this summer. Him: Well in your pictures it looks like you have. In the face and stuff. And I'm just being honest and telling you what you're boyfriend wouldnt tell you. When I saw you this summer you were skinny skinny. Me: This is why I broke up with you, youre such an asshole, etc etc. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;From there he gets defensive and whatever and I blow up on him. Blah blah. Oh and his ex girlfriend decides to stick her nose into it too. What a joy. "but not in a mean way." Ahhh, okay??? SO..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Every woman and a lot of men are insecure with their bodies. It's a given fact, and it sucks. After Brandon insulted me, I cried. I called my boyfriend who then got pissed that I would let such a jerk ruin my day. He reassured me that I was not fat and that I had not gained weight. But eventhough he had reassured me, I still felt like shit. And I'm still mad at the fact that I let such a loser ruin my day. Brandon is a huge jerk, and I regret ever dating him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is why girls have insecurities abou their bodies. Because douche bags like him think that they are hot shit and can give opinions like that. The only person who can judge you, is yourself. And you shouldn't be that hard on yourself about your weight. Hell, everyone struggles with weight every once in a while, or you can be like me. And struggle with it your whole life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well I guess I'm not struggling with it persay. It's just something that I have an issue with personally. And that sucks. It was something that was almost put inside my head at a young age, and I'm trying my damnest to get over it. Oh, believe me...trying my absolute hardest. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've wrote numerous blogs on this whole weight thing. And as much as I would like to say that this will be my last post on this subject, I know it will not be. This is a BIG deal. People die over this kind of thing. Yes, people die over a number on a scale. Whether it be the number is too big, or it's too small. We NEED to get over this subject. We need to move on, and be happy with ourselves. How can we do this? Well I'm going to give you some personal advice that tends to work for me most of the time. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. I go to my friends or family for support. They would tell me if I was gaining an unhealthy amount of weight and they'd be brutally honest, in the nicest way, about it. Not like some douche bag Brandon who just wants to say I'm fat in the face because he's fat in the head. Ugh. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. I look at myself in the mirror and DON'T pick out my imperfections, but rather my good qualities. And I make sure that I let myself know that I AM beautiful the way that I am. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. I remind myself that things in my life, and with my body, could be A LOT worse. And I'm thankful that they're not. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Remember that you only live once, and you only have this very ONE body. You should love it for as long as you have it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Why waste your time being self conscious and worried what other people think? You don't know how long you have on this Earth. I know that I don't want to die unhappy and worried about other's opinions continuously.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;6. Just imagine how shitty the world would be if everyone were a size fucking 2 with fake tans and blonde hair. How lame would that be? Very. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;7. Be happy. And love yourself. Because if you can't love yourself, then no one else can either. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I absolutely promise you on everything that is holy, that you ARE beautiful. Did you know that Marilyn Monroe...you know that gorgeous girl that men wanted and women envied..weight 140 lbs at her heaviest and 125 lbs at her very lightest. She was a size 10 in her days which would now roughly be a size 6 today. She was not anorexic. She was a healthy woman...minus the drugs. But you get my point. Plus size models are taking over the modeling world by storm, and those scary skinnys...well they're becoming scary and very unappealing. What guy wants to date someone who counts calories and exercises 13 times a week? Any guy that does is an absolute moron, and should probably jump off of a bridge now to save us all the trouble. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I want you to be happy with yourself ladies. Even on those days when you feel like you can't go on, and it's just the end of the rope for you. Just remember that I know you're beautiful, I know it. I don't think it. I know it. And I want you to realize that too. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because curves are beautiful. Every last one of them. &lt;3&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;xoxo, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;L&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-3444062060508107621?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/3444062060508107621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/04/weight-is-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3444062060508107621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3444062060508107621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/04/weight-is-over.html' title='The weight is over.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5151662611132135905</id><published>2010-04-08T04:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T06:44:09.424-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When enough is enough.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;This is going to be from complete personal experiences and watching my friends go through the same thing. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Heartache. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;When is enough, enough?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;When will you stand up for yourself and call it quits? &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;In all reality, you're just going to get hurt in the end. Which is never a good thing. So why waste your time? You might as well be honest with yourself and this other person from the get-go. Here's what my observations and experiences have taught me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So let's say you're seeing this guy, and by seeing I mean it's not official, and things seem to be going okay. But then he kind of loses interest or that's what it seems like. He doesn't text/call you as often as he used to, and when he does, it just doesn't seem the same. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;You start to think that something is going on...something is fishy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Well to be perfectly honest. You're right. Something is going on, something is fishy about this situation. But are you going to sit by and just let that happen? I dont know. That's something you've got to ask yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I've let situations like this just happen, and guess what it got me? Heartache and denial. I was in denial with myself, and thought that if I just let the situation work itself out, that all would be okay. And rainbows and sunshine and whatever. Wrong! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Here's what you have to do. You have to be honest with this guy. You have to be honest with yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Simply approach him and cut the crap. Save yourself the beating around the bush bullshit and confront him head on. Because honesty is the best policy, right? Right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Ask him what his deal is. And tell him that you dont feel like wasting your time. Because if he's not into you, then he's not into you. And if that's the case then you shouldn't be wasting YOUR time, trying to be into to him either. You could be making waffles and being into someone else, rather than this douche bag who cannot make up his mind whether or not he wants to make waffles with you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Hopefully when you're brutally honest with him, he'll see that you're truly interested in him, and that you're not going to wait around forever. Maybe that will give him the initiative to do something about it. And if it doesnt, well then he's not worth it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Time to cut the cord and let this one go. Trust me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xoxxx, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5151662611132135905?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5151662611132135905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/04/when-enough-is-enough.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5151662611132135905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5151662611132135905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/04/when-enough-is-enough.html' title='When enough is enough.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7279719103958546009</id><published>2010-04-06T21:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T21:28:08.709-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lust'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waffles'/><title type='text'>Strange how it happens :: Sometimes</title><content type='html'>I have met a boy. Well he's not really a boy. He's 31.
He works with the great Lacey, that's how I met him.
And he asked her about me, and I said it would be ok if she gave him my number.
And she did. And he texted me. Then we talked a bunch, then we hung out.
I didn't mean for it to go that far, I honestly only hoped we'd kiss a little, but somehow,
all my clothes came off.
A few nights later, he took me on a date. A REAL, grown up date. Like, he paid for it all!
No one has ever done that for me! And then we didn't even mess around! I was fully expecting
to give a little bit up, but all he did was kiss me goodnight!
And then we hung out again, and it didn't take long for me to want to be naked.
And then I decided, I want to make waffles with this boy. But sadly, I haven't gotten to hang out with him in daysssssss.
But tonight, I stopped to see him at his work, and he hooked my friend up with Dippin' Dots, and some slushie, and he gave me a drink FO FREE.
And when he did that, it made me like him a little bit more, and I can not wait to make waffles with him. ASAP. Call me crazy, but it's the little things that make me like him.
And I'm sure I'll be posting something soon about Kendall's First Waffles!

xo
-k
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7279719103958546009?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7279719103958546009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/04/strange-how-it-happens-sometimes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7279719103958546009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7279719103958546009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/04/strange-how-it-happens-sometimes.html' title='Strange how it happens :: Sometimes'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-3213017313698355508</id><published>2010-03-27T04:37:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T06:47:03.058-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Quick Fixes and Advice</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sorry it's been a while since we've wrote a blog. Writer's block I suppose. =/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Wow, I haven't wrote a blog in almost a month. Sorrrrrrry! That will never ever happen again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Well today I would like to write a little a blog with advice in it. Little pointers that I suppose you get with 'age' and knowledge you get with different experiences. AGE! Eww, now I make it sound like I'm forty with three kids. Ugh. But anyway...advice with boys, beauty, and whatever else I think of...keep in mind that these are just little pointers. Quick fixes if you will. This whole blog is dedicated to give you advice, and if you seek more in depth advice, give me a topic and I will be more than happy to go into great depth about that one thing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;BOYS:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. They do not get subtle hints.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. They honestly do not notice the little things. Like your little pudge here or there. Or chipped nail polish. Or if your hair isn't 'perfect.' Whatever, they don't really notice, or care. And if they do, then there is chance they may like boys themselves. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;3. They think about sex a lot. It's just something that they do. Oh well. (most normal girls think about sex a lot too. It's normal.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;4. MOST guys have selective hearing, and will need to be reminded of the little things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;5. I've noticed that a lot of guys aren't a big fan of PDA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;6. If they're going to great lengths to hide something from you, then something is going on. Investigation is in need.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;7. If they don't get it. Don't wait around. There are plenty of other fish in the sea for you my friend, and they're waiting to be caught.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;LIFE:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. Life is too short to worry about the little things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. Try everything at least once. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;3. Don't be too hard on yourself because it's only going to drag you down, and make life a lot harder for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;4. Never regret something that once made you smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;5. Take risks and make changes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;6. Go with the flow. Trust me, you'll be a lot happier and healhier in your life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;BEAUTY:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. If you're running late and have about 5 minutes to do your make up. Mascara and lip gloss. Done deal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. Aveda skin care is without a doubt the absolute best. Enough said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;3. Train your hair to be washed about every two or three days. In the long run it's going to feel and look healthier.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;4. Never ever sleep with your hair wet. It's going to cause breakage, and not to mention you're going to wake up with an afro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;5. Water, water, water. Drink lots and lots of it and I guarantee you'll be happy with the results. Guarantee. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;6. Take vitamins. Why? Because they're good for you. I recommend a flintstone or similar vitamin that doesn't have too much of other junk that you don't need in your body. Take two a day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;CLOTHES:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. Wear what fits you. No one wants to see your tummy hanging out. It's not cute. On anyone really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. Never wear an entire outfit that is the same color.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;3. Buttcracks hanging out of the back of your jeans=not cute. At all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;4. Affliction=not cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;5. Sometimes it's okay to have a lazy day and wear those baggy clothes and sweat shirts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;LOVE:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. Should be a beautiful thing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. Don't over analyze it. Just do it. Like Nike.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;3. Spread and share it. A smile goes a long way. Honestly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;4. Love one another. Because in the end, all you need is love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;5. Tell that someone that you love them. They shouldn't have to try and guess it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;GIRLS:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. Don't give into drama. Because in the end they're going to be the ones looking like morons. Honestly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. Girls are dumb for the most part, and tend to overreact. Get over it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;FRIENDS:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. Life is too short to hold grudges, so apologize and get over it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. Be there for them. Always. They're going to be there longer than any boy out there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;3. Don't talk shit about them. Ugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;4. Don't lie to your friends to make yourself seem cooler. Not cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;5. Give them constructive advice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;BODY:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. Love your body. It's the only one you have, so take care of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. Water water water. Water. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;3. Eat healthy. McDonalds is the devil. Remember that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;4. Work out and be active. Honestly, it's not that hard to go for a walk is it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;5. Vitamins again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;6. Fruits and veggies do wonders for your body. FYI.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;SEX:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;1. Is very enjoyable, so have it often.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;2. Be safe. If you just met this person you're about to do the deed with, you better be using some kind of protection. It doesn't take a moron to know that. But I'm telling you anyway. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;3. It's cool to be STD free. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;4. It's okay to play the field, but again, you better be covering your bases and playing it safe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;5. Show your man what pleases you. Because he cannot read your mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;6. Don't be a selfish lover. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;7. Don't be afraid to try new things or positions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;8. Have fun and don't make it a chore or duty. And do not schedule sexual acts. Ew. How enjoyable is that really going to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;9. Do dirty text. And send naughty pictures. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I know these are really broad topics, but I hope they help you out in some way or other! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xxxx, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-3213017313698355508?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/3213017313698355508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/03/quick-fixes-and-advice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3213017313698355508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3213017313698355508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/03/quick-fixes-and-advice.html' title='Quick Fixes and Advice'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8110735892831536559</id><published>2010-03-12T22:41:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T23:01:57.086-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first dates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mixing batter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meeting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad boys'/><title type='text'>..and I was like OH yesss, I wanna bake cookies on your stomach</title><content type='html'>once upon a time, a girl met a boy on the internet.
and he seemed cool and all that jazz.
and then one day, on a whim, this boy drove to visit his friends that lived near this girl.
then long story short, for some reason his friends didn't want to hang out, so he asked the girl if she wanted to.
DUH.
well he got here at like 3 am, and in the time that she was going to go meet him to mess around at Wal-mart, she laid down and fell asleep.
so this boy had to spend the night in the back of his car at a truck stop. the next morning when the girl realized her mistake, she told him she would love to meet for lunch, he suggested breakfast.
girl said ok, and met him at Ihop for waffles (like the kind you eat).

then girl and boy drove around for awhile, and went to the big ol' fancy kalhari, where they cuddled (i guess that's what it's called?) on a couch for awhile.
next they drove to visit girls friend, but she was busy, so boy suggested they go get lost.
and girl liked this idea...
somehow they ended up in a parking lot at devils lake and boy was doing delicious naughty things girl had never experienced before. then boy asked girl to do something that oddly, she's been craving to do for the past week, and all and all had a fan-fricking-tastic time.

but the weird part was, girl wasn't freaking out about meeting him, she was just cool with it. She was a bit nervous (I mean hello, I am a nerd!) but in the end, was more than happy with the out come of the day, and is more than ready to do it again. with him, or any other cool dude. she's not picky, she takes what she can get ;)
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8110735892831536559?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8110735892831536559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/03/and-i-was-like-oh-yesss-i-wanna-bake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8110735892831536559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8110735892831536559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/03/and-i-was-like-oh-yesss-i-wanna-bake.html' title='..and I was like OH yesss, I wanna bake cookies on your stomach'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4421525736199226453</id><published>2010-03-03T12:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T12:44:43.638-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing House</title><content type='html'>I have recently met a boy like no other.
Issue is, he lives in a far distant land called Illinois. (well it's not that far off, only like 3 hours.)
And I do really want to meet this dude. He's not like other guys who I have to try and talk myself into wanting to hang out with, I just do.
So he told me once he gets his tax return money, he wants to come visit. But I don't think it's fair for some reason. So I told him I could come there sometime. And he said he would love to play house with me. I really would like to.
But I worry about it a bit. I really dread driving 3 hours alone. And I really think I would make myself look like a retard.
I mean, I really want to go. Just not alone. This weekend he got on this whole I want you to trust me thing. And it's weird, becuase I do. I know what I want, I just need some help doing it. Any one want to go to Chicago for a weekend?
xo-K
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4421525736199226453?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4421525736199226453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/03/playing-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4421525736199226453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4421525736199226453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/03/playing-house.html' title='Playing House'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2925258603724191399</id><published>2010-02-28T01:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T01:30:24.265-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jealousy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><title type='text'>Jealousy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;What is jealousy? This is probably one of the easiest words to define and associate with in your life, because everyone feels it at some point. If someone ever tells you that they dont get jealous and whatnot, well then they're a liar and need to be slapped. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No one has it that good. Okay? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I thought it would be interesting to define &lt;em&gt;Jealousy&lt;/em&gt; in the eyes of the dictionary. The first definition is from the&lt;strong&gt; actual&lt;/strong&gt; dictionary and the last two are from urbandictionary.com....which is probably a more acurate way to define things nowadays. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&gt;Mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry, unfaithfulness, etc., as in love or aims. vigilance in maintaining or guarding something.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&gt;Jealousy doesnt mean that you dont trust someone. its just means that you care a lot. it means you're scared to lose someone or you feel like attention has been drawn away from you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&gt;The feeling people get when they cant be like you! They wish they had your looks, talent and material possessions but they don't.. so they badmouth you instead to level the playing field. When they do this they usually don't tell the truth about anything either. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I find the last definition to be quite amusing. I guess that tends to be true most of the time though. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am probably one of the most jealous people you will come across. This is one of my major flaws, but it's not something that I can easily change. It's really not something that anyone can easily change, but rather something you need to learn to deal with. I suppose the best way to talk about jealousy is to give an example of it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Let's say that you're dating a guy, and you find out that he's been talking to girls...texting, calling, hanging out with, whatever...and he's been 'hiding' it from you. Hiding it from you meaning; whenever you confront him about it he denies it, changes the subject, or does anything he can do to not directly discuss it. And who knows, him talking to other girls could really mean nothing at all, and you're probably just being paranoid. I guess being jealous and being paranoid, kind of go hand in hand. Wow, realization for myself. Anyway...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This scenario has happened to me numerous times. Sometimes the talking and hanging out means nothing at all, but other times it has meant something...and a week later I end up being single because this douche bag decides that this other girl was better than myself. Whatever. Whether it meant something or not, I was jealous. Jealous that I wasn't getting all the attention from my boyfriend. Jealous that I knew some other girl was good enough to catch his attention and take the light away from me. Jealous that I wasn't the only girl he was thinking of..even if it was only a friend kind of thing. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think we tend to over analyze things when it comes to being jealous over something. Half of the time, nothing is going to happen from your boyfriend talking to another girl. He's with you, right? You're the one who gets to kiss him, hug him, hold him, and whatever him. Not these other chicks. (unless he ends up leaving you for one these other girls, and if that's the case then it wasn't meant to be in the first place) Most of the time you have absolutely nothing to worry about. There are times when you should start to question things though. Let's say you find out that your boyfriend has been talking to his ex lately. Which is okay, a little weird, but sometimes they're still friends and it's okay. But when he starts hiding it, and starts to get defensive when you bring her up, then it's time to get a little jealous/paranoid. Not only that, but then it's time to set some rules and start questioning other things. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;With jealousy, comes a lack of trust. In turn, I think that lack of trust causes paranoia. You NEED trust in order to make a relationship work. It's an absolute must, and without trust in your relationship, it will never work. Guaranteed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now if you start getting jealous about every little thing that goes on with your dude, like some other girl posting harmless stuff on his Facebook wall, then it's time for a reality check. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Are you really supposed to be with this person if you're going to get jealous over the itty bitty little things? Where's the trust in that? There is NO trust in that. That's when you need to take a step back and deal with things on your own and stop being so freaking paranoid. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jealousy can mean that you care a lot for someone, yes. But it can also mean that you're literally crazy. Which kind of jealousy are you going to pick?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;xoxoxx,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;L&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2925258603724191399?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2925258603724191399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/jealousy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2925258603724191399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2925258603724191399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/jealousy.html' title='Jealousy'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-392712657572842011</id><published>2010-02-17T21:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T22:28:56.400-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><title type='text'>Cloud 9::More than a Salon</title><content type='html'>I know, it's lame. I always write about a cool dude, and then it a few weeks later, I write about how much I hate him. But I am going to do it again.


Oh he is cool! I can't even tell you how cool. Like normally, I am so nervous to talk to dudes on the phone, but when he called me, I wasn't nervous. And It wasn't that awkward, even when we weren't saying anything, It didn't seem that awkward to me at least. Or maybe it could be the fact that it was 1am...

And I don't know, but something about him, has given the me self confidence to think I am a total babe. I got a mini skirt and HIGH heels, oh but I do think I look delicious in them, or at least I am thinking that when I slip on those heels.

He is more than willing to return the favor, if I send a naughty picture, you can be sure I get one back, and he's not always pestering me to take off my clothes, and you can be sure that if I do, his are normally coming off too.

I believe what he says. And before, I've gotten way nervous when guys compliment me, but not really when he does. I am trying this new thing called playing it cool, maybe this has something to do with it.

He's funny. He's into photography. He's outgoing. He's passionate. He's responsible for a great amount of fun I've had between the hours of 1am and 5am.

A back, when I met up for dinner with another dude, and Jeff thought he was cool, and Lacey said "No Jeff, Kendall needs a boy that can keep up with her."
And call me crazy, but this dude, I'm pretty sure, can keep up with me.
And I think I can learn a lot from him, in all sorts of ways.

xo
K
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-392712657572842011?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/392712657572842011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/cloud-9more-than-salon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/392712657572842011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/392712657572842011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/cloud-9more-than-salon.html' title='Cloud 9::More than a Salon'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8588520308799932821</id><published>2010-02-14T05:52:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T01:32:54.249-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>Today is a day we know as Valentine's Day, V-Day, or if you're single..the worst day ever.

I have been single PLENTY of times on Valentine's Day. Or I've just been dating a douche, which is pretty much the same thing when you think about it. I've had my fair share of bad ones and I guess a decent amount of good ones too.

So with this holiday, I thought I would write about love. And not love in a broad and unspecific term. But when love is love. When you know it's true and when it's the right time to express to someone else, that you're feeling it.

Now I've thought long and hard about this. Because I have been one to overthink when the proper time to say I love you, is. It's such a hard and long debate. But I guess when it boils down to it, you'll just know when it's the right time. I think that love can be a one sided thing for sure. But in order for it to be something&lt;em&gt; real&lt;/em&gt;, both parties should have pretty much mutual feelings. I mean how fun is it to love someone when they dont feel the same.
Been there, done that. Not cool.

So when is a proper time? Well that really all depends. You can make it extra romantic and go on a nice date to say those 3 lovely words. Or you can just blurt them out at random. Whatever works for you. But you better make sure you mean them..because once they're out, they're out. And once the other person assumes you LOVE them, then that's a pretty serious step.
Trust me, when you love love love someone, you'll know it. It's going to be apparent.

Love is one of those, can't eat can't sleep can't breathe butterflies when you see them kind of feelings. It's when you wake up next to them during the night and just smile, because you know that they're yours and you're theirs. It's the little joys you get from the slightest touches..holding hands and kisses on the cheeks. It's the way your heart longs for them when they're not there. It's this wonderful and fabulous kind of feeling that everyone should experience in life at least once, if not more.
And yes it is possible to experience love more than once, with different people.

So I guess, back to my point with the whole right timing kind of thing.
You'll know when it's the right time. You'll just feel it in your heart.
Just go with those feelings you have in your heart and don't second guess yourself.

...and Happy V-Day.
&lt;p&gt;xo, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;L&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8588520308799932821?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8588520308799932821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/valentines-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8588520308799932821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8588520308799932821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5118932563127867706</id><published>2010-02-11T18:50:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T19:14:37.101-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good times'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lesson'/><title type='text'>5 Great Ideas</title><content type='html'>So, I've spent a lot of time, trying to be someone that boys will like. But I have realized, I don't want to change. I like myself. But I did happen to stumble upon an article in Cosmo about how when girls work there, they often end up engaged and married soon after. Well, I was intrigued. I do not want to be engaged, but I do like good advice when it comes along, and I think these tips help out a lot&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lesson 1- Guys love being off the hook. Basically don't pressure them so much. Don't worry about if this dude is going to be your boy friend, or a boy that's your friend. Just let it happen. When it's right, you'll both know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lesson 2-Guys live in the present. Never act all wifey to show that you'll be perfect. Who is planning that far ahead?! Have fun, party, go out, try new things. Who know's what'll happen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lesson 3-Guys like to be liked. No matter his little quips, don't freak out about them. Unless it's one that you can't stand. (like he plays multiplayer computer games for hours or something that is not cool.) If a guy compliments you or dresses different or just wants to hang out, just roll with it! It's who he is!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lesson 4- Guys like independent chicks. This is my favorite, DO WHAT YOU WANT. Don't sit around waiting for him to call, don't change plans just for him, do what you want. Guys want what they can't have. But don't make them feel like it's unattainable. And don't be a tease all the time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lesson 5-Guys love being admired. Of course us ladies do to, but don't be afraid to tell him how rad he is, or how you got lucky to be admired by such a hottie, or how you envy his lifestyle! It makes him, feel just as good as it makes you feel when he tells you such things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I am taking this to heart. I'm just going with the flow, I'm not over thinking anything, I'm going to do what I want. This week, I had the chance to hang out with a dude (sure it wasn't that good of an idea most likely) but it was the first time in a LONG time I was going to do what I wanted to and I wasn't going to over think it! But then he cancelled :( But it makes me feel good that it was the first time, I wouldn't have done what everyone else wanted me to do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Keep this in mind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been working GREAT for me in the recent days!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;xo-K&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5118932563127867706?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5118932563127867706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/5-great-ideas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5118932563127867706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5118932563127867706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/5-great-ideas.html' title='5 Great Ideas'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7872462354389454072</id><published>2010-02-03T22:02:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T22:35:04.060-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hooking up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marley&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='booty call'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad boys'/><title type='text'>What comes around comes around, again.</title><content type='html'>A while ago, (wo-zah-wa to be exact) I met a dude.
We went from 'nice glasses' to making out in about a minute.
And then I texted him, and we talked, and he told me some rather great things.
But then. He. Just. Stopped. Texting.
First I thought he was busy. Second I thought he just wasn't that cool.
So, I just stopped trying. I called him once. From Marley's. But it was the end.
I delete everything nice he said and his number the next morning.

Fall turned into winter...

And one day he texted me (today in fact). He said he had some personal issues to work out before he kept going along like this. (not really sure what that means)

But then we get to the real reason.
He's coming to town next week. And would like to hang out. To talk, catch up, eat, drink.

this is my list of concerns
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This is a Booty Call&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am pretty sure he knows that I haven't had sex&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I might want to do this&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I know that I shouldn't&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I know that it'll just be a one time thing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I think spending Valentine's Day with some dude is a better idea than getting drunk and crying a little.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He was like, a crazy good kisser.
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am not sure what to wear.
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;:/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;   this face is totally the way I feel.

xo-K

&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7872462354389454072?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7872462354389454072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-comes-around-comes-around-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7872462354389454072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7872462354389454072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-comes-around-comes-around-again.html' title='What comes around comes around, again.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-1152866481439865771</id><published>2010-02-01T19:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T20:17:11.427-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='problems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Insecurities'/><title type='text'>InSecure</title><content type='html'>Emotional Insecurity is a feeling of general unease or nervousness that may be triggered by perceiving oneself to be unloved, inadequate or worthless.

It seems weird to look it up and all, I mean to me insecurity is that feeling I get when a boy tells me he likes me. I wonder why he thinks I am worthy of his affection. Because I know, there are girls ten times hotter than me out there. And then when I do start to cool off about that, I start to freak out becuase I know eventually he'll want to see me in various states of undress. And then I really freak out becuase I know, that there are girls 100 times hotter than me out there. And then, I always feel that it's best to end it before it even starts becuase, it's always easier to be the one that hurts than to get hurt.

I am one of the odd ones, but what about those people that are too insecure to be alone? It could be the girl that stays with that guy her friends don't really care for. Or the girl that hasn't been single since she was 10 for more than a week.

Why do we worry so much about our what makes us nervous? And why does it make us so nervous? I am trying to work on it. I spend a lot of time thinking lately.

Why do I let what I don't like hold me back so much?! My insecurites keep me from being in a relationship. Maybe it just means I'm not ready for one. Although, I would be a rather good girl to have around, I mean I cook, do laundry, give bj's, and I do have a pretty rad personality. All these are things boys do like in girls, or so I'm guessing.

I wish, that we could all just make what bothers us just drift away. And allow us to be free, to do what we've always wanted to do.

But for now, I will just stick to being a strong independent women, who drinks a little too much on Valentines day and cries.

xo-K

&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-1152866481439865771?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/1152866481439865771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/insecure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/1152866481439865771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/1152866481439865771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/02/insecure.html' title='InSecure'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2419822337606262992</id><published>2010-01-25T06:20:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T17:00:53.599-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='double standards'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self righteous-ness'/><title type='text'>Settling.</title><content type='html'>I recently have had the pleasure of reading a fabulous article in the Marie Claire magazine. The article is titled: 'Girls, Stop Being so Picky.' Marie Claire interviews the author of the book, &lt;em&gt;Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough....&lt;/em&gt;

(Well to be honest, my boyfriend started reading the article to me, and I found it so fascinating, that I had to go out and buy the actual magazine for myself).

&lt;p&gt;After I brought the magazine home and reread the article, I highlighted the 'important' parts that stood out to me. Those parts in this article inspired me to write this blog you are about to read. And I'm dying to buy the actual book and read that for myself.&lt;/p&gt;Now as young females, we tend to think that we are...well, goddesses, for lack of better words..that we are strong, independent, and that &lt;em&gt;nothing&lt;/em&gt; can hold us back.
And why should we let &lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt; guy hold us down and try and 'interfere' with our lives.

&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;"We'd rather be alone for the &lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt; reasons.."&lt;/div&gt;
I am/was guilty of this kind of thinking. Sure, I would go on dates and casually date boys here and there..but I was never looking for any &lt;em&gt;real&lt;/em&gt; type of commitment. I mean because the idea of being with one certain person for the rest of my life, didn't make much sense to me. Hell, it even scared me.. Nowadays you don't see many people stay together for the long haul...Divorce rates are through the roof and promiscuous sex is an every day occurance...the &lt;b&gt;real kind of love&lt;/b&gt; is nowhere to be found. And in our heads (as we're casually dating) we're thinking that we'll probably meet our soulmate someday..but if it doesn't actually happen, you'll be okay. You'll be able to deal.

But we never think that it may &lt;b&gt;never&lt;/b&gt; happen. Most people are not strong enough to come to terms with this kind of thinking. We're too stubborn to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. "..so we took this idea of being self-sufficient and not depending on anybody, and applied it to our romantic lives."
Now I am definitely not trying to belittle the female race, in any way. I am only trying to help you understand. Understand why so many people are alone and without love in their lives.

&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ladies, we're being too picky&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;Now, before you rush off to conclusions...hear me out.

Have you ever been guilty of not going on a date with a guy because of a little imperfection he may have? For example: he has bushy eyebrows, his front tooth is weird, he has little feet, he's not 6 foot tall, he has blue eyes instead of green, he doesn't wear name brand clothing, he plays video games, etc, etc...I know &lt;strong&gt;each and every one of us&lt;/strong&gt; are guilty of this. At some point in your life you turned down a guy before you actually got to know him, just because something was 'off.'

Ladies, why do we tend to focus on the negative things about a person, rather than the positive. And we all know that this can go both ways, unfortunately. And guys can be the ones who are pointing out the flaws in someone...but for now, we're taking a step back and focusing on ourselves. As I've said before, if you can't be honest with yourself, then who can you be honest with?
..So why do we always focus on the negative things about someone? I wish I could answer this question. We were probably raised that way. Let's face it, there tends to be more negative things in the world, rather than positive. But, that's no excuse for our actions...
This article also brought up the point that our friends may have cause to dilemma. What are friends for? Well I know that as a friend, I try to be there for my fellow friends and give them support whenever it's needed. And sometimes I may give them &lt;em&gt;too much&lt;/em&gt; support, and at times, may fill their head full of compliments. I know that some of my friends definitely do this to me as well. I'm not saying that it's a bad thing. I'm just saying, that we have such big heads from our friends telling us how great we are, that sometimes we tend to think we're perfect. And if this guy isn't perfect like us, then he has no chance in hell at getting past first base.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not saying that you shouldn't have standards for your sig other. Because standards are &lt;strong&gt;always&lt;/strong&gt; a must. And I am definitely not saying that you should marry someone that you meet on myspace. I am simply saying, give love a chance. How can love flourish, if your cutting it off before it even gets the chance to grow? I am saying, that if youre wondering why you're not finding love out there, maybe its time to take a step back and analyze yourself. Are you setting yourself up to fail?

We are ALL human. And we ALL have flaws and make mistakes. But that's what makes it so great. That's what makes life interesting and fun. All of these flaws and imperfections will only keep you on your toes...only keep you wanting more of your sig other. But if you cant stop being too picky and if you keep pointing out the flaws in someone else, then I don't want to hear you bitch and complain that you haven't found someone that wants to date you. And I dont want to hear you bitch that you're alone. Because chances are that it's your own damn fault. If you're not willing to come to terms with the fact, that we are all humans and no one is perfect, then whatev. Sorry.

Prince Charming doesn't exist. That kind of stuff is left for the Disney movies. That's why they're movies...But Prince Charming does have a brother, and I promise you that he's just as good, if not better than his ridiculously-impossible-standard-brother.

*Disclaimer: I do not want you to sell yourself short. Have standards. But make sure they are realistic and not fantasy like.

xxxo,
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2419822337606262992?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2419822337606262992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/settling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2419822337606262992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2419822337606262992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/settling.html' title='Settling.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-3498495278392317872</id><published>2010-01-17T18:51:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T19:29:00.471-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='douche bags'/><title type='text'>a little advice about :: Advice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Once upon a time, there lived some fair maidens, the best of friends they were. We will call one Cinderella and the other Ariel. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;One day Ariel met a boy. He was unlike any other boy she'd met in awhile. Ariel introduced him to Cinderella, but Cinderella just didn't have a good feeling about him. Something was off. She wasn't sure what. Time passed and so did boys and the holidays. And then there was a big turn up, Ariel was dating the Boy. And Ariel was sure he was Prince Charming. Cinderella, wasn't so sure. But she knew that if she told Ariel she had a bad feeling about it all, Ariel would just say a number of things and not listen to her. Because let's face it, that's what Cinderella did when Ariel told her to stop talking to certain boys. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;In a shocking turn of events, the day that Cinderella got her glass slipper, Prince Charming told Ariel 'he needed more time'. Ariel was devastated. Cinderella went to go be with her friend. And told her the secret that had been chewing her insides out for weeks. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;In the days since Cinderella has realized, if she has a bad feeling about something, she's going to say it. And she's always going to listen to Ariel.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;xo-K&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-3498495278392317872?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/3498495278392317872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/little-advice-about-advice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3498495278392317872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3498495278392317872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/little-advice-about-advice.html' title='a little advice about :: Advice'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-61390850471500827</id><published>2010-01-15T12:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T12:26:47.128-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='passion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Yup Yup!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://s69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/?action=view&amp;amp;current=quotationquotequotestextwords-d314e.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/quotationquotequotestextwords-d314e.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;

Isn't this the truth? Unless it's hot and steamy and worth bragging about, what's the point?

xo-Kendall
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-61390850471500827?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/61390850471500827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/yup-yup.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/61390850471500827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/61390850471500827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/yup-yup.html' title='Yup Yup!'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7489377072301480580</id><published>2010-01-10T22:29:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T23:06:29.079-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Drama with the EX</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This is, kind of, an extension off of the previous blog about moving on. But this is from a different stand point, I guess you could say.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;What happens when you start seeing someone, but their previous bf/gf won't &lt;strong&gt;let go? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ugh. And before I delve into this, I would like to state, that I have delt with this in every damn relationship I have ever been in. &lt;em&gt;Every single one of them&lt;/em&gt;. It's very very frustrating. Beyond belief. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;You're seeing someone, dating, whatever, and they are recieving calls/texts/emails/fb posts/etc from their ex....while it's pretty obvious that they're with someone else. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;[And I'd like to point out that, it doesn't really matter why they broke up in the first place. It happened. It's over] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I understand that it takes people time to move on. I completely understand, I've been there before. But I've never been one to come crawling back on my hands and knees, to my ex. Especially once I've learned that they starting seeing someone else. Especially then. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Why? It doesnt make you look good. And I'm not trying to put anyone down while writing this blog. If you've ever been the one to come crawling back, I'm sorry. My intentions are not to offend you, but rather to open your eyes. So maybe you can learn to not let it happen again.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;And as I've stated before, and still live by:&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Everything (absoultely everything) happens for a reason.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Whether you like to believe that or not, is your choice. But it's &lt;em&gt;truth&lt;/em&gt;. The two of you broke up. Yes, it hurts. And yes, at the moment, it sucks. But it means you're not meant to be together. And who knows, maybe in the future, your paths may cross again. And maybe then, just maybe, you're meant to be together. Just not now. So why bother with all the texts/calls/etc, if they're not working? If they wanted to be with you, they would.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Ugh..I guess I'm really not sure what else to write on this topic. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;But I would just like to say that being a bitch/jerk is not going to help out the situation either. You're only going to annoy the person you're trying to get back or push them further away. &lt;em&gt;Which should not be your intention&lt;/em&gt;. Don't give them a hard time for the new person they're seeing. Because that's a low blow and only going to cause offense and hurt feelings. You should learn to move on and be happy without this person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Because you have &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;r someone&lt;/em&gt; out there waiting for &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xoxoxxx,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7489377072301480580?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7489377072301480580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/drama-with-ex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7489377072301480580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7489377072301480580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/drama-with-ex.html' title='Drama with the EX'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-6056111975289956313</id><published>2010-01-09T02:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T02:51:53.649-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving On.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Everyone handles this very differently. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;For some people moving on is as easy as going to the bar and finding a new vajay or new penis. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;But for others it's much more difficult. It takes months upon months of trial and error, to finally get it right. To finally find enough strength to forget that certain somebody. And even then, you may still not be entirely over them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;All is not lost. You can be strong enough. I promise you. I want to help you get over this somebody and move on. Let's think this through logically...because in the all reality, logic is the only answer...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Okay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So you're with this person, and for some reason something doesn't go the way it should. Things between you cease to exist, the flare/spark isn't there anymore, or this person just turns out to be a complete douche that you shouldn't have to deal with. Okay. We've came to the conclusion, that it's over. El fin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There are many different ways to handle a situation like this. And of course it all depends on who did the dumping in the first place..ugh, who came up with this expression, and why do I use it? Dumping...whatev, anyway...you could sit in your room, hours on end. Sulking about what a bad life you have because you and your boyfriend/girlfriend broke up. You could write a bunch of emo poetry to help you cope. And hell if that's what it takes, do it. But don't do it often.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;...Because then you're going to become some recluse who sits in their room all day and writes emo poetry. And NO ONE wants to be that person. No one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So, lets say you fall into some kind of depression. I hope that you don't. Depression is not cool. Obviously. But honestly, logically. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Everything happens for a reason. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I cannot stress this enough. If you were meant to be with this person for the rest of your life, it would have happened. But for some reason, it didn't. That's that. It's just not meant to be. And you want to know why??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Because you're destined to find someone better. And yes, that someone does exist. Someone who won't treat you horrible. Someone who makes you laugh. Someone who warms your soul. Someone who cares for you, because you're, you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I know that something like this exists out there. I know it. One of the reasons human beings were put on this earth, was to love one another. Unconditionally. It can happen, I've seen it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I have yet to experience it. And if you have yet to experience it yourself, then that's okay too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;But you can't experience this kind of love, if you're not open to it. And you can't be open to it, if you're hung up on some ex lover. So move on, and live your life. I promise you won't be sorry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;xoxo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-6056111975289956313?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/6056111975289956313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/moving-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6056111975289956313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6056111975289956313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/moving-on.html' title='Moving On.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4788024301841228086</id><published>2010-01-04T06:39:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T06:41:36.414-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/S0HhuojIV0I/AAAAAAAAAI0/oxmhdyAowBM/s1600-h/0101000444a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/S0HhuojIV0I/AAAAAAAAAI0/oxmhdyAowBM/s320/0101000444a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422863617605785410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Oh, Dennys after 5am Marley's.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling like a million bucks.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4788024301841228086?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4788024301841228086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/oh-dennys-after-5am-marleys.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4788024301841228086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4788024301841228086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/oh-dennys-after-5am-marleys.html' title=''/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/S0HhuojIV0I/AAAAAAAAAI0/oxmhdyAowBM/s72-c/0101000444a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5476946463128694407</id><published>2010-01-04T06:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T06:37:41.949-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><title type='text'>Happinessssssss</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You make your own happiness. I've come to learn this. You can either make the best out of your surroundings and the things you have going on in your life, or you can sulk about them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;And if you choose to sulk, chances are that things are only going to get worse for you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;Happiness is easy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;Happiness with a boy is easy. A little harder than happiness in other areas, sometimes, but well worth it once achieved. Yes, it takes a little more work sometimes and maybe even a little patience. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;But once you find that someone who makes you laugh continuously and who gives you those amazing butterflies each and every time you kiss, it's so worth the wait. Trust me. I know from experience. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;So, don't give up and don't deter from chasing the sort of thing/person you seek to achieve your happiness. Put on your &lt;i&gt;game face&lt;/i&gt; and give it a little extra effort. Give it a little more patience and I promise it will be worth the wait and worth the extra effort. I promise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;[But keep in mind, that is has to be some sort of realistic happiness that is attainable.] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5476946463128694407?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5476946463128694407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/happinessssssss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5476946463128694407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5476946463128694407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2010/01/happinessssssss.html' title='Happinessssssss'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5782615251404450612</id><published>2009-12-13T00:16:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T07:13:26.184-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Signs You're Dating A 'Douche'</title><content type='html'>I recently went on a 'date'
And it's been a while since I've gone on an actual date. But let me tell you this, I still haven't lost the ability to spot a douche when I see one. Especially one that put himself on display such as this guy did.
So from this 'date' I've compiled a list of signs that this guy is going to be a complete douche and reasons why you should break 'it' off as soon as possible.

Even before the acutal date:
1. He asks you where you want to go, but the place you picked isn't up to his standards, so he eventually chooses the destination.
2. You work third shift the night before and ask if you can maybe change the time that you were supposed to meet up, but that doesnt work for him. So you have to stick with the time picked out before, and go on this date looking like shit and feeling even worse.
3. He tells you the place he's picked out is somewhere he's worked before. ( Keep in mind for further reference that he must know what's on the menu)
4. You have to pick him up to go on this 'date'
Date time:
5. He doesn't open the door for you.
6. You told him before you even planned this date, that you're a vegetarian and DO NOT eat milk or eggs either. You look at the menu and realize you can order toast, and hashbrowns, and water... Yum. (keep in mind he used to work here, so had to have had some knowledge of the menu)
7. He doesn't smile. Not even once.
8. Conversation is pretty one sided, and that one side happens to be, your side.
9. Awkward silence. A lot of awkward silence.
(He does pay for the 10$ tab though. Hurray)

Now before going out in the first place you had decided that after breakfast you were going to go back to your place and just hang out and watch a movie. No big deal right?

Post date:
10. You have to go back to your place because he lives with his parents.
11. He asks to put his arm around you. (my response: no)
12. He asks if you want to lay down with him on your couch. (response in my head: WTF!?!?! Is this guy serious?! My verbal response: Um. No)
13. He leaves mid movie to smoke a cigarette. (yuck)
14. He walks home.

Now. After this date I came to realize that I do not want to go out on another date with this guy. At this point I'm thinking, sure maybe we can be friends. But I know I want nothing more than that. Okay. I've came to this conclusion in my head.

Post Post Date:
15. I get about 8 texts from this guy periodically through the day. I didn't answer them. He calls me. I still didn't answer him. He Myspace's me, tries to add me on Facebook.

Okay. I get it. This guy likes me. And in all honesty I didnt make it apparent that I was interested in him. I did let him spend 5$ on me for breakfast...But I dont think that's enough right to think we're getting married or anything.

So I finally caved in and told him that I didn't want to lead him on and I wasn't interested in dating or anything. He got pissed and came back with #
16. 'What so you flirt with all your friends like that?'

O M G?!? Yes sometimes my friends buy me breakfast and yes sometimes we watch movies together. AND yes I don't let them put their arms around me and cuddle. Sorry. Get. Over. Yourself.

17. He then proceeds to tell me to lose his number. Consider it done.

And I spoke with a few other people (after the date) who know this dude....Supposedly 18.He's tried to get in a lot of girl's pants.

Maybe he's just pissed because I wasn't one of them? Oh well. =]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5782615251404450612?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5782615251404450612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/12/signs-youre-dating-douche.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5782615251404450612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5782615251404450612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/12/signs-youre-dating-douche.html' title='Signs You&apos;re Dating A &apos;Douche&apos;'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5587798453623337343</id><published>2009-12-08T03:35:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T04:42:16.534-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='double standards'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the other girl.'/><title type='text'>moral dilemma::being the 'other girl'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I think everyone has liked a boy, who has had a girlfriend.

Or sometimes, you just so happen to start seeing a guy who has a girlfriend. Sometimes it works out in your favor, other times, not so much.

But while you're sneaking around with that guy do you ever think about things? Or even if you happen to be that 'other girl' do you ever wonder?

I have some questions that I have pondered, while on the job.

&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If his girlfriend honestly doesn't make him happy, why can't he be honest and tell her?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Why is it, when 2 girls find out they happen to be sharing a boyfriend, why do they get pissed at each other?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;How would you feel if you were the girlfriend? Isn't it a little sad to see her devotion to him, while you share good times with him?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Does it make you feel good that you're good enough for him, but only good enough to be the girl he sneaks around with? You're not the girl he wants to go out in public with, and introduce to his family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If he complains about his girlfriend when he's with you, and you ask why he's with her, and he comes up with a lame excuse, you should probably wonder why you're with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If he does leave his girlfriend for you, Remember, If he left a girl for you, he'd leave you for another girl. And if he'd cheat on another girl with you, what's to say he wouldn't cheat on you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;What's the point in being 2nd choice? There are more than likely five guys you see in a day, that would make you their number one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;
So, those are my thoughts. Usually they just cause more discussion in my mind.
And when a guy says he wants to have sex with me, but I can't tell anyone, becuase he doesn't want his girlfriend to find out. That makes me want her to find out. So she can ditch his ass faster than I can deny him waffle-making.

xo-k&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5587798453623337343?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5587798453623337343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/12/moral-dilemmabeing-other-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5587798453623337343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5587798453623337343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/12/moral-dilemmabeing-other-girl.html' title='moral dilemma::being the &apos;other girl&apos;'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2135119207860764928</id><published>2009-12-06T17:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T17:20:48.033-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lonely'/><title type='text'>Overrated much?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;This holiday season you may see all of your friends and their perfect lives with their perfect lovey dovey boyfriends. And you may feel a little jealous and envious, wishing you could have this kind of life.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Hell I know that I get a little jealous of them. I think about 85% of my friends are married, engaged, seeing someone, living with someone, having a baby, buying a house, or this or that. While I'm living with myself in a studio apartment. I don't even have a cat to cuddle with. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;BUT.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;As much as I can be jealous, I'm not. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Because I have my independence and freedom. I can do whatever the hell I want to, whenever the hell I want. I don't have to answer to anyone or ask their opinion. I don't have to tell them what I'm doing and where I'm going. And I don't have to worry that this person may be cheating on me or this or that. Which happens in almost every relationship nowadays. Cheating is as common as cotton panties. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Reality.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;So, as you're sitting home alone this holiday season, bumming. Remember things could be a lot worse. You could be blind. You could have a fake leg. You could have herpes. You could have a boyfriend. You could be illiterate. You could a lot of other things. But don't be lonely. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt;Get a cat if you really get that lonely. Or call up a friend with benefits. But do not play the pity party card. It's not worth it, and you're much too cool for that. &lt;/span&gt;

xox,
L
&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2135119207860764928?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2135119207860764928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/12/overrated-much.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2135119207860764928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2135119207860764928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/12/overrated-much.html' title='Overrated much?'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5037608430978549469</id><published>2009-12-03T03:36:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T01:40:10.621-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad boys'/><title type='text'>the boys every girl has</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The Good Guy-He's always there, and he'll always listen. He doesn't force you to do anything you don't want to do. In fact he's just all around good. From my experiences, he won't make a move.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The Friend-He's just that a Friend. I know, I know. We have a blog about how boys and girls can't be just friends, but in all honesty they kind of can. I can't be someone you just met, it's someone you've known for ages. And he's pretty rad, I mean cooler than your own brother. You share some common interests and can partake in them. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The Bad Influence/Dirty Boy-He makes you step out of your comfort zone and do things you would have never imagined doing. Naughty things, like phone sex or mailing your panties to him. You probably have nothing in common with him, other than your lust for one another, and he's a douche bag.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The Totally Untouchable Crush-He works across the street, lives next door, the next office over, runs in the park the same time as you. He just won't have a thing to do with you, or any of the total vixens you work with. So you have to just be content admiring him from afar, like a total stalker. But it's ok, He makes you realize even the nicest girls don't get what they want.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The One That Got Away-Of course, there will always be one boy in your life that got away. Maybe more than one. You might have pushed him away (becuase you thought he would like you enough to fight harder to keep you), or he might have just left you to always wonder "what if..." &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The First Love-You met him and fell for him, you changed so much for him, and you were in love. He was your whole world. But slowly that world fell apart and your burning desire to please him more or less became a desire to burn him.  You still think about him, and you'll always love him, but there's a difference between being in love and loving him.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The True Love-You will just know when you've met your true love. you will hate him at times, but then you'll remember how much he means to you. He's perfect, he's nice to you, your friends, small children and small animals. And you might say you hate him, but honestly your friends know different!&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5037608430978549469?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5037608430978549469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/12/boys-every-girl-has.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5037608430978549469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5037608430978549469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/12/boys-every-girl-has.html' title='the boys every girl has'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2979300633348912291</id><published>2009-11-29T06:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T23:07:13.194-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Marley's!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SxJrGdSimMI/AAAAAAAAAIs/K0GYRJJjaFA/s1600/1129090300-765649.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 416px; HEIGHT: 240px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409503861111167170" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SxJrGdSimMI/AAAAAAAAAIs/K0GYRJJjaFA/s320/1129090300-765649.jpg" width="373" height="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;After Marley's. What. A. Good. Night.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2979300633348912291?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2979300633348912291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/thank-you-for-using-picture-and-video.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2979300633348912291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2979300633348912291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/thank-you-for-using-picture-and-video.html' title='Marley&apos;s!'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SxJrGdSimMI/AAAAAAAAAIs/K0GYRJJjaFA/s72-c/1129090300-765649.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-828652001418115488</id><published>2009-11-26T17:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T23:08:42.568-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Disclaimer</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;So I've come to realize that we may write about a lot of touchy subjects when it comes to this blog. And not everyone is going to agree with what we have to write.&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;I'm okay with that. &lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;But I know that we have made some people upset with the things that we write. Which is just a matter of how you want to take things and how you choose to react. Which is not my problem and not my fault.&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;And I don't think I should have to apologize if something is written on a personal blog, that offends you. No. I just want to clarify that I never use names and I only write from personal experience. Which I do not believe to be a bad thing.&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;This is an advice type blog. And that's what it's meant for. So if I hurt some random guy's feelings about a True blog. Then so be it.&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;I only think that they get so offended because they don't have their own personal blog that they can publish to the entire world. Jealousy perhaps?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-828652001418115488?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/828652001418115488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/disclaimer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/828652001418115488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/828652001418115488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/disclaimer.html' title='Disclaimer'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7269655408290582906</id><published>2009-11-23T22:19:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T23:41:56.836-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the depressed vixen</title><content type='html'>I am a generally perky, happy go lucky, smiley, kind of girl.
Ya know the kind that would be the cheerleader/student council president/year book editor in high school. The kind that always has a smile on her face and is always making people happy.
But last night I got home and realized. I am doomed. I am 22 years old. I am single. I have cellulite. I am a virgin. All boys want from me is to take my v-card. I can either emotionally or physically connect with a man, but not in both ways.
I guess it all started when I saw this girl on Friday night, who is 22 and dating a guy. She is as unfeminine as they come. In her camoflauge jacket and totally unstyled hair. And she was with a boy. Like a cute boy. And she was being a bitch to him. And I seriously felt like crap.
I try, I look cute, I am fun, I am outgoing.
So why do guys not want to hang out with me?
All they really want is to sex it up with me. And that's only becuase I'm a virgin.
So basically what I am getting at is,

Maybe no matter how bad it is, I'll always have the support of my fellow vixen, Lacey. Oh and my one friend Jeff.   I think as long as you wake up, and have a friend who will help you, you have it going good :)
xo-K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7269655408290582906?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7269655408290582906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/depressed-vixen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7269655408290582906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7269655408290582906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/depressed-vixen.html' title='the depressed vixen'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8714056146801480144</id><published>2009-11-22T06:05:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T06:45:36.409-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='break ups'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lesson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lust'/><title type='text'>The Experiment</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The title is pretty self explanatory(this post is kind of old, but I thought I should finish it)...&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've been used and abused, kicked to the curb, shot down, walked all over, etc etc. You probably get the point, right? Guys have treated me like shit before. Most guys actually. I mean I've dated a few seldom ones that havent been complete jerks. But they're a dime a dozen, and hard to find, and more often than not, I do not find them. And then, once I think I have found a decent dude, he too turns out to be a complete jerk. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So... One day, well probably one night actually, I decided I was going to play this 'game' right back. Give guys a taste of their own medicine. In fact, it was one night at Marleys... &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So I'm dancing. I spot a cute guy. We dance. He gives me his number. I give him a ride home. He texts me the next day, says he wants to hang out. Cool, I guess. We hang out. I don't really feel a connection with him. BUT. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I decide to make him my experiment. I want to know what it feels like when the tables are turned.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And yeah I know how bad it hurts to be used, but damnit. I think that it needs to be done. I think every guy who has ever hurt a girl, should feel what it feels like. Should experience the heartache and whatever... &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So. He falls for me. So he says. He texts me &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; the time. I tell him what he wants to hear. But, god, he's so self confident and high on his horse. Honestly, I wish you could meet this guy and understand how cocky he is. Which makes this even better. He fueled the fire I guess, and made me want to make him understand. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He would tell me about his past relationships and how he's treated other girls like shit, (I kid you not) and then he preceded to tell me that he wanted to settle down with one girl...that girl being me. Ha. Priceless.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;[Now, don't get me wrong, I had some feelings for this dude. I mean when he wasn't thinking he was god's gift to women, and let me tell you he did, he was decent. But that was only about 25% of the time.] &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;...anyway. I really made him think that he was something 'special'. Which, he wasn't. And I probably even lead him on, a little. Told him how cool I thought he was and whatever. He would ask me how I felt about him, but I never once told him that I really really liked him enough to date him. 'Cause well, I didn't. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He just assumed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So this makes me wonder if girls are this easily convinced? Do we just assume that guys like us enough? And that's why they're hanging out with us? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'd like to think not. I'd love to hope not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So I was really starting to get sick of this dude. Only after about a month. His assumptions about everything were getting really annoying. But I couldn't find a way to break it off. But him being the awesome dude that he is (sarcasm), I didn't have to...One night we were driving in my car and I get a text message from him..which was weird because he was sitting next to me. And it said something along the lines of 'not being able to wait until he could perform some kind of sexual something or other to me.' &lt;em&gt;BUT&lt;/em&gt; the text wasnt for me. haha. Busted. He was &lt;strong&gt;heartbroken&lt;/strong&gt; that I wanted to stop seeing him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Honestly dude?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Nothing like making himself look like a bigger ass then he already is/was. 'Twas perfect. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oh, and then I seen him a month later, after totally writing him off. I hung out with him a few more times. He assumed I like him again. And then I told him he was absolutely wrong for me, and I couldn't go on seeing him, when I knew he wanted more. I couldn't find it in myself to 'break his heart' again. Well, let's just say he didn't take it so well and sat outside of my apartment door waiting for me to come out, for about 3 hours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I didn't come out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Point being...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I couldn't stoop as low as him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8714056146801480144?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8714056146801480144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/experiment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8714056146801480144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8714056146801480144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/experiment.html' title='The Experiment'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4642174438608395099</id><published>2009-11-22T00:39:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T05:49:30.908-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='unique'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='individual'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><title type='text'>Being 'You'</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SwkjxyoUVPI/AAAAAAAAAIk/tW_wNdn8vvo/s1600/Mean-Girls-movie-p08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 345px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 232px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406892165946430706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SwkjxyoUVPI/AAAAAAAAAIk/tW_wNdn8vvo/s320/Mean-Girls-movie-p08.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Have you ever felt like you don't fit in? Like everyone else around you just doesn't accept you? Or that you stand out like a sore thumb?&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Well I don't really see what's so &lt;em&gt;wrong&lt;/em&gt; about that. I think that nowadays it's becoming harder and harder to be your own person, to be an actual &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;'individual'&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Everyone is conforming and losing sight of who they truly are. (If you're not one of those everyone-kind-of-people, I give you kudos) And it's sad and pathetic. I mean I can &lt;em&gt;sort of&lt;/em&gt; understnd why people conform to fit someone else's standards...maybe you're scared, maybe you're trying to fit in with some 'cool' clique at school, maybe you don't know who you really are as a person, you don't want to be judged, you're trying to win the heart of 'that boy', you're finding yourself, blah blah, etc etc.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;At the same time, I think it's a load of bullshit. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But&lt;/strong&gt; we see it happen every day. Girls lose sight of what's truly important in life and forget who they are. They change their beliefs, they ditch friends, ditch this and ditch that, become a bitch, become anaorexic, and don't give themselves enough credit, blah blah, whatever it may be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I get it. &lt;strong&gt;Life is hard&lt;/strong&gt;. But it's not like it gets any easier, and who are you really helping, by not being yourself?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I get shit all the time for my platinum blonde hair, septum piercing, recycling symbol tattoo, or whatever it may be. You have to learn to not let it bother you. Tell them to fuck off. I could really care less what anyone thinks of me. As long as I'm happy with myself, then that's all that matters =] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;You only live once and you might as well live it up while you can. Do you honestly want to live under someone else's shadow and always second guess yourself? Be unhappy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ah, no.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BUT.&lt;/strong&gt; No matter how much I preach to you and tell you that it's okay to be yourself, it's a lesson you have to learn on your own. And most people won't listen to such advice. But I'm going to keep telling you that it's A-okay gurrrrlllfriend. And if you lose 'friends' by being yourself, then they're not really your friends in the first place...not the kind that you want in your life anyway. Trust me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Oh, and let me remind you that, there is life after high school/college. And it's called the REAL WORLD. It's hard, but I promise you'll get through it. You have to be a strong individual. You have to be the amazing person you truly are and do what makes you happy. Because it's your life, and you&lt;strong&gt; are&lt;/strong&gt; an amazing individual. &lt;strong&gt;Trust me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Don't be afraid your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Xoxxxo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4642174438608395099?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4642174438608395099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/being-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4642174438608395099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4642174438608395099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/being-you.html' title='Being &apos;You&apos;'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SwkjxyoUVPI/AAAAAAAAAIk/tW_wNdn8vvo/s72-c/Mean-Girls-movie-p08.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4002150195604975941</id><published>2009-11-16T05:39:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T06:57:35.950-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The L Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;..and I don't mean Lesbian. I'm talking about this little thing called.. &lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 193px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405009452361474578" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SwJzdb-iYhI/AAAAAAAAAIM/06fyroEtrB4/s320/love.jpg" /&gt; And what it does to us. How it makes us feel. How it can tear a person down. How it can lift a person up. The complications it entails. The tears. The smiles. And why it's so hard for a guy to say. Understand. Do. Give. Return. Show.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, this could be a long blog...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I like love. You like love. Hell, we all like love. Or at least we should. So why is it so hard to show sometimes? I mean, it honestly shouldn't be such a difficult thing. In my opinion, it's one of the most beautiful things we can experience in life, and yet so many people are scared of it. This doesn't make any sense whatsoever!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I love someone, I want to show them &lt;em&gt;all the time&lt;/em&gt; how much I care for them. But I have yet to find someone who is willing to reciprocate these feelings. And this sucks. Grrrr.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, when it comes to 'love' there are many different kinds of love you can experience. Well, actually I take that back. People confuse the different kindsof love ALLLLLLL the time. So maybe I should classify them first. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lust-love: Not real love. Pure sexual and physical thoughts/attractions/feelings. Often confused with love.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sex-love: Is sex. I want you on top of me kind of feelings. Often confused with love. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Convenient-love: You're here and I'm here and we're single at the moment. Let's not be in love now, but have 'something' until &lt;em&gt;something/someone&lt;/em&gt; better comes along. Often goes along with lust.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love-love: Unconditional and immense feelings for another person. You would do anything for the person you have these feelings for.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, why is it so hard to find the love-love that soooo many people desire? Probably because people aren't patient enough to let fate work it's magic and make it happen. OR because people don't know how to love-love. They're more interested in the sex or the lust or the convenience of another person, rather than getting to know them and give love-love a chance. OR what I've came across manyatimes....&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;THEY'RE SCARED. That's all. The end. Scared of what you may ask?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hell if I knew that, I would have all the answers in life. Let me ponder this...Maybe scared that other singles wouldn't find them as attractive if they actually loved someone else, maybe they're scared they'd have less sexual appeal? Well that's retarded. Scared that they could actually be happy? That's just as retarded as my first suggestion. But it may make sense...scared they could be happy enough to be in love with this one person that they may 'miss' out on other chances? I don't know. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It all seems pretty ridiculous to me. Love is love. And it should be experienced by everyone. It does not judge. It doesn't discriminate. So why can it be so difficult for someone to show their emotions of love for someone else? Ugh. This I will never know. You could be willing to give your all to someone and yet, they're not ready to do the same. So what should you do in a situation like this? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You have many options. And there are many different situations. But if the situation is pretty much black and white with not a lot of gray areas to it, (meaning youre not in an abusive 'relationship', verbal or physical, or anything of the sort) and they're just not returning the love. Then maybe you &lt;em&gt;could&lt;/em&gt; give up. Or maybe you should continue to love this person. I mean let's be real here. You shouldn't keep giving and giving without getting. &lt;em&gt;But&lt;/em&gt; if you LOVE this person, actually &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; them, then it's not an easy thing to give up. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Make them know that you love them. And make them know that you're willing to make it work. But it has to be a shared emotion. If they still don't want to show you love, then show them the door. Simple, right? I wish.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;xo,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;L&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4002150195604975941?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4002150195604975941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/l-word.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4002150195604975941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4002150195604975941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/l-word.html' title='The L Word'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SwJzdb-iYhI/AAAAAAAAAIM/06fyroEtrB4/s72-c/love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4545863185366078391</id><published>2009-11-11T19:55:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T20:05:10.237-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='same'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>guess what. all men are the same.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Girl meets boy. Boys swoons girl. Girl resists the temptation of falling. Girl knows from past expirences that all boys just want to have fun. Girl gives boy an idea. Friends with benifits? Boy says no. Boy wants to date girl. Girl is unsure. Boy seems persistant. Girl slowly thaws out her icy heart. Girl wants to meet boy, for a date. Boy is always busy. Girl is busy when boy isn't. Boy just asks for naughty pictures. Girl gives in. Boy won't text her back after she says she likes him. Girl realizes all boys are the same. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This all wouldn't have been an issue if  Girl had never thawed out her icy heart. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Thank you Jerad Sayles of Waupan for just proving to me all men are the same.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Xo-K&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4545863185366078391?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4545863185366078391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/guess-what-all-men-are-same.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4545863185366078391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4545863185366078391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/guess-what-all-men-are-same.html' title='guess what. all men are the same.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4940469501373364815</id><published>2009-11-08T12:54:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T14:34:52.330-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='romance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='passion'/><title type='text'>passion</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://s69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/?action=view&amp;amp;current=moonlight_vintage_romance.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/moonlight_vintage_romance.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;I've been thinking a lot. And ya know what I want more than anything?
Passion.
I want someone to show me, that they are passionate. If I'm so fricking awesome, like they say, then it shouldn't be so hard to show it.
And if you think about, how many times have you had the kind of passion they have in movies??
I had it once. And it's sad, but it was just with a guy I met in a bar. Then he made me believe it would happen again  but  then he just stopped talking to me. Whatever, it's cool, Aniello. I understand you've just been through a 'gang of drama', so don't make some innocent girl feel like a complete and utter waste in the wake of your 'issues'. I know you're a busy guy, but honestly, I wanted to make the time. [now i feel better!   well a little....]

So once again how come it's always seeming to be me that has to make the move? Why can't a guy just do it. Make the move, ya know grab a girl by the elbow and pull her against you and have your way with her.
And another thing is, if, you really like a girl as much you say, then shouldn't you try harder to keep her than most boys do?? Aren't you crazy to let go of someone that you say means that much to you??
Deep down, I believe in romance and all that good stuff, it's just sad that no one has ever made me feel like I am good enough for it. And all these boys say it, but no one ever does it.

Sometimes, it's hard to walk in a single girls shoes. That's why we need really special shoes :)

xo, K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4940469501373364815?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4940469501373364815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/passion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4940469501373364815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4940469501373364815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/11/passion.html' title='passion'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5529721983363612767</id><published>2009-10-25T01:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T01:30:03.667-05:00</updated><title type='text'>just friends.</title><content type='html'>Can a guy and a girl be &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; friends without there being some sort of sexual tension/attraction?

Um.

No, I doubt it. Either he or she will feel something for the other person. And it's probably not going to be felt on both ends. That's what makes it such a shitty situation.

Someone gets mixed feelings about the other, and takes some kind of gesture or comment the wrong way and, boom, that's it. You're getting screwed over in the end.

So, while you may think that your buddy is just a buddy...they're wishing it was something else or something more.
True story.
The end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5529721983363612767?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5529721983363612767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/just-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5529721983363612767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5529721983363612767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/just-friends.html' title='just friends.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-6900495276694128420</id><published>2009-10-22T03:21:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T05:02:31.473-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys issues'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>advice for guys! (good advice btw)</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I figured that guys need advice just as much as girls do. So here we are. I'll touch on a few subjects.&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;You should not have to deal with bitchy girls.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;You should not have to be 'stuck' in a relationship because you feel bad for a girl. Feeling bad for someone and trying to make the relationship work is a waste of time and effort. If she is genuinely treating you like shit, and you've tried working it out, then dump her ass. Yes, you could give her uber amounts of chances to change things, but if this girl is just generally an asshole, then don't even waste your time. &lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;I've been the asshole girl before. And when girls are continuously being assholes to you, then it's because they don't really care. Or they could be the really retarded girls who are bitches trying to get attention. And that shit is just annoying. Who wants to deal with some insecure cunt the rest of their lives? Ugh. This seems like it should be an obvious thing to see, but love is blind. And sometimes irrational.&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;So. Dump her. Do not waste your time. &lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; do better. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And you should do better. Girls who crave attention 24/7 are wayyyy too high maintenance and should be slapped. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But let me do the slapping, cause if you do, you're going to jail. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;xo,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-6900495276694128420?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/6900495276694128420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/advice-for-guys-good-advice-btw.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6900495276694128420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6900495276694128420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/advice-for-guys-good-advice-btw.html' title='advice for guys! (good advice btw)'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2885163608551588240</id><published>2009-10-22T01:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T06:47:56.108-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the bitch edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SuBGSp_esEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Bt1OF2RUKoc/s1600-h/veruca_salt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 313px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395389639913549890" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SuBGSp_esEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Bt1OF2RUKoc/s320/veruca_salt.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bitches!&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;You know the type. The ones that make the rest of our lives miserable! The kind of girls we want to take out back and kick in the face. &lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;The type of girls that wear the Ugg boots with the coach purses who fake bake every damn day, and cake on the make up to hide their insecurities. &lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;The kind of girl who belittles the average and rad girls, to make themselves feel better. &lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;The girl who talks so much shit behind your back without even knowing you as a person. That doesnt matter though, as long as she feels a little better deep inside.&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;I hate your guts. Every thing about you. I hate the fact that you think you are better than me. I hate the fact that you think you can get away with anything. I hate the fact you think you're prettier than I am. I hate the fact you treat guys like shit and give girls a bad name. I hate the fact you don't care about other people's emotions. I hate the fact that you need material things in your life to be happy. I hate the fact that you judge me and don't know me. I hate the fact that you're completely fake. &lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;What's it like to wake up every morning and know that your life is a joke?&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;What's it like to know that you will never ever know the true meaning of life and what's really important?&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;What's it like to know that YOU don't even like yourself?&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;Hmmm. I wouldn't know. =]&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;And for the rest of the non-bitchy girls in the world. Be strong, loud, proud and confident. The girls out there who judge you for who you truly are, need to be kicked in the teeth. Who are they to judge you!? Who are they to tell you what's right and what's not? &lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;They're no one!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And that's just it. You have to treat them like they're no one in order to survive in this cat fight. Let them judge you and belittle you, because it doesn't matter. Continue to be the amazzzzing chic you are. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The day will come when they're 40 and they'll wake up and wonder what they've been doing with their life. And why they're married to an abusive jerk who has money, and why their life has no purpose and meaining. They'll wonder why they have no friends and no accomplishments. And we can sit back and laugh. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Karma is a bitch. Remember.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Half of the time they're jealous of your awesome-ness anyway. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So fuck 'em. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;xoxo,&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;L&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2885163608551588240?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2885163608551588240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/bitch-edition.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2885163608551588240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2885163608551588240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/bitch-edition.html' title='the bitch edition'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SuBGSp_esEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Bt1OF2RUKoc/s72-c/veruca_salt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2078624890737380610</id><published>2009-10-19T23:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T00:13:28.143-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='please'/><title type='text'>to all the boys who may love me and/or lust after me</title><content type='html'>dear men who like me,

I am greatly honored that you have shown interest in me! I am not that used to getting attention from men, but please don't lie to me.
Please don't tell me that you need me in your life, and then not talk to me for days.
Please if you really do like me, come see me. Don't make me just wonder. And the door swings both ways. I would totally come to you if you want me too.
Please don't lie to me. It just breaks me. I don't really trust guys but if I do tell you I trust you, don't lie to me even more.
Please, if you don't want to talk to me anymore, just tell me. Don't leave me hanging/wondering if your dead in a ditch somewhere. How hard is it to just say "hey babe, gonna be busy today, but i'll text you later."
Please keep in mind, that I don't want to be a virgin forever.
Please, I'm not demanding, I'm not a bitch, I'm a pretty normal girl!

with love,
Kendall
Please&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2078624890737380610?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2078624890737380610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/to-all-boys-who-may-love-me-andor-lust.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2078624890737380610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2078624890737380610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/to-all-boys-who-may-love-me-andor-lust.html' title='to all the boys who may love me and/or lust after me'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-3437213412177854893</id><published>2009-10-19T01:05:00.037-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T04:13:04.336-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>music much?</title><content type='html'>I thought we should take a slight detour from issues with boys blogs. But don't you dare think i forgot about the boys part! Bands not pictured that still rock: A ROCKET TO THE MOON, something corporate, jimmy eat world, a day to remember, chiodos, etc etc etc....


&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;THE MUSIC EDITION!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwgnVltmXI/AAAAAAAAAHM/jP7Z4atfMnU/s1600-h/3oh!3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394222313865320818" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwgnVltmXI/AAAAAAAAAHM/jP7Z4atfMnU/s320/3oh!3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;3OH!3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
Now if only they sounded as amazing as this
picture. Oh wait! They do! Hot nerds?!?!
Check out: im not coming to your party, richman, starstrukk.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;



&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Stwg2-GXImI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Jr6rP0hosRg/s1600-h/alesana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394222582437716578" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Stwg2-GXImI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Jr6rP0hosRg/s320/alesana.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Alesana

Not for the faint of heart. They pack a punch, along with tons of awesome-ness. They make me want to be a bad girl!
Check out: apology, tilting the hourglass, ambrosia.
&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwgOvKYMBI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Xa-3_2JRggw/s1600-h/Hey%2BMonday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394221891233263634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwgOvKYMBI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Xa-3_2JRggw/s320/Hey%2BMonday.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hey Monday.

Not only does this chick singer rock, but so do the catchy lyrics and tunes that come from this band. She sings of break ups and getting over them, but she makes it sound bad ass and fun to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Check out: obvious, set off, run dont walk.

&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;

&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Stwf3Vst-cI/AAAAAAAAAG8/OZg_byJsCM0/s1600-h/themaine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394221489260984770" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Stwf3Vst-cI/AAAAAAAAAG8/OZg_byJsCM0/s320/themaine.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
The Maine.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not only does John Ohhh have uber amazing hair, but his vocal cords make me wanna melt. Literally. I think I love him. Wow. Oh, not to mention they're utterly genius.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Check out: you left me, i wanna love you, i must be dreaming, girls do what they want.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwbC5NfgVI/AAAAAAAAAG0/7gvFtHtpGDI/s1600-h/cobra-starship-fr07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 283px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394216190214111570" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwbC5NfgVI/AAAAAAAAAG0/7gvFtHtpGDI/s320/cobra-starship-fr07.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
Cobra Starship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. They have a chic rockin out in their band. 2. I love every single song they produce. 3. They rock live. 4. This list is endless. Not to mention they're the only reason snakes on a plane was somewhat cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Check out: prostitution is the world's oldest profession, hot mess, guilty pleasure.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwZrOLMGKI/AAAAAAAAAGs/9xvVJOQZHjs/s1600-h/Cash%2BCash.png"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 274px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394214684013107362" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwZrOLMGKI/AAAAAAAAAGs/9xvVJOQZHjs/s320/Cash%2BCash.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
Cash Cash.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not only are they my jewish boyfriends(yes all of them). The way they move, sing, and fit into those tight multi colored jeans, makes me want to ahhhhhhh. Well. Enough of that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Check out: sugar rush, cash cash, party in your bedroom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;


&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwY-hYxFzI/AAAAAAAAAGk/a-8jm4n3tBw/s1600-h/breathecarolina.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 265px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394213916076218162" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwY-hYxFzI/AAAAAAAAAGk/a-8jm4n3tBw/s320/breathecarolina.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Breathe Carolina.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How i love thee. a lot. their electronic, quirky lyrics, will have you rockin out all day. or you'll jam out with your clam out for sure! not to mention they amaze me live too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Check out: dressed up to undress, the birds and the bees, i ruin dreams not nightmares, gossip. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;xo, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;L&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-3437213412177854893?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/3437213412177854893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/music-much.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3437213412177854893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3437213412177854893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/music-much.html' title='music much?'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StwgnVltmXI/AAAAAAAAAHM/jP7Z4atfMnU/s72-c/3oh!3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4831510802275554562</id><published>2009-10-13T06:40:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T01:42:20.154-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lust'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good boys'/><title type='text'>bad boy vs good guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Why is it that women tend to prefer 'bad' boys compared to 'good' guys?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;We've all done it at one time or another in our dating synopsis. Hell, we might have even chosen the bad guy over the good one, and hell, we probably even knew what we were doing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No questions about it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Bad Boy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393083624483567618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StgU-5FRuAI/AAAAAAAAAEs/Y4-ivvn-BpU/s400/zbad.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;yum.
&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Good Guy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392051438905098386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StRqNyKSgJI/AAAAAAAAAEU/p1mvrwicfII/s400/zachary-quinto-spock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;yum.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Now. From experience...I've dated a few bad guys and a few good guys. And while they both have their own ups and downs, you should probably go for good guys in the end. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Bad boys tend to go more for one night stands and ditzy blondes. Very stereotypical, I know. But we live in a world ran by stereotypes. Truth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;And the truth hurts, but I dont see nerdy dudes tearing girls' hearts out and feeding them to the dogs. Do you? I mean you have a few exceptions here and there, but overall, no. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;But girls tend to be shallow from time to time, and shit happens, and you find the guy with the bad ass tattoos and spiked hair to be smokin hot. And one thing may lead to another, and then he doesn't call you. And stops communication all together, and it wasnt you, it was him speech, and this and that. And he's feeding your heart to the dogs on a silver platter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So ladies. We need to look past all that hair gel and ink and bad ass-ness, and go for whats important. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Someone who will make us truly happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This is a little harder than you think. But if you're patient, it will happen. Let fate run it's course. And if you wanna date a few bad dick heads along the way, feel free. But don't forget to give the good guys a chance too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I prefer nerds myself =]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Live Long and Prosper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393081694367527538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StgTOi1wMnI/AAAAAAAAAEc/HLmnDp7SpDQ/s400/zachary-quinto-spock2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;
&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Marry me Zachary Quinto. K thanks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xoxo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;l&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4831510802275554562?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4831510802275554562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/bad-boy-vs-good-guy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4831510802275554562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4831510802275554562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/bad-boy-vs-good-guy.html' title='bad boy vs good guy'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/StgU-5FRuAI/AAAAAAAAAEs/Y4-ivvn-BpU/s72-c/zbad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2536150869688739998</id><published>2009-10-05T13:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T13:15:40.522-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trust'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dump'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='texts'/><title type='text'>I've Stopped Believin'</title><content type='html'>So a few weeks ago, I met this terribly awesome guy. But now, I haven't heard from him in about week. He told me some cool stuff. And I thought he meant it. He told me he couldn't wait to run into me again. And he enjoyed what we did just as much as I did. And this is the one that got me all hung up on him "U make me feel good. I've just been thru a gang of drama. I can't stop thinking about u. I think ur blog got me sprung." If he's done with me. Fine. Just let me know so I don't keep going on like a dumbass.
So my moral basically is, if you don't like someone like they like you, just tell them! god. It's not that hard especially in a text message.
I just really thought he was different. And to think I was combing over the idea of making waffles with him! ha.

xx-K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2536150869688739998?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2536150869688739998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/ive-stopped-believin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2536150869688739998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2536150869688739998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/ive-stopped-believin.html' title='I&apos;ve Stopped Believin&apos;'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4146646015130644802</id><published>2009-10-04T23:41:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T02:02:43.615-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving forward'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>to move on or not to move on</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;MOVE ON!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Ugh. How many damn times do I have to say this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Just do it. Move on and don't look back. Fate works in mysterious ways, this is totally true ladies. So let it work already!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;You can't spend your days waiting and swooning over some guy. Any guy for that matter. They're not worth it, and they come a dime a dozen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Meaning: there are a million and one guys out there. Don't waste your time with just one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;(If you've made it evident that you like a guy and he's STILL being a wishy washey douche bag, who is totally afraid of any type of commitment, then ditch his ass. Let him toy with someone else's emotions.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Because he's not Hannah Montana, and his ass can't have the best of both worlds. So delete him from your life and consider youself lucky to have such learning experiences in your life. They only make you stronger and wiser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xxxxx,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4146646015130644802?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4146646015130644802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/to-move-on-or-not-to-move-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4146646015130644802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4146646015130644802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/to-move-on-or-not-to-move-on.html' title='to move on or not to move on'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5389965975491872457</id><published>2009-10-02T12:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T12:21:42.615-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lies'/><title type='text'>lies lies lies</title><content type='html'>Is it alright to lie to someone so that they like you more?

But at the same time, If someone doesn't like you for you, shouldn't you just make peace with that an be able to go chase someone else?

Should I be flattered that someone would go through the trouble of lying to make me feel more comfortable, but now I can't believe anything he says.

There was a time, before when I didn't believe boys and what they told me, and now for some reason I started to, and now I just get my heartbroken.

FML

I think to cure myself, I'm just going to stop trusting boys. They just lie to me.

xo-K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5389965975491872457?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5389965975491872457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/lies-lies-lies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5389965975491872457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5389965975491872457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/10/lies-lies-lies.html' title='lies lies lies'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5765667873470906688</id><published>2009-09-28T02:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T04:44:09.653-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Things Boys Should Know</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls don't care about your past relations. If we did, we would ask about them. So don't compare us to your other hook-ups and whatnots.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't lie to us. We're better at it than you are, in most cases. So we'll eventually catch you in some kind of lie that's probably going to make you look like an ass. And neither of us want that, right?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eventhough you may think you're being nice by feeding me full of bullshit and telling me what you think I want to hear, don't. I would rather you tell me that you want nothing to do with me, then make up lame excuses why we can't hang out. Ever. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grow balls. Hypothetically.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girls like to be in charge every once in a while. Don't let it hurt your ego. We don't think any less of you as a man if we make a few major decisions here and there. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We like sex, and foreplay even more so. Our boobs aren't just to look at. They like to be touched too.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't devour my face when you try to kiss me. You're trying too hard. I promise I won't judge you if you're not spitting all over my face. Honestly.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do compliment me and tell me you think I'm beautiful every once in a while.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do tell me I'm being a bitch. IF I really am. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't tell me I'm a bitch if I'm not.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Contrary to popular belief, I cannot read your mind. OH, how I wish I could sometimes. But I can't, keep this in mind.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you like me, and we have a good time together, chances are..I like you too. Let's do something about this. Let's not act like we're in 5th grade and we have cooties. K?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't tell me you think other girls are hot. I guarantee that I will stop finding you hot.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kiss me. A lot. Please.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do send me cute texts whenever you're bored. And let me know that you miss me, if you truly and honestly do.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Love me for me, and accept the fact that I'm not perfect. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;xoxoxo,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;L&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5765667873470906688?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5765667873470906688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/things-boys-should-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5765667873470906688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5765667873470906688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/things-boys-should-know.html' title='Things Boys Should Know'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-6993581575652859178</id><published>2009-09-25T21:27:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T21:40:15.042-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flattery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cyinc'/><title type='text'>I used to be cynical</title><content type='html'>I used to be very cynical when a guy told me I was beautiful and all that jazz. I used to be a bitch about it. But then I realized even if he says it to a zillion and one girls, it is still pretty special to hear it.
I have recently met a guy. And he tells me all the good stuff, and I know he might just be bs-ing me, but at the same time, I wonder "why would he waste his time telling me this stuff?"
I know it might all end just as soon as it started, and I know I will be sad if it does.
But while it's happening. I plan on living it up. hardcore.
I mean, I have never really gotten to a know a guy like him, and I can't wait to know more about him. But if he doesn't want to share I am ok. If he doesn't want to meet me again. I am ok with it. I might be mad, but I will just be disappointed. Becuase I really do lookforward to knowing him.

xo-K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-6993581575652859178?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/6993581575652859178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-used-to-be-cynical.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6993581575652859178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6993581575652859178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-used-to-be-cynical.html' title='I used to be cynical'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7777713969276821848</id><published>2009-09-23T22:16:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T22:35:30.205-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pick up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flirting'/><title type='text'>I am a Vixen</title><content type='html'>Vixens don't stalk boys.
&lt;a href="http://s69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/?action=view&amp;amp;current=forester_one.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/kendallynn9/forester_one.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;We hunt them.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/em&gt;
See, Like, Go Get.

It its that easy.
It is generally frowned upon to do this in daily settings (work, wal-mart, mall, school)
But the bar scence is a totally different story.
Boys don't choose you,  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;you pick them&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Don't!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;sit/stand at the bar.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;underdress.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;wear something short.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Do!
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mingle.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Smile.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Look Good.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have your own style.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And when you see one you like, go over, give him a compliment (I have had recent success with "I like your glasses!") and the rest will just happen.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;*if it doesn't, then he likes boys.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Happy Hunting&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;xo-K&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7777713969276821848?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7777713969276821848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-vixen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7777713969276821848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7777713969276821848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-vixen.html' title='I am a Vixen'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-122137975537459467</id><published>2009-09-22T10:24:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T11:21:43.186-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Douche Bag List'/><title type='text'>The  Douche Bag List</title><content type='html'>Compiled over the summer with the help of the many vintage vixens (&amp;amp;jeff)
1-3 Average Guy
4-7 Douche Like
8-13 Douche-ish
14-17 Very Douche-y
18-22 Douche Bag
23+ Mega Douche. Let him bang bitches in Ed Hardy Bikinis
Wears Plaid Shorts
Wears Name Brand Polos
Wears Aviators
Wears a Wifebeater..and just that for a shirt.
Wears Overly Distressed Jeans
Very Low Hanging Jeans
Drives an: Impala, Cadillac, Eclipse, Big Truck/SUV, or Hummer
Checks himself out in reflective surfaces
Spends a lot of time in front of the mirror
Owns a Hair Straightener
Uses Fruit Scented Body Wash
Has Massive Muscles
Goes Tanning
Wears Mandals
His outfit is a Monochromatic color scheme
Takes his Camcorder...everywhere.
Has Bling
Enjoys the "music" of Akon
Has a beer shirt
Wears Ed Hardy Clothing. Often.
Loud Truck/motorcycle
Brags about his beer pong skillz
Wears Capris
Facebook status says "hit up the cell" or "text it"
Is only out between 4 and 4
"knows it" all about sound systems or cars
Has a faux hawk/hair like the kid from the future in Meet the Robinsons
Wears a Bandanna
Drinks Icy Starbucks
Wears his hat with a flat brim to the side
Keeps the sticker on his hat
Has one of those drawstring backpack things.
Wears a Fedora
Has a Pitbull/Boxer. And it isn't fixed.
Runs downtown shirtless Spells with 'wit' and the 'tha'
Has any clothing with silver or gold print on it
Has highlighted/frosted hair
Doesn't tie his shoes
Chews obnoxisly on his gum
Won't get off his phone
Has Bluetooth headset on. all the time.
Wears Affliction
Wears Harley Davidson
Gold Hoop Earring
Biker Boots/No Bike
Eyebrow Piercing
Walks around shirtless, while not in his house.
Nipple Piercings
Please feel free to let me know if there is anything else that should be on this list! xo-K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-122137975537459467?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/122137975537459467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/douche-bag-list.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/122137975537459467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/122137975537459467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/douche-bag-list.html' title='The  Douche Bag List'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8159834271572987597</id><published>2009-09-21T20:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T21:40:22.620-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flirting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meeting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='redemption'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>Redeemed!</title><content type='html'>This weekend, we went out to Marley's (&lt;3). I have now kissed 25 boys. But, anyway...!
I have made myself feel less like a dirty slut, and more like the vixen I am!

I met a boy, He was standing by himself on the dance floor, I told him, I liked his glasses, and next thing I know, we're making out. like hardcore. I pushed him againt the railing and had my way with him, I think. He was good. At kissing, knowing what to do with his hands, and talking. He was the whole package.

We went outside, and it got a little out of hand when my russian friend came and yelled at me for 'it was getting disgusting.' I'm glad she did though. 

We talked. He seems cool. I mean, he had an iPhone. He said he wants to meet again. To make out and do other stuff if I want. He said he's never met a girl like that, who told him he had sweet glasses. He took my number, and said he wants to meet again. I am not sure if he really wants to, or if he doesn't care. 

But he made me feel good, and I can only hope I made him feel as good. 

xo-K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8159834271572987597?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8159834271572987597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/redeemed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8159834271572987597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8159834271572987597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/redeemed.html' title='Redeemed!'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8041987045411021528</id><published>2009-09-14T04:03:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T18:50:20.372-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dumb boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blonde'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self righteous-ness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='being easy'/><title type='text'>The Importance of Being [Earnest]-ly Blonde!</title><content type='html'>Now. We all know that blondes have more fun, right? I mean it's kind of common sense.

I'm not just saying this because I am blonde. At one point in my life I wasn't.
I was brunette. From box color that is...which is definitely not a good choice, btw.

Okay, so I was a brunette...then I became blonde. This was a gradual transition, that didnt just happen overnight. But it seemed that the lighter my hair became, the more fun I had. It went hand in hand....

Weird?

No...

Amazing!

So what do I mean when I say that you should be earnest when you become blonde? Let's define 'earnest' to begin with:

Earnest (adjective); Heartfelt, serious and diligent, emotionally intense and solemn.

You may be thinking at this point, wtf am I seriously talking about?

I have seen far too many times, blondes who think that they are, for lack of better words, 'the shit.' And they tend to act like their shit doesnt stink either. Which of course is utterly wrong and absurd to even think about. These blondes walk around acting like they own the place and can do no wrong. This again is totally wrong.

Remember to keep your head on your shoulders. Just because you have this hair color, does not mean that every dude automatically wants you. And if that's the case, then they're totally missing the true beauty that has to lie within first. You can only be truly beautiful on the outside, if you're truly beautiful on the inside first.

That's what I believe. That's how it should be. But unfortunately, we do not all think the same.

Being blonde can be a lot of fun, but at the same time you are continuously sticking up for yourself and trying to defend the fact that not every blonde is a total air head or ditz. And that you're not the football team's slutty cheerleader...although that can be fun to think about at times...it's not always the image that I want to give others. Rarely ever should you want to give others this image.

Being blonde doesnt mean you should lose sight of your morals and standards. And it does not mean that you are easy peasy!

Try not to get a big head either. I know that when you're getting lost of attention you can start to lose sight of things. But remember, there are some pretty shallow people out there, and I'm definitely not trying to sound like one of them when I write this, but some boys may only come up and talk to you because you are blonde. AND they think you're easy and retarded to be blunt and honest. So you neeeeed to prove them wrong.

Because no girl wants to ONLY be easy. At least this blonde doesn't.

xoxo,

L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8041987045411021528?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8041987045411021528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/importance-of-being-earnest-ly-blonde.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8041987045411021528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8041987045411021528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/importance-of-being-earnest-ly-blonde.html' title='The Importance of Being [Earnest]-ly Blonde!'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-634821267531552052</id><published>2009-09-08T23:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T01:59:55.852-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hook ups'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blowjobs'/><title type='text'>the tale of two encounters.</title><content type='html'>Something amazing happened this weekend. It all started last week, when my facebook friend/dirty text partner told me he was coming through the Dells next week, and we should meet up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I kinda freaked out a little, I mean, I am pretty insecure about my self, so I don’t want to get shot down anymore than I already do, but anyway. I decided it would be cool to meet him. But then Thursaday night, we closed work and went to get some drinks. So I was feeling pretty darn good about myself, when he said he was by Hotel Rome. (OMG!) not far from where I was.  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He came and met Lacey and Tati and Jeff because we were all hanging out on the corner. Well, we know that the end of Vintage is near, and I always wanted to mess around with a guy in the boudoir in back. So I knew, this was my chance. I unlocked the door, and in we went. We kissed some and I asked him if he wanted a blowjob, and like any guy, he said yes. So I did it. It was my first one ever. I am 22 years old, and I gave my first bj to a 18 year old. But it’s cool. He is the kind of boy that I was simply obsessed with in High School, so hick it gets me a little excited. It wasn’t that bad. I don’t know why so many girls hate it. Afterwards, I felt sexy and confident. And good. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He finished, and I asked if he was done, and then I told him I wanted to go to a movie with my friends. We left Vintage and he told me to text him. I locked the door and went to find Lacey and Tati. Little did I know, they had snuck into Vintage, and where in a dressing room the whole time. But, creeping is caring!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He needs more practice kissing, but I probably do too, and I feel a lot weird about it because he didn’t say anything the entire time. I don’t even know if I was doing it right, but how many ways are there to do that? But he texted me, not even 10 minutes later. So, I am guess that is a good thing.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;

Saturday night, I went out to Marleys (&lt;3) And was dirty dancing with this guy. Like really dirrrrrty dancing. Then the place was closing and I pulled out my phone and asked for his number and sent him a naughty picture. He asked to come back to my hotel. (hello, not staying at one!) and I asked his name, and I think he said Cy, but I am not sure. I know I told him my name was Barbie. Well, then when I got back to where I was staying he texted me and asked if he could come over. I told him I wasn’t going to have sex with him. He texted back and said that I can’t expect him to be nonchalant when I let him do that, but he would settle for a backrub. After some discussion with Tati, I decided to let him come here. I met him downstairs, and I had to walk across the street to get my blanket and pillow out of my car. While we were walking across the street, we made out on the bridge to the parking lot. Then we came back upstairs and he told me I was beautiful. And we were making out, and he took off my shirt, and was playing with my boobs, and such and then next thing I know the lights where off, and I was giving him head. He made noise and told me I was phenomenal. I don’t know if he was that drunk, or I am that good.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So, then he finished finally, and I thought, what have I done?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He has a picture of a kid on the background of his phone! Then to make matters worse, he texted me the next morning because he forgot his hat and wanted to come and pick it up. So, there I was sitting outside waiting to see what this dude looked like post-morning after. He texted me and said asked where I was. I told him and saw one guy walking up the street…and it was him. He said thanks babe. Then left. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I texted him and asked him one question. How old are you, he said 31. Omg. I did stuff with a 31 year old guy, who has a picture of a kid on his cell phone, and I don’t even know what his name is. After him, I felt dirty.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But Hot Kevin did say he wants to meet again…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-634821267531552052?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/634821267531552052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/tale-of-two-encounters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/634821267531552052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/634821267531552052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/09/tale-of-two-encounters.html' title='the tale of two encounters.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8929433767209773473</id><published>2009-08-31T03:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T02:11:53.372-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='options'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='assholes'/><title type='text'>The option</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I would just to start off by saying, I'm angry. This is the emotion I'm feeling as I write this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So you go through life thinking you have options, right? Well this is a half truth. You do have options, but dont you dare think that they are endless options. Because sadly, they are not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I have learned the hard way far too too many times. Choices are all around you, and every single damn day of your life you are handed new choices and new options. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Every day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;(wow I'm so angry I cant even string together sentences in my head. Irate. Furious.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Okay. So hypothetically, lets say that you are given an option that is presented to you by a boy. A boy that you claimed to be head over heels for. A boy who claimed to like you just as much. Now these are just on hypothetical terms of course. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So this option, if you will, seems to be a pretty decent one. He says he's serious about it too. Whoa. Something serious coming from the opposite sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;That rarely ever fucking happens! ....oh and make sure you keep this in mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;..back to my hypothetical story....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So he's serious, right. Get it, got it. Hmmm, then all of a sudden. Poof! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Nope, just kidding! Sorry to get your hopes up, once again. You retarded girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;This option has flown the coop. No more decision making there, no choice involved on your part. Cause well, he just took that opportunity away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;hmm shit out of luck arent ya?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Soooo. What am I trying to get at? Okay....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;YOU, as a beautiful, independent woman, should learn from my mistake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;YOU have to make your own choices, and have your own options in your own life. Do NOT sit around and wait for the male species to try and present some form of choice for you to ponder upon. Because chances are they're going to change their mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Guys change their mind more often than the weather changes in Wisconsin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;If you want something out of life, YOU have to go for it. YOU have to want it, and do something about it. I'm done waiting. I'm done trying to maybe depend on the opposite in the slightest amount whatsoever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I loathe men. And am done playing stupid petty little mind games. It's way too difficult, and way too overrated. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I now realize why I am single.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;The fucking marvelous end!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

xoooo,
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8929433767209773473?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8929433767209773473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/option.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8929433767209773473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8929433767209773473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/option.html' title='The option'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4636621507306182872</id><published>2009-08-26T03:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T06:58:45.130-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loving life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confidence'/><title type='text'>Body Image</title><content type='html'>Okay. I want to take a slight break from talk about boys boys boys. I mean I'll make a reference to them in this blog, but it's not going to be all about them. Like it always is. Grr.

I wrote a blog about confidence before, and you can click on the confidence link at the bottom of this blog to look at it. But this is different.
Yes body image does coinside with confidence, but on a deeper level I believe.
Body image is something we deal with on a daily basis. Practically 24/7. It's being shoved in our faces from everywhere.
TV
Movies
Magazines
Friends/Family
Media
Press
Boys
Everything
Everywhere

You can't get away from it. We're being told what we should look like. What we should wear. How we should style our hair. What our make-up should look like. We're being told to be something or someone we're not.
This is not cool. And it pisses me off.
Want to know what brought this on? Well I'm going to tell you anyway. So this weekend I went out with a few friends, and we're at this party right. And this guy walks up to me and is like, "you're pretty, you know that?" I say, "well thank you" he says, "...but you'd be even prettier, if you didn't have that nose ring. Don't get me wrong, you're still pretty but..." I say, "well ahh thanks. I guess this nose rings helps me weed out guys like you." Um wtf? Like I care what you think about my septum ring or not. Ah no. Wanna know what? I was once told, by another dude, that he thought my nose ring was 'hot' so really, your opinion means nothing to me. But it does piss me off.

It pisses me off that guys generally go for: tall, skinny, bitches with big tits. Oh, and throw in your occassional fake baker, with ultra white/bleached teeth, and cover up piled on to the extreme to hide her imperfections. Oh, and they won't have any facial piercings or tattoos, and will do whatever their man asks them to do. Oh, and they'll only wear abercrombie and fitch, american eagle, shit from the buckle, and hollister. Oh, and they'll be 'perfect.'

Oh, and they'll be completely clueless to the real world, have no personality, won't know their own self from the next stupid bitch, have no individuality, and no independence. But hey, as long as they look good on their man's arm...that's all that really matters, right?

AH WRONG. Ladies. Your body image is what YOU make it. I don't care if you're, skinny, fat, chubby, curvy, lengthy, stocky, short, round, square, pink or blue. You are gorgeous and do NOT need the approval of some low life, self centered prick to prove you otherwise.

I want every woman out there to know that it's okay to wear that low cut shirt, even if you have no boobs at all to show off. I want you to wear that short little skirt, even if you don't have the legs of fucking Heidi Klum. I want you to go without make-up whenever the hell you please, just because you don't feel like putting any on that day. I want you to try something new and maybe scandalous, just because it's fun. I want YOU to know that it's okay not to be perfect.
And I want you to know, that I like you better that way. I like you the fucking way you are. Because you are fucking beautifuly-gorgeous! Every girl should be told that they're gorgeous.

So, I'm telling you now, that you are gorgeous. And I sincerely mean that. Without a single doubt in my mind chica. And you wanna know what? If a guy tells you something ridiculously retarded, like they don't like your nose ring, and you'd be prettier without it, tell them to fuck off.
Because he is not The One for you, nor will he ever be. He will never know the luxury of dating your fine ass. And that's his loss, definitely not yours.

So next time the televison is telling you that you're supposed to be a size 2 to get anywhere in this life, throw a rock through the screen. Or change the channel.
Either way...know that it's lying, and just be confident with yourself. The people that you see in magazines and on TV are paid to be fake. They have personal trainers and work out a zillion hours a week. They get liposuction and botox injections more than you and I can say sasquatch. They're airbrushed and photoshopped to the max. So of course we are never going to look like that. Not in a bijillion years.
And why would you want to? Why would you want to live up to such high expectations? Omg, I know I have no desire to be something remotely close to that.
I may have blonde hair, but I am no retard. So it's whatev.

I do know that life is tooooo short.

Because you only get one body, one life. So live it to the fullest with confidence!

xoxoxoxxxxx,
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4636621507306182872?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4636621507306182872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/body-image.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4636621507306182872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4636621507306182872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/body-image.html' title='Body Image'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-630398090181467589</id><published>2009-08-22T13:36:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T13:36:06.357-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Girls beware of this boy: &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/jeffffff"&gt;http://www.myspace.com/jeffffff&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-630398090181467589?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/630398090181467589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/girls-beware-of-this-boy-httpwww.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/630398090181467589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/630398090181467589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/girls-beware-of-this-boy-httpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8607258042415901672</id><published>2009-08-19T22:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T01:40:43.710-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moral'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lacey just wants me to put crap here.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='head over heels'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lesson'/><title type='text'>Meeting boys on the internet.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is a good idea if you are too shy to meet them in real life. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Boys there just plainly tell you how beautiful you are and how bad they want to fuck you. And lets face it, who tells you that in real life? No one.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That’s why I applaud Craig from Warped Tour. He just walked up to Lacey and said “You’re beautiful.” That’s it! Then we talked a little bit more and it was just a little awkward. And then him and Lacey shared an awkward hug. Nothing more they didn’t exchange phone numbers or myspaces or any of that crap. It was just plain simple stuff that we want to hear.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But back to this online boy stuff…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It’s a good idea to meet people. But no one likeable (for me&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;at least) lives in these parts. And the boys that I do meet and REALLY like, and seem to like me back live in far distant lands like, Missouri and Indiana and Georgia. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;See here, I found this boy, and his name was Jeff, and he was the cat’s meow. I called him the Right Jeff as not to confuse him with the other Jeffs in my life, who were all wrong.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;And then we texted all the time, and he wanted me to come visit. But I couldn’t and he wouldn’t come here. I see this as a red flag. Then I asked if I could bring a friend and he said No. Red Flag numero two! Well, he told me all the stuff that no one has ever told me before, like how beautiful I am, and I how I am ther perfect match for him, and the list goes on&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;and on. Then he didn’t text me for weeks it was probally like 6 days, but I looked at his myspace and all the comments from girls and how much they love him, bothered me.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So I was ready to be done! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I turned 22, and started the week with a whole new outlook on life. And then, while shopping for the perfect birthday outfit, He texted me. It was like the world stopped spinning as I looked down at the text that simply said “i miss you”. After an simply conversation&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I didn’t text hi all night. And I got REALLY drunk. He didn’t even cross my mind as I was celebrating the big deuce. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I was writing about the perfect girl, I texted all the boys and asked them what the perfect girl was like. He said “the one I am dating.” Once again the world stopped spinning and I didn’t know if he was serious or messing with me to see what I would say back. But then I realized, He told me all the things I wanted to hear, but it was the same thing he whispered in every other girls ear. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am done with him. I texted him and said “can you do me a favor” nothing…all morning. So I sent “obviously it’s not a hard favor. Just delete me and forget about me.” Nothing. That was 2 days ago, and I have felt A-FRICKING-MAZING ever since. The only thing I wish is that he would have responded to me. Because now I have a feeling, that I will get a text in a week when he has no one better to text. And I am going to tell him off.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So the moral of this story is, Don’t online date/have a long distance relationship. I mean it’s cool and all if you can trust each other, but one thing he said will stand out to me, and should have stopped me from falling head over heels for him. He said “I like you so much it scares me, because I think you could be as bigger of a player as I am.” But in the end I was a player, I had two boys that I really liked and told them that often. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So basically, I will try not to fall head over heels for any boys in the near future.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;xo-K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8607258042415901672?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8607258042415901672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/meeting-boys-on-internet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8607258042415901672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8607258042415901672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/meeting-boys-on-internet.html' title='Meeting boys on the internet.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-3989414514015540361</id><published>2009-08-19T05:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T05:59:24.899-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confusion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lust'/><title type='text'>realization</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As the title states. I have came to a realization. It just dawned on me!&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Girls and guys are almost the exact same! This is why we're so confusing to each other. We try too hard to figure &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;eachother&lt;/span&gt; out. We just assume that we're so entirely different that we have a hard time, grasping the fact, that well...we're not so different at all. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;For example:&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We both tell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;eachother&lt;/span&gt; what we want to hear&lt;/strong&gt;. You can't say that you don't. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Even if you don't mean it. You still tell the opposite sex what they want to hear, so you wont have to deal with the consequence of telling them what they don't want to hear. And this can be anything from, no you don't look fat in those jeans, to...no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sweety&lt;/span&gt;, you really are the biggest penis I've ever seen! And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;omg&lt;/span&gt;, you're so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;amazzzzzing&lt;/span&gt; in bed (that can go both ways).&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I mean, honestly, I mean maybe 65% of what I say to boys. At least I have enough balls to admit it. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I &lt;strong&gt;hate hurting their feelings&lt;/strong&gt;. They're just like little puppies when they get those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pouty&lt;/span&gt; faces, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;damnit&lt;/span&gt;. I can't say no, and I can't be honest with them. So I make shit up to save their feelings. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Men do the same thing to women. It's the god forsaken truth. Oh well. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;It's a vicious cycle that will most likely never ever stop. And I mean, while it lasts, I think I would honestly want to be told some made up crap to save my feelings. For now, at least. I know it'll probably hurt me in the long run, but that's how life is. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Full of ups and downs and bullshit. You grow up and get over it. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Or you don't grow up (like me) and &lt;strong&gt;get over it&lt;/strong&gt; still. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We both enjoy sex&lt;/strong&gt; (men and women), like to the extreme. Which is totally and 110% okay. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;And you want to know what? &lt;strong&gt;Men and women both enjoy an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ocassional&lt;/span&gt; booty call.&lt;/strong&gt; Dude, that's okay too! Who wants commitment &lt;strong&gt;100%&lt;/strong&gt; of their life? Especially when I'm fucking 21 years old?!?! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ahhhh&lt;/span&gt;, yeah, not me. That's for sure. So if I want to call up an old fling, on one of those lonely nights, for a hook-up... Then, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;damnit&lt;/span&gt; I'm going to. And want to know what else? I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. Unless it's that one hook up that wasn't so good. [Note to self: Make sure this booty call, is worth making the call in the first place. 5 minutes of pleasure for him is more like 30 sec of agony for me.]&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Oh, and if you're going to sit there and judge me, and say you don't like the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ocassional&lt;/span&gt; booty call. Then you're in denial. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Or some sick freak of nature. But hey, kudos to you! :P&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So just remember the next time you're trying to figure out your current dude, that he's probably trying to analyze you as well. And you're both probably failing miserably at it. But who cares! That's life. And you're going to learn as you go. Which is how it should be. But as stated in previous blogs...keep your guard up! And keep current on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;lipstick lullabies&lt;/span&gt; for tips and tricks to be one step ahead of the testosterone type. Because you can never be too clever. Or witty. Or charming.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;xo,&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-3989414514015540361?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/3989414514015540361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/realization.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3989414514015540361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/3989414514015540361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/realization.html' title='realization'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4474073744889075928</id><published>2009-08-17T00:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T06:43:33.898-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confusion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='situations'/><title type='text'>Your Exxx(es)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;It happens all the time. Maybe too often.

You date someone. It doesn't work out.

They're now your &lt;strong&gt;Ex.&lt;/strong&gt;

Life goes on, or at least it should...
But sometimes, something happens that may invovle the two of you getting back together.

Is this a good thing? Hmm well. That all depends on the situation I suppose.

Why did you break up?
Who did the breaking up?
What kind of feelings were there?
Was it a nasty break up, or one of those nice, 'mutual' things?

Can you ever really get back together with your ex?
or for that matter, should you?

Now, if things ended with the two of you&lt;em&gt; loathing&lt;/em&gt; eachother and wanting to kill one another, then, no. You should not get back together with this person. Ever.
Things will not work out, no matter how hard you try to work at it. You'll always have some sort of hatred for this person, which can never be a good thing.

People and feelings don't always change. In fact, they &lt;em&gt;rarely&lt;/em&gt; ever change.
They can claim to be a different person, but half of the time, they're complete liars. They're probably even lying to themselves about changing, and don't even know it.

What if your ex &lt;strong&gt;cheated&lt;/strong&gt; on you, and that was the cause of the break-up. Should you give them another chance?

&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;AH HELLOOOOOO?!?!&lt;/em&gt;
&lt;/strong&gt;
No. You. Should. Not. Trust me. From personal experience.

&lt;em&gt;Once a cheater, Always a cheater.&lt;/em&gt;
The end. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What if it was a &lt;strong&gt;mutual break-up?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;These are probably the most common kind of break-up. Well it usually invovles someone trying to convince the other person, that it's not you it's them, kind of thing. Which is bogus most of the time. But it eventually leads to some sort of mutual agreement for a break-up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And most of the time, when you get back together with your ex, this is the easiest circumstance to do it. I'm not saying that things are going to work out and be perfect. No way jose. But there's always that &lt;em&gt;slight&lt;/em&gt; possibility. &lt;strong&gt;But.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;From personal experience. I've gotten back together with previous exes. It hasn't worked out in &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt; of those cases, yet. And I doubt that it ever will. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You broke up. There was a reason you broke up. Let fate run its course, and stay broken up. Don't go crawling back to this person and look like a douche once it fails again. That's just pathetic. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And in 99% of time, you can do way better!

xoxoxxxx,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;L
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4474073744889075928?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4474073744889075928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/your-exxxes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4474073744889075928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4474073744889075928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/your-exxxes.html' title='Your Exxx(es)'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2010373216076331676</id><published>2009-08-10T00:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T01:01:41.245-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Perfect'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='girls'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Match'/><title type='text'>The Perfect Girl</title><content type='html'>I have been thinking about how guys always say that they like girls that are:
Funny, Outgoing, Smart, Creative, Unique, Cute, Good, Nice, Sensual.

But then it dawned on me...

THAT'S EVERY GIRL.

so, by using my mathematical skills, I have concluded that

EVERY GIRL IS A PERFECT GIRL.

Astonishing right?

xo K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2010373216076331676?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2010373216076331676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/perfect-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2010373216076331676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2010373216076331676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/perfect-girl.html' title='The Perfect Girl'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7006195379232508137</id><published>2009-08-05T03:09:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T06:47:29.923-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='internet dating'/><title type='text'>internet relations</title><content type='html'>This is going to be one of those brutally honest blogs.
I mean what other kind should there be...
Especially an advice-giving-blog, only brutal honesty allowed here.

It seems like everyone nowadays, is internet 'dating'.
So internet dating...

[Grr. This was the point where I was going to 'dis' internet dating, and say how uberly retarted it is. But...I realize I would only being do this, because a dude recently chose a internet chick over me.

Grr, as hard as this is to say...I'm happy for him. Honest to blog Criss, I'm 110% happy for you. And I'm not trying to be witty or sarcastic while typing this. Just being genuine.

Every single last person on this earth deserves happiness, and if you find it on the internet, more power to you! So I guess you are right, I am jealous. NOT that I wasn't 'the one' but because I have yet to find someone out there.]

Okay back to internet dating.

Have I done it?

Well, one time I signed up for okcupid. I had it for a week or two, and thought that it was kind of weird. There were a lot of random creepers and weird stalkers on there.

So.

Delete!

Did I meet anyone cool on there? hmmm, not really. This one chris guy that i still text every once in awhile is cool. But other than the ocassional, hey hows it going kind of thing, nothing.

you have to be extrememly careful when dating online. How are you supposed to know that this person youre talking to isnt a complete fake or phony. Not some 30 yr old creeper just looking to get in your pants or some killer. Hey, you never know. So if this person only has one picture of themself and its grainy and all distorted, chances are theyre a weirdo. And you should avoid them.

when getting involved in an online relationship, they tend to be long distance, so thats something you might have to deal with. And just because its a long distance kind of thing doesnt mean you can flirt and sleep around as often as you'd like. A relationship is a relationship. Whether its long distance or not. Different area codes, does not mean different hoes.

xo,
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7006195379232508137?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7006195379232508137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/internet-relations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7006195379232508137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7006195379232508137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/08/internet-relations.html' title='internet relations'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5978136210190531695</id><published>2009-07-31T13:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T00:30:41.866-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Warped Fucking Tour 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SnM27ToDwlI/AAAAAAAAAD4/_KRhKL61ZZI/s1600-h/073009_1548%5B00%5D-785769.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SnM27ToDwlI/AAAAAAAAAD4/_KRhKL61ZZI/s320/073009_1548%5B00%5D-785769.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364691973636866642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;


WARPED TOUR!!!!

Amazing music, Cool merch, Cute boys, Great friends, Awesome times = Best Day of Summer!

Did I mention Great Music?

and

Cute boys?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5978136210190531695?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5978136210190531695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/thank-you-for-using-picture-and-video_31.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5978136210190531695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5978136210190531695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/thank-you-for-using-picture-and-video_31.html' title='Warped Fucking Tour 2009'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SnM27ToDwlI/AAAAAAAAAD4/_KRhKL61ZZI/s72-c/073009_1548%5B00%5D-785769.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5574347545811736505</id><published>2009-07-29T19:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T00:21:06.586-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reality'/><title type='text'>The Ugly Truth</title><content type='html'>Ladies, we have been mistaken about men this entire time.

They can and will not change. They are unable to.
They're all pretty much made the same.

Men have no emotions, and if you think they do, you are sadly mistaken.
And don't tell me you've found your mr. right. or whatever. shut the f up.

He does not exist.

They do not care about your emotions, personality, life, problems, thoughts, suggestions, rights, questions. Nothing.

Want to know what they really care about???? Do you truly and honestly want to know?

SEX SEX SEX. Looks. How well you give a blow job, and whether or not you will. 

As much of a let down as this may be, it's utterly and 110% true. 

Want to know whats even more of a let down? Even when you think you may have found this one guy who could and might be possibly different then all those other jerks out there...he turns out to be the exact same.

Leaves you high and dry, stops texting/calling/facebooking/myspace-ing, everything...only to discover later on that's he's moved on to some other chick with blonde hair and big boobs, whose a size fucking 3. Named Kati or Hannah. Who happens to only be a 'friend.' Ohh please. 

That's why you're going back and forth on myspace and facebook saying that you love eachother or how cute they are and blah blah blah. wtf!?!?

dude. I was not born yesterday, and I'm not a moron.

so get a life.

anyway, Ladies. Men are all the same. Even if they claim to be different than every other guy. Want to know what? 

They're in denial.

Want to know what you have to do?

Ignore them. Pretend like you know nothing about their 'problem,' and do the same thing in return.

Put your guard up on high gear, and let nothing bother you. I've learned to do this. I have been used and abused far too many times, that I've learned that it's just better not to get your hopes up. So I don't anymore. 

It's sad. But it's the ugly truth. Learn to accept it, and use it to your advantage.

xoxxx,
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5574347545811736505?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5574347545811736505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/ugly-truth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5574347545811736505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5574347545811736505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/ugly-truth.html' title='The Ugly Truth'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4440115679736906873</id><published>2009-07-29T16:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T16:47:27.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I hope you read this.</title><content type='html'>I hope you know who you are.
I hope you realize how've mad me feel.
I hope you know how much I was into you.
I hope you know why I'm doing this.
I hope I can go through a day without thinking of the way you made me feel
I hope you are happy.
I hope you have the best life you can.

xoK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4440115679736906873?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4440115679736906873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-hope-you-read-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4440115679736906873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4440115679736906873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-hope-you-read-this.html' title='I hope you read this.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5573125105819404355</id><published>2009-07-25T01:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T02:27:24.924-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Giving it Up</title><content type='html'>I have had a small infatuation for the past 2 months. 

It's amazing to have someone call you princess and baby, and they aren't joking.
It's amazing to get sweet little texts throughout the day.
It's amazing that he makes me feel like a girl.

He texts you late at night, and you share secrets.

But then theres the fact that you say you will stay a virgin until you meet him. And that he won't come here. He wants you there, and it's not okay to bring your very best friend.

I don't even think he really cares about me. I don't go out, I feel so horrible when I talk to other boys. And slowly he stops texting you everyday. You look at his myspace, cuz he's just so gosh darn cute, and he really is. But...there are girls. From all over flirting with him. He tells you they are just myspace groupies. 

But, I will always like him. But I need him here. Now.
And I think He's not all he says. Why would these girls toss around the "L" word so casually if he didn't give him a reason to?

I need to delete him. He's the best boy I could ever know. 
But I am not a very trusting girl, and I don't feel like I should keep trusting him.

I need a new obsession.
Stamp Collecting? A new boy? Knitting?

xoK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5573125105819404355?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5573125105819404355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/giving-it-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5573125105819404355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5573125105819404355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/giving-it-up.html' title='Giving it Up'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7186719075515009968</id><published>2009-07-20T00:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T02:00:43.029-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confusion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='choices'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='uncertainty'/><title type='text'>Uncertainty</title><content type='html'>I've never been one to be uncertain of many things....

Ha ha.

Who am I kidding? I'm on of the most uncertain people you could ever meet. BUT. 

When I know I want something...I know &lt;strong&gt;for sure&lt;/strong&gt;. And I go for it. No holding back, no regrets...

&lt;strong&gt;BUT&lt;/strong&gt;(and there always is one)...


What happens when &lt;em&gt;you're&lt;/em&gt; not the uncertain one? What happens when you like someone and you're &lt;em&gt;totally going after this person&lt;/em&gt;, but they're not making that extra effort. Not taking that extra step?

What then? How does one resolve such an issue?
Damn. Here's where my current experience comes in.


I have learned that men are indecisive. Now, speaking as one of the most indecisive people(female) out there, I can honestly say that they may be even more unsure of certain things, than I am.

&lt;strong&gt;Scenario:&lt;/strong&gt;

This dude asks you to hang out. You do. It's awesome. The two of you have lots of fun when you hang out. You have tons in common. You make out from time to time. You cuddddddlllee lots and lots. He says he likes you. You say you like him. He comes and sees you at work lots. You text all the time. And he says the cutest things..most of the time. He makes you happy. He says you make him happy. You get hyper and stay up all night with eachother. He tells you he wants to take things slow. Cool. New. But, very cool. He hasn't tried getting in your pants yet. Wow. But very nice. Very respectable. He says you're 'seeing' each other. But do not have official dating titles yet. Okay?

That's the scenario.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?
&lt;strong&gt;CONFUSION!&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;Resolution.&lt;/strong&gt; Not an answer, but pretty close to one I think...

Where do you go from here?

Well, after you've made it obvious that you're totally into this dude, and like him. And he &lt;strong&gt;knows&lt;/strong&gt; it, then there are simply two options.

Wait around.
or
Ditch him.

While, you may be searching for additional options to weigh, there are none. 
Just trust me on this. I know from lots of experience.

&lt;strong&gt;Waiting around:&lt;/strong&gt;
Is he worth it?
Will &lt;strong&gt;it&lt;/strong&gt;(as in relationship) be worth it?
How &lt;em&gt;long&lt;/em&gt; is he going to make you wait?
Do you think you have someone better out there for you?
Is he just stringing you along?

How long should you 'wait' or take things slow for?
While I believe that in taking things slow, the relationship will develop on it's own, I also believe that, some guys like to feed you bullshit. They want to tell you what you want to hear, so you'll stay of off their back. But in most cases this only happens when you're sleeping with this person. SO...if you're not having sexual relations with this person, then they probably have actual feelings for you. And probably really do want to take things slow. Which is awesome.

So you should wait, until you feel it's appropriate. I mean, you shouldn't be 'seeing someone' for months on end, and nothing develop from that. Because then they're just stringing you along, and are probably 'seeing' several other chics at the same time.

Weigh your options. Think wisely. 


&lt;strong&gt;Ditch him:&lt;/strong&gt;
Call it quits.
Tell him that, if he's not sure of what he has right in front of him (which is obviously amazing!), then he'll never be sure of anything in his life.
Don't be friends.
The end.


So as for me? Hmmmm. For now, I'll be a little more patient than normal. But I'm not going to wait forever.

xoxo,
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7186719075515009968?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7186719075515009968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/uncertainty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7186719075515009968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7186719075515009968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/uncertainty.html' title='Uncertainty'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-1457576249188287458</id><published>2009-07-15T18:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T19:08:38.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Right Jeff.</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time...

I came home from a night out (it was a morning after), I showered checked my facebook, then went on to that okcupid. I found this cute boy, and we talked on the IM on there, and then he gave me his phone number and we texted. All the time. And he says all the most amazing things.

like...

"I've never fallen asleep with anyone, but I think it would be amazing to wake up next to you and be reminded by your face how beautiful the world truly can be."

"The way you make me tingle every time I wake up and remember I have someone like you to think about and one day hold for hours on end, because when you say certain things it make me reflexively kiss the screen then stop and stare in awe at how much you really make me happy, and because I know in that way that you're unlocking things I've never felt before that you're something intensely and there's no chance someone else can be the entire compliment to me that you are. You are my princess and soon the world will be our kingdom, playground, and utopia. &lt;3"

Yeah! He has a way with words that no one else does. I love talking to him on the phone, even though we've only done it twice. But it was so perfect, the second time because I told him that I just wanted men to call me beautiful. and he came back with, I just want to call you mine. I replied, call me and you can call me whatever you like. And 2 seconds later the phone was ringing.

On Sunday I was ready to let him go, I haven't heard from him in a few days, and he hadn't been seeming that into me. But I was ok with it. I asked him, and he said he is very much into me.

and this morning I woke up to, "I think about you a lot. I really do miss you. I'm sorry that I've been distant or weird. You're my princess, please don't think that will change."

aww, so cute everyone threw up a little.

At least he knows, that I am the motherfucking princess!

xoK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-1457576249188287458?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/1457576249188287458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/right-jeff.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/1457576249188287458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/1457576249188287458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/right-jeff.html' title='The Right Jeff.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8952062009477472736</id><published>2009-07-13T02:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T02:01:00.144-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='competition'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='girls'/><title type='text'>Why we're better</title><content type='html'>Ever feel like you're not good enough?
Like you don't belong?
Like you don't deserve something in life that you have?
Are you ever unsure about compliments that you may recieve but don't feel like you should accept?
Ever feel like that fake ass beauty is wayyy better than what you are?

I think we all feel this way every once in awhile in life.

But I'm here to tell you something.

You're sadly wrong.

You ARE good enough for every amazing guy out there. And you ARE wayyyyyyyyy hotter than that fake ass bitch who tries to steal every amazing guy.

Would you like to know how i know this?

Because we're real ladies. Not fake ones who fake bake every day and have multiple surgeries to try and fix their imperfections. The imperfections that make each individual an individual.

I'm so sick of Hollywood trying to tell us what we're supposed to look like, and how big we're supposed to be, and what we should wear, and what we shouldn't do.

Ah seriously?

I do not think so. Every woman should love themselves, and should accept every compliment that you get. Life is too short to worry about comparing yourself to some size 00 bitch with fake hair, fake teeth, fake tan, fake boobs, and to top it off a fake personality.

And if a guy chooses that kind of girl over the kind of girl you are trying to be true to, then he can have her. They were meant to be. 

I will never sacrifice my coolness to try and be someone I'm not.

And neither should you!

xoxo, 
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8952062009477472736?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8952062009477472736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-were-better.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8952062009477472736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8952062009477472736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-were-better.html' title='Why we&apos;re better'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4896295465693871129</id><published>2009-07-12T11:51:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T12:03:51.607-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't be a bitch. I get worked up when people get mad at me, and it's so hard for me to confront people about themselves.

Today, I had that expirence. I hate it. I am a happy, fun, go lucky person. I can't be a bitch. and I hate it.

I want to tell people so many things, but I just can't.

When customers come in and get mad, I hate it. I take out all my frustration on the mess in back, and go organize everything. I just don't have the trait to get mean I guess. 

Oh well, that's what Lacey is for :D

xoK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4896295465693871129?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4896295465693871129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-cant-be-bitch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4896295465693871129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4896295465693871129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-cant-be-bitch.html' title=''/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-9207428379419766994</id><published>2009-07-12T00:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T00:39:36.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kendall's Dream Man::Edition 2</title><content type='html'>I like Mexican Cops. Alot.

xoK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-9207428379419766994?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/9207428379419766994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/kendalls-dream-manedition-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/9207428379419766994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/9207428379419766994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/kendalls-dream-manedition-2.html' title='Kendall&apos;s Dream Man::Edition 2'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5816161656545515963</id><published>2009-07-08T20:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T02:01:19.799-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boysboysboys'/><title type='text'>boysboysboys</title><content type='html'>Lady Gaga says it best 

boys boys boys, we love them!

Do I love them? Or do I love attention from them?

I haven't met one that I love. I try to give my all to one in a few, but when I do, I just get frustrated and want one here. Now.

I like going out. But I hate the type of boys I meet.
I hate my boy situation right now. So much.
I hate that the boy I want, lives 289 miles away. And doesn't seem to have an interest in coming here. And doesn't want me to bring my life partner along. (hmm, because he wants to kill me?)

My friend and her bf want to hook me up with his, bro...but he doesn't talk. And the last guy I went on a date with that didn't talk, it didn't go well. It kinda makes me very insecure.

I love my life right now, I just want a boy to have some fun with. Nothing serious, because I'm not a serious kind of girl!

xoK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5816161656545515963?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5816161656545515963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/boysboysboys.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5816161656545515963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5816161656545515963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/boysboysboys.html' title='boysboysboys'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5511229540660892323</id><published>2009-07-07T06:05:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T02:50:07.459-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving forward'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Happiness</title><content type='html'>I know you'll read this. And you may be upset that I didn't bring this to you first.
And I'm okay with that. 

Finally I'm okay with that. I've been tip-toeing around your emotions, holding things back, because I didn't want to do anything to upset you, in fear that that may be the last time I would ever talk to you. But I can't live life like that. I need you to know.

You say you care, but you have things going on in your life right now. Okay. 
I get it.

[I'm blonde, not mentally challenged].

You say you mean/meant everything you say/said. And you're not sure why I find it so hard to believe. 
Now I know why I find it unbelievable.

Soulmate: Noun; Verb; The first time you glimpse at each other you are immediately drawn to each other, extremely different than ever recognizing anyone you have ever met before. You already know them, feel who they are. Then you speak and realize this is the most amazing person you have ever met and you feel unnaturally comfortable with them. Instead of wanting to know the "basics" about them it is like meeting an old friend you haven't seen in ages and it is time to catch up. This is the person you have been searching for. In that moment the longing stops but you don't realize until you are forced to be apart. This person completes you on a spiritual level and anything could happen, good or bad, one look in their eyes brings a smile to your face and peace to your heart. Suddenly everything you have worked for in your life becomes clear and the path you were unsure of following is now being lit for the both of you to follow. All your fears vanish and you no longer question your purpose in life because together the purpose evolves on its own. You find their insecurities as parts of their soul you need to heal. Mutual understanding and respect. Days filled with laughter. Even if you are sitting next to each other, touching each other, it still feels like they are miles away because that person could never be close enough yet at the same time it feels like you are melting together and your spirits are dancing.

I know it's lengthy. But this is what a soulmate (I doubt I could even define it better myself, in my own words) is. This is what I experienced...

This is not how you feel. And now I realize this. 

Why am I waiting for you, when you can't or simply won't do the same for me.
&lt;strong&gt;This&lt;/strong&gt; makes me seem mentally challenged. This proves how 'blonde' I can be.

I want to remain your friend. But now I know we may never possibly be more than that.

And I can &lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt; say I'm okay with that. I'm okay to be really good friends with you...We had a good run while it lasted, right? We made eachother happy when we could. 

But life happens, and people change. [Change in short amounts of time apparently].

I believe you may have found true happiness somewhere else, and now I'm going to try and do the same. 

xo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5511229540660892323?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5511229540660892323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/happiness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5511229540660892323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5511229540660892323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/happiness.html' title='Happiness'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-6943369039467406293</id><published>2009-07-07T05:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T06:15:53.238-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Defo Bars</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SlMsofQSjxI/AAAAAAAAADw/LWD3FDWPcu8/s1600-h/070309_0000%5B00%5D-797348.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SlMsofQSjxI/AAAAAAAAADw/LWD3FDWPcu8/s320/070309_0000%5B00%5D-797348.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355673455969865490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;


Ha ha. Kendall's tatas mixed with one too many mixed drinks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-6943369039467406293?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/6943369039467406293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/thank-you-for-using-picture-and-video.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6943369039467406293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6943369039467406293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/thank-you-for-using-picture-and-video.html' title='Defo Bars'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/SlMsofQSjxI/AAAAAAAAADw/LWD3FDWPcu8/s72-c/070309_0000%5B00%5D-797348.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4297284299345538302</id><published>2009-07-07T01:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T01:44:42.895-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='players'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lust'/><title type='text'>Players</title><content type='html'>We all know what a player is. And no, I'm not talking about someone who plays in some kind of sporting event. I'm talking about those who use and abuse the hearts of those in the game of love and life. The kind of player, that I wanna punch in the face.

We've all came across them in our lives. And if you haven't yet, you just wait.

Players are (as defined by the Urban Dictionary): N. Plural form of the word player. See also playa. 
1. A group of people, usually guys, who "play" or manipulate others to ultimately get what they want, like sex or money, by using charm, game, and a often, a lot of lies. Usually, they act cool, cocky and think they're "all that" -- God's gift to the earth. However, underneath the game of all players, you will find an insecure person who depends on his player image to build his ego and make himself and others think he's the shit. Players need to feel worshipped. Male players usually call their women some term that reduces them to sex objects, like baby doll.

This truly is an excellent definition. I feel as if I have nothing else to write about because this hits it on the head. 

So, what do you do when you encounter a player in your life?
Well that's simple.

Run.

Don't stick around to see what happens with this jerkface. Players go hand in hand with cheaters. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Once a player, always a player.

I could and should tell you a story about this guy named Tyler, but that's a whole other blog, for a whole other day. A quick summary though =] ...he ended up sending me a text that was meant for someone else (while he was in my car with me) that said, and I quote, "Baby, I can't wait to fuck that tight little ass of yours." End quote. Ha. Needless to say, he was shocked. And I wasn't. Because...
He's both of them, and he'll never change. So i told him to delete my number from his phone and leave me alone. 

Anyway...

How do you know if your dude is a player or not?
Oh, you'll know trust me.

Most of the things he does, are for himself. He's very selfish and conceded.
He does things when they're convenient for him.
Maybe he just got out of a relationship, and youre just a rebound.
Sex is all he's about. Goes with the last blog about lust.
He never shows true emotions, or shows them too often to try and make you beleive he means them, but really doesn't.
They hardly make sense. And try WAY too hard.
They try to get in your pants within the first few times of hanging out. If they're a hardcore player, they'll try and get in your pants the first time you hang out.

So...

Watch out. Players are sneaky. But not smart. They're full of themselves and often leave out important details that eventually get them caught in the long run. And don't you worry, karma is a bitch. And will catch up to every player eventually.

xoxo, 
L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4297284299345538302?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4297284299345538302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/players.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4297284299345538302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4297284299345538302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/players.html' title='Players'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-4206976553802319077</id><published>2009-07-06T06:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T01:45:03.970-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lust'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='true love'/><title type='text'>true love vs true lust</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;don't pretend to know everything. Because I know that I don't know it all. I'm young and still learning. BUT I do know enough. As of now that is. I feel I have learned enough to know the difference between love and what we like to call lust, for I have experienced both. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Do I believe that it's possible to find 'true love'? Yeah, probably&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I also believe it's possible to find 'true lust'.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I also believe that people get the two confused way too often. I can honestly say that I thought I have found love before, but turns out, it was just lust. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I guess I should start out by defining the two; &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt; (noun): The most spectacular,indescribable, deep euphoric feeling for someone. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;lust&lt;/strong&gt; (noun): Often confused with love, it is purely&lt;em&gt; physical&lt;/em&gt; attraction and has no lasting effect.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So, now that we know the definition between the two, how can we determine the difference in our relationships? Well...here's where I put my two cents in (which comes from experience):&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love
&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;well as stated, it's indescribable, but i'm going to do my best. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;you miss this person [you love], when they're away. you don't necessarily miss their 'sex', but you miss everything about them. their smell, their voice, their laugh, their touch, etc, ect. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;they're, quite possibly, on your mind 89% of the entire day. and probably take up most of your dreams. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;you often check your phone to see if they've called/text you. when i say often, i mean every couple mins.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;whenever you're near them, you feel like anxious, nervous, happy, care free, and just..well, amazing. like they're your healthy drug.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;kissing this person [you love] sends chills down your spine, and makes you light headed. it's like a million fireworks going off all at once.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;no matter how often you talk to this specific person, it just isn't enough. and at the same time, you're not getting sick and tired of each other. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;you may see cute girls/boys but don't really acknowledge them. they don't really matter to you because you'll have all that you need in this person [that you love].&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;lust &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;
&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;you text/call this person (along with a few others) when you're feeling a little randy, and are looking for a hook-up. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;your conversations have no depth, and are often short or one word answers.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;it's a one sided relationship. meaning one person is putting forth the effort, while the other is not.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;you met in a bar. you never meet your true love in a bar.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;you can be making out or having sex with this person, but be thinking about someone/something completely different. sex just isn't exciting to you with this person[you're in lust with]. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Or, if the sex is exciting, that's the only connection you may have with this person. &lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;lust is something that usually doesn't turn into love, because most of the time, the feelings are &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; mutual between the two people. I would never expect something serious to come from this, so [&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;do not]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; get your hopes up.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I could go on and on, and list numerous things in each category, but until you experience both, you'll never truly know the difference. Love and lust both have their ups and downs. I suppose it just depends where you're at in your life and what you're looking for. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;
I'm all for&lt;strong&gt; love&lt;/strong&gt; though. &lt;em&gt;The true blue kind. &lt;/em&gt;the kind that makes you go crazy. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;keepin' it real,
the infamous L

&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-4206976553802319077?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/4206976553802319077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/true-love-vs-true-lust.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4206976553802319077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/4206976553802319077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/true-love-vs-true-lust.html' title='true love vs true lust'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5446562792106140319</id><published>2009-07-02T20:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T00:41:02.999-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Sk1gdiMa-QI/AAAAAAAAADo/9XYodCaa8v0/s1600-h/070209_2033%5B00%5D-749949.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354041592524765442" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Sk1gdiMa-QI/AAAAAAAAADo/9XYodCaa8v0/s320/070209_2033%5B00%5D-749949.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Sometimes we are corner hookers. &lt;p&gt;And yes, those are leopard print flats.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5446562792106140319?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5446562792106140319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/sometimes-we-are-corner-hookers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5446562792106140319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5446562792106140319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/07/sometimes-we-are-corner-hookers.html' title=''/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Sk1gdiMa-QI/AAAAAAAAADo/9XYodCaa8v0/s72-c/070209_2033%5B00%5D-749949.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2383754949596034719</id><published>2009-06-27T01:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T04:19:15.054-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confusion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lust'/><title type='text'>Maybe.</title><content type='html'>Is it so wrong to dig more than one guy at the same time?
I mean it's not like I am fucking them.

I feel bad only because
the edgy one, told me that not only did I make him believe that he was my favorite boy, but my only. ok, so wtf. I must be a good actress then.

and now I feel like I am leading the comfortable one on. so I told the comfortable one that I can't do it anymore. he had me up on this stool and made me seem like the most amazing girl on the planet.

I'm not. I feel like with the comfortable one, things would get too...comfortable. With the edgy one, i think it would change a lot. I think the comfortable one would want to do the normal get married thing. And I want to get married but not for a long time. I want it with someone that will keep me on my toes.

But since I fucked it up, I guess that's not going to happen. But the edgy one has a zillion myspace girlfriends who tell him how much the love him. Ya know what he told me? that those are groupies. wtf. he has groupies. but how I am supposed to know he doesn't say...I wrote a poem about you, to them too? I don't know. He goes on dates all the time. whats up with that.

The edgy one also wouldn't call me, he said he was shy on the phone. But he didn't have a problem sending me a picture of his penis...

I can't wait to go to bed an cry a little. becuase I seem to have just lost the best thing that would never happen to me.

ugh.

xO K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2383754949596034719?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2383754949596034719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/maybe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2383754949596034719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2383754949596034719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/maybe.html' title='Maybe.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8801502499274120867</id><published>2009-06-26T14:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T14:22:45.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It&amp;#39;s easier to hurt boys than get hurt by the boys you really like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8801502499274120867?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8801502499274120867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/it-easier-to-hurt-boys-than-get-hurt-by.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8801502499274120867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8801502499274120867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/it-easier-to-hurt-boys-than-get-hurt-by.html' title=''/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8791009941641027481</id><published>2009-06-26T12:21:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T04:18:42.222-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confusion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='problems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><title type='text'>You Say It Best....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;I think most girls have a problem with what boys tell them. And it's not like they are telling you that you have a gross body and you make them want to throw up.

It's the good stuff.

It's the stuff that's like...

I can't wait to wake up in the morning to see you.
You are so beautiful.
You are the complete compliment to me.
I bet you look good, but then again you always do.
I want to kiss you and hold you tight.
You're amazing inspiration.
You're gorgeous.
You're my soulmate.
Making you smile, means the world to me.

From a young age, girls are brought up to beleive that when boys say things like this, it's just to get into our pants. But what if they really mean it? What if they don't? I mean, the nicest compliments I get are from my friends.

Why is it so hard to imagine that someone would say this to a girl and mean it?

Probably because things like this only happen in chick flicks. Not to normal girls like me.
I can hope all I want, but when it's really happening, it doesn't seem real.

xo K&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8791009941641027481?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8791009941641027481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-say-it-best.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8791009941641027481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8791009941641027481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-say-it-best.html' title='You Say It Best....'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8211241400898298440</id><published>2009-06-17T04:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T04:38:20.835-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Sji5AtdUauI/AAAAAAAAADY/hSFtREbGD3k/s1600-h/061109_1845%5B01%5D-762764.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348227979356170978" style="WIDTH: 336px; HEIGHT: 240px" height="240" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Sji5AtdUauI/AAAAAAAAADY/hSFtREbGD3k/s320/061109_1845%5B01%5D-762764.jpg" width="482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;.Sometimes we're dorks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo" align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;.The end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8211241400898298440?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8211241400898298440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8211241400898298440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8211241400898298440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S9_kulVmw8k/Sji5AtdUauI/AAAAAAAAADY/hSFtREbGD3k/s72-c/061109_1845%5B01%5D-762764.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-5039467575147948383</id><published>2009-06-17T03:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T04:14:53.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Right: Lacey Version 2.0</title><content type='html'>Ladies. Are we looking for Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now?
Me? I haven't quite figured that out yet, but if I had to describe a Mr. Right, here's how he'd be:

I need a guy with motivation. Someone who isn't going to sit around on his ass all day, while I'm off working and making money. He needs to have some sort of ambition in his life. Now I'm not saying that he has to be making 50k a year. No no. But a job at least would be cool.

I need a dude who can make smile uncontrollably. Like about 80% of the time. I don't want a dude who is a 'debbie downer' and mopes around. Some emo little bitch. No, thanks. I need someone with a sarcastic witty sense of humor that matches my own. So we can in turn, have tons and tons of fun together!

 I need a genuine guy. Someone who can be themselves around me and my friends. I'm so sick of guys trying to be someone or something that they're not, just to impress a girl. Ah hello! I do not find being fake, attractive whatsoever! So they have to be confident with who they are, and not be afraid to express it..

Someone who is supportive of my decisions. It's cool if they don't agree with all of them, but they better have good reasons why they don't.
I want someone that I can lie awake with at night for hours and hours and just talk about nothing at all. Or make out for hours. That'd be okay too.
I need someone who loves to cuddle as much as I do!
They need to have some sort of sense of style. But that goes along with the confidence and not being fake thing.
They have to share a love of music like I do. Similar taste in music would be a plus, but not a necessity.
They have to mean what they say, when they say it. Be true with their feelings.

When you're looking for Mr. Right,  you'll know when you find him. He's the kind of person who gives you butterflies each and every single time you see/talk to him. Even if you just seen him the day before, he'll give you butterflies all over again. He might even make you start to sweat and blush. Ahhhh. Those butterflies are my favorite part of falling in love.
 Mr. Right will know the right things to say, and MEAN them. He won't just say them to say them. He'll have sincerity in his voice. Mr. Right will be able to make anything better just by being around. He'll wash away all doubt and just make you...happy. He'll be the guy worth waiting for. He'll be the dude you could give your all to. Your entire being.

love,
l&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-5039467575147948383?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/5039467575147948383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/mr-right-lacey-version-20.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5039467575147948383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/5039467575147948383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/mr-right-lacey-version-20.html' title='Mr. Right: Lacey Version 2.0'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8973150522137199971</id><published>2009-06-15T13:50:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T13:50:50.499-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Right::Kendall Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I need to find a boy like me. One who might want to fool around on a first date. One who will want to make all my fantasies come true.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Some things that is important to me when looking for a potential life mating partner is&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Funny! I love to laugh so much! And if someone can make me laugh, then they might have well stolen my heart.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Smarts! I am a college graduate, I can do so much better than some loser who never finished high school or attempted college!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I find great appeal in men that can rock their style, and yet look fashionable. I mean, who really wants a guy that wears the same stupid button up dress shirt with faded jeans as every other guy at the bar?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have a soft spot for men in square glasses. I think that is just so HOT! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I require a man to have a job. I have one, and I am not going to support some guy!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I grew up on a farm, and boys that live on a farm are amazing. They are hardworking, and understand the life I enjoy. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Recently I have fallen for the kind of boy that reads and knows how to use a computer and can spell and can wear square glasses. Maybe it’s just a phase, but I am thinking it’s going to stick since I am an artistic type girl who likes to do those type of things.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Someone that will let me be me, and he won’t care about all my little flaws. Someone that will take me places. Someone that will make me want to be a better person. Someone that is funny and can make me smile and laugh.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Someone like….you?
&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;xo K
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8973150522137199971?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8973150522137199971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/mr-rightkendall-edition_15.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8973150522137199971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8973150522137199971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/mr-rightkendall-edition_15.html' title='Mr. Right::Kendall Edition'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-658113747016265417</id><published>2009-06-15T00:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T06:57:04.023-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lust'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>The other girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;What do you do when you find yourself in the predicament of being the 'other girl'&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;The 'other girl' meaning that the dude you're hooking up with has a gf, and you're the one on the side.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Well if you know that you're the other girl from the get-go, then that's a different story. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;I was the other girl once, and it made me feel like shit. I mean I know that the guy must not have really liked his current girl if he was willing to cheat on her with me...but still. I felt like poop. I absolutely hate cheaters, and by being the other girl, I was aiding to the cheating.&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Pretty much making me a cheater too.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Not cool ladies. &lt;strong&gt;Not cool&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;You might say to yourself "Well that's his problem not mine."&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;And you are soooo right. It is his problem, but at the same time, you are sooo wrong. I'm just going to be honest with you ladies...&lt;/span&gt;

&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This guy has no intention of ever dating you!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;What he's doing is wrong. He has the best of both worlds...has a girl who likes him in a commitment and a girl on the side who he has no attachments to. Oh, and I doubt that you're the only 'other girl' at the moment.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Put yourself in his girlfriends shoes...how would you feel if you were in her situation?&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Exactly.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;You need to get yourself out of that situation ASAP, and run far away from this player douche bag. Ugh. Guys feel some sort of need to get as many girls as possible. I have yet to find out why. But I'm pretty sure they like to feel good about themselves and whatnot...and half the time are compensating for something they don't have or something they're not getting somewhere else.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;So how do you get out of this situation?&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Simple.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Stop talking to him, OR tell him "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE YOU DOUCHE!"&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;See. Simple.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;And if you feel like getting even (which I would) I would tell his current girlfriend EVERYTHING. Let's see how much more ass he'll be getting after that. huh. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Poor guy.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;yours always, &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-658113747016265417?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/658113747016265417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/other-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/658113747016265417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/658113747016265417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/other-girl.html' title='The other girl'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-8398221837957557625</id><published>2009-06-02T23:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T03:08:22.790-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Friendships</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;So. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;This blog mostly contains information about boys. And I thought that it was time to write something about friendships. Either with boys or girls. There's a lot that goes on in a girl's life with friendships, and they make you who you really are...along with relationships. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Want to know how you can tell that a friend is a 'true friend'? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;You don't talk shit about them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Wanna know why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;'Cause they're your true friend. And you dont' deal with stupid meaningless drama poop with them. They don't hurt or piss you off enough to make you talk shit about them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;And a friend like that will be there til the end chic!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;I can honestly say that I have had friends, who I thought were true blue til the end, type of chics...but turned out to be no more than back-stabbing-turn-my-back-on-you-hookers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Keep in mind who your true friends are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-8398221837957557625?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/8398221837957557625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/friendships.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8398221837957557625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/8398221837957557625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/06/friendships.html' title='Friendships'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-1862569750678214974</id><published>2009-05-26T00:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T07:01:39.297-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='break ups'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Post Break-ups</title><content type='html'>Break ups are so hard to deal with. If you don't have a plan that is. And trust me, I've been through PLENTY of break ups, that I might possibly have a little advice that I could share with you...



Now, I'm not an expert or anything, but break ups can go one of two ways: You're doing the breaking up with, or he's breaking up with you. I mean you can always do the mutual thing too, but honestly someone thought of it first, so it falls back into one of the two.



&lt;strong&gt;-Healthy ways to deal-&lt;/strong&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Move on.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hang out with your friends. Aka bad ass bitches.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Take up a hobby to distract you from your ex lover.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get a friend with benefits. But DONT get attached to him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Work out. It's a proven fact that working out release endorphines which make you feel happy. And hey, you can get a smokin body to make ur ex jealous of. Ha ha. Not healthy. But you'll feel healthy anyway.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go to the club. Dance ur hiney off! BUT DO NOT EXPECT TO MEET MR RIGHT THERE. Mr right now hangs out there.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Listen to up beat music. Cash Cash, Lady GaGa, Cobra Starship, Forever The Sickest Kids.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do things that make YOU happy. Things that you normally wouldn't have done when you were with someone else.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Change up your wardrobe. Try something new. Do a little shopping.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do it Yourself.. A lot. If youre anything like me, you'll need to do something to compensate. Go to a porn shop and purchase a nice friend. Anywhere from 20.00-60.00 dollars.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ignore calls/texts from your ex. You are SOOOO over him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Not so Healthy ways to deal-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Crying non stop for days.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Calling his phone private to hear his voice. Come on stalker.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Checking his facebook. A lot. Noticing how nothing has changed for the past 4 hours. Uck.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Driving past his house at 4am to make sure he's 'ok' actually to make sure no chicks are at his crib.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Asking his friends about him constantly. Good way to become a stalker and get a restraing order against you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Putting your Coldplay CD on repeat and crying yourself to sleep at night. Or day. Or afternoon.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Calling/texting him fifteen times in thirty minutes. Let alone in a day. Not cool.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Overeating, or undereating.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Becoming an alcoholic. Now binge drinking is one thing. But if youre coming home to crack open a cold one, every night...you need to stop. OR attend AA meetings sista.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now if youre the one who did the breaking up with, then it's a different story. You should already be over this dude. You're the one who broke up with him. And confusion is not a good basis for any relationship. So just get over it and move on.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Honestly girls, I can guarantee that this guy is already over you and probably has moved on to his next victim. So why waste your time dwelling on the past? There are BILLIONS of people in the world. You'll find youre one sometime somewhere someday. Be patient. Be confident.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;xoxo L&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-1862569750678214974?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/1862569750678214974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/post-break-ups.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/1862569750678214974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/1862569750678214974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/post-break-ups.html' title='Post Break-ups'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-6033712694913640912</id><published>2009-05-22T17:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T18:24:38.427-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dirty talk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='picture messages'/><title type='text'>and boy it's like we sexting.</title><content type='html'>It's a total hot topic on the news these day, sexting. I think that is the gayest name ever for it, I prefer to call it naughty texting or dirty texting. I guess I like dirty more, becuase I have been told that I am a dirty girl. But...whatev. I like to dirty text becuase it make me feel naughty, I can tell a good dirty story, and you can say stuff in a text that you just can't in person [unless you are drunk]

There are three different kinds of dirty texting:
a] intimate details about one's sex life
b] dirty talking back and forth
c] exchange of naughty pictures


I will start off with intimate details of one's sex life.

I have no sex life, so boys often want to know how I do it myself and how often and what I use and on and on. This is ok, but not that fun...for you. Sometimes it's fun just to know the craziest places people have done it. One guy told me a Gap dressing room. (cuz gap clothes so turn me on too.) Fantasies are ok to talk about too. everyone has them, maybe he has the same ones you do. then you could move from sexting to sexing. Way more fun I hear.

Next we have dirty texting back and forth. It's just like dirty talk pretty much. There are lots of hot things you can say to start off.
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A good one is, &lt;strong&gt;I want you so bad. &lt;/strong&gt;It's straight to the point, and generally gets a lot of attention. It can be followed by what you want to do with him. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's good to get creative. Who wants the normal "and then insert your penis into my vagina"?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ask him what he likes, and maybe say that you wish you could be doing that right now.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't ever get to freaky with a dude. If he says he wants to "bang you so hard you bleed", suggest that he went a little to far, and if he into that, hookers might be game. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you ever feel uncomfortable, just let them know and I would probally not text him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Finally, a dirty picture is always a nice little suprise.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The key to a sexy picture is "that look in your eyes that says, I need a friend." True! be all over that! Don't try to be sexy. When you do, you look retarted. Trust me, I know.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A half smile works good for a sexy picture. Better yet, &lt;em&gt;smile with your eyes&lt;/em&gt;!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You don't have to be naked to be sexy, less clothing is always a plus, but if you don't feel comfortable in nothing don't do it! Strip to your bra or a cami, toss on a long necklace anc click away!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boob pics are okay, I mean I have amazing boobs, and I don't really mind sharing them with the world, but not everyone has too. And I always like my face to be in it too, so then it's a sexy picture, not a weird one.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DON'T EVER SEND A PICTURE OF YOUR COOTER! &lt;/strong&gt;It's not like a picture would turn out good anyway! I mean, your arms are only so long and lighting down there is bad! It won't turn out looking like the airbrushed ones in Playboy! And honestly, some things, are better kept for the live show. ;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dirty texting should be fun. If someone is making it a chore tell them to go watch a porno. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Have fun ;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;x0-K&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-6033712694913640912?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/6033712694913640912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-boy-its-like-we-sexting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6033712694913640912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/6033712694913640912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-boy-its-like-we-sexting.html' title='and boy it&apos;s like we sexting.'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-2836336864362469205</id><published>2009-05-18T01:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T04:39:15.000-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='double standards'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boy Survey'/><title type='text'>What he REALLY means....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Now keep in mind that these are just suggestions, and if you're in a relationship that you feel does not apply to these suggestions...well then good for you. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...When he texts you between the hours of midnight and 6am (this being the only time he texts you): Let's hook up and make waffles. I don't want anything too serious, and don't want you to stay over and cuddle after. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...'You R hot!': I really like the way your body looks and want to see it naked. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...'Youre Beautiful': I think I could see myself with you.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...Wanna come over: Let's ssseeex.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...I had a great time with you tonight, we should go out again sometime soon: He's really into you, but may try to take things too fast, so beware.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...You come here often? : 'Cause I do, and don't want you to spoil my game, by hooking up with you, and potentially seeing you here again. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...Hey Babe/Doll/Sexy: I really don't have that much respect for you, and really just kinda wanna talk a little maybe sexual to you. Maybe.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...When they use one letter/word texts...chances are they're trying to get rid of you. The 'K' text clearly points that out. By not leaving anything left to converse about, they're really just trying to get rid of you.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...When you're talking to a guy about an important subject and you're trying to look him into the eyes, and he gives you an answer and looks away...chances are he's lying to you. I believe this one to 100% true, it hasn't failed me yet. They feel ashamed for lying, and therefore cannot look you in the eyes, so they look away.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...'Dude': You've officially entered the buddy stage. Good luck getting out of that one. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...You're such a good friend: And that's ALL you'll ever be to him. No getting out of that one. &lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...Any kind of open ended question shows that this guy is potentially interested, and wants to get to know more about you. Which is a good thing.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;...When he hugs you and pats you on the back: Good 'ol buddy.&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;I will add more later. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-2836336864362469205?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/2836336864362469205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-he-really-means.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2836336864362469205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/2836336864362469205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-he-really-means.html' title='What he REALLY means....'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-1406641973382515255</id><published>2009-05-10T20:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T20:58:06.327-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sometimes all it takes is one...</title><content type='html'>Last night, we went out for miss katie's 21st. It was so amazing.

We started out at showboat, then went to Marley's (duh).

While at Marley's we were dancing, (duh) and we saw this dude dancing by himself, so I said,

I'm gonna go dance with him. And then he bought us drinks and we dirty danced (like, I-need-new-panties-now kind of dirty danced) then we were kissing and making out.

And he just made me feel good. Like, he told me that I have nothing to be insecure about.

And It just has made my day (and probably the rest of the week). So I totally think that if all you need is a boy to pay attention to you to feel good, it's worth it. Because, I fell good and have that morning after glow. Or that could be because he had a beard and now my skin is like, amazingly exfoliated.


x0 K

ps-We also saw a woman dancing on the palm tree, in a short skirt, and nylons, and no panties. And she was older than my mom. yucky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-1406641973382515255?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/1406641973382515255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/sometimes-all-it-takes-is-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/1406641973382515255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/1406641973382515255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/sometimes-all-it-takes-is-one.html' title='sometimes all it takes is one...'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22759811197272622.post-7796979618272170497</id><published>2009-05-03T22:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T01:52:27.350-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stans'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flirtexting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hook ups'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>chances</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Why is it that when boys are given a chance with a girl they tend to screw it up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Let me explain:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;This has happened to me quite a few times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;I'm seeing this guy. I like him. He shows interest in me. It doesn't work out for some reason, or he just stops talking to me, and stops showing signs of interest. Okay. I get over it...eventually. Mend my heart, once again. Move on with my somewhat cool life. A few months go by. Dude texts/calls me. Says he screwed up, and he still likes me, or what I really love is when they say they never stopped liking me. Expects things to go back to how they were. As if nothing happened. Expects me to drop everything I have going on in my life to be with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Ugh. You're stupid...so here's the stitch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Two years ago, maybe a little less longer than that..I work with this guy, for all intensive purposes, we'll call him Stan. Stan and I start seeing eachother. Kind of a fling, kind of not. I totally had the hots for Stan, he was really laid back and chill. But we didn't really tell too many people of what we had going on. No biggie. So me being the emotional sap that I am, tell Stan that I think we should be more than waffle making buddies. He bails.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;A few months go by, and we start hooking up again. Then he gets a girl. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;I see him at work. He texts me, basically saying he wanted to get with me again. Goes on bitching about his bitch. Whatever. At that moment in my life, I wasn't seeing anyone, but wasn't too interested in listening to his sap story either. But I flirtexted back anyway. And then Stan started saying that his bitch never listened to him, and he needed someone to talk to. I listened. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Next day, Stan says his girl found our texts and he couldn't talk to me anymore. That I was to delete his number, and he was going to delete mine. I said how awesome it was that he was letting some chick run his life. Have fun with that. Okay. So I would still see Stan at work. Awkward. Oh btw, I didn't delete his number. I don't let people run my life. I run it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;So today I get a random text: Hey stranger, what's up? -Stan. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;I reply: Whoa why are you texting me? I never thought I would hear from you again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;From there he goes on confessing his undying love to me. Blah blah. How I was all he could think of while he was with this chick, and it whatever whatever insert crap here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Um. Okay. What do you want me to do. Insert you back into my somewhat cool life now? Um. You're cute Stan. But you played me like a fiddle once. And ripped my heart out and put it in a blender. Once is probably enough. Why didn't you dump her a year ago for me then Stan. Huh? If I was all you could think of, wouldn't that have been a good time? Cause it was fun, right? Playing house and living the american dream that society makes up for us. No thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Moral: IF YOU GIVE A DUDE A CHANCE, AND HE MESSES IT UP ROYALLY, DO NOT GIVE HIM ANOTHER. UNLESS YOU ENJOY HAVING UR HEART PUT IN THE BLENDER. If you keep giving him chances, he's just going to keep taking and taking, until you have nothing left that he can take. There are so many other dudes in the world. And just cause one shows you some slight interest does NOT mean you need to take him up on his offer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;For all those Stans in the world, get a fucking life, or ruin someone else's, and stay out of mine. K thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;xoxo, L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22759811197272622-7796979618272170497?l=lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/feeds/7796979618272170497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/chances.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7796979618272170497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22759811197272622/posts/default/7796979618272170497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lipstick--lullabies.blogspot.com/2009/05/chances.html' title='chances'/><author><name>....</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02015370644853973979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
