<?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-8433197304907932889</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:58:10.937-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heatherrr</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>127</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3855244703863014336</id><published>2011-07-20T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T10:32:03.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well, Here I Go</title><content type='html'>Andrea, this is for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just read like 6 months worth of your blog posts, and I feel like I should reciprocate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last thing I wrote about was not doing my Calculus homework. Well I've been graduated for two months now.  Ha, shit happens.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The lovely Andrea Claire Evans and I had a little chat about getting in shape after watching Harry Potter (which was an amazing movie), and I'm going to do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I joined this website called myfitnesspal.com, and in joining, it asked for my current and target weight.  So I used in height-weight ratio thing and found out that I'm pretty damn close to what my target weight should be.  So I felt like an impostor on that website.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get me wrong, I am by NO MEANS in shape.  I'm actually in terrible shape.  I'm just not really overweight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, yes, I could still stand to go work out every once in a while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wanna know what I hate? I have cellulite on my thunder thighs.  I bought a bunch of cute summer clothes yesterday, and I know people will be able to see it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My massive legs are genetic (I think).  My grandma has always been thin, but she has the same legs as me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that the main place that I actually want to change the size of, is my legs.  Everything else just needs some muscle tone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So that's the goal.  I already have a gym membership, so I'm going to try to wake up early enough to start going to some of Kathleen's classes.  I've been to a step aerobics and a yoga/pilates class of hers, and I really really liked them both.  They're just at the crack of dawn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not a morning person.  The fact that it is 1:25pm and I'm eating breakfast while I type this should illustrate that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other, non-weight loss news:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-My parents are out of town.  They left this morning for Nashville for a giant car group thing that my dad is a part of.  It's just me and my brother in the house until Sunday, and I work nights and he works days, so we probably won't see very much of each other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Sunday was my six month-aversary with Jeff.  Longest relationship either of us has ever been in... Ok, only relationship I've ever been in, but whatever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Saturday I'm going to a concert that Jeff's brother's band is in at the Hard Rock in Atlanta. I just bought cool new stuff that I want to wear. I'll probably be overdressed, ESPECIALLY next to Jeff who doesn't own anything but jeans and t-shirts.  Whatever. I'll look hot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- My last day of work will be August 3rd.  Then I move in to UGA a week later.  Yikes! The real world is so close!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Ummm.... I went shopping yesterday.  I want to wear all of my clothes right now.  But that would look silly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MY GOAL:  Go to the gym tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3855244703863014336?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3855244703863014336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3855244703863014336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3855244703863014336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3855244703863014336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2011/07/well-here-i-go.html' title='Well, Here I Go'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7391796306329087750</id><published>2010-10-05T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T18:53:23.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>distractions</title><content type='html'>so I could have worked on my calculus after school, before practice.... but it's pay day&lt;br /&gt;   -stephanie and i got our checks and went to cash them, then got dinner&lt;br /&gt;I had some time to kill after we ate.... but I felt the need to spend $40 on make up and crap&lt;br /&gt;   -We went to CVS until time for practice&lt;br /&gt;After practice, I had to bring Stephanie back to her car at Zaxby's.... we discovered a physics party&lt;br /&gt;   -I sat with the physics kids for about 30 mins and drove home&lt;br /&gt;I could have done homework immediately when I got home.... there was apple crisp in the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;   -I ate apple crisp and watched the end of Law and Order: SVU&lt;br /&gt;I could have done homework after that.... but my backpack is falling apart&lt;br /&gt;   -dad and I put it together with zip ties (yay for rednecking it up)&lt;br /&gt;then I went to my room, presumably to start my Calc.... but I remembered the new makeup&lt;br /&gt;   -I used a little of everything, just to try it out&lt;br /&gt;I should have started after that, but I wanted to check my Psych grade&lt;br /&gt;   -I pulled out my laptop and immediately got on Facebook&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW IT IS ALMOST 10 O'CLOCK AND I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED YET!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7391796306329087750?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7391796306329087750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7391796306329087750' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7391796306329087750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7391796306329087750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/10/distractions.html' title='distractions'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7403379443820477857</id><published>2010-09-26T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T20:45:53.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>words to live by</title><content type='html'>"I get up every morning determined to both change the world and having one hell of a good time.  Sometimes this makes planning my day difficult."&lt;br /&gt;-E.B. White&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7403379443820477857?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7403379443820477857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7403379443820477857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7403379443820477857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7403379443820477857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/09/words-to-live-by.html' title='words to live by'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7972597840016566306</id><published>2010-09-16T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T19:38:43.004-07:00</updated><title type='text'>energizer bunny</title><content type='html'>I just keep going and going and going and going and going....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I asked for this work load. I know that I wanted this schedule. I know that I chose to be involved in these activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that all the forces in the universe would work against me to keep me from getting anything done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that sleep wouldn't even be an option anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that I would have to cut off relationships with friends for a lack of time to see them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to relax.- nothing on my mind- for a little while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7972597840016566306?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7972597840016566306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7972597840016566306' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7972597840016566306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7972597840016566306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/09/energizer-bunny.html' title='energizer bunny'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4161034363432116016</id><published>2010-09-08T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T19:31:16.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hmph!</title><content type='html'>Who decided that 24 hours was enough in a day?&lt;br /&gt;It's time for me to find a time machine and kick some Ancient-we-only-have-to-farm-so-24-hours-seems-like-plenty-of-time-for-us ASS! It's not enough! There is so much to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my brain right now:&lt;br /&gt;homework.KEYCLUB.calculustest.MEETING.juniorboard.college.SAT.keyclubmeeting. physicsnotes.pyschology.schedule.bandpractice.keyclubmeeting.calculus.college.president.physics. homework.keyclub.early.schedule.study.test.sleep.calculus.physics?juniorboard.keyclub.SAT.band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. almost exactly like that. I can't focus, and I can't prioritze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't FUNCTION.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4161034363432116016?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4161034363432116016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4161034363432116016' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4161034363432116016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4161034363432116016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/09/hmph.html' title='hmph!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-201516106330384943</id><published>2010-08-31T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T20:12:57.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This evening's motto</title><content type='html'>"There is no pleasure in having nothing to do; the fun is in having lots to do and not doing it"&lt;br /&gt;-Mary Wilson Little&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AGREE, Mary Wilson Little.&lt;br /&gt;So with that, I say GOODNIGHT WORLD!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-201516106330384943?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/201516106330384943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=201516106330384943' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/201516106330384943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/201516106330384943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/this-evenings-motto.html' title='This evening&apos;s motto'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-5877886545733313115</id><published>2010-08-30T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T18:49:26.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a misshapen puzzle piece</title><content type='html'>I don't feel like I'm really fulfilling anything right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm... just average. I want to feel like I'm excelling in ALL of my classes. I want praise. I want to know that people like to be with me. I want to know that I'm great at my job. I guess maybe I just want recognition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because, right now, I just feel like I don't quite fit into any of my many roles this year.  I'm participating. I'm keeping up.  but i want to go above and beyond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't. being average has taken all of my time. All of my energy.  Being average is holding me back.  I do what I can, and I pass out on my bed just to wake up super early the next morning and strive to just do ok again.  WHY CAN'T I JUST HAVE IT ALL?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't I just have beautiful camera angles in Multimedia? Why don't I fully understand how to find logos? Why can't I remember everything we've covered about limits? Why don't I already know all that I can about vectors? Why haven't I already aced my 1st psych test? Why don't people always laugh at my jokes? why don't i always look pretty? Why am I using so many rhetorical questions??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It must stop. I need to sleep. but i ALWAYS need to sleep. I really need to read about vectors. maybe i'll do that.&lt;br /&gt;but... as i type, i have to actuallly think about holding my eyes open.&lt;br /&gt;That's not a good sign.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-5877886545733313115?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/5877886545733313115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=5877886545733313115' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5877886545733313115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5877886545733313115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-am-misshapen-puzzle-piece.html' title='I am a misshapen puzzle piece'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4297928144969299316</id><published>2010-08-23T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T19:15:00.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the art of timing</title><content type='html'>Timing. Or even just Time. Let's start with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't really exist does it? I mean, man just came up with time to measure days and then that was gradually broken down... and expanded. All due to that disk's trip from horizon to horizon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how is it possible that the logisitics of something that doesn't even exist have left me alone and pretty much screwed for all future realtionships?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TIMING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it all begins..... freshman year. Let's take a trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freshman year. Band camp. I was scared, I was unattractive, I was under a lot of pressure, and I was in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, you know, so I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought he was the cutest thing to walk this Earth. And smart and funny, and dedicated, and cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My crush peaked in Chicago, and slowly faded again into a being that lived in my brain and occassionally pushed all of my other thoughts out of my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sophomore year. I was clueless, but I thought I knew what I was capable of. The crush-creature hibernates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LAST YEAR. After a series of events, the crush-monster in my brain re-awakens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remind myself of how cute, and smart, and blahblahblah he is. His... unconventional sense of humor makes him that much more desirable to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, it seems to be an issue of unrequited love (for lack of a better word) rather than timing, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohhh no. We spend some time together. We go out to eat. We are inseparable in DC. We can actually be referred to as 'we'... but I still am absolutely in the dark about what HE thinks about ME, which really is a critical point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer. We hang out a few times. He hides his feeling frustratingly well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give up on the (Lovegames. play a lovegame. do you want love? or you want fame?) confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW. Is it just me, or is he interested now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW that I've moved on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW that I've killed the crush-monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW he flirts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW he asks my plans for the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW I hate timing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4297928144969299316?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4297928144969299316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4297928144969299316' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4297928144969299316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4297928144969299316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/art-of-timing.html' title='the art of timing'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1363668097205521689</id><published>2010-08-23T18:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T18:38:23.614-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GO WATCH THIS!</title><content type='html'>Krieg, it should be in The Book of General Ignorance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFyY2mK8pxk"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFyY2mK8pxk&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1363668097205521689?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1363668097205521689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1363668097205521689' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1363668097205521689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1363668097205521689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/go-watch-this.html' title='GO WATCH THIS!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-8228941965663469123</id><published>2010-08-21T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-21T11:17:17.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>thanks mom</title><content type='html'>I get to see you about once a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't expecting to get to spend any time with you today, but SURPRISE I was called off work for my morning shift today. During my new-found spare time, you've been home for about 15 minutes so far. and now you're on the phone gossiping about your co-workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-8228941965663469123?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/8228941965663469123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=8228941965663469123' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8228941965663469123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8228941965663469123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/thanks-mom.html' title='thanks mom'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3026335970417703834</id><published>2010-08-19T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T17:21:13.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>I really don't have anything in mind to talk about.&lt;br /&gt;Really.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I need to write though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I could be doing this with my essay revision, but.... um no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really am just ready to get into the meat of my classes.&lt;br /&gt;We had our first taste of the actual calculus curriculum today: Limits. LOVE IT! Limits are eeeasssyy. What else you got calculus?&lt;br /&gt;And in Physics we're still going over basics so he can 'see where we are'.&lt;br /&gt;Economics, we've done some vocab. and that's all.&lt;br /&gt;Psychology: we won't be done with our 'foundations' unit until like, the first week of September.&lt;br /&gt;English: well I guess we started out in the middle of everything with English, but I still feel like there's so much "this is what this class will be like" stuff. I just want to get there!!&lt;br /&gt;Band is band. practice today was awful. I cried.&lt;br /&gt;Multimedia: I THINK we are going to start working with the equipment tomorrow. I'd like to break into our groups, talk about ideas for videos. make a story board. something!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel.... restless, I guess that's the word for it.  I want to get into everything! To learn new things. (In Psych, I've had to learn the definitions for independent and dependent variables, mean, median, and mode for the 5th or 6th time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess. I'm just entirely unsatisfied with the state of my life right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3026335970417703834?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3026335970417703834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3026335970417703834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3026335970417703834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3026335970417703834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4578080708557468997</id><published>2010-08-17T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T13:53:41.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's raining and I'm sick</title><content type='html'>Today was not great. I literally never stop on A days. It's academic all day:&lt;br /&gt;- calculus&lt;br /&gt;- physics&lt;br /&gt;- economics&lt;br /&gt;- phsychology&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I somehow got a cold... in august.  And I was supposed to go with my mom to buy a cute Vera Bradley bag for my laptop, but the place was closed. And I invited Stephanie to come too, but she already has plans with her stupid ass stalker :P.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, of course, today just sucks. I'm sitting at home right now. waiting until I can leave for practice (in the rain), continually wiping my nose, sucking on a coughdrop, watching Made (which I don't even really like!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to go to sleep. But if I do, I'll wake up and have Calculus first thing in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;So, I could say: I just want the weekend. But the weekend means double shifts at Zaxby's.&lt;br /&gt;I KNOW there's a lot on my plate. I guess I just have to get used to this grueling schedule, and it's going to take me a while.&lt;br /&gt;oh snap! do i have an essay revision due tomorrow too?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.  a day in the life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4578080708557468997?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4578080708557468997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4578080708557468997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4578080708557468997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4578080708557468997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-raining-and-im-sick.html' title='It&apos;s raining and I&apos;m sick'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-8965163378509884465</id><published>2010-08-12T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T10:31:39.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I should do yoga</title><content type='html'>WARNING!!! Krieger, you should not read the following blog. DO NOT! This is not a drill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I should do yoga because I really feel like I wish I could center myself and focus. and isn't yoga supposed to help with that? I think so... but maybe not. If not, it would just give me a kickass yoga body, and that's cool too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel the need to focus? Well tomorrow is the first day of school and I have 3 paragraphs due tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;(Krieger, if you have ignored my warning and read this far, it's time to stop)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't written anything yet. It's 1:30 in the afternoon, the day before the first day of senior year, and I haven't written the 1st sentence.&lt;br /&gt;I just did some very fast time calculations, and I have time to do it, but I don't feel like I can focus.&lt;br /&gt;I know this blog seems counterproductive. Like why am I doing this instead of breaking out my novels and notebook paper? because I want to get in a writing state of mind.&lt;br /&gt;I opened my Pandora account and turned on the station that I call "Focus radio" it's classical, so it's not distracting, but it also blocks out the noise of my family in the house. I guess I'll turn off my cell phone, or hide it in another room, lock myself in here, log out of Facebook, and turn into a hermetic author until I have to leave for band practice. In an hour.&lt;br /&gt;So here I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Krieger, you better not have read this, missy)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-8965163378509884465?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/8965163378509884465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=8965163378509884465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8965163378509884465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8965163378509884465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-should-do-yoga.html' title='I should do yoga'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4048789143237087084</id><published>2010-08-10T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T19:15:47.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote that Caught My Eye!</title><content type='html'>"What's the point of havin' a rapier wit if I can't use it to stab people?"&lt;br /&gt;-Jeph Jacques&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahaha. That's really good. Like possible senior quote good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's all&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4048789143237087084?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4048789143237087084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4048789143237087084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4048789143237087084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4048789143237087084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/quote-that-caught-my-eye.html' title='Quote that Caught My Eye!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6173860703828013238</id><published>2010-08-07T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T16:38:15.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>busy busy busy</title><content type='html'>I have had literally NO free time this past week, and it's not looking good for the future.&lt;br /&gt;(the near future. like the coming school year).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Band camp this past week and the freshmen drove me NUTS! We have 3 in the flute section, and they're nice enough, but they're IDK FRESHMEN!!&lt;br /&gt;I managed to stay extremely nice and patient though the whole week, but by the last day I snapped at a girl once. (pretty good for me actually, considering I've been wanting to rip my hair out since day 2)&lt;br /&gt;She kept talking to the tubas, and doing weird (trying to be) flirty crap (with TUBAS?) which was annoying enough in itself, but when she did it while I was trying to give her instruction it realllly got under my skin. I was in the middle of telling her something (i dont remember exactly what. it's not the point), and she said something to Jesse and I go "Kaila! Please don't flirt with the tubas when I'm trying to tell you something!" and she goes "Eww" like she is so disgusted by them. Whatever. If you were disgusted by them, you wouldn't be talking to them every chance you get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next few days:&lt;br /&gt;tomorrow: double shift at work&lt;br /&gt;monday: English with Stephanie, then practice from 3:30-5:30&lt;br /&gt;tuesday: pictures at 4, practice from 6-8&lt;br /&gt;wednesday: SHOPPING&lt;br /&gt;thursday: practice from 3:30-5:30 againg&lt;br /&gt;friday: first day of school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHH shit. I hate being so busy. I can't WAIT until the end of football season.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6173860703828013238?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6173860703828013238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6173860703828013238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6173860703828013238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6173860703828013238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/08/busy-busy-busy.html' title='busy busy busy'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-5901713964199028243</id><published>2010-07-27T23:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T00:05:04.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Assurance</title><content type='html'>I'm still here. Don't be alarmed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't written anything in a very long time, and I apologize. I just got out of the habit of typing up a new blog every night while I was out of town, and I never really got back INTO the habit, which was critical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But maybe now that my parents bought me A NEW LAPTOP (!!!!) I will be able to keep up with it more. YAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my first laptop.&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing.&lt;br /&gt;I love it. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I don't get, like, ANYTHING for my 18th birthday. This is my present, I just got it a couple months early, pretty much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at work the day after I got it, and I was all excited, so I told a few of my co-workers, but immediately felt uncomfortable about it.  I don't want to seem like a spoiled rich girl (because, trust me, I'm FAR from it), but I realized that it may seem like that to some of my esteemed chicken colleagues.&lt;br /&gt;A lot of them are adults, and working in a fastfood restaurant trying to scrape by and pay their bills (I hear them talking about it quite a bit, and I don't think it will ever cease to upset me when I hear adults worry about money). So when I say "My parents bought me a laptop"... I just don't want anyone to get the wrong impression about what my life is really like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what made me think of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY! On a happier note, I might go to the RODEO on friday night. How fun would that be!? It's one of those things I love about a small town. Random rodeo? Sounds great! let's go.  I told Stephanie that she was coming with me, but she didn't seem excited enough, and I was reallly disappointed. I don't know... I'm excited because I used to go wheen I was more heavily involved in the horse world and it's kind of spontaneous (i just saw one of those random signs that are everywhere and texted steph to tell her we're going) and it's something &lt;em&gt;different&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It's not just another trip to Fieldstone to watch a movie. It's not another slumber party where we play Just Dance until the den is a good 30 degrees hotter than the rest of my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But whatever. If she decides not to go, Grayson might. And if he can't go... then I guess I'm just SOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG! I just realized that it's 3 in the morning. My alarm is set for, like, 10 because I actually wanted to get stuff done tomorrow. Haha, looks like that's not gonna happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GOODNIGHT!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-5901713964199028243?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/5901713964199028243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=5901713964199028243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5901713964199028243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5901713964199028243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/assurance.html' title='Assurance'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-955623397990977709</id><published>2010-07-16T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T18:17:39.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakdown of my Summer</title><content type='html'>Well summer is officially over, so I guess it's time to put this carefree feeling behind me and focus on ... schoolwork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's how my summer went. In list form. Which instantly means logic. I learned that today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of fireflies caught: 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of days on the beach: 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of sunburns: 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of slumber parties: 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of times skinny-dipped: 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of hours inside zaxbys: COUNTLESS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of parties attended: 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of pounds lost: 13&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of pounds gained back: 9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of babies born: 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of shopping trips: 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;number of smiles: a million :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-955623397990977709?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/955623397990977709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=955623397990977709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/955623397990977709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/955623397990977709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/breakdown-of-my-summer.html' title='Breakdown of my Summer'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2154305514368660265</id><published>2010-07-08T18:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T19:34:32.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Asheville: Day 2</title><content type='html'>So on today's agenda for the Freakout was the Tail of the Dragon run. &lt;div&gt;I'm sure you are familiar with the Tail of the Dragon: it is near Robbinsville, NC. It has 316 curves in an 11 mile stretch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's strange, because my dad was the lead car. (I guess because he 'knows the area'). We had to drive for over an hour just to get to the Tail of the Dragon, which is actually closer to home than the convention. We were about 40 minutes from home. I kept seeing signs for Murphy (46 miles, 41 miles, 38 miles...) and I realllly wanted to go home. I actually got homesick.... and then on the Dragon, I got carsick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The whole ride (the way there, the actual run, one breakdown, lunch, and the ride back) took almost 6 hours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got some very interesting tanlines (although they're actually not tan... it's burn), one from seatbelt. I have a very cool diagonal line across my chest. I really hope these awkward lines go away before florida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;they aren't in normal place, they are very obvious in my bathing suit, and they aren't consistent... as in, they don't match from one side of my body to the other. It's REALLY messing with me that it's not at least symmetrical.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Joe, I am NOT going to flirt with the fuddy duddies. Andd there is literally NOBODY that i've seen that's my age.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ANYWAY, we went into downtown Asheville for dinner. Asheville is a really cool city. I'd like to come back without my parents and actually get to check it out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i have no idea what the plan is for tomorrow. maybe lay by the pool all day and try to get burned all over, so at least it's even. i would make geoff take me to the tennis court, but he was drafted to hand out cards or something for the poker run. :/&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;tomorrow night is the luau.  5 of the guys who helped put this event together are forced to wear coconut bras and grass skirts. my dad is one of them. i'm so proud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;that's all for now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2154305514368660265?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2154305514368660265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2154305514368660265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2154305514368660265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2154305514368660265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/asheville-day-2.html' title='Asheville: Day 2'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-753019385889346997</id><published>2010-07-07T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T20:19:58.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Asheville: Day 1</title><content type='html'>not muchh to do today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to the hotel in asheville and there isn't really anybody here yet. (if you don't know, I am at a Fiat convention thing with my family. there shoud be just about 100 cars here tomorrow).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my mom and I went to the Asheville mall. Really lame. really. No Sephora. No Delias. No forever 21. No Charlotte Russe. They did have an Old Navy, where I got some shorts and a new purse. and they had a Barnes and Noble, which I had to completely skip over because Geoff wanted us to get back to the hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a new bathing suit from Dillards. It's adorable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, so far this trip has been a whole lot of nothing. but it's only the first day. all of the car events start tomorrow:  the official beginning of FIAT FREAKOUT.&lt;br /&gt;I have yet to freak out. I have yet to see anybody my age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have yet to eat a decent meal. Blech. I guess things can only get better, right? hahaha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-753019385889346997?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/753019385889346997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=753019385889346997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/753019385889346997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/753019385889346997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/asheville-day-1.html' title='Asheville: Day 1'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3132983083363942392</id><published>2010-07-06T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T22:03:30.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>nighttime.</title><content type='html'>I'm the only one awake in my house right now. we are leaving for Asheville in about 5 and a half hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind is literally like a complete blank right now. I don't think that has ever happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's sad though, because I might be completely incommunicado for up to the next 10 days. I don't know how much time I'll have to keep the world updated on my vacay... and of course, by 'the world', I mean Joe and Krieg... maybe Bri? haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, tomorrow begins FIAT FREAKOUT. I don't think I'm totally prepared for 5 days of small talk with old, Italian car-owning fuddy-duddies.&lt;br /&gt;I doubt there will be anyone around my age. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I should get some sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3132983083363942392?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3132983083363942392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3132983083363942392' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3132983083363942392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3132983083363942392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/nighttime.html' title='nighttime.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2986089095463468433</id><published>2010-07-05T19:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-05T19:57:16.725-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Panic! in the Zaxby's</title><content type='html'>I seriously had a mini panic attack/stress thing at work today.&lt;br /&gt;I cried for over an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just kept thinking about how much time I was going to spend there in the next few days, and that I wouldn't have time to pack before freakout. And my mom texted me and asked if I could get off before 7 to go to a movie with her and Geoff. No, I couldn't.&lt;br /&gt;And SB was supposed to come see me on my break, but then she couldn't.&lt;br /&gt;I was soo stressed out and tired... I was so close to just walking out the door and saying to hell with it.&lt;br /&gt;My break was just me bawling in the dining room (and the bathroom when it got really bad) and texting my mom and some other people who always make me feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I don't want to think about that anymore. I just want to push it from my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I finished reading The Things They Carried. Now I actually have to write. Damn.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could just opt out of the essays and read another book. Whaddya say, Krieg? You can even pick a reallly big, difficult book. I won't complain :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm leaving for Asheville the day after tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is my last day at work before my vacation. Thank God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2986089095463468433?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2986089095463468433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2986089095463468433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2986089095463468433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2986089095463468433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/panic-in-zaxbys.html' title='Panic! in the Zaxby&apos;s'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1506049841154473295</id><published>2010-07-04T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T22:50:36.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry...</title><content type='html'>I've been a blogging slacker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just... a lot of work, and really no time (or energy) to update... and it's kind of the same thing  now but I feel bad about not keeping up my end of the deal, so here's a mini blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to SB's 4th party today. As far as a 4th party, it was VERY fun... as far as anything else, it was kind of a disappointment. You see, I keep building up all these expectations in my head, and then when it doesn't happen, I get all sad. It's totally lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, alas, I will perservere. (persevere? perservere? purse-severe? preservatives? idk)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wellll, I have 2 more days until vacay. 2 more days of double shifts. 2 more days of closing (probably alone). 2 more days of coming home smelling of chicken and dirty dishwater. 2 more days until I'm freeee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1506049841154473295?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1506049841154473295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1506049841154473295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1506049841154473295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1506049841154473295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/sorry.html' title='Sorry...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4043490226023411760</id><published>2010-07-02T09:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T09:19:55.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>trapped.</title><content type='html'>i started a post yesterday about how I was "in a funk" but I never got a chance to finish it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's ok, because today the funk is gone... but yesterday was still supremely awful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First there was the whole "I feel ugly today" thing. I just had one of those days where I didn't feel cute.&lt;br /&gt;Then my dad came home and I helped him replace Geoff's ridiculously worn out brake pads. when were done, we took a ride in Fiona.&lt;br /&gt;I got home and took a shower (I had been in the garage) but I got a text from Jacob: it was 7:20 and he was still in gainesville. :(&lt;br /&gt;Well, I continued getting ready (my hair looked really good after that... too bad only my dad and Geoff got to see it)&lt;br /&gt;And after I was totally ready, Jacob called. He was still in Gainesville, and didn't think we'd get to hang out. :(&lt;br /&gt;Well of course that bummed me out, so I wanted to invite one of my friends over to get my mind off of it, but my dad said no.&lt;br /&gt;WELL, I told Jacob that I got off work at 8 on Sunday, so maybe I would see him at the fireworks. This would be the absolute last chance to see each other before we both go on vacation. We are both leaving on Wednesday, and I'll be gone for 10 days, but he'll be gone for 2 and a half weeks. DAMN!&lt;br /&gt;Come to find out a little later, that the fireworks show is on the 3rd this year (really? no fireworks because it's Sunday? that's just ridiculous. It's not like fireworks include a clusterfuck.)&lt;br /&gt;Well, I asked for the 4th off. I'm working until CLOSE on the 3rd. Which means not only do I miss the fireworks for the 3rd year in a row because of fucking zaxbys, but I don't get to see Jacob before we leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just absolutely burst into tears when I found out. I felt SO stupid. I asked for the 4th off without even checking which night the fireworks are. I feel like I'm being sucked into a black hole and I can't get out no matter what I try. (Zaxby's is the black hole, FYI)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know that the thing about Jacob doesn't sound like a really big deal... and I guess it's not.&lt;br /&gt;It's just that this summer everything was supposed to kind of come together.&lt;br /&gt;And it's not working.&lt;br /&gt;And I feel stuck with that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do with myself anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I guess all I can do is keep working and hope I don't work myself to death before vacation.&lt;br /&gt;(I'm working approx 29 hours in the next 3 days.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4043490226023411760?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4043490226023411760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4043490226023411760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4043490226023411760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4043490226023411760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/trapped.html' title='trapped.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4347720807581942991</id><published>2010-07-01T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T10:40:44.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I watched Eclipse last night</title><content type='html'>do not judge me. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... the movie was pretty much exactly what I expected.  I'll repeat here what I said last night during our post-movie DQ run: The Twilight movies are getting better, but there are still SO MANY other movies I would rather watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but, of course, the night was still ridiculously fun. I made tons of innappropriate jokes throughout the movie, and I'm sure all the 8 year old girls around us didn't appreciate it. Hahaha!&lt;br /&gt;"Mr.X" didn't end up going with us, so it was me, Stephanie, SB, Emma, and Kayla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the movie, we went to DQ, like we always do. I rode with Steph and SB and Kayla rode with Emma. We blasted music with the top down and it was that whole, life can't get much better right now moments. I LOVE my friends so much. Maybe it's just because I've been having withdrawls from them, but I can't believe how I automatically just have SO MUCH FUN when I'm with them.  If I didn't have such amazing friends, I wouldn't mind having to work so much this summer, but I feel like I'm missing out on so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SB is going camping on top of Bell Mountain on Monday, but I'm working and can't go.&lt;br /&gt;Jacob is getting a group to go see The Last Airbender on Friday, but I'm working... not that I really want to see that movie very much, but I still want to go and spend time with my friends :(&lt;br /&gt;I don't need these hours at work... it's just my job, you know? I'm 17.  Zaxby's should be secondary to the rest of my life.  I hate that I've let it take over everything, but Patricia needs me. and as my mom says, I don't know how to say no.&lt;br /&gt;I know that so few people can handle the drive thru and that they need an experienced cashier there (we've had a lot of turnover recently, and therefore a lot of INexperienced cashiers), so I keep making excuses, and hoping that on the next schedule I'll have more time off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the deal right now:&lt;br /&gt;I had yesterday off, and I have today off.&lt;br /&gt;I'm working 4-close tomorrow, and then double shifts every day until I leave: I'll be out of town for 10 days.&lt;br /&gt;So basically, today is the last day I have to spend with anybody before a 15-day stretch where I will see NO friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to hang out with Jacob tonight... around 7 I think? I don't know what we're going to do yet... I told him I was up for anything, and that worries me. He's so insanely in shape, and I'm sooo not. I don't need to embarrass myself by trying to do something athletic. haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and what about everyone else? Joe? Grace? Jeff? Ashley? all those people that I haven't seen in soo long.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if they miss me too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! and I'm probably going to miss the fireworks on the 4th... for the 3rd consecutive year. because of work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4347720807581942991?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4347720807581942991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4347720807581942991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4347720807581942991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4347720807581942991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-watched-eclipse-last-night.html' title='I watched Eclipse last night'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3728238388405019001</id><published>2010-06-30T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T12:11:28.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I hope I can live up to this</title><content type='html'>Next year is already scaring the shit out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than the usual pressure (grades, parents, work, high school in general) there will be colleges and a ridiculous schedule and being a good 'leader' in band and now this:&lt;br /&gt;Juggling possibly the most complicated friendship I've ever had and all of my other friendships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there is a huge history with him. For the sake of this blog (and because I feel weird writing about people on a public forum) we'll call him Mr. X.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A Brief Overview&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Freshman year: we had Civics together and I couldn't stand him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sophomore year: we had Phy. Science together, and I thought he was really funny and developed a crush (ugh, of course I did, right?)&lt;br /&gt;Junior year: we started texting a lot, and then talking on the phone A LOT, and I really thought it was going somewhere, but I found out that he was REALLY interested in this other girl, although we had been talking for 4 months. so, yeah, I ended up really hurt, but somehow... we ended up staying friends.&lt;br /&gt;This summer: We still talk pretty often. Mr. X is really worried about having close friends next year, as all of his (except me) have graduated and are going off to college. &lt;br /&gt;Right now:I invited him to go to the movies with me and my friends tonight, hoping that he would be able to easily integrate into the group, and maybe he wouldn't worry so much about next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wellll, when I told the other girls going to the movie (oh, we're going to see Eclips :P), SB seemed ok with it, Steph was... cautious but didn't want to "preach", and Emma seemed downright upset about it. She and Steph don't want me to get hurt like i did when we were talking. but that's not going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;NOWWW Mr. X is concerned that my friends don't like him (which I don't think is the case. they're just looking out for me), and his whole "I wont have any friends next year" thing came up again today.&lt;br /&gt;I told him not to worry, that he would have me&lt;br /&gt;he said that my friends don't like him so we won't see each other that much&lt;br /&gt;I said that I care too much about him for that to happen. (Which is totally true. I would be SO SAD if I never got to talk to him anymore)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm afraid that I won't be able to live up to that promise I made. I'll still have school, and my job, and band, and being Key Club President, and working with Beta, and worrying about college, and my ridiculous parents, and all of my other friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I can't be there for him next year??&lt;br /&gt;Should I have not said what I said??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3728238388405019001?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3728238388405019001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3728238388405019001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3728238388405019001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3728238388405019001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-hope-i-can-live-up-to-this.html' title='I hope I can live up to this'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6637664919038406298</id><published>2010-06-29T21:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T21:28:02.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirror Mirror, on the walll....</title><content type='html'>... who is the most exhausted of them all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly, it's me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a very. long. day.&lt;br /&gt;11:30-2, I worked&lt;br /&gt;2-4, I went with Stephanie to get her hair cut&lt;br /&gt;4-6:30, I worked&lt;br /&gt;6:30-7:30, my boss let me take an extended break because she had to keep me until close rather than 9, when I was schedule to leave. I went to BK during this time to chill with Geoff and Leland&lt;br /&gt;7:30-11:30, work! that's right. We closed at 9:30 tonight, and it took 2 HOURS to finish everything. Of course, I was training Kami, so essentially it was me closing alone, because we could only work at the rate of one worker, as I was with her, showing her waht to do. IDK if that makes sense or not.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, it was SLOWER than if it was just me, because I had to show her how to do everything, and she did a lot of the actual work, with me supervising (i guess), and she isn't fast yet, because she's new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't believe how long it took. it was ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;anyway, this is the most exhausted blog I've ever written. I feel so sluggish. and dirty. I'm too tired to take a shower tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tomorrow i have the day off.&lt;br /&gt;THANK GOD!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6637664919038406298?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6637664919038406298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6637664919038406298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6637664919038406298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6637664919038406298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/mirror-mirror-on-walll.html' title='Mirror Mirror, on the walll....'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1223430728107655824</id><published>2010-06-28T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T20:10:44.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Title's cause wayy too much pressure.&lt;br /&gt;I can NEVER think of a title., so I always end up just putting something random that happened or is on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually just excited to be more than 48% awake while writing  for once:  I didn't have to close tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Of course, that doesn't mean there is anything to write about. I was still in Zaxby's from 11:30am-10:00pm. I had a break from 2 to 4, during which I sat in the dining room and talked to Nathaniel. That was a random conversation... it was only a little bit awkward. haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I only have one more double shift until my day off. I'M SO EXCITED! I just want to have a day that I can look cute. Is that too much to ask for? At work I have to wear my uniform, and I have to have my hair up, and I get covered in chicken grease and milkshake syrup and dirty dishwater.&lt;br /&gt;I want to  stay clean for longer than the 30 minutes it takes to get to town. I want to wear sandals. I want to USE my amazing curly hair stuff. I want to smell like Clinique Happy, and I want to wear my own clothes.&lt;br /&gt;And THAT is why I can't wait for my day off.  A few of us are supposed to go see Eclipse on Wednesday night, and maybe (???) spend the night at Sara Beth's.&lt;br /&gt;Then I have all of Thursday off, and then my weekend stretch of work.&lt;br /&gt;Patricia scheduled me to work on the night of the 4th of July, even though I asked for it off.&lt;br /&gt;I have not seen any fireworks since I started there. this will be my 3rd year in a row of missing out on going to Meeks with everyone because of Zaxby's.&lt;br /&gt;IDK what to do. It's ridiculous to try to argue with her about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it's time to change the subject, because that is just making me sad.&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe it's time to just stop, because I don't know what else to talk about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geoffrey cried watching Toy Story 3. that's all&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1223430728107655824?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1223430728107655824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1223430728107655824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1223430728107655824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1223430728107655824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/titles-cause-wayy-too-much-pressure.html' title=''/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6186242431936664522</id><published>2010-06-27T21:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T21:16:28.772-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I got whipped cream on my leg today</title><content type='html'>It looked like spooj.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY.&lt;br /&gt;I worked from open till close today.&lt;br /&gt;(9 am till about 11:30, with a 2 hour break).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm compltely wiped out, even though I did have a really good day. I worked with Stephanie ALL DAY, and she always keeps me in a good mood. I'm almost never bubbly and hyper at work if she's not there, and she pretty much said that same thing about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, there's not really anything at all for me to say.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow and the next day I'm working 11:30-3 and 4-9, then i have wednesday and thursday off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps. this is my hundredth post since I started freshman year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish it was more special&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6186242431936664522?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6186242431936664522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6186242431936664522' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6186242431936664522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6186242431936664522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-got-whipped-cream-on-my-leg-today.html' title='I got whipped cream on my leg today'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4255560291527724122</id><published>2010-06-26T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T22:00:48.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My left eye is bloodshot</title><content type='html'>I need to stop writing my entries right before bed, because I never feel like writing anything.&lt;br /&gt;Well, tonight I'm totally awake, but I NEEED to get some sleep because I have to be at work at 9 in the morning. And I'm working until closing... by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be a very long day.&lt;br /&gt;9am-tentatively 11:20, with a 2 hour break fro 2 till 4.&lt;br /&gt;but that's still over 1o hours (which is also like 70 bucks).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG I can't wait until Wednesday. It's my next day off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well today I did a double with Stephanie, which is great! And we went and got lunch together during our break.&lt;br /&gt;I love getting to work with my best friend. :) :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Geoff and I went to the late showing of Toy Story 3. It was verrry cute.&lt;br /&gt;We both cried. (mmhmmm. my brother cried. hahaha.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm home. I soo hope I can fall asleep quickly tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow would be absolutely DREADFUL if I can't get some sleepy-bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish there was more to say. This blog has become more of an account of my days at work then of my life or a place to write how i feel or any of that BS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always in a hurry or exhausted when i write, and I apologize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH! I'm taking 10 days off work in the middle of July, which I'm pretty pumped about.&lt;br /&gt;the 1st 5 days I'm going to Asheville with my parents and Geoff for Fiat Freakout, and the next 5 days, I'm flying to Florida BY MYSELF (!!! AGH never done that before) to stay with my aunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my cousin is in a band that is supposed to be REALLY good. theyve been called "the raddest band in Florida" by a music video director. I haven't gotten a chance to listen to them yet, but I'm sure it's some form of punk, and I'm sure it's gonna be fun music. anyway the point of that is, that he said I could go to one of their shows while I'm down there (but that was before the dates were set, so I'm not sure if they have one scheduled for while I'm there). but yea, that would be SOOO COOL.&lt;br /&gt;I'd feel very hip. which I am not, usually :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG! Kaitlyn had her baby yesterday. She's a few months premature, so she's being taken to Gainesville (it's cool having the inside track at the hospital: my mo is a nurse).&lt;br /&gt;I got the text fro Kaitlyn ("She's here. 4 pounds 13 ounces") while sitting in my car at relay for life hoping for the rain to stop.&lt;br /&gt;I asked about Amber's (the baby's) health, because I knew she wasn't due until August and then, you know, told Kaitlyn some canned "new baby" stuff (I can't wait to meet her... etc).&lt;br /&gt;I have TOTALLY mixed feelings about it though.&lt;br /&gt;Kaitlyn was my absolute BEST friend in 4th grade. In fact, I can't really remember WHEN we grew apart, we did.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know if I can express how close we were. I guess it's like most BFFs... I mean, she was at my house when she had her first period...&lt;br /&gt;Now she has a baby... I guess, if she's happy, I'm happy for her, and I'm sure the baby is adorable and will be happy... but I guess I never expected Kaitlyn to get pregnant at 16.&lt;br /&gt;I expected more from her; she's smart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm worried for her future... although I'm EXREMELY proud of her for deciding to stay in school.  but what about college? How would that work? I don't want Kaitlyn to be a waitress at the Cookie Jar forever, and she could have had more... is she going to stay there? She needs a steady paycheck coming in now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm disappointed in her.&lt;br /&gt;that sounds soo harsh. I mean, who am I to be disappointed?  We haven't been close friends for YEARS.&lt;br /&gt;but... what happens now I guess is what worries me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(wow. who knew I'd be going THERE with this blog entry?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4255560291527724122?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4255560291527724122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4255560291527724122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4255560291527724122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4255560291527724122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-left-eye-is-bloodshot.html' title='My left eye is bloodshot'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-5136175861147469560</id><published>2010-06-25T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T20:34:02.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this is a waste of time</title><content type='html'>I am exhausted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refused to go to sleep to write something on this damn blog, so that I can keep this stupid promise to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm so tired that I don't even want to write about what I did today or anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sooo.... this is it. sorry to disappoint, but I'm not writing anything more than this right here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GOODNIGHT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-5136175861147469560?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/5136175861147469560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=5136175861147469560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5136175861147469560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5136175861147469560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-is-waste-of-time.html' title='this is a waste of time'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-5148514762175389990</id><published>2010-06-24T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T11:41:35.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ahhh shit</title><content type='html'>I didn't write a blog yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for keeping up :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I COMPLETELY forgot about it until I was almost asleep, at like 2 in the morning and no way in HELL was I gonna get up just so I could not look flakey to the NOBODY that reads this.&lt;br /&gt;(wow, there are lots of randomly capitalized words in there)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday... what did I do?&lt;br /&gt;Um... crap what DID I do??&lt;br /&gt;OH YEAH!&lt;br /&gt;I had my follow-up appointment with my oral surgeon. It was the fastest appointment ever. He pretty much asked if I had any questions and gave me my squirty syringe thing to clean the food out of the holes in my mouth where I used to have teeth. Isn't that the most disgusting thing you've ever heard??&lt;br /&gt;Then I had to work: 4 to close. and I got to train Kami, who just started.  Isn't it awesome that when I started my blog, I wrote about my FIRST day (ahh The Zaxby's Chronicles) there, and now I'm training other new people :). That makes me feel very accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I closed by myself again, and it took loner than usual because I didn't get my pre-close done until, like 9:30 (because Kami is new, and I had to do everything myself... oh, that sounds bad. I'm not really complaining about her not doing stuff. She's brand-new, that's just how it goes). So I hadn't even STARTED mopping the dining room yet, and the guys in the back were DONE. and I still had to wrap cookies, wipe all the counters, and stock.&lt;br /&gt;Curtis, one of the guys in the back, stayed late to help me mop the dining room :)&lt;br /&gt;That was really nice of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah! so then I came home, and talked to Geoff for a little bit while he played Xbox, replied to an e-mail from Rita Gunter about junior board (I have to get off work tomorrow to do the Relay for Life, and it's going to be absolute hell trying to get someone who can cover my shift), and then I read more of The Things They Carried (i'm in chapter 3 now, and it's going really fast), and went to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continue to have strange dreams... I thought it was from the Percocet, but I haven't taken any in almost a week. Could it be the penicillin? I'm still taking that to avoid an infection...&lt;br /&gt;last night, there was a lot of ice skating in my dream (which I've never done before) and Richard Tyler and Jesse Gibson were there (?????). then my dream changed and I was like a spy or something. Geoff was killed, and everyone accused me of murdering him. :( I didn't, BTW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess that's everything.&lt;br /&gt;I have to go into town to try to get off from work tomorrow. I'm REALLY not looking forward to it. Friday nights are usually a busy night, and they need someone experienced to work the drive thru (there are only, like, 3 people that can run drive thru by themselves). Also, I'm scheduled to close... which means that whoever I ask to cover should be able to close.&lt;br /&gt;so that means.... I might not be able to get off work.&lt;br /&gt;I would hate to miss the 1st Junior Board thing we have :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-5148514762175389990?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/5148514762175389990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=5148514762175389990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5148514762175389990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5148514762175389990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/ahhh-shit.html' title='ahhh shit'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7650112939046476730</id><published>2010-06-22T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T08:43:33.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this G is messed up.</title><content type='html'>so if there is a word that appears to be missing a G, or if there are 2 when there should be 1, I apologize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know. Deciding to write a blog entry every day may not have been wise. There's not enough happening in my life. It's summer!&lt;br /&gt;I think my stitches are starting to come out, and it's yucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so yesterday I wrote a blog pretty much just because I was bored and didn't have anything else to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished reading Freakonomics, and I'm not looking to The Things They Carried at all. I hate war movies, so I'm thinking that I won't like war books either...&lt;br /&gt;Ok! so at like 5 yesterday Jacob called me and we decided to go bowling rather than just getting milkshakes, which was the original plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, we went bowling and I was really bad at it, not that he's particularly good at it. but he definitely won. apparently i can't control my wrist and it just contorts and I end up with a gutterball.&lt;br /&gt;but, like I told Jacob, I'm ok with not being good at bowling. It's like not being good at tennis.&lt;br /&gt;OH!! I bought a tennis racket the other day. I can't remember if I mentioned that yet or not. but yeah, on Sunday, I bought a cheap racket from Walmart so I can play with Stephanie.&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna see if Leland wants to help me get better...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else...?&lt;br /&gt;Um, I told Karen that I would work for her tonight. I don't know why I did that. I DON'T WANT TO WORK. Not even a little bit. Ugh. I should have said no. I should have said HELL TO THE NAW. I'm a pushover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, 4-close tonight, I'll be at Zaxbys. woo-f**king-hoo. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7650112939046476730?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7650112939046476730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7650112939046476730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7650112939046476730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7650112939046476730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-g-is-messed-up.html' title='this G is messed up.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-5016435848112034466</id><published>2010-06-21T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T17:17:33.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll be waiting...</title><content type='html'>and waiting&lt;br /&gt;and waiting&lt;br /&gt;and waiting&lt;br /&gt;and waiting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This SUCKS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welll, frankly, I haven't been waiting really that long, but I'm starting to get cranky and impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to hang out with Jacob today, but hmmmm... somebody isn't replying to text messages.&lt;br /&gt;:/&lt;br /&gt;I would just go into town anyway, but I don't want to get there and then find out that he CAN'T make it, then I just get to drive home all disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*********UPDATE**********&lt;br /&gt;We went bowling, which I'm really bad at.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-5016435848112034466?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/5016435848112034466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=5016435848112034466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5016435848112034466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5016435848112034466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/ill-be-waiting.html' title='I&apos;ll be waiting...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-5738686204450533815</id><published>2010-06-20T20:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T20:46:33.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>too lazy to think of a title</title><content type='html'>Well! after my last blog post, I got increasingly more depressed about sitting around by myself, and I ended up forcing Stephanie to spend the night at my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she came over after work and we played Just Dance for wii (which is the funnest game ever created. really.) and we watched the Little Rascals. ADORABLE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then this morning we got up for workand drove into town, and GUESS WHAT! they changed the schedule and I wasn't working this morning. Awesome. I'm glad I found that out before I drove the 30 minutes into town.... OH WAIT! I DIDN'T. :( stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever. I took the opportunity to buy my dad's Father's Day card (ahem... on Father's Day) and came home. I watched the very end of a random world cup game, embarrassed myself by sending a text to Jacob that was supposed to go to Leland, and then Stephanie texts me.&lt;br /&gt;She wants to play tennis before we both have to be back at Zaxby's at 4. coool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we went to Wal-mart, bought a cheap (pretty sure it's made for small children too) tennis racket and then met Carley at Meeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after tennis, we went to work, where we closed. then I came home.&lt;br /&gt;THAT'S MY DAY IN A NUTSHELL.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing eventful happened at all, and I wouldn't have written a blog at all, except I mentioned something about writing an entry every day once, and i don't want to give up THAT quickly. it's been like 3 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JOE! it totally freaked me out when I had a comment from you. It's really random that you were on my blog. but I was excited to hear from you anyway. You've been totally MIA this summer :(&lt;br /&gt;I MISS MY SHMO JOE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG! my brother was joking about druk best-man speeches (i don't remember why...) and he was practicing his drunk brother speech for my future wedding (... because that's how my family works. he was pretending to be drunk while I ironed his polo shirts for him. He's so wannabe frat it's ridiculous), oh but that's not the point. he was like "My baby sissster... ( you have to imagine slurring words and him wobling around)... who'd'a ever thought?... JOE MURPHY! i mean.... uh... JOE murphy... i mean, we made fun of this guy soo much 'n da soccer team... who'd thought? JOEMURPHY and my little sister"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty much exactly like that with lots of staggering. haha. I miss you. It reminded me of freshman year when everyone was ALWAYS saying we were going to end up married.&lt;br /&gt;But you know. You're like my little brother. Love you to death, but it's just sick and twisted for someone to suggest that :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so... I guess that's it.&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-5738686204450533815?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/5738686204450533815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=5738686204450533815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5738686204450533815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5738686204450533815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/too-lazy-to-think-of-title.html' title='too lazy to think of a title'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1055739533757600497</id><published>2010-06-19T09:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T09:40:56.291-07:00</updated><title type='text'>terrorrrr</title><content type='html'>So it's time for today's post, i guess...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;basically because there is nothing else in the world. this computer is all i have. haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had one of the scariest dreams ever last night. I mean i don't have a lot of nightmares, but the one last night really f**ked with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let's just say, first of all, that i've been having weirdo zombie dreams recently... like 3 in the last week. maybe because I've been on medication. Maybe percocet makes me have scary dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night, i had a zombie dream that I can't really remember the beginning of, but it ended with a grocery store... falling to the ground with a false sense of calm.&lt;br /&gt;I had to kill m entire family in that dream... they were all zombies... even the dogs. I had to slit my dog coco's throat. I can't remember waking up feeling more distraught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geoff bit me. He was a zombie, and he was chasing me. when i was distracted by a zombie dog that may or may not have been my other dog, sadie, he bit my shoulder :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously was on the verge of tears when I woke up. and i was scared. home alone (my parents went to ashville and geoff is at the beach) and i was paralyzed by fear. every little sound in my house made m heart pound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so of course, being the 21st century girl that i am, i grabbed my cell phone. I texted grayson, because he's always reliable and i told him about my dream and that i was terrified... (I KNOW IT WAS JUST A DREAM, INTERNET COMMUNITY! DON'T JUDGE ME)&lt;br /&gt;Annyway, he pretty much laughed at me, told me to get out of bed, take a shower, and relax. awesome. i told him that if i was in the shower, i wouldnt be able to hear the zombies come to get me and if I was eaten, it was all his fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My own shadow literally scared me too. i was walking back into my room (after checking to make sure that the dogs were alive and not evil), and the light from the hall was casting my shadow onto my closet door, which was open and reflected on my mirror. the angle of my closet door and mirror pretty much just made it look like there were TWO shadows right there (someone standing behind me!) and i actualllly screamed and spun around super fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i laughed at myself and took a shower...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so now here i am.&lt;br /&gt;no longer scared, but still just sitting at my house. as i said, by parents and brother aren't home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured that there is no hope in even trying to make plans with my friends today. everybody is working, or gone, or otherwise occupied. soo I'm just going to have to be content with this blog, facebook, and re-runs of Mythbusters and ANTM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't express my excitement right now :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1055739533757600497?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1055739533757600497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1055739533757600497' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1055739533757600497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1055739533757600497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/terrorrrr.html' title='terrorrrr'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1148156647858833916</id><published>2010-06-18T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T20:02:23.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>day 2 of Re-blogging!</title><content type='html'>I left my house today. :)&lt;br /&gt;I still miss my friends, but at least i got a small friendship fix since having my teeth removed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kayla and I went to dinner at Zaxby's where I also saw Stephanie.  And Jeffkidd was SUPPOSED to hang out with us too, but he bailed because he is super-lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wanted to DO something tonight. I said I wanted to get into trouble, but that wasn't a necessity. I wanted to feel like a dumb teenager. I guess just because I haven't been out in, like, almost a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short time ago, a group of my friends and I went skinny-dipping in the lake late at night, something we've always wanted to do, but something I never thought we'd actually go through with.&lt;br /&gt;It was SO FUN. it felt so (cliche) freeing and stuff because we were doing something thatw isn't exactly safe or approved by our parents. We were doing something 'wrong', which, frankly, I never do. I'm such a goody goody. but yeah, after we got out of the water, we were driving over the dam and Freebird came on, and we had all the windows down and the music blaring and I loved the sense of idiotic abandon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywayy, that's relevant because I guess I wanted to feel like that again today. but it didn't happen. I enjoyed spending time with kayla anyway. How could you NOT enjoy spending time with Kayla? we just ate dinner and drove for a while, went to Walmart... nothing big.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I BOUGHT THE LITTLE RASCALS. Because it's one of those movies I loved as a kid, and it was in the 5 dollar bin.&lt;br /&gt;Well, of course I want to watch it, but Geoffie is at the beach, dodging oil slicks.&lt;br /&gt;My dad doesn't like movies (????), my mom isn't home... I hate watching movies alone.&lt;br /&gt;So I asked Leland what HE'S up to, but he's working and going to Atlanta tomorrow so I can't watch it with him (he's like a stand-in big brother).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else.... OH!! I want to host a party this summer. in the next few weeks, actually.&lt;br /&gt;I'm calling it a welcome home party for SB and Emma, but you know.... it's really just because i want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess... I'm done with blogging tonight.&lt;br /&gt;some stupid-ass show just came on... this needs to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I write a blog entry every day this summer??&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AGH HOLY HELL I need to turn off this show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1148156647858833916?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1148156647858833916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1148156647858833916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1148156647858833916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1148156647858833916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/day-2-of-re-blogging.html' title='day 2 of Re-blogging!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-8546895651148802098</id><published>2010-06-17T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-17T16:23:19.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so glad I didn't delete this when i stopped using it</title><content type='html'>Because I could really use a blog right now.&lt;br /&gt;I haven't written on here in SO long. I mean... really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can pretty much guarantee that NOBODY reads it anymore; there hasn't been anything to read.&lt;br /&gt;So I can say anything. Anything I want or feel. I think I can be more honest with this blog than I ever was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, when I first started writing my blog (in 9th grade. 15 years old. Can you believe it?), it was supposed to be just for me. A place to vent and talk about whatever was on my mind. Which it was, I guess, but let's be honest:  there were somethings that went unsaid because, you know, I was 15, and wayy more insecure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked back into the past before starting this post, and re-read approx. 40 of my old entries.  I don't know if it's just me being a bad writer (and not being able to fully convey my emotions) or if my life was really so ridiculous back then.&lt;br /&gt;I just can't believe how upset I (apparently) got about the most small, petty things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO!!&lt;br /&gt;It is now the summer before my senior year... quite a long way from this blog's humble beginnings when I was but a wee freshman.&lt;br /&gt;I just had my wisdom teeth removed (on Monday), and therefore have had lots of time on my hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie's older sister has started a weight-loss blog, which I was reading earlier today.&lt;br /&gt;It just made me think about how much I enjoyed writing on my blog wayy back in the day, and I just felt like "why don't I do that again?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Annd here I am.&lt;br /&gt;It is remarkable to me how my voice sounds the same as it did as a freshman.  Do you think anybody would recognize the time difference between then and now if not for the dates on everything and the fact that I've mentioned it, like, a million times?&lt;br /&gt;I kind of doubt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There seems to be, however, no difference in the way I sound (for lack of a better word) on my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am, surely, quite different now. If the freshman-version of me could read this... i wonder what she would think... Would she approve of me? be proud?&lt;br /&gt;I'm 17! A senior at UCHS. College scares the hell out of me, still...&lt;br /&gt;I feel more independent than I ever have (confident in social situations that would have made me shy and nervous otherwise), but I still struggle with an unnerving &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; for someone to depend on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friendships have changed dramatically.  I still care about the same people, but, you know, it all evolves.&lt;br /&gt;I've become exponentially closer to some friends, while other relationships have dwindled.&lt;br /&gt;Issues that my friends and I deal with have become so much more adult and consequential.&lt;br /&gt;2 of my friends are due to have babies this summer.&lt;br /&gt;That may shock my freshman self more than anything else.&lt;br /&gt;2 babies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about guys?&lt;br /&gt;Well... let's say it was both an area of significant growth... and absolute failure this past year.&lt;br /&gt;Ahh... the Friend Zone. A place to where I was banished multiple times.&lt;br /&gt;A place that I have been TRYING to claw my way out of in one case, and a place that I desperately want to settle into in another case.&lt;br /&gt;Blech. we don't need to talk about that, do we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... what else?&lt;br /&gt;I guess physical changes?&lt;br /&gt;I'm the same height as I've been for as long as I can remember.&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to weigh myself, because I don't think I've lost any weight (and honestly, I wasn't trying to).  People tell me that I appear to have lost weight, but maybe my body finally decided to be a grown-up, and I've just readjusted my fat.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever. I don't care WHY I look the way I do, or even if any body else has noticed.&lt;br /&gt;All I care about is that I feel prettier than I have in a VERY long time.&lt;br /&gt;I know how ridiculous it sounds... I know. but I've ALWAYS struggled with my image. Honestly, I can trace it back to when we moved to Georgia in 2nd grade.  I had no friends, and I was angry and resentful.  and because of that, i found it IMPOSSIBLE to make any new friends.  2nd grade was a bad year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG. I don't even know what else to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I've had my wisdom teeth out, I have played hours of online MahJong and watched old movies. (The Pagemaster with Geoffie, so we could re-live our childhood. good damn movie) I ate some pizza today. from Downtown and they overcooked it, but at least it was REAL food.&lt;br /&gt;Not soup. or pudding. or mashed potatoes. or ice cream. it was solid. and that made me happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-8546895651148802098?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/8546895651148802098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=8546895651148802098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8546895651148802098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8546895651148802098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/06/im-so-glad-i-didnt-delete-this-when-i.html' title='I&apos;m so glad I didn&apos;t delete this when i stopped using it'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2816867144789786869</id><published>2010-02-13T17:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T17:44:51.674-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Can't Believe How Long It's Been.</title><content type='html'>My last post is from December 22nd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soo much has changed.&lt;br /&gt;Everything has come at me so fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to register for the SAT next month.&lt;br /&gt;Colleges send me loads of mail, but I can't force myself to look through everything.&lt;br /&gt;I have accounts with EVERY college searching website that I know about, but i almost never log on.&lt;br /&gt;I have a paper for English that I don't even know where to start on.&lt;br /&gt;Our mock trial competition is looming over my head (actually , I should be done worrying about regional by now, but it was postponed)&lt;br /&gt;I need to find a prom dress.&lt;br /&gt;I work double shifts every weekend.&lt;br /&gt;I want to stay active in Beta club.&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I have to juggle everything while making sure all of my relationships (friendly and otherwise) don't fall apart, although I have zero time for the people with whom I am trying to keep relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't mean for this blog to be another one where I freak out about my work load, but alas... here I am again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly wanted to talk about all the things that are going right, but I guess happiness is being put on the backburner.&lt;br /&gt;At least for the purposes of this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;I know nobody reads this anymore.&lt;br /&gt;So it doesn't really matter what I say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auf Wiedersehen!&lt;br /&gt;(i ust guessed at that spelling. I wonder how close i am...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2816867144789786869?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2816867144789786869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2816867144789786869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2816867144789786869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2816867144789786869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-cant-believe-how-long-its-been.html' title='I Can&apos;t Believe How Long It&apos;s Been.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-8743694735860273443</id><published>2009-12-22T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T14:45:31.312-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas!!!</title><content type='html'>It's only 2 days away now!&lt;br /&gt;I just finished wrapping all of my presents (which I bought shortly before that. haha. Could I have procrastinated a little more?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent $157.57 at Wal-Mart today, on 9 gifts, 3 of which double as birthday presents, too.&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm counting them twice which makes my average spent per gift $13.15. Not too shabby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, that isn't counting the money I have to give my brother to make up my half of our mom's present... I think that's like $40, which gives me a grand Christmas total of almost $200.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG!! That's like 27 hours of work. Everybody better appreciate this big time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already told my mom that if anybody wasn't EXTREMELY excited when they opened their present, that I would take it back, because I didn't buy 1 thing that I wouldn't mind having myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this is the first year I've ever bought ALL of my presents by myself (I wrapped them all myself too).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha, I'm so grown up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would say that this is shaping up to be a great Christmas break, but I was grounded on Friday after school. I didn't even get to the official start of the break. :(&lt;br /&gt;It's all Jeffkidd's fault. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored with this now, and I'm pretty sure nobody even reads my blog anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you do: HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-8743694735860273443?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/8743694735860273443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=8743694735860273443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8743694735860273443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8743694735860273443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas!!!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3235787827361671076</id><published>2009-12-08T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T17:42:21.539-08:00</updated><title type='text'>yay for me!</title><content type='html'>I made 100 on my transcedentalism paper for Mrs. Batchelor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That makes me feel awesome... I've never made 100 on a batch paper before (though, let's face it, I've been close. haha)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm glad that THIS is the paper that I did really well on: it was very personal.  Really.  Joe, I don't know if you even read my blog enymore, but if you do, I really didn't want you to read my paper, I wasn't just being weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This paper makes me want to cry every time I read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if Batch cried. I doubt, it but that would be absolutely phenomenal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha. I love making people cry.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now. You can hold your applause. I know that I'm amazing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3235787827361671076?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3235787827361671076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3235787827361671076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3235787827361671076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3235787827361671076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/12/yay-for-me.html' title='yay for me!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1113888212440523438</id><published>2009-12-03T17:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T17:57:19.678-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Motivation</title><content type='html'>I really really want to be one of those people who is motivated by letdowns.&lt;br /&gt;Like if I make a bad grade on a paper, that it would make me try that much harder to prove that I CAN do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortuantely, i am not wired that way.&lt;br /&gt;As cocky as it sounds, there are just some things that I am not used to failing at, and when I do perform badly, i never EVER want to revisit that particular task. I want to give up, just turn my back on it, and focus on somehting that I CAN do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, some things that I'm bad at and that I gave up on:&lt;br /&gt;- gymnastics&lt;br /&gt;- college admissions essays&lt;br /&gt;- Jacob's little hackysack rhythm game thing that he tried to teach me in BDA&lt;br /&gt;- throwing a frisbee (although i eventually had an epiphany to try it with my left hand)&lt;br /&gt;- running a long distance (or a short distance. haha.)&lt;br /&gt;- probably a million other things that I can't think of right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does motivate me??&lt;br /&gt;Competition, I know for sure.&lt;br /&gt;Anything that I've tried really hard at, I can trace back to competiton.&lt;br /&gt;I hate being second best, especially considering that i have been indoctrinated from a very young age that "Second place is just the first loser".&lt;br /&gt;Seing that now, I am eerily reminded of the popular Ricky Bobby idea that "if ya ain't first, you're last" which is even identified as a twisted belief in the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I willing to work for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DO know that Christmas break can't come soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;(honestly, that stems from my 'giving up' thing too; I'm not rocking school as much as i usually do so I want to stop... at least for a while)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GAHH!! WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO LIGHT A FIRE UNDER ME??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew. It would make everything so much easier.&lt;br /&gt;:/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1113888212440523438?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1113888212440523438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1113888212440523438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1113888212440523438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1113888212440523438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/12/motivation.html' title='Motivation'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4529056795958904870</id><published>2009-11-11T17:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T17:22:01.128-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So it looks like I'm never going to slow down</title><content type='html'>First of all, OMG! I can't believe how long it has been since I've written on here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as of yesterday, it looks like I will never ever get a chance to relax again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Batchelor's class.&lt;br /&gt;It's not like she's asking too much (REALLY! not sarcastic). however, it seems to me that she has forgotten that we have 7 other classes to do work for. And most of us have jobs, and we participate in various clubs and other actividades extracuriculares around the school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, if all I had to devote my time to was her assignments, it would be a cake walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I KNOW that it's obviously not supposed to easy. It's an Honors course for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;I can handle hard assignments. Where I struggle is when we have OVERLAPPING (!!!) hard assignments. we have two essays revisions, a mini research project-type thing, and new book to read, and these have all been assigned within the last, like, 4 class periods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always says that she gives us assignments in advance so that we don't have to do anything at the last minute. FYI: 4 days is not that far in advance, AND I have to do things at the last minute because it is my ONLY spare minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have assignments due for other classes, I work all weekend and somewhere in there, I have to try to have a social life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still a teenager! I don't want to spend all of my time locked away behind a computer screen typing power verbs and practicing for the SAT.&lt;br /&gt;But I have been ASSURED that these are the steps that must be taken to have a successful life. so, I will soldier on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Begrudgingly. :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4529056795958904870?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4529056795958904870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4529056795958904870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4529056795958904870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4529056795958904870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/11/so-it-looks-like-im-never-going-to-slow.html' title='So it looks like I&apos;m never going to slow down'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7971808448250127549</id><published>2009-10-15T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T20:06:52.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things have changed for me...</title><content type='html'>and that's ok! (Panic! At the Disco)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I haven't been on here for soo long.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm neglecting my faithful readers! (Ya know. Nobody)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, I looked back at some of my old posts, and everything is sooo different!&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, a lot of my latest posts have been really kind of sad. I complained about not being able to be happy, and about being totally stressed, and all this other crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm here to say that that is definitely not the case anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm definitely happy. For sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that brings me to hwat I actually wanted to write about.&lt;br /&gt;I have a friend (and I'm really not going to use names here) who has cut herself. She also has told me that being sad makes her feel alive.&lt;br /&gt;That idea is just completely mind-bending to me.&lt;br /&gt;Why would you not feel alive if you're happy?&lt;br /&gt;Why would you not feel alive if you're angry?&lt;br /&gt;How can you ever feel dead??&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, you are alive. The sensation (wrong word, but close enough) of that should never ever change?&lt;br /&gt;Should it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is feeling 'alive' relative?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even wrap my head around this. Like how you would feel un-alive (?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I probably shouldn't be writing about it considering that I have NO IDEA what I'm talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll just let this marinate for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7971808448250127549?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7971808448250127549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7971808448250127549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7971808448250127549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7971808448250127549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/10/things-have-changed-for-me.html' title='Things have changed for me...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-5062000677850670937</id><published>2009-08-23T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T15:36:28.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today supremely stunk</title><content type='html'>I love when people tell me that they love it when I'm not around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's definitely what I needed today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and when I got home, I got on Delias to order the adorable trench coat that I've wanted for a couple weeks now, and it was on clearance for 35 dollars when it was originally 74 something and I was soo excited... and.&lt;br /&gt;they don't have it in my size.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously want to cry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-5062000677850670937?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/5062000677850670937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=5062000677850670937' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5062000677850670937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5062000677850670937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/08/today-supremely-stunk.html' title='Today supremely stunk'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1150610801109104822</id><published>2009-08-21T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T14:14:20.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a lot to say</title><content type='html'>So let's get started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this year... how to describe it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far... I have been overwhelmed and frustrated almost to the verge of tears.&lt;br /&gt;I am exhausted everyday, but I feel like I'm not getting anything done.&lt;br /&gt;And my patience has been shortened a lot. I find myself making more and more sarcastic/rude comments to or about people. i don't want to be seen as a bitch, but I have no patience for stupid people, and like right now: I know I shouldn't say that, and saying that I don't have patience for stupid people doesnt exactly refelct how I really feel, but I'm too tired to think of a better way to phrase that. Oh well. (PS, I really want to say that everyone can suck it. SEE? I know thats wrong. Why do I keep saying things like that? I don't want people to associate me with meanness. Being labeled like that makes me wanna cry.&lt;br /&gt;I also dont want to be known as the smart girl. There is so much more to a person than that.&lt;br /&gt;Like, Lisa did this thing on her facebook that is a picture, with a bunch of different things on it like "The person I always have fun with" "The sweetest person I know" "The person I can't live without" blahblahblah and you tag your friends on which one they apply to. I don't know if that makes sense or not.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, guess what I got.&lt;br /&gt;Did you guess?&lt;br /&gt;I got "The smartest person I know"&lt;br /&gt;That really makes me want to cry. Like, am I not appreciated for anything else? Am I just the smart girl?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, my social life is suffering from being so tired from school and practice. Tonight's Friday night, but I don't want to go out. I want to relax for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HEY!! Super announcement.&lt;br /&gt;This is what I've decided.&lt;br /&gt;Sophomores are waayyy worse than freshmen.&lt;br /&gt;Freshmen are still kinda scared and they know their place... if that makes sense.&lt;br /&gt;Sophomores think that since they've been in high school for 1 year, that they have license to be jackasses.&lt;br /&gt;YOU DON'T!!&lt;br /&gt;SOPHOMORES ARE STILL UNDERCLASSMEN!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have more to say, and I really dont want this to be all about how I'm always tired, but I guess thats enough for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's more.... but it can wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1150610801109104822?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1150610801109104822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1150610801109104822' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1150610801109104822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1150610801109104822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-have-lot-to-say.html' title='I have a lot to say'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-9007123534901708415</id><published>2009-07-22T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T11:28:40.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm having trouble...</title><content type='html'>...expressing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like, I can't say whatever I want to say, which is partly why I havent written any new blogs any a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't get my thoughts into words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking that if this persists, I'm gonna go Shakespeare on the world's ass and start making up words that apply to the events in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-9007123534901708415?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/9007123534901708415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=9007123534901708415' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/9007123534901708415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/9007123534901708415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/07/im-having-trouble.html' title='I&apos;m having trouble...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2430071433420804295</id><published>2009-07-04T20:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T21:00:10.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sked.</title><content type='html'>Ok, everybody, HERE IT IS!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Day:&lt;br /&gt;1) US History- Denmon&lt;br /&gt;2) Adv. Band- Rittenhouse&lt;br /&gt;3) Business Data Apps- Parker (Bunches of friends in here. Yay! It's a lunch class!!)&lt;br /&gt;4) Spanish II- Pesty-Wallace (I hope to finish this with a 102 also. haha. I love Spanish!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B Day:&lt;br /&gt;1) Chemistry- Poole (Apparently, Donahue isn't teaching Chem. next year. :/)&lt;br /&gt;2) Inter. Band- Rittenhouse (Learning to play tuba. Fo Shizzle. It's gonna be amazing)&lt;br /&gt;3) Honors- Batch (Aggh!! Need to read more!!! :P)&lt;br /&gt;4) Adv. Algebra &amp;amp; Trig- Payne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you have?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2430071433420804295?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2430071433420804295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2430071433420804295' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2430071433420804295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2430071433420804295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/07/sked.html' title='Sked.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2593794225557789916</id><published>2009-06-24T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T11:24:48.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it Too Much To Ask</title><content type='html'>that ones of my best friends might actually want to spend time with me???!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(The following blog is kind of... explicit and has lots of inappropriate language. Joe, I would advise you not to read any farther... Actually, I'd feel better if nobody read any farther, because I'm really just ranting. REALLY ranting... you can read it if you want to.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Further note: since writing this, I have calmed down  A LOT and I went through and editted the parts of this that really embarrassed me, but I didn't want to just delete the whole blog, because I want to be able to look back on this one day after this is FAARRRR behind us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Anyway, it is more appropriate now... but you can use your imagination.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. I HATE feeling like I'm putting so much into a friendship and not seeing much of a return on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the hell did a freaking girl who he's only known a few months become more important than the plans we have had since before they EVEN STARTED DATING??&lt;br /&gt;I guess when she bought him and iPod and a cell phone and a ton of clothes and started &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;edit* &lt;/span&gt;him.&lt;br /&gt;That must be the problem. I only provide, you know, fun and friendship and loyalty and all that other useless &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*edit*&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if I &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*edit edit edit*&lt;/span&gt; he would actually want to hang out with me once this summer.&lt;br /&gt;That's not even the point.&lt;br /&gt;He says he has plans FOR THE WHOLE WEEK OF HIS BIRTHDAY when he KNEW that we were supposed to hang out. I couldn't care LESS if he wants to spend his birthday with his girlfriend, but WHAT THE HELL? He can't save ONE DAY to spend with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to bake that asshole a birthday cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I feel a little better after that rant.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2593794225557789916?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2593794225557789916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2593794225557789916' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2593794225557789916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2593794225557789916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/06/is-it-too-much-to-ask.html' title='Is it Too Much To Ask'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6510380712097364550</id><published>2009-06-16T18:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T18:59:50.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the middle of Summer!</title><content type='html'>I literally have nothing to write about... but I'm bored, so I'm gonna anyway.&lt;br /&gt;This has potential to be the DUMBEST post EVER!!... except for the one that Joe made me write about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to lay out in the sun today... and yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;Not that it's really doing anything, but it lets me kill a couple hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sooooooooooo booooooooorrrrrrrreeeeeeeedddddddddddddd.&lt;br /&gt;I miss Emma and Sara Beth and Geoff.&lt;br /&gt;Emma and Sara Beth are both at camp and (duh) Geoff's in Europe.&lt;br /&gt;He is going to Berlin tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I found something better to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ay later, suckas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6510380712097364550?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6510380712097364550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6510380712097364550' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6510380712097364550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6510380712097364550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/06/in-middle-of-summer.html' title='In the middle of Summer!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6512099414182952819</id><published>2009-06-11T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T18:35:09.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LA face with an Oakland Booty</title><content type='html'>We brought Geoffrey to the airport today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad is a nervous wreck. He's so worried that Geoff and Leland are going to get into trouble... like being mugged  or scammed, or sommething that has to do with them not being able to come home if they have to... not like he thinks they are going to CAUSE trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my mom, Daphne, and I dropped them off at the security checkpoint. My mom's eyes welled up, but that was it.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but I guess that's because it was really abrupt. we went them to check their bags and then walked all of 100 feet with them to security, then we left. I guess I was expecting more time with them... and now I'm just waiting for it to hit me that I'm not going to see them until July 12th and I want to keep myself buusy so that I don't have to think about it so much.. at least until I get used to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tomorrow: First thing, CLEAN MY BATHROOM. from top to bottom. I'm gonna play some music really loudly and lock myself in there (with the window open so the cleaning fumes don't kill me) and clean the whole thing. And I don't have to worry about Geoff making a mess in there for a whole month. ahhhh bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then! I'm going to take a shower. Probably in my parents' bathroom because I'm not going to want to mess my up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then! I'm going to check my Facebook and see if Joe replied to my message and if not, I'm going to call him to see if he can go to the movies with us tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to see The Hangover with Kayla and Ashley and I think Caleb. Even though I've already seen it, but it was SO FUNNY!&lt;br /&gt;Last time I saw it, it was supposed to be me, Kayla, Ashley, and Jeffkidd, but Ashley and Kayla both flaked out at the last minute leaving me alone with Jeffkidd. I think they did it on purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway! After the movie, I don't know what I'm going to do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll read more of the Scarlet Letter. I've only read up to page 60 so far. :/&lt;br /&gt;And not because I'm not putting time into it, but it takes me a while to get through it because the language is weird and I keep getting distracted and then I have to go back and re-read what I already read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this is turning out to be a pretty good summer.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. If you are wondering about the title, Kayla says that I'm growing a butt. YAY! I've always been totally flat-assed. HAHAHA!&lt;br /&gt;Peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6512099414182952819?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6512099414182952819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6512099414182952819' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6512099414182952819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6512099414182952819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/06/la-face-with-oakland-booty.html' title='LA face with an Oakland Booty'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7506239943891717983</id><published>2009-05-20T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T17:33:09.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections on the end of my life as I know it</title><content type='html'>Graduation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A time when one chapter in a young person's life ends, and another begins blablablah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In two days my brother will graduate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 22 days he is leaving for EUROPE with Leland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a few months, he is going to MOVE OUT!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means that he won't be sleeping in the room next door to me anymore. He won't be around to watch stand-up comedy with me anymore. He won't help take some of my parent's heat off me. He won't randomly swing dance with me anymore. He won't reenact the Medieval Times fight scene from The Cable Guy with me in the kitchen with spatulas anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously can't imagine a school year without him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know he's only going to be in Dahlonega so he'll probably be back every weekend... but my world is falling apart right now, so I'm thinking people should stop discrediting my complaints. (In other words: SHUT UP AND LET ME WHINE!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, he's MY BROTHER!!! I read an article somewhere about how siblings play probably the largest role in somebody's life because parents will eventually pass away and your siblings are the people that you can pretty much be super-close with for your entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been away from him for longer than, like, a little over a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the real problem is that this isn't just going to be for a while. I can stand the month in Europe, because I know he'll be back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after he starts college, he's going to be GONE FOREVER. (Yes, I KNOW he'll be back on weekends and for holidays, that's not what I'm talking about.) He isn't going to LIVE with us. It's like he's not part of our family anymore. He's moving out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I'm not doing a very good job describing the ending of my life. Oh well, I don't care. This isn't about you, is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. The first thing I'm going to do when he leaves (on June 11th for Europe) is clean our bathroom from top to bottom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7506239943891717983?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7506239943891717983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7506239943891717983' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7506239943891717983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7506239943891717983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/05/reflections-on-end-of-my-life-as-i-know.html' title='Reflections on the end of my life as I know it'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4231376399750390983</id><published>2009-04-30T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T15:42:51.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Segun mi padre...</title><content type='html'>"There is no way you can go through life without knowing how to throw a frisbee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That might just be the cutest thing ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. Did you notice you amazing Spanish skills?&lt;br /&gt;I AM A MASTER OF LANGUAGES!!! *maniacal laughter*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;heehee.&lt;br /&gt;Really hyper.&lt;br /&gt;Today was a good day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4231376399750390983?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4231376399750390983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4231376399750390983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4231376399750390983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4231376399750390983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/04/segun-mi-padre.html' title='Segun mi padre...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1901825984655543588</id><published>2009-04-14T14:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T15:00:55.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the trouble with nice guys...</title><content type='html'>...is that you can't tell if they are just being &lt;em&gt;nice,&lt;/em&gt;  or if they are being nice &lt;em&gt;to you&lt;/em&gt; for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I can't wait for summer, so that I can forget all of this frustrating high school crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't anything be easy?&lt;br /&gt;Why can't it just be like "we like each other let's date"?&lt;br /&gt;There's always all of this other shit.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sick of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how you know it's time to quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uggghhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1901825984655543588?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1901825984655543588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1901825984655543588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1901825984655543588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1901825984655543588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/04/trouble-with-nice-guys.html' title='the trouble with nice guys...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1466212391989871141</id><published>2009-04-02T17:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T17:55:18.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pilates class</title><content type='html'>I just attended one for the first time. (taught by Kathleen, Emma's mom)&lt;br /&gt;It was really hard; she's my hero now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fun though, because I went with Emma, Stephanie, and Carley, and we kept laughing at each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie fell off of her giant bouncy ball like 5 times, and emma made the funniest faces when doing whole body crunch things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I went to the pliates class bacsue Stephanie and I (and some others who have expressed interest) are going to get HOTT this summer.&lt;br /&gt;We're gonna come back to school and everybody will say "Wow! They got HOTT this summer."&lt;br /&gt;That's how HOTT we're gonna be.&lt;br /&gt;yup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I got my haircut today. To me, there's a huge difference. It's, like, 2 inches shorter, maybe. Everybody else is all "It looks the same."&lt;br /&gt;But it's not. (Just so you know)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! new phone too.&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't even expecting it. My parents were just like "Here you go". It's a Matrix (I think) That's what Becca told me because Jeff has the same one.&lt;br /&gt;I miss my pictures and ringtones, and the camera is screwed up on this on I'll have to take it back, but that's cool for now.&lt;br /&gt;That's why I have my awesome digital camera that is the shit (Remember? I got it for Christmas, but some of you, like stalkers maybe, already knew that. *ahem* Tucker, you're a freak)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOOOVVVEEEE YOOOUUUU!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1466212391989871141?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1466212391989871141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1466212391989871141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1466212391989871141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1466212391989871141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/04/pilates-class.html' title='Pilates class'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2899708354869284870</id><published>2009-03-25T17:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T17:06:40.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Crap Spring Break already</title><content type='html'>You might remember an earlier post about how I couldn't wait for spring break.&lt;br /&gt;That's still true, but now it's only, like 9 days away or something like that, so.... yeaaahhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not ready at all. I need a new swimsuit, and some warm weather clothes (my mom and I are going shopping soon, I hope), and I need to lose, maybe 5 lbs at the least (I'm going to run on the treadmill after ANTM, but I have to watch it now, becuase SB is gonna wanna talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to fake a tan. I think I have some fake tan stuff from last year. I know that sounds ridiculous, but if any of you have seen my legs after a long, frightful winter hiding under jeans, you would understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are FREAKISHLY white.&lt;br /&gt;Ghost legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yup.&lt;br /&gt;LOTS TO DO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ha. I'd like to see Joe copy this one too&lt;br /&gt;heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I really need to get my hair cut too...&lt;br /&gt;not to mention all of my school work, too.&lt;br /&gt;AGGH&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2899708354869284870?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2899708354869284870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2899708354869284870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2899708354869284870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2899708354869284870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/03/holy-crap-spring-break-already.html' title='Holy Crap Spring Break already'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-9085094681432238981</id><published>2009-03-23T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T14:40:32.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>These are a few of my favorite things...</title><content type='html'>Just because my last post was soo negative, here are a few little things that make me HAPPY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The beach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When my legs rub together after I shave them and they are super smooth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Feeling the sun on me esp. when it is super hot and it feels heavy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Dancing in my room like an idiot (usually with Emma)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sporting events (probably except golf and baseball)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Flipping over to the cool side of the pillow on a really hot night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ska music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Breakfast for dinner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Getting mail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Watching movies with Geoff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Marching season&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Pretty pictures of me (I know, really self-centered)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ending with a perfect drawer at work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-AND SO MUCH MORE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-9085094681432238981?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/9085094681432238981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=9085094681432238981' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/9085094681432238981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/9085094681432238981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/03/these-are-few-of-my-favorite-things.html' title='These are a few of my favorite things...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-8699827130500849497</id><published>2009-03-16T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T14:34:37.994-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Peeves/ just stuff that bothers me</title><content type='html'>These are things that REALLY bother me.&lt;br /&gt;Not really in any particular order.&lt;br /&gt;(Do pet peeves have to be something that OTHER people do that bothers you, or can it just be an occurance? If its the first one, then these aren't actually pet peeves.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When someone tells me to calm down/chill/ relax or any other form of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When the bottom of my pant legs get wet from walking around on wet ground and then its all cold and sticks to your legs and won't dry forEVER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-That Vonage commercial with the phone, and they're adding up the amount you pay for your phone bill ON THE PHONE!! I'm like "That's not a fucking calculator!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When people copy me/my ideas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When people don't listen to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When people HEAR me, but still don't listen to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-OVERLY sarcastic people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-People who SAY they are random. If you have to tell people that you are random, then you're not random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-'Luxury' car commercials&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Not being taken seriously when I'm actually being serious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Being taken seriously when I joking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When people talk about my hair. It's a soft spot people! I just got comfortable with my frizz and poof like, this year. I L-O-V-E it, so shut the hell up about it already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Girls who complain aobut their weight just to get attention/to seem humble even though they KNOW that there body is rockin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Boys that know that they are hot. They always have huge egos and are usually assholes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When my food on my plate touches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When people look at my toes/feet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ummm...&lt;br /&gt;I'll add on to this I guess if I think of anything else.&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know what the point of this is, but I hope you like it.&lt;br /&gt;If you think of anything else, let me know!&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-8699827130500849497?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/8699827130500849497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=8699827130500849497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8699827130500849497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8699827130500849497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/03/pet-peeves-just-stuff-that-bothers-me.html' title='Pet Peeves/ just stuff that bothers me'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1198728762400592865</id><published>2009-03-13T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T19:05:34.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anticipation and Expectation</title><content type='html'>I can't wait until SPRING BREAK!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lasst year I went to Florida with Geoff, Leland, and my mom, and that was super-fun because we went to the Islands of Adventure (which is where that picture was taken, I don't know, its somewhere over there -----&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, I'm going to Hilton Head with Emma.&lt;br /&gt;Which will be awesome, because we are going to spend all day at the beach (and stare in amazement at my legs that CONTINUE to shun sunlight), and we'll eat seafood, and I'm going to meet Kathleen (Emma's friend from camp who lives on the island... not Emma's mom, who I already know... VERY WELL if you know what I'm saying... hahahaha!!! I love mom jokes, evn if they make me sound like a lesbian), and we'll make fools fo ourselves when we try to dance to songs we don't know the dance to.&lt;br /&gt;Umm... last year we had on MTV, and Thriller came on, so we jumped up and attempted the dance, and then someone (I honestly don't remember which of us it was) got the bright idea to go out on the balcony to do it. So we run to the balcony, and do like, one head twitch, and the claws in the air-type thingy and then ran out of moves, and looked at each other and ran back in, hoping nobody noticed what we did.&lt;br /&gt;haha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we'll ride bikes, and we'll walk to the store for frozen lemonade and mini ice cream, and well play mini golf, and we'll go to the movies, and shop, and stuff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it WILL ROCK!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only problem is that Spring Break isn't until April 6th. It is going ot kill me to look forward to something that far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm going to look forward to tomorrow, instead.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, I have to work, but that's ok because I like my job. But then, after work, I'm gonna come home, get in the shower, fix my makeup, do my hair, then I'm going to Emma's to help her get ready to PARTY!!!&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, Birthday Party tomorrow!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after that, I'm going to look forward to Monday. Monday after school, is the meeting for DRUM MAJOR TRYOUTS!&lt;br /&gt;When I first thought about trying out for drum major, I was just kidding, but after I thought about it, I thought it would be REALLY fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'd be a good drum major. I definitely have a pretty authoritative personality, but I don't think I'll be OVERBEARING (i.e. I'll know when to turn my 'drum major' off and have fun with my friends)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably won't get it, because I don't think Mr. Rittenhouse takes me seriously, and Eric has been helping Katie A LOT and she's trying out too, soooo....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, yeah, this post is kind of all over the place, but whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1198728762400592865?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1198728762400592865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1198728762400592865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1198728762400592865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1198728762400592865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/03/anticipation-and-expectation.html' title='Anticipation and Expectation'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7845739290464192639</id><published>2009-03-06T13:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T18:27:43.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Worst week of my life?</title><content type='html'>No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, definetly the worst week I've had in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am an awful writer, and I'm incapable at getting better.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am destined to live alone, because the only guy who has liked me since 5th grade likes his girlfriend better. (that sounds weird, I know, but you don't knowthe whole situation, do you?)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I miss my last semester classes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I feel bitchy, and just want to be mean&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everything annoys me. EVERYTHING!!... well more like everyONE.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am super-stressed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am exhausted, but I have to work tomorrow, and after that, I've got my first official Beta Club event.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Worst of all: NOBODY IS TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&gt;:-(&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(haha, this is my 69th post. haha! 69!! &lt;em&gt;Billy Madison&lt;/em&gt;  reference: LOVE IT! ps. that's an allusion within an allusion!! wrap your mind around that, suckaaaaaaaas)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7845739290464192639?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7845739290464192639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7845739290464192639' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7845739290464192639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7845739290464192639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/03/worst-week-of-my-life.html' title='Worst week of my life?'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-650846021686760659</id><published>2009-03-05T14:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T14:17:28.401-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1,2,3,4, I really need to slam a door!!</title><content type='html'>5,6,7,8, days like this I really hate!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My head hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-650846021686760659?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/650846021686760659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=650846021686760659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/650846021686760659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/650846021686760659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/03/1234-i-really-need-to-slam-door.html' title='1,2,3,4, I really need to slam a door!!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2129268249592855346</id><published>2009-03-01T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T18:16:00.522-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss the sun</title><content type='html'>Today was sooooo crappy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gray and sad.&lt;br /&gt;I hate days like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait till spring, when I can feel the sun on my face, and I have to wear sunglasses, and I can feel a breeze without it chilling me to the bone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I MISS THE SUN!!&lt;br /&gt;But maybe, whenever it decides to return, it would like to eat lunch with me, the moon, and the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;heehee. I'm so funny.&lt;br /&gt;ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2129268249592855346?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2129268249592855346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2129268249592855346' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2129268249592855346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2129268249592855346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-miss-sun.html' title='I miss the sun'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-879753866468663303</id><published>2009-02-28T16:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T16:31:52.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG, I'm so lazy</title><content type='html'>I have to write 1 perfect paragraph for English about how men in Greek epics lost happiness when they try to escape fate, and I haven't worked on it AT ALL today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have to do a section in Physical Science, which isn't nearly as big of a deal, but I haven't done it either...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I literally just watched TV pretty much all day.&lt;br /&gt;I walked my dogs, started my laundry, drove to grandma's for a few minutes to pick up a movie that Geoff and I never ended up watching, and that's just about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice, because it's been a while since I just spent the day vegged out on the couch, so it was relaxing, but I have to work tomorrow, so I guess I'll just write my paper after that....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I was supposed to go to the movies tonight with Kayla, but she never called me.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, that's cool anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... while today was relaxing, it has caused more stress for tomorrow, but I guess it all evens out, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hhaha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-879753866468663303?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/879753866468663303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=879753866468663303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/879753866468663303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/879753866468663303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/02/omg-im-so-lazy.html' title='OMG, I&apos;m so lazy'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3319410218004098250</id><published>2009-02-27T13:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T08:02:35.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>State!!</title><content type='html'>I don't get to go tonight.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to a play with Emily instead, so that's cool anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omg, this is random, but nothing sucks worse than getting on myspace, aor looking at your phone or something, and you have no new messages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't anybody love me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like such a myspace loser, but I am waiting on replies from, like, 3 people right now, and on a reply from Joe on facebook, and NOBODY HAS REPLIED!&lt;br /&gt;grr......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need something to do until it's toime to go to the playu, and I was going to catch up on my correspondence.... but I guess there's no catching up to be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I did get a friend request from some random guy I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't have a name. D-LOC is what it says on his profile. His picture is him with a bandana covering his face, and his profile is all aobut Crips.... like the gang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Creepy, much!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any friends.&lt;br /&gt;haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, Umm, this is the weirdest post ever posted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm going to go figure out what to do with my hair before the play tonight... which is Into The Woods by the way. It's at Young Harris, and Ashley Murray is the lead. I'm pretty sure its about Red Riding Hood...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This willbe fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;BYE!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3319410218004098250?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3319410218004098250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3319410218004098250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3319410218004098250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3319410218004098250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/02/state.html' title='State!!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3373462184654628009</id><published>2009-02-19T14:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T14:58:18.660-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ew</title><content type='html'>I don't feel good today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But last night at work was soo much fun!&lt;br /&gt;I've honestly never had that much fun at Zaxby's before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was soooo hyper. I would randomly start laughing at nothing at all. One time it got so bad that I almost fell down, and I had to lean up against a door. And, I wanted to run around and sing and dance like an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;I told my boss "It's days like today that make me wish I could tap dance".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohh... and I've gotten strangely obsessed with &lt;em&gt;Whose Wedding Is It Anyway&lt;/em&gt; on the Style Network. I don't know why, I usually just critisize the taste of these women. I've never really been one of those girls who planned out her entire wedding since she was 8, but watching this show has made me think more about it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what this has to do with anything... but yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, does anybody know if you can actually take your dog into Petsmart with you? I always see it on the commercials, but I've never seen anybody with their pet with them in there before, not that I've been to a Petsmart very often, but still. Wouldn't dogs get in fights and stuff? What happens if your dog gets hurt in Petsmart? Are they responsible, or do you have to sign, like, a waiver to bring in your dog?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3373462184654628009?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3373462184654628009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3373462184654628009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3373462184654628009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3373462184654628009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/02/ew.html' title='Ew'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4396398200194801649</id><published>2009-02-16T13:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T18:13:39.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have the Best Friends Ever</title><content type='html'>On Saturday, (aka, Valentine's Day; aka, a day that most single people are all depressing and sad) me and a bunch of my other friends who are single (7 of us in fact...) went to see &lt;em&gt;He's Just Not That Into You&lt;/em&gt;. It was the best cliche movie to see, and it was super-awesome/ the shit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, first we ate at Enrico's. Not the REAL Enrico's, but the one in Funworld, and then we we saw the movie, and then we went BACK to Funworld and ate ice cream, and walked around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I guess I should tell you who was there. It was :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sara Beth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Emma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Kayla&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Wendy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ashley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-and Kasey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG!! Anybody who knows Kayla KNOWS that she is KA-RAZYYY (!!) and Emma actually ENCOURAGED Kayla to drink a Rockstar Energy Drink "Because you are one". Bad idea, Emma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then Kayla was super hyper (and I have a video of her being hyper on my camera), and we were sitting at a table eating our ice cream, and she's like, "You guys wanna walk? We should go walk? I wanna walk. I'm so hyper..." so I'm like "Yeah, in a minute we can go out to the go-kart track and then you can CHASE THEM!!" And her eyes just lit up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was like "Ummm, I was kidding."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after we finished our ice cream, we DID walk around, but we did NOT chase the go-karts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Mark Steely, Connor, Casey, Casey's girlfriend, and Jonathan and Jonathan's girlfriend were there, and they were like standing an akward distance away from us while we were eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the distance was between "I know you and want to talk to you" and "we are just random people who are standing here in a group". I didn't know whether or not to acknowledge them. At one point Steely walked over, and was like "What are you guys doing?" and that was actually more awkward, because nobody actually likes him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG!! I've decided to have a continuation of &lt;strong&gt;THE ZAXBY'S CHRONICLES&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday Morning:&lt;br /&gt;I'm working from 11 till 4.&lt;br /&gt;There is always a rush after church.&lt;br /&gt;It was especially bad yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;It seems like everything went wrong at once.&lt;br /&gt;I needed to wipe down tables,&lt;br /&gt;There was a looonngg line, so I had to take orders&lt;br /&gt;The teas expired, so I had to make new ones.&lt;br /&gt;The cooks ran out of trays, so I had to wipe those down&lt;br /&gt;Somebody spilled enough of their cole slaw on the floor&lt;br /&gt;To feed a small Ethiopian child&lt;br /&gt;For 3 months.&lt;br /&gt;So I had to sweep.&lt;br /&gt;Orders are sitting in the window waiting to be eaten,&lt;br /&gt;So I had to get food out to customers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was just sooo much going on, and it was hard to keep up. After everything slows down, I'm about to take my break, and the Becca calls.&lt;br /&gt;She is supposed to work from 5-9, and can't come in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said I'd work for her too, which was ok, because I need more hours (more hours = mo money), but I had to work basically from 11-9, except my break between shifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG I WAS SOO TIRED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I also pushed my paycheck up above $100, which is great, because I haven't had a paycheck over $57 since I can't even remember when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWESOME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOOO. I have to work on Wednesday from 5-9, because Victoria wanted someone to cover for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MMMM... I love smelling like fried chicken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4396398200194801649?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4396398200194801649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4396398200194801649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4396398200194801649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4396398200194801649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-have-best-friends-ever.html' title='I Have the Best Friends Ever'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2562360254058842735</id><published>2009-02-06T13:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T13:35:12.893-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Krieger,</title><content type='html'>I'm so very sorry that Ashley shunned you this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loooovvvveeee you!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2562360254058842735?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2562360254058842735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2562360254058842735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2562360254058842735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2562360254058842735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/02/dear-krieger.html' title='Dear Krieger,'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3950667734001552923</id><published>2009-02-04T15:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T16:26:27.814-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Zealand?</title><content type='html'>I think maybe I should go. haha. Not really. But I did just have a crazy dream about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so my dream didn't actually start in New Zealand. I don't really know where we were. Emma and I were on vacation. I think we were supposed to be in Hilton Head, but that was definitely NOT her condo. We were in this GORGEOUS beach house, that I think I once saw on an episode of House Hunters International, and it was built around a tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so the tree ALSO had a lab in the basement, because I think Emma was, like, a scientist, but I don't know, because I wasn't allowed in the basement... I mean lab.&lt;br /&gt;So Emma was working in the lab, and I was hanging out reading a magazine, and watching TV, and this really cute guy came in. His name was Ethan, and he was from Aruba. It turns out that his parents and Emma's parents were friends, and he had known Emma since they were kids. I was like, "Oh, well Emma is in the lab if you want to talk to her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Ethan went in the basement to talk to Emma, and I don't know if I ever asked her, but I knew that Emma didn't like him, but she wouldn't let me talk to him, either, and I was really jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Ethan invited us to spend the summer with his family in New Zealand, which is really weird, because he was from Aruba.&lt;br /&gt;So we spent the whole summer with his really big family, and it was awesome. His grandfather was an aborigine, kind of.... He had a bunch of younger brothers and sisters, and they were so much fun, and a lot of my dream consisted of me chasing a toddler around their front yard so that I could give him a bath. (????)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so near the end of my dream, Emma and I had to come home, and we were at the airport, and I was super depressed because I missed everyone, but then we turned around, and Ethan and his entire family moved to America. Yay! Then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... I Googled dream interpretations (I don't really believe this stuff, but I was curious), and there was one website with a dream dictionary and this is what I got:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+&lt;strong&gt;Travel- &lt;/strong&gt;To dream that you are traveling, represents the path toward your life goals. It also parallels your daily routine and the way you progress. If your travels come to an end, then it symbolizes successful completion of your goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+&lt;strong&gt;Children-&lt;/strong&gt; To see children in your dream, signify an aspect of yourself and your childlike qualities. You may be retreating back to a childlike state where you are longing for the past and the chance to satisfy repressed desires and unfulfilled hopes. Perhaps there is something that you need to see grow and nurtured.  Take some time off and cater to the inner child within. Alternatively, the dream may be highlighting you innocence, purity, simplicity, and carefree attitude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+&lt;strong&gt;Aborigine- &lt;/strong&gt;To see an Aborigine in your dream, represents both your untamed, natural self and your innocent side. You need to be more in touch with your natural intuition and forces.  It also suggests that you are being overindulgent or overly emotional. You may be harming yourself and jeopardizing your well-being due to your unrestraint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+&lt;strong&gt;Jealousy- &lt;/strong&gt;To dream that you are jealous of another person, signifies that such feelings may be carried over from your waking life This dream may reveal you unconscious feelings of jealousy toward that particular person. Alternatively, it represents your vulnerability and your fear of intimacy. You need to work on self-love and acknowledging your self-worth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foood for thought... yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahaha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3950667734001552923?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3950667734001552923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3950667734001552923' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3950667734001552923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3950667734001552923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/02/new-zealand.html' title='New Zealand?'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3307214949261196419</id><published>2009-01-22T14:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T15:12:17.654-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow. Nothing is happening...</title><content type='html'>So... we've just settled into the routine of the new semester.&lt;br /&gt;BTW: Am I the only one who notices how after being in a new semester or school year for a few days, everyone relaxes, and the whole school just seems to settle with a contented sigh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that point just passed, and I think too much in my life has settled. Not into a rut... per se, but I go to school, where I do pretty much the same thing everyday: I have the same classes, that for the most part are the same thing everyday, and I talk to the same people, about the same things, and I drive home, grab something to eat, and then I watch some TV while I do my homework. Then I pretty much get on the computer and Myspace and waste time until it's time to go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need some excitement!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I wonder if Myspace is going to be in the dictionary soon, like as a verb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope so... that would be neato.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3307214949261196419?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3307214949261196419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3307214949261196419' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3307214949261196419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3307214949261196419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/01/wow-nothing-is-happening.html' title='Wow. Nothing is happening...'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7680907342116129604</id><published>2009-01-16T16:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T16:57:24.439-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm boreddddddd</title><content type='html'>My parents went out on a date-thing. I don't know, it's weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Geoff is out with STEPHANIE. Equally as weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am home alone. I would have gone over to Emma's, but she has a basketball game tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heavy sigh, heavy sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Sara Beth's birthday party is tomorrow, so that will be fun. I just have to ignore the cloud of un-finished English homework hanging over my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially because we have an extra day to do it (Thanks MLK!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iiiiiiiiiiii'mmmmm laaaaammmmmeeeee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7680907342116129604?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7680907342116129604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7680907342116129604' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7680907342116129604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7680907342116129604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-boreddddddd.html' title='I&apos;m boreddddddd'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6124244827477655230</id><published>2009-01-11T12:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T13:20:02.787-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Semester!</title><content type='html'>Ok, so as anybody who has read my last blog knows, I was super excited for the new semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was totally right. This semester is gonna rock!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1st block&lt;/strong&gt;: Espanol with Sra. Pestana (Wallace?) no. Pestana. She seems really nice, and the class doesn't look like it will be very hard. Casey Phillips is my unofficial, but still pretty official partner in that class. Whenever we have to team up to speak Spanish, she's my partner. Oh, and we all have to pick Spanish names and there is no Spanish form of Heather (unless I wanted to make my name Heatherita, which I don't think counts.), I picked Guadalupe. Because it's fun to say. But only if you over-accent the Lu part. Like GuadaLOOpe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2nd block:&lt;/strong&gt; Physical Science with Mrs. Colwell. I'm going to start calling this class PhySci, just to see if it will catch on. I don't think it will. Anyway, we have 3 workbooks in her class. There is an EOCT prep workbook, a Science Notebook that goes along with our textbook, and one other workbook that we have to keep in our binders. I had to buy a 3-inch binder for this class. She seems like she is going to be extremely METICULOUS about how things will be done. She gave us a 4-page-long syllabus. wow. I have Hannah and Ashley Swanson, and Kacie, and JeffKidd in this class, so it should be pretty fun, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3rd block:&lt;/strong&gt; Honors English!!! I was looking forward to this class more than any other. I love English, and this class never seems long enough. Whenever we get into a really interesting discussion, the bell rings. I kind of wish we didn't have lunch during this block, because it, like, interrupts whatever we are doing/talking about. I think I kind of had a rocky start, but everything is going to be fine. I need to get stuff together for my Create-a-Text assignment. I already have somewhat of an idea of what I want to do, but I need MORE! I wish I could just decide what I want as my background, and start building from there. I want to incorporate as many of the senses as I can, but I don't know HOW. I have a few pictures that I really want to include, and a couple ideas of STUFF, and when I went shopping with Stephanie, we got some stuff in the scrapbooking section of WalMart to use. I really think I will like this class. There is a great sense of community. Everyone in there is kind of in the same groups (except Vincent, I fell bad for him, but I guess he has Jacob from soccer at least), and its a small class. Everybody in there gets along, and is pretty much friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4th block: &lt;/strong&gt;Band. Easy. Exactly what I was expecting. Band is just band. Execpt now we are in the same class as percussion, which makes everything that much more interesting. The drumline is sooo friggin cool! I love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm I guess that's it.&lt;br /&gt;Those are all my classes, and this semester is going to be waay more challenging than the last. I NEVER did homework last semester. I mean, not ONCE. I'm going to have homework EVERY night now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I can now GO places. I have my license, and a car, and my daddy isn't being as super-strict as he was before. He let me drive to Walmart with Stephanie, and to the basketball game last night, even though he doesn't like me driving in the dark or the rain. I'm glad he's finally loosening his iron death-grip on me. I'm not going to do anything stupid, and I've never given him a reason not to trust me. I don't drink or do drugs, and I'm waiting till marriage to have sex, so he doesn't have to worry about ME doing anything dumb. If he is worried about somebody ELSE doing something dumb (i.e. rape me. like that's going to happen), he should just buy me some Pepper Spray. Which I told him to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yup. Things are looking up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6124244827477655230?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6124244827477655230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6124244827477655230' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6124244827477655230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6124244827477655230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-semester.html' title='New Semester!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7457656136759529348</id><published>2009-01-06T15:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T15:33:35.482-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So the Rain Keeps Falling</title><content type='html'>And falling&lt;br /&gt;   and falling&lt;br /&gt;      and falling&lt;br /&gt;         and falling&lt;br /&gt;            and falling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been raining for practically 2 months straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the sun. All this rain makes everything gray and bleak ad dreary and grim.&lt;br /&gt;This weather just kind of sucks all the life out of me, like a dementor (whoa! Harry Potter allusion. Bet you didn't see that coming!! haha).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously, I don't want to DO anything like this. This weather is why I'm sitting around blogging all the time. I don't want to go out and be a sad gray part of the sad gray world out there right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHEN WILL IT BE SPRING!!??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Spring. It is my second favorite season. Everything comes back to life and is warm and sunshine-y and bright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. It's only January 6th. The first day of spring is not until March 20th.&lt;br /&gt;(I just looked it up. heehee.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I HATE being cold, I would at least like to see SOME winter weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have to endure 3 months of winter, I'd at least like to get a little snow out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Im going to stop complaining now.&lt;br /&gt;New semester starts veryvery soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait! It's time for some new stimulation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7457656136759529348?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7457656136759529348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7457656136759529348' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7457656136759529348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7457656136759529348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-rain-keeps-falling.html' title='So the Rain Keeps Falling'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6837214235902038180</id><published>2009-01-02T15:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T15:23:47.772-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I want school to start... NOW!!</title><content type='html'>I can't wait for the new semester.&lt;br /&gt;I like my clases now (except Drivers Ed, but I don't really count that as a class), but I am ready for a change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I miss all of my friends.&lt;br /&gt;1 day after Christmas, my parents friends from Florida came up to visit, bringing their 15 year old daughter, and her boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;I've known them since I was born, and Mandy (their daughter) and I get along ok, but she's got nothing on my friends.&lt;br /&gt;My friends just bring the best out of me. I'm always more fun and outgoing when I'm with my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm having, like, withdrawls or something, because I keep flying off the handle at people for no reason, and I'm really cranky, and I'm throwing up (hee, not really).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mandy and her boyfriend just fight all the time. They just had their 8-month anniversary, and if their entire relationship was like this, I can't believe they are still together.&lt;br /&gt;He is funny and stuff, but he is really rude.&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't stay with a guy who treated me like he treats her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want them to shut up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have been here for a week, and they both smoke, and I'm sick of them fighting with each other and all their secondhand smoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are leaving tomorrow, and I can't freaking wait.&lt;br /&gt;They were entertaining for like 2 days, but they need to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that makes me sound rude, but all they do is fight with each other. They are no fun.&lt;br /&gt;They just piss me off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6837214235902038180?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6837214235902038180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6837214235902038180' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6837214235902038180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6837214235902038180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-want-school-to-start-now.html' title='I want school to start... NOW!!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3545541702008772923</id><published>2008-12-18T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T15:01:18.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I just got my license(!)</title><content type='html'>Which is great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I can go places with my friends!&lt;br /&gt;Wait... no I can't. Joshua's Law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can go to the game tonight!&lt;br /&gt;Wait.... Daddy won't let me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can drive myself to school!&lt;br /&gt;Wait... No, I'm going to Emily's tomorrow, so I'll be going to school with Geoff and home with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... What can I do?&lt;br /&gt;-I can drive to and from school on days that Geoff has to work after school.&lt;br /&gt;-I can drive myself to Kayla's birthday party on Saturday... If my parents let me&lt;br /&gt;-I can drive to work on Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woo-hooo.... my life sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT TO DO SOMETHING!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody is always like "Being able to drive is FREEDOM!", And all that crap.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess that's true... but only if you kill your parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grrr. Seriously, right now, I'm no more free than Joe, who doesn't even have is Learner's Permit yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home, my dad is like "So where are you going to go?"&lt;br /&gt;And I said , "The basketball game."&lt;br /&gt;"When?"&lt;br /&gt;"Tonight."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, NO YOU'RE NOT!"&lt;br /&gt;"It's only in Murphy."&lt;br /&gt;"OH NO YOU ARE NOT!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great. He tells me I can drive to my grandma's house, if I want to.&lt;br /&gt;Woopie. I've driven there a bazillion times without one of them with me. She lives 3/10s of a mile away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Groan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3545541702008772923?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3545541702008772923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3545541702008772923' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3545541702008772923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3545541702008772923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-just-got-my-license.html' title='I just got my license(!)'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2615890501947204081</id><published>2008-12-15T16:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T16:02:19.722-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dental Floss and Rejection</title><content type='html'>That's what I keep having dreams about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's keeping me up and I don't like it one bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why?&lt;br /&gt;It's so weird....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to hear some theories...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2615890501947204081?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2615890501947204081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2615890501947204081' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2615890501947204081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2615890501947204081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/12/dental-floss-and-rejection.html' title='Dental Floss and Rejection'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3034901151015521147</id><published>2008-12-11T14:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T13:36:32.926-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Concert</title><content type='html'>I just got home, and it was pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we played really well, and I had fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the first time we heard the music with the percussion parts too, and it was SOO COOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love percussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We played:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jingle Bells Forever&lt;/em&gt;- This song is like &lt;em&gt;Stars and Stripes Forever&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Jingle Bells&lt;/em&gt; had a drunken one night stand. This ugly baby is the result.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Carol of the Bells&lt;/em&gt;- This song is very cool. It was the hardest one we played, and I love the way all the parts work together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Polar Express&lt;/em&gt;- This had the Overture, Believe, Hot Chocolate (awesome), something else, and Spirit of the Season. They were all fun/really pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nutcracker&lt;/em&gt;- this had 4 songs from the Nutcracker inculding the Arabian Coffee song and the Russian Trepak Dance, and ahhh it was my favorite piece of music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hallelujah Chorus&lt;/em&gt;- From Handel's The Messiah. When Mr. Rittenhouse was announcing this song, he told the audience it was from a HUGE piece called The Messiah, which has a Christmas section and an Easter section. And I turned to Emily and said "So you can play it for three months straight". She was like, "Wow, REALLY huge." haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A Christmas Festival&lt;/em&gt;- This was a medley of lots of Christmas songs, and it was cool It had an awesome ending, which is why Mr.Rittenhouse picked it for our finale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you wish you had gone? YES.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3034901151015521147?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3034901151015521147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3034901151015521147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3034901151015521147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3034901151015521147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-concert.html' title='Christmas Concert'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-485235493088875685</id><published>2008-12-05T14:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T14:50:13.039-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want Some Cliche Ice Cream</title><content type='html'>Ya know how in movies, when a girl is upset, she eats ice cream?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's how I feel today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ignorance IS bliss, in some cases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate sounding all emo and sad, but I didn't have a very good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I had a great day, I had a crappy 4th block, bcause I was talking to Emily, and the more we talked aobut our topic (which isn't important enough to post) the moe I had to abandon my denial, so I'm sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, tomorrow will be really busy. I have to work in the morning, and I'm going to hav to try to get off early, because our call time is 3:15, and I'm scheduled to work till 3.&lt;br /&gt;So then after the parade, we have toplay the Christmas tree lighting ceremony, and as of now, I don't have any music, and I've never practiced the music, because we didn't have enough copies, but we should tomorrow, so I have to sight read it, which isn't good. And my mom wants to go see Australia after that, so I have to bring, like, 3 different oufits with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And our Christmas concert is soon,and we are not ready for it, and I'm really stressed about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now one of my favorite parts of my day is just a reminder ofwhat made me all depressed today.&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-485235493088875685?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/485235493088875685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=485235493088875685' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/485235493088875685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/485235493088875685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-want-some-cliche-ice-cream.html' title='I Want Some Cliche Ice Cream'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1254415713900806939</id><published>2008-12-01T10:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T10:48:45.819-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Day</title><content type='html'>Hey, so I just got home from school, which let out early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wh-hoo, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as Geoff and I got out, the snow kind of stopped. Maybe we just drove out of it, but it seemed like it snowed just long enough to get us out of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup.&lt;br /&gt;And then there was no snow on the ground until we got to like the Robin's Nest-ish area, and then there was more and more snow on the ground and on the trees and stuff, and then by the time we got home, there was like, 2 inches on my car and Geoff and I had a little mini snowball fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm inside, and the sun is coming out, so the snow is probably gonna melt pretty soon anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess it's pretty cool, and now I can just sit around and watch Jerry Springer (haha with Geoff and my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope it snows more tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Not that I don't want to go to school, because I actually get really stir-crazy when I have to sit around with nothing to do, but because I LOOOOVVVVVVE SNOW. It's so pretty, and even if I don't end up going out and paying in it, I love it anyway. It makes everything so cozy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MMMM!!! I think I'm gonna make some hot chocolate. yummmmy!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya laterz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1254415713900806939?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1254415713900806939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1254415713900806939' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1254415713900806939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1254415713900806939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/12/snow-day.html' title='Snow Day'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-1745877895708901587</id><published>2008-11-23T17:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T16:01:22.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things is pretty cool right now.</title><content type='html'>I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things just seem to be going pretty well for me right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it just started this weekend too. This whole weekend, I've just felt really relaxed.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe somebody drugged me. ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday, at Jacob's birthday party, I seriously had sooo much fun. And all we really did was hang out and play Rockband and Guitar Hero and eat and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;AND OMG!!! Shmo realllly came alive at te party. I'm telling you, you are reallly sorry you missed it. He randomly started doing the twist to Guitar Hero, and he would strike an awesome diva pose out of nowhere. And he mime-lassoed (lassod?) me and emma and the kitchen. I love Shmoe. He is the COOLIEST!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, but at Jacob's party I got a chance to see what people who I usually don't hang out with are like outside of school, and it was fun. And we roasted marshmallows. Not all of us. Just me and Emma and Farrah. Nobody else seemed to notice the delicious marshmallow merriment. OMG! they would randomly burt into flame even when they weren't touching the fire. It was funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, and then Saturday, I had to work. And I even got along with my boss that nobody likes very much. And I had Livin' on a Prayer stuck in my head. Leftover from Jacob's party.&lt;br /&gt;OHHHHHHHH! WE'RE HALFWAY THERE! WHOA -0OH! LIVIN' ON A PRAYER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haahaa.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, and then I saw Twilight with Geoff and Jenna and Rachael Cochran.&lt;br /&gt;It was pretty good. I can't believe how people get obssessed with that though. EDWARD CULLEN DOES NOT EXIST! AND IF HE DID, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;HE WOULDN'T LOVE YOU!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;SO SHUT THE F**K UP ABOUT HIM ALREADY!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenna and Rachael also saw it on friday night, and hey sad all the girls cheered when Edward first walked on screen.&lt;br /&gt;OHMYGODD!&lt;br /&gt;These girls are hopeless. It's so PATHETIC! grr. I don't care how mean that is.&lt;br /&gt;For God's sake, go find a real man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I had to work today too, but I got to leave early because they are cutting back on labor, and I had the most hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So school tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;But (YAY) only two days this week.&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving is awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my cousins and aunt and uncle are coming up from florida, which is cool, because I haven't seen my one cousin (he's, like 26) since 7th grade. He went with us to New York, but he did cool stuff like go to CBGBs and the graves of rockstars with his girlfriend, so I didn't see much of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I guess that's pretty much it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya around.&lt;br /&gt;Peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS, this is my 50th post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-1745877895708901587?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/1745877895708901587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=1745877895708901587' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1745877895708901587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/1745877895708901587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-is-pretty-cool-right-now.html' title='Things is pretty cool right now.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3681786289639544056</id><published>2008-11-06T17:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T18:54:58.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'>16!!!</title><content type='html'>Ok, now that my birthday has passed, I can tell you how AMAZING it was. I went to a Panic at the Disco concert on Tuesday with Emma, and Stephanie, and Lisa, and it was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cab, Plain White T's, and Dashboard Confessionals also played.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so good. The Cab is one of my new favorite bands, and I've always loved Plain White T's. Dashboard Confessional was actually really boring to me. All of their songs sound the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But OMG! I can't tell you how excited I was for Panic at the Disco. Brendon Urie is sooooo amazingly cute, and I always heard that they sucked in concert, but they were great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sang along with everysong, and It was soo hot (we were on the floor. AAH!), but it was the best concert I've ever been to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Brendon played like EVERY INSTRUMENT. He played guitar, drums, bass AND piano. And he sang of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a great concert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, on my actually birthday, I was soo tired. We didn't get home until 2 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was definetly way too excited about my birthday because wehn I woke up. I got to open one present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;MY PARENTS BOUGHT ME A CARRRR!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't believe it. My license plate is AZZ 2782.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a white 1998 Ford Taurus, and I'm going to deck it out all in Gators stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already have my Gators keyring that plays the Gator fight song, and I got Gator floormats, and I'm going to get a chrome Gator emblem on it, and a Gator front plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, I want to have a Gator steering wheel cover, and Gator fuzzy dice for my mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I can't get my license until December 18th, because that is when we get our Drivers Ed certificates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, Senior night is tomorrow, and I'm not looking forward to it at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geoff and Leland are going to leave FOREVER. Omg, I'm going to cry so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm. Other than that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is pretty much the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;except now I'm 16 AND I HAVE A CAR!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wooot!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3681786289639544056?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3681786289639544056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3681786289639544056' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3681786289639544056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3681786289639544056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/11/16.html' title='16!!!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-3923983897962608655</id><published>2008-10-29T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T16:44:56.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday!!!</title><content type='html'>My birthday is next Wednesday!!! Woot!&lt;br /&gt;November 5th.&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be 16. Yay! Even though I can't get my license until after December 18th (that's when they give us our Drivers Ed cards), I'm still super excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to a Panic at the Disco concert on the 4th. (oooh. School night. ha), and Lisa and Stephanie, and Emma are going too, so it WILL BE AWESOME!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I asked my parents for this digital camera (whenever I need to take cameras, I have to use my dad's). Its the new Nikon (Nikon Coolpix S60, to be exact) and it is AWESOME!&lt;br /&gt;It's the one on the commercial with Ashton Kutcher, and its all like "He's the man with the magic touch" Because it is touch screen, and consequently AMAZING! It also has Smile Timer, so it will automatically tke a picture whenever the person smiles. And it has a Paint feature, so you can, like, write stuff on your pictures (with your finger because it is TOUCH SCREEN!). And it is the all-around coolest camera I've ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom said she can't get it for me, but I have a feeling that  she is just saying that so I won't be expecting it. I really hope I'm right, because now I have my hopes up, and I'm typing insanely fastt because I'm soooooo excited!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an entirely unrelated note, I am read &lt;em&gt;It&lt;/em&gt; by Stephen King right now. It is definetly the longest book I've ever attempted. 1138 pages. I'm on 337 right now. I have 801 pages left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I have been extremly freaked out. It is pretty much the scariest book I've ever read. OMG, a little boy's ARM is ripped off by a clown in a storm drain on the 15th page!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's new with you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-3923983897962608655?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/3923983897962608655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=3923983897962608655' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3923983897962608655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/3923983897962608655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-birthday.html' title='My Birthday!!!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4933258926982798202</id><published>2008-10-15T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T21:37:17.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joe-seppi Beckoned for a Blog About Himself Written by Me</title><content type='html'>I know Its a weird title, but its a take off from a Panic at the Disco song title (&lt;em&gt;London Beckoned for Songs About Money Written by Machines&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, Joe did ask (order) me to write a blog about him and how he "is my bestest friend in the world/universe/infinity"&lt;br /&gt;And then we both said "and beyond" which was creepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, Shmo, is not my bestest friend. Sorry. But he is my friend, as much as we'd both like to deny it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know what I'm supposed to be saying here..... so yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, I guess I could talk about Joey, since that is what he asked for.... but what about him...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-He didn't know what a wet willy was until Sara Beth gave him one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-His life motto is (going to be) "It's the homeschooling"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-He is impure hahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I think he has a crush on Sara Beth, which would just about be the most precious thing ever, if it were true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- His parents call him Guiseppi (heehee)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-He asks questions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess thats it. I don't really know what I was supposed to do here, but Shmo-Joe Jojo got his wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4933258926982798202?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4933258926982798202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4933258926982798202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4933258926982798202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4933258926982798202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/10/joe-seppi-beckoned-for-blog-about.html' title='Joe-seppi Beckoned for a Blog About Himself Written by Me'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-2469689840322208412</id><published>2008-10-11T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T12:51:30.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorghum Parade</title><content type='html'>Was fun, but hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am officially very very sick of Everybody's Everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after the parade, I went to the Sorghum Festival for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw the Biscuit Eating Contest. Some guy from Germany ate 15 bicuits and won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love weird, small town stuff like the Sorghum Festival. Even though there is really nothing for me to do there, and nothing I want to buy, and the Bluegrass music punds in my ears, I still love going to the Sorghum Festival. It's just so cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I need to enjoy the rest of my day, because I have to work tomorrow. *sigh*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLAIRSVILLE ROCKS!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-2469689840322208412?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/2469689840322208412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=2469689840322208412' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2469689840322208412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/2469689840322208412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/10/sorghum-parade.html' title='Sorghum Parade'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-5663276048778652544</id><published>2008-10-10T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T14:40:41.729-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things are Looking Up</title><content type='html'>So, I don't really feel like I'm in a slump anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are just happier now, and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;It's not like I'm totally happy with everything, but- I don't know- I just feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should have re-read my last post before starting this one, so I could better pinpoint the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, for an update on what's happening in mylife now:&lt;br /&gt;+I'm doing well in all of my classes. I broght up my grade in Alg II from dangling near failure (for me, not for the school) to a more acceptable grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+Fall Break has started, and I don't have any plans except for the parade tomorrow, and working on Sunday. Sara Beth and Kayla were talking aobut going to a corn maze tomorrow, after they finish working at the Key Club booth, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. Oh well, maybe we can go to the movies or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+Fall Ball has been anounced.... Saturday Night Fever. I don't know if I want to go. Last year, I left early, because I wasn't having very much fun. I don't want to spend 20 bucks on a ticket if I don't think I'm going to have fun, but I also think I might have more fun this year: I've come out of my (dancing) shell... since Chicago (heeheehee).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+My awesome friends Bri and Stephanie were nominated for Homecoming, which comes with an unpleasant side, but f**k those people that don't tink Bri or Stephanie 'deserve' to be on homecoming court (click on the link to Bri's blog in my 'cool people' section to read more). I don't see why people cant be happy for them. And it seems like Bri is getting more of the brunt of this drama than Stephanie. Which sucks. :(&lt;br /&gt;But I am crazy-proud of them.&lt;br /&gt;(I also think Bri should MAKE her homecoming dress, because, in case you haven't heard, she has a cothing line.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see.... what else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess not much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just glad I don't feel so crappy about life anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the only thing I'd like to change right now, is:&lt;br /&gt;I wish people wouldn't take everything I said so literally. I exaggerate a lot, expecially when I'm upset. (I'm pretty sure I posted a blog about that, too... around forever ago) So, when I say "I can't stand her!" or something, I'm probably just mad about something, and I don't really MEAN it. so don't call me a b***c. (Richard... And Scarlett O'Hara really DOES remind me of Ashley Marcot.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-5663276048778652544?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/5663276048778652544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=5663276048778652544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5663276048778652544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/5663276048778652544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/10/things-are-looking-up.html' title='Things are Looking Up'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-9163862210045030884</id><published>2008-09-22T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T16:32:55.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is it... MY SOPHOMORE SLUMP!</title><content type='html'>First of all, I realize that I haven't typed anything of substance in a while.&lt;br /&gt;For this, I am sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems nothing is going well for me so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should we start with 1st block?&lt;br /&gt;Algebra II. I wasn't even good at Algebra I, back in 8th grade. I blame it on a bad teacher, and I still do, but its definitely affecting my grade now. I still have an A, but JUST barely. I will have a 90.11 in that class for my progress report. That will not do.&lt;br /&gt;And it wouldn't be so bad, but its stuff I can help. Like, slacking on my homework. The ONE homework check we'va had in that class was (of course) for the one time I didn't do my homework. Since then, I have forgotten assignments, but I've never intentionally not done my work. (we do work in class, and I keep thinking I've finished my work before class ended, then I get in there the next day, and I hadn't done it. S**T!&lt;br /&gt;Besides that, I didn't get most of chapter 5. I could've asked Mrs. Payne for help, but I won't. I don't know what's wrong with me.&lt;br /&gt;I'm in there every morning to put down my stuff, but I'm, like, afraid to say "Mrs. Payne, I didn't really understand # 7" or whatever. It's my pride. I've never struggled with a class before, and it really embarrasses me to not just GET IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok. Block 2.&lt;br /&gt;Drivers Ed.&lt;br /&gt;This is Drivers Ed. The easiest class in the curriculum. Other than being mind-numbingly dull, it's simple&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Block 3.&lt;br /&gt;World History.&lt;br /&gt;Another easy class. But not nearly as boring as Drivers Ed, because we can TALK, and I have a lot of friends in here, but jeez! Read the section, do the questions at the end of the section. Read the section, do the questions at the end of the section. Read the section, do the questions at the end of the section. POINT O' HISTORY. Read the section, do th questions at the end of the section. Read the section, do the questions at the end of the section. Read the section, do the questions at the end of the section. Mini-research project. Read the section...... Honk shoooooo. HOnk shoooooo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Block 4.&lt;br /&gt;Band.&lt;br /&gt;So much drama. We just spend way too much time together. Apparently, everyone in my section thinks I'm awful and just.... ugh.&lt;br /&gt;It seems that band kids have trouble telling the difference between when I'm being sincere, when I'm joking, and when I'm just flying off the handle, so you shouldn't take me seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, the only person who can clearly discern jokes, sincerity, and pissed off-edness is Richard. I love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, Driver's ed with him is probably the best part of my day. He just gets me, and I don't have to deal with all that girly drama crap when I'm with him. He's SO my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like Bri, I have many things I need to work on. BUT, unlike Bri, I am not brave enough to post all my flaws on the web where everyone can see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am making a list, just for my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-9163862210045030884?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/9163862210045030884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=9163862210045030884' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/9163862210045030884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/9163862210045030884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/09/this-is-it-my-sophomore-slump.html' title='This is it... MY SOPHOMORE SLUMP!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6665770303333610371</id><published>2008-09-10T17:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T17:01:19.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*whimper*</title><content type='html'>Could today have been any worse?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I doubt it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6665770303333610371?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6665770303333610371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6665770303333610371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6665770303333610371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6665770303333610371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post.html' title='*whimper*'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6250927628793020498</id><published>2008-08-29T13:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T13:41:44.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jerry Springer</title><content type='html'>I love this show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl on the show just said the exact phrase "I'M A HO!... SUPPOSABLY!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supposably? Supposably? Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grr. SUPPOSEDLY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHA! Best White trash show ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've got to get ready for the football game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First game of the season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know what Hayesville's mascot is. I bet I'll know after tonight. ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6250927628793020498?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6250927628793020498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6250927628793020498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6250927628793020498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6250927628793020498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/08/jerry-springer.html' title='Jerry Springer'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4687232624063083864</id><published>2008-08-26T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T17:10:00.084-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate liars (joe)</title><content type='html'>People who lie (joe) are stupid. It's just not nice (of you joe) to say that someone is your best friend if they aren't really your best friend (joe).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will no longer give liars (joe) my attention.&lt;br /&gt;That means I'm no longer talking to the liar (joe).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU'RE STUPID (joe)!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4687232624063083864?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4687232624063083864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4687232624063083864' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4687232624063083864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4687232624063083864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-hate-liars-joe.html' title='I hate liars (joe)'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-8876279912757439713</id><published>2008-08-25T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T18:08:01.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Updates</title><content type='html'>Joe told me I was his best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That completely made my day&lt;br /&gt;... even if he is kind of weird, and he totally acts like a diva right now with 3 SNAPS IN A 'Z' FORMATION!! hahahahaha!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Shmoe-Joe Jojo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omg! Frist football game this friday. The first time we will ever perform our new halftime show! I hope people like it. I'm so nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AH! And we start driving in Drivers Ed on Thursday, although my group doesn't actually drive till Tuesday. I'm still freaking out about it. Steven Edsall and Richard Tyler are in my group. I don't really know Steven, but I LOVE Richard. He's been one of my besties since 5th grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-8876279912757439713?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/8876279912757439713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=8876279912757439713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8876279912757439713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8876279912757439713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/08/random-updates.html' title='Random Updates'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-8388898934647267599</id><published>2008-08-16T17:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T17:59:41.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't think of a title. So....</title><content type='html'>So there's a lot going on right now..... yet nothing to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday night, I went to see Tropic Thunder with Emily and Shane. And it was really funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a lot of cussing in it that they honestly could have done without. the movie would have been just as good without it. Oh well. There were lots of things blowing up too, and probably the funniest I've ever seen Matthew McConnaughey. "I'LL GET THE TIVO!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, when we got home, Leland was there. Yayyyy.....&lt;br /&gt;And he and Geoff made me play Scrabble with them. I was exhausted, and I'd never played before, and I lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woo. I went to bed, woke up, rode the horse, and then started reading Breaking Dawn, which my mom got for me. WH-HOO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got all the way through the first Bella book, and a few pages into the Jacob book before my butt went numb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, I drive myself over to my Grandma's house because our computer crashed and is away being fixed right now, and I have to come over here to check my e-mail and do awesome stuff like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.... I have to work tomorrow. You could come buy some fried chicken from me to "m-m-m-ake me h-happy." heeheeheeheehee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-8388898934647267599?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/8388898934647267599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=8388898934647267599' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8388898934647267599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/8388898934647267599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-cant-think-of-title-so.html' title='I can&apos;t think of a title. So....'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6676790768192928046</id><published>2008-08-09T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T20:09:31.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pineapple Express</title><content type='html'>ONE OF THE FUNNIEST MOVIES I'VE EVER SEEN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6676790768192928046?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6676790768192928046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6676790768192928046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6676790768192928046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6676790768192928046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/08/pineapple-express.html' title='Pineapple Express'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-989413290860524563</id><published>2008-08-08T13:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T13:59:46.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>Well, today was the first day of school, as you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it was ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have to get Drivers Ed first semester, and I think I'm going to get it in place of Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it all depends on when they have openings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway....&lt;br /&gt;For first block I have Algebra II. Mrs. Payne seems really nice, and Melissa and Kayla and Bri are all in that class, so that's pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;Then second block is Spanish. The only real friend I have in that class is Kaitlyn, and there are plenty of people in that class that don't like me..... and I don't like them very much either.&lt;br /&gt;Third block is World History with Mr. Garrett, who I had last year for Civics. He is really funny. And in that class is Kayla, Sara Beth, Ashley Stevens, and SHMOE JOE JOJO!!! woot. Love Joe.&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah, that's who I eat with.&lt;br /&gt;And Fourth block is band.&lt;br /&gt;We are doing a Santana show for halftime this year, which is all well and good, but I DON'T HAVE A FLUTE!!&lt;br /&gt;GGRRRRRR!!!!!!! My flute has a bent rod (and I did NOT drop it, Mr. Roberts.) and the repairman could not fix my flute. He had to take it to the shop, and Mr. Rittenhouse thinks it might be gone for two weeks. AGGHH!! What am I supposed to do for two weeks you ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Play piccolo. I can not play piccolo. I can hardly get a note out of it, and when I do, it's all squeaky and shrill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yes. That's how my first day went. Because I know how everybody wanted to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yippeeee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and PS:&lt;br /&gt;I saw literally zero freshmen in the halls today. WHAT?? I was soo looking forward to being able to abuse them. they must have been hiding from me.&lt;br /&gt;ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-989413290860524563?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/989413290860524563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=989413290860524563' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/989413290860524563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/989413290860524563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/08/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-254295284808597175</id><published>2008-07-30T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T20:16:16.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I know my Schedule.</title><content type='html'>I have:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st Block: Algebra II; Rhonda Payne&lt;br /&gt;2nd Block: Spanish I; Starla Day&lt;br /&gt;3rd Block: World History; Wesley Garrett&lt;br /&gt;4th Block: Adv Band; Kerry Rittenhouse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. That's what it is right now, but that has to change because I have to have Driver's Ed first semester, and as you can see, I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have Honors second semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Becca, here ya go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-254295284808597175?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/254295284808597175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=254295284808597175' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/254295284808597175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/254295284808597175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/07/now-i-know-my-schedule.html' title='Now I know my Schedule.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7580956179332731529</id><published>2008-07-27T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T17:13:42.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WEEEEKEENNDD!!!!</title><content type='html'>Yes, it's an account of my weeeekeenndd!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which was awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday night, I went to see Camelot in Hayesville. I really didn't want to, and if Emily wasn't there, I would have been absolutely miserable. the play wasnt.... bad. But it was really funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing is that, we never laughed at the jokes. We just laughed at everything else. I know that sounds like we are REALLY RUDE to just laugh about it, but if we hadn't we would have been bored to tears, so I think the actors would rather us be entertained in SOME way... right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, in the first scene, the guy that played King Arthur is wearing this tunic thing (in fact, all of the guys except one wear tunics with tights the entire play. ummm) and his skirt is... kind of short, and he sits down ... a few times. AHHHHH!!!!! MY EYES!!! And King Arthur is a lot older than Guenevere (spellcheck?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and Lancelot's tunic thing has, like slits up both sides that go all the way up to his hips. So everytime his side was to the crowd, it was like LOOK AT MY THIGHS!!!&lt;br /&gt;That was one of the main sources of laughter for Emily and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, at one point, they are having a jousting tournament, and supposedly, Sir Lionel gets stabbed all the way through by the lance..... so when they carried his dead body onto the stage, they have put 'blood' on his 'armor' (silver cloth). The blood looks like he dribbled ketchup on his shirt whilst eating a hamburger. And, after Lancelot's miracle, when Lionel is walking away, there is no blood on his back. I THOUGH HE WAS STABBED ALL THE WAY THROUGH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmmmmm......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH, and Merlin's wizard costume looked like a spacesuit. It was like, purple with a liver strip running down the front, and Lime green shoulder things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, the most disturbing part of the entire play was Guenevere and Lancelot's kiss. Apparently, this actress had just graduated (we think high school), and The actor was, in his 40's. I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this kiss was wayyyy too intense (open-mouthed. *retch retch*), and it was the most awkward moment ever. Everybody in the theater was super quiet, and I really wanted to clear my throat just then, but I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, then Mordrid comes in, and catches them. And then he ruins everybody's life, and he laughs about it very dramatically, and he has the funniest I'm-better-than-you swagger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then afterwards, we all went to Waffle House, because they are open really late. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Saturday!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have to work on Saurday, which is AWESOME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung around all day, and then last night I went to Lisa's slumber party. I love slumber parties. They make me feel like  a 12 year old again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, there was:&lt;br /&gt;Bri&lt;br /&gt;Lisa&lt;br /&gt;Emma&lt;br /&gt;Carley&lt;br /&gt;Farrah&lt;br /&gt;Deana&lt;br /&gt;and Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the moves, and saw HANCOCK which was pretty good. It could have been funnier, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH, and they decided to dress me up in Lisa's clothes. I don't know why. Apparently, my Cute is What We Aim For t-shirt is just not good enough for them. So I ended up wearing this white shirt with blue and yellow flower type things on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they wanted to do my hair. I don't know why. Apparently my gorgeous fluffy curls are not good enough for them. They decided to straighten it. Straightening my hair properly, takes about 2 hours. We didn't have 2 hors, we had about 10 minutes. So Lisa decided to leave the ends of my hair all brushed out and frizzy. My hair was very triangular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked like a hippy. Which is okay I guess... I just felt a little awkward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, then we went back to Lisa's and watched the Ruins. gag! Grossest movie ever. And we didn't even finish it. We started watching the Heath Ledger movie called Candy. He was a nasty drug addict guy. With a nasty drug addict girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't get very far into that before everyone fell asleep. approximate time: 4:30 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we woke up this morning, and re-started the movie. Then I left for work. 11:30 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at work today, I wasn't there long, just, like two hours, because they sent me home early to save on labor costs, my 'boss' made me so mad. She's actually a manager-in-training, and she's been at our store for less time that I have. She hasn't learned how everything works yet, and I don't blame her for that. It's just that, she hasn't learned it all yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, she ended up talking to me about 'respect' and stuff because I simply told her that you can fit twelve cookies on a cookie tray without them cooking together. She actually threatened to send me home. Really??? After her little lecture, she gave me hug. GRRRR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, Dana and I told our manager-manager about it, and she just kind of rolled her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, she doesn't really care. So neither do I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I came home, caught up on all the sleep I missed, and then I talked to Bri a little. She's starting a clothing line, ya know. It's pretty cool. She wore the cutest dress to Lisa's. And she MADE IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, then I went for a ride with my daddy in Fiona, and then I wrote this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I decided what I want to write my narrative about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BAND CAMP TOMORROW!!!!! wh-hoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7580956179332731529?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7580956179332731529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7580956179332731529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7580956179332731529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7580956179332731529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/07/weeeekeenndd.html' title='WEEEEKEENNDD!!!!'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-59007724860785659</id><published>2008-07-21T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T17:49:26.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just need to write</title><content type='html'>WARNING: The following post is about absolutely nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally have some days off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a working Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, AND Today.&lt;br /&gt;And some of those days weren't good ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was ready to kill someone on Sunday, and on Saturday I was so zonked when I got home, I actually took a nap. I haven't done that since I was, like, eight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, of course, today, I spent the entire day defending my religious beliefs: mainly my favorite college football team. GO GATORS! (Suck it UGA fans).&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my boss (Clay) is an ALABAMA fan. Are you kidding me? Bama?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and this pretty big guy came in and he was wearing a Florida hat, and Florida gym shorts, so I told Clay that the Florida guy wanted to break him in half for giving me crap about UF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we have a bet going that if I get valedictorian of my class when we graduate, that he has to wear a Florida shirt for an entire day. :-P and he has to like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah, he spent the whole day TRYING to diss me for being a Florida fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's just say his quips aren't..... well thought out.&lt;br /&gt;(and he can't tell what a nickel looks like. haha.)&lt;br /&gt;But, I laughed A LOT today, so it was a good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I have the next two days off. Tomorrow, I have to go ride the horse, because I haven't ridden in FOREVER, and I'm gonna make a lot of headway on my vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then, I'm going to continue to watch stupid TV.&lt;br /&gt;Right now the show of choice is SAVED BY THE BELL.&lt;br /&gt;Which is awesome. Love it.&lt;br /&gt;I love how everybody overacts everything.&lt;br /&gt;NO way! The show just went into super-awesome supsenseful slow-mo for the final play of the big volleyball game. Where of course that play would be the defining factor of whether they lose the game, and their jobs, and whether or not the lovely Zack Morris gets the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's just good television.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my life right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thrilling right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's alright with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOVE YA!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-59007724860785659?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/59007724860785659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=59007724860785659' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/59007724860785659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/59007724860785659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/07/just-need-to-write.html' title='Just need to write'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-7978451497992037230</id><published>2008-07-18T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T20:21:57.154-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I saw The Dark Knight</title><content type='html'>Isn't it crazy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Batman is most definitely my least favorite superhero, but this movie was good enough to change my mind.... but only on the basis that he is a total bada*s, so that makes up for his lack of any powers at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there weren't as many explosions, and stunts and stuff, I would still regard Batman as a total phony... and if Christian Bale wasn't so darn sexy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND on top of everything, Heath Ledger played a fantastic Joker. It's too bad he's dead, but I'm not going to get too torn up about it, because there are way more important things than mourning someone who I never met, even if A Knight's Tale is one of my favorite movies ever. But the movie lasted so long!&lt;br /&gt;I had to leave twice. First to get drink refills for Sara Beth and me (which I got for free even though you're only supposed to get large refills for free), and then again to pee, because that was the longest movie on the face of the planet.... I'm sure it isn't, but It's the longest one I've had the patience to sit through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's a great movie. And even if my opinion means squat to you (which, of course, if it did, you wouldn't have read this whole thing), you should completely go see it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-7978451497992037230?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/7978451497992037230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=7978451497992037230' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7978451497992037230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/7978451497992037230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-saw-dark-knight.html' title='I saw The Dark Knight'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-29750387375498077</id><published>2008-07-08T21:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T21:24:45.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Count the Mounds of Crisco</title><content type='html'>The book that never ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have, like, less than a month to finish reading this book, and do the assignments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm freaking out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit to being to world's worst procrastinator, and obviously my time would be better spent asctually READING the book than sittin ghere writing about how I SHOULD read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I focus on the dumb book?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I do try to read it, I just get confused. There are way too many characters.&lt;br /&gt;It's like, this guy had an affair iwth her, and then their 'dead' baby was taken after someone tried to kill him, and the dude that stole the baby ends up beinga valet, and the baby is a murderer that pretends to be someone's son for money, and he's going to marry this girl that tries to run away after they find out that he's a murderer. And one girl is supposed to marry a guy, but she loves the otehr dude, and she gets her grandfather to break off her marriage to the guy she doesn't love, and then she gets engaged to the dude she loves, meanwhile, people are dropping like flies in her house, so everyone thinks it's cursed. And then she is the target of the murderer, and the Count promises that she will be okay, but now she's dead, and that's where I am right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DON'T GET IT!!! I can't keep everyone straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go to Sparknotes and see if they can shed some light.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-29750387375498077?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/29750387375498077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=29750387375498077' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/29750387375498077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/29750387375498077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/07/blog-post.html' title='Count the Mounds of Crisco'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-4625803294930856503</id><published>2008-06-30T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T12:29:02.259-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Release</title><content type='html'>I went to Coach West's wake last night, and I can't believe how much I cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like such a tard, because very few other people were upset. When I first got there, before we even got into that funeral home, I was starting to tear up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got inside, all I could think of was how the funeral home smelled like my orthodontist's office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, we were inside the room where he was, and with his family. His entire family was really nice, and as we talked to his mom, and siblings, and step-dad, they reminded us of all the things we loved about him. Of course by this point, the waterworks are just going. I can barely see, and my nose is runny (ick).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His brother asked me how I knew him, and I told him that I was a student. He asked how long I had him, and I said just one year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, it looks like he made an impact on you." he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Geoff and I spoke to all his family members, I went to say hi to Kaitlyn, who was a few people behind us in line. I gave her a hug, and that's when I completely let loose. I didn't who was looking at me, I just sobbed in a way that very few people have seen from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after I was so upset,  when we were walking back to Geoff's car, I felt so lightened.&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I heard the phrase 'It gave me closure' or something like that, I was always like, "What the heck does that mean?" But now I get it. I feel like now I can still be happy, even without our beloved Co We. I feel released.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't care if you think this is really sappy. I know it is. You can just bite me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-4625803294930856503?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/4625803294930856503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=4625803294930856503' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4625803294930856503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/4625803294930856503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/06/release.html' title='Release'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6316156921443040524</id><published>2008-06-26T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T16:52:39.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There Is Just No Way.</title><content type='html'>If you haven't heard yet, Coach West was found dead this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at work when I found out. Jessie Payne told me about it, and I gathered more information throughout the day from random people who came in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't super upset, because it didn't seem real. I couldn't believe that Coach West was dead. I couldn't believe that he would never make fun of the way I run again, or completely change the way an Expo marker looks to one of his Health classes again. He wouldn't stand like Captain Morgan on the rail looking in to the gym, and he would never teach another class how to play 'Westball'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't really hit me until I had to tell anyone about it. When my dad picked me up from work, I actually had to say the words "Coach West is dead", to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coach West was most surely loved by the students at UCHS. On Yearbook day, there was a ten minute wait to have him sign your yearbook. I'm really going to miss Coach West, and I don't think I'll be able to run or drink a Diet Coke again without thinking of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved Coach West. He was one of my favorite teachers this past year, and... I don't know what else to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6316156921443040524?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6316156921443040524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6316156921443040524' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6316156921443040524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6316156921443040524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/06/there-is-just-no-way.html' title='There Is Just No Way.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-6391189362128283589</id><published>2008-06-22T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T12:42:46.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh no.</title><content type='html'>At work today,  I think I heard Nick Sciales mention smething to my boss about an application.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skylar was there too, but he might be applying too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skylar  wouldn't be that bad, but I don't want to work with Nick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-6391189362128283589?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/6391189362128283589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=6391189362128283589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6391189362128283589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/6391189362128283589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/06/oh-no.html' title='Oh no.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433197304907932889.post-9187934997894292524</id><published>2008-06-20T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T13:39:27.607-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So I Really Miss Some People.</title><content type='html'>From school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often see random people that come in to Zaxby's, but it's never, like, people I'm close with.... in fact, it always ends up being one of those people that I am acquainted with that I'm not really friends with. Like Dustin Owenby. I like Dustin; he's a nice guy, but we aren't friends. So I saw him at Zaxby's and I never know what to do in that situation. Are we close enough to start small talk? Would it be weird if I started talking to him? Should I just leave him alone? It was awkward. At least it was for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my point was that I never see the people that I really want to see.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Hannah.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Stephanie.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Bri.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Richard.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Kayla.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Sara Beth.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Carley.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Melissa.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Jacob.&lt;br /&gt;I never see Kaitlyn.&lt;br /&gt;ETC.&lt;br /&gt;I did see Taylor Stancil, so that was nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, I see Geoff's best friend more than I've seen mine.&lt;br /&gt;But that's okay, because Leland is really nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know who I really want to come through Zaxby's??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is the suspense killing you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHMOE-JOE JOJO.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to see if he would ask questions about all the menu items... of course they would be questions I wouldn't be able to answer... because I haven't worked long enough for me to learn the details and ingredients of everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I saw Emma at Relay for Life, and I was so excited to see her, that it reminded me of all the people I haven't seen, and how happy I would be to see all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I saw Krieger at Relay for Life, which was, of course, THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY LIFE!!&lt;br /&gt;HOORAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you are reading this, and you know I miss you, then go to Zaxby's or somewhere where I can see you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I MISS MY FRIENDS!!&lt;br /&gt;Even if you aren't on the list listed above.... don't be offended. Those are from the top of my head... I don't store much information in the top of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOVE YA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8433197304907932889-9187934997894292524?l=heatherrr1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/feeds/9187934997894292524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8433197304907932889&amp;postID=9187934997894292524' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/9187934997894292524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8433197304907932889/posts/default/9187934997894292524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heatherrr1.blogspot.com/2008/06/so-i-really-miss-some-people.html' title='So I Really Miss Some People.'/><author><name>heather.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05274425334447104704</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_k-tLv3N9qjM/SDTC-QTG7hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/38G0LlWSJto/S220/dad%27s+pics+273.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
