<?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-26400953</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:31:59.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And you thought I was random BEFORE...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115716881996028153</id><published>2006-09-01T20:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T20:46:59.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing Left to Lose</title><content type='html'>Come on and we'll sing, like we were free&lt;br /&gt;Push the pedal down watch the world around fly by us&lt;br /&gt;Come on and we'll try, one last time&lt;br /&gt;I'm off of the floor one more time to find you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here we go there's nothing left to choose&lt;br /&gt;And here we go there's nothing left to lose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Mat Kearney&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115716881996028153?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115716881996028153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115716881996028153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115716881996028153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115716881996028153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/09/nothing-left-to-lose.html' title='Nothing Left to Lose'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115690945643622567</id><published>2006-08-29T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T20:44:16.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought of the Day</title><content type='html'>Boys are dumb.  Men are dumber.  I almost wish homosexuality wasn't a sin, so I could date girls, because at least we understand each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115690945643622567?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115690945643622567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115690945643622567' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115690945643622567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115690945643622567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/08/thought-of-day.html' title='Thought of the Day'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115628122509763160</id><published>2006-08-22T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T14:13:45.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote of the Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff9900;"&gt;"So we'll go drinking on Saturday night, and then Monday go shooting?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff9900;"&gt;"God, we're such rednecks."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115628122509763160?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115628122509763160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115628122509763160' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115628122509763160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115628122509763160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/08/quote-of-day.html' title='Quote of the Day'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115621123703250508</id><published>2006-08-21T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T20:25:52.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Break-Up Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Caleb had me listen to this band that he really likes - Hinder. They're pretty good, but all the songs are break-up songs. Good ones. Really good ones, but not ones that I can really jam to in this point in my life. However, I do enjoy some of the lyrics. Such as this gem entitled "Get Stoned."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Lets go home and get stoned/ We could end up makin love instead of misery / Go home and get stoned / Cause the sex is so much better when you're mad at me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; (And now the ENTER key isn't registering. Crap.) The rest of the album goes in a similar fashion. The vocal and musical quality is great, and the lyrics are great, just similar subjects. I do really love this line though in "Better Than Me." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I really miss your hair in my face / And the way your innocence tastes / And I think you should know this / You deserve much better than me. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Oddly, it reminds me of someone. I'll close this post with this song/story that I've heard before, called "Lips of an Angel." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Honey why are you calling me so late / It's kinda hard to talk right now / Honey why are you crying is everything okay / I gotta whisper cause I can't be too loud / Well, my girl's in the next room / Sometimes I wish she was you / I guess we never really moved on / It's really good to hear your voice saying my name / It sounds so sweet / Coming from the lips of an angel / Hearing those words it makes me weak / And I never wanna say goodbye / But girl you make it hard to be faithful / With the lips of an angel / It's funny that you're calling me tonight / And yes I've dreamt of you too / And does he know you're talking to me / Will it start a fight / No I don't think she has a clue / Well my girl's in the next room / Sometimes I wish she was you / I guess we never really moved on / It's really good to hear your voice saying my name / It sounds so sweet / Coming from the lips of an angel / Hearing those words it makes me weak / And I never wanna say goodbye / But girl you make it hard to be faithful / With the lips of an angel&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115621123703250508?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115621123703250508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115621123703250508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115621123703250508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115621123703250508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/08/break-up-song.html' title='The Break-Up Song'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115621917876434357</id><published>2006-08-21T20:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T20:59:38.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Habits Die Hard</title><content type='html'>I took a trip down Memory Lane tonight. Caleb drove the Mustang, and we took the night out. Mom and Dad had gone to a cookout, and Squirt and I were going to order pizza. Well, prices changed our minds, and on a spur-of-the-moment, Caleb and I decided to go to Mr Gattis. We walk in, and it's a blast from the past. We had a few good moments of catching up while watching Jimmy Neutron and SpongeBob SquarePants (which we BOTH agreed wasted our time). Caleb wanted to hit up the arcade before we left, so I followed the familiar sounds of the token-devouring time wasted. Almost nothing had changed in the 5 years it had been since I played there. The company had added 2 machines in that time, and had kept all the old ones. Caleb and I found every one we used to play. They replaced 'Area 51' with 'Deer Hunter' but I think that was it. We walked around the little kids and tired parents, just kinda watching the whole scene for about 10 min or so. Caleb played the hunter game, and we cracked up over the graphics. We played 2 competitive games of air hockey, 1-1. We played the free, continuous round of "Dump the Ump" and I handed off our tickets to the kids that were standing closest. Out of pure curiosity, I checked the bank to see if it still held my tickets. The computer still had me on file, and still had all 3200 of my tickets still stored up. Lord above, some things don't change. Caleb got a 400 ticket Frisbee out of his stash of 2798 I think it was. I told two different parents that their kids could have whatever they wanted on me, but they declined. Caleb and I laughed over how many hours and years and birthday parties we spent here. Nothing had changed. The decor was still the same, the games were still the same, even the PRIZES were still the same!!! It felt really good to hang out with my brother in a place where we grew up. Everyone has places where hundreds of memories are stored. Gattiland has mine. Caleb and I walked outside with the Frisbee when we couldn't stand the smell of pizza any longer. I put my purse in the car, and we stood in the empty parking lot of the Plaza and threw the cheap-butt Frisbee around. First time that thing came in contact with the ground, it broke off a 4 inch chunk. So the game quickly became to see who could break off the biggest piece. The game didn't last long, and came to a grand finale when Caleb spiked the 2/3 of the Frisbee that was left on the ground and it shattered into a lot of pieces. We picked it up (it's hard plastic and would damage a car) and chucked it into the trash can. Factored out in time spent earning the tickets multiplied by our wages now, that Frisbee cost $30. And was destroyed in one minute. I realized that Caleb is subtly reminding me of how much fun we have/had as kids/brother and sister. He keeps asking me "when are you moving out?" as if he forgets. Aww, I think my brother will miss me. Maybe just my laptop, but I'm welcome to dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115621917876434357?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115621917876434357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115621917876434357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115621917876434357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115621917876434357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/08/old-habits-die-hard.html' title='Old Habits Die Hard'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115500563539597151</id><published>2006-08-07T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T19:53:55.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1000 Words</title><content type='html'>Since my parents are out of town, and Alan is asleep, and I don't feel like subjecting anyone else to this torture - I am getting out my words for the day. Today has been a very weird feeling day. I don't know why - it just has. I absolutely hated the outfit I had on at work - the shirt, the belt, the hair, and the breakout of a face. I'm irritated at the fact that I spent all day at the lake yesterday, and didn't get any visible sun out of the whole deal. I think I'll back up to the lake. Man - yesterday was a great day. It was a great day at church, and the lake was fabulous - relaxing, water, friends, clean fun, kids, tubing (my gluteus maximus is THROBBING), sunscreen...ahh, such a great way to spend a day off. But now, my butt is killing me, and my arms and abs are joining them. I did constructive things at work today, which was a good thing. There was visible evidence I did something. And I closed the store, so I got a few more minutes of time. And I was constructive tonight. I cooked myself (yes, cooked) dinner, put the days dishes in the washer, tidied up the kitchen and laundry room (which reminds me, I still have stuff in the dryer), balanced my checkbook, filled out my textbook request form, got my TO DO list together, washed my car, straightened my room, got my bags packed for tom, and got a general hold on myself. Mind you, a general one. Not a very good one, but a general one. So I feel better than I did, and now, looking at the clock, I realize that I need to go to sleep, b/c I have an early day in the morning, and a dog to feed as well. Sleep well, cyberspace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115500563539597151?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115500563539597151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115500563539597151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115500563539597151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115500563539597151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/08/1000-words.html' title='1000 Words'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115449129853527187</id><published>2006-08-01T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T21:05:43.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No meaning, just a good song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;This time / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;This place / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Misused / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Mistakes / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Too long / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Too late / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Who was I to make you wait / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Just one chance / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Just one breath / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Just in case there's just one left&lt;/span&gt; / &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;'Cause you know, you know, you know / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I love you / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;And I've loved you all along / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;And I miss you / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Been far away for far too long / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I keep dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Stop breathing if I don't see you anymore / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;On my knees, I'll ask / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Last chance for one last dance / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;'Cause with you, I'd withstand / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;All of hell to hold your hand / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I'd give it all / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I'd give for us / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Give anything but I won't give up / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;'Cause you know, you know, you know / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I love you / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;And I've loved you all along / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;And I miss you / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Been far away for far too long / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I keep dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Stop breathing if I don't see you anymore / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;So far away (So far away) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Been far away for far too long / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;So far away (So far away) / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Been far away for far too long / B&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;ut you know, you know, you know / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I wanted / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I wanted you to stay&lt;/span&gt; / &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;'Cause I needed / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;I need to hear you say / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;That I love you / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;And I've loved you all along / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;And I forgive you / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;For being away for far too long &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;So keep breathing / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;'Cause I'm not leaving you any more / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Believe it / &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;Hold on to me and never let me go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;~Nickelback&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115449129853527187?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115449129853527187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115449129853527187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115449129853527187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115449129853527187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/08/no-meaning-just-good-song.html' title='No meaning, just a good song'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115445035239701867</id><published>2006-08-01T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T09:39:12.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stellar Kart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#006600;"&gt;"Me And Jesus"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When there's nowhere else to turn&lt;br /&gt;All your bridges have been burned&lt;br /&gt;Feels like you've hit rock bottom&lt;br /&gt;Don't give up it's not the end&lt;br /&gt;Open up your heart again&lt;br /&gt;When you feel like no one&lt;br /&gt;Understands where you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone loves you&lt;br /&gt;even when you don't think so&lt;br /&gt;don't you know&lt;br /&gt;you got Me and Jesus&lt;br /&gt;by your side through the fight&lt;br /&gt;you will never be alone&lt;br /&gt;on your own you got me and Jesus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all that we've been through&lt;br /&gt;Be now you know I've doubted too&lt;br /&gt;But every time my head was in my hands&lt;br /&gt;You said to me&lt;br /&gt;Hold on to what we got&lt;br /&gt;This is worth any cost so&lt;br /&gt;Make the most of life&lt;br /&gt;That's borrowed&lt;br /&gt;Love like there's no tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115445035239701867?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115445035239701867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115445035239701867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115445035239701867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115445035239701867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/08/stellar-kart.html' title='Stellar Kart'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115400724680331206</id><published>2006-07-27T06:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T09:41:16.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chris Nations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ff9900;"&gt;I want to be the flame the tribe dances around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115400724680331206?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115400724680331206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115400724680331206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115400724680331206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115400724680331206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/07/chris-nations.html' title='Chris Nations'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115400702988628830</id><published>2006-07-27T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-27T06:30:29.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Don't Know Me</title><content type='html'>Today's blog courtesy of Michael Buble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You give your hand to me&lt;br /&gt;Then you say hello&lt;br /&gt;I can hardly speak&lt;br /&gt;My heart is beating so&lt;br /&gt;And anyone can tell&lt;br /&gt;You think you know me well&lt;br /&gt;But you don't know me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, you don't know the one&lt;br /&gt;Who dreams of you at night&lt;br /&gt;And longs to kiss your lips&lt;br /&gt;And longs to hold you tight&lt;br /&gt;Oh I'm just a friend&lt;br /&gt;That's all I've ever been&lt;br /&gt;'Cause you don't know me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew&lt;br /&gt;The art of making love&lt;br /&gt;Though my heart aches&lt;br /&gt;With love for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afraid and shy&lt;br /&gt;I've let my chance to go by&lt;br /&gt;The chance that you might&lt;br /&gt;Love me, too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You give your hand to me&lt;br /&gt;And then you say good-bye&lt;br /&gt;I watch you walk away&lt;br /&gt;Beside the lucky guy&lt;br /&gt;You'll never never know&lt;br /&gt;The one who loves you so&lt;br /&gt;Well, you don't know me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You give your hand to me, baby&lt;br /&gt;Then you say good-bye&lt;br /&gt;I watch you walk away&lt;br /&gt;Beside the lucky guy&lt;br /&gt;No, no, you'll never ever know&lt;br /&gt;The one who loves you so&lt;br /&gt;Well, you don't know me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115400702988628830?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115400702988628830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115400702988628830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115400702988628830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115400702988628830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/07/you-dont-know-me.html' title='You Don&apos;t Know Me'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-115107817394957126</id><published>2006-06-23T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T08:56:13.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It fits</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"&gt;You're some fun kinda kinky, baby.  Good thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-115107817394957126?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/115107817394957126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=115107817394957126' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115107817394957126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/115107817394957126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/06/it-fits.html' title='It fits'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114951341360880854</id><published>2006-06-05T06:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T06:16:53.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote of the Day</title><content type='html'>"I want to worship at the temple of your ass."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114951341360880854?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114951341360880854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114951341360880854' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114951341360880854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114951341360880854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/06/quote-of-day.html' title='Quote of the Day'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114921514917057897</id><published>2006-06-01T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T19:25:49.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Post-Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I just want to give a round of applause for those who contributed so much to making my 19th birthday wonderful, and to those who did the most by doing nothing at all.  Thank you to Alan for spending the entire day with me and on me, and for making it a memorable and wonderful day.  I love the CDs - they make me smile constantly.  Thank you Aunt Irene for the birthday song, thank you Mama Chris for the phone call, and thank you Ryan, Jacob and Sean for the phone calls.  Thank you to the three who sent me Happy BDay facebook messages, and to the 40-something rest of you posers who posted it on my wall.  Thanks to Dad and Alan for singing to me, and thanks to Erin for picking up the tab at TGIFridays.  Thank you to all the wonderful people that are in my life, and I am planning on making this last teenage year of my life full of everything I want.  Kickstands up - we're rolling out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114921514917057897?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114921514917057897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114921514917057897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114921514917057897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114921514917057897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/06/happy-post-birthday.html' title='Happy Post-Birthday'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114878458662957541</id><published>2006-05-27T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T19:49:46.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Takin Care of Business</title><content type='html'>MY FEET FREAKIN HURT!!!  But I had an awesome day.  I got hit on by a 12 year old, and asked to prom. ;)  I love my new job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get up every morning&lt;br /&gt;From your alarm clock's warning&lt;br /&gt;Take the 8:15 into the city&lt;br /&gt;There's a whistle up above&lt;br /&gt;And people pushin', people shovin'&lt;br /&gt;And the girls who try to look pretty&lt;br /&gt;And if your train's on time&lt;br /&gt;You can get to work by nine&lt;br /&gt;And start your slaving job to get your pay&lt;br /&gt;If you ever get annoyed&lt;br /&gt;Look at me I'm self-employed&lt;br /&gt;I love to work at nothing all day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll be...&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business every day&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business every way&lt;br /&gt;I've been taking care of business, it's all mine&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business and working overtime&lt;br /&gt;Work out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it were easy as fishin'&lt;br /&gt;You could be a musician&lt;br /&gt;If you could make sounds loud or mellow&lt;br /&gt;Get a second-hand guitar&lt;br /&gt;Chances are you'll go far&lt;br /&gt;If you get in with the right bunch of fellows&lt;br /&gt;People see you having fun&lt;br /&gt;Just a-lying in the sun&lt;br /&gt;Tell them that you like it this way&lt;br /&gt;It's the work that we avoid&lt;br /&gt;And we're all self-employed&lt;br /&gt;We love to work at nothing all day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we be...&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business every day&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business every way&lt;br /&gt;I've been taking care of business, it's all mine&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business and working overtime&lt;br /&gt;Take good care of my business&lt;br /&gt;When I'm away, every day whoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get up every morning&lt;br /&gt;From your alarm clock's warning&lt;br /&gt;Take the 8:15 into the city&lt;br /&gt;There's a whistle up above&lt;br /&gt;And people pushin', people shovin'&lt;br /&gt;And the girls who try to look pretty&lt;br /&gt;And if your train's on time&lt;br /&gt;You can get to work by nine&lt;br /&gt;And start your slaving job to get your pay&lt;br /&gt;If you ever get annoyed&lt;br /&gt;Look at me I'm self-employed&lt;br /&gt;I love to work at nothing all day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll be...&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business every day&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business every way&lt;br /&gt;I've been taking care of business, it's all mine&lt;br /&gt;Taking care of business and working overtime&lt;br /&gt;Takin' care of business&lt;br /&gt;Takin' care of business&lt;br /&gt;Takin' care of business&lt;br /&gt;Takin' care of business&lt;br /&gt;Takin' care of business.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114878458662957541?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114878458662957541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114878458662957541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114878458662957541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114878458662957541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/takin-care-of-business.html' title='Takin Care of Business'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114843207597965285</id><published>2006-05-23T17:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T14:11:24.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slide Away</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are you gonna wake again?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are you gonna take it down?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh babe, I don't wanna deal it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh, make it alright&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gimme some, my love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Away, away, away&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just wanna slide away &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and come alive again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just wanna slide away &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and come alive again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will see that love again, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and find a life again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just wanna slide away &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and come alive again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanted to let it go&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just couldn't let it go&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanted to let it go&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just couldn't let you go&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would catch you(Just couldn't let you go)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'd catch you as you fall(Just couldn't let it go)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would catch you(Just couldn't let you go)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'd catch you if I heard your call&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But you tore a hole in space&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Like a dark star, falls from grace&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You burn across the sky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I would find you wings to fly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I would catch you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I would catch your fall&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just wanna slide away &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and come alive again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just wanna slide away &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and come alive again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will see that love again, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and find a life again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just wanna slide away &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and come alive again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#003333;"&gt;This song, written by Michael Hutchence and finished by Bono, had been playing on my (Caleb's) ipod all week long.  Any takers on the interpretation?  I'll post mine when I have time ~ approx 3 weeks from now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114843207597965285?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114843207597965285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114843207597965285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114843207597965285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114843207597965285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/slide-away.html' title='Slide Away'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114781625757210578</id><published>2006-05-16T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T14:50:57.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Disgraceful?</title><content type='html'>There's a song that talks about different ways that people see Jesus, called "I See Love."  One of the lines in the song says "Some see a fool who died for his dream."  But is a dream worth dying for, even a fool's dream, a disgraceful thing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114781625757210578?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114781625757210578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114781625757210578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114781625757210578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114781625757210578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/disgraceful.html' title='Disgraceful?'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114773895069813976</id><published>2006-05-15T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T14:56:30.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'Joshua'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;The air has never felt so warm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;the sky has never looked this way before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;there's nothing comforting in change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I can't seem to find any peace in this confusion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I can't help my mind from racing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;and my heart is beating faster than ever before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;tell me is this really happening&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I cannot tell if I am dreaming&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;last night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I saw you standing in the moonlight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;and you took my hand and we walked&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;beside the river&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;and you said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;don't be afraid, be strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I'm with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I'm climbing on top of my doubt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;don't let this fear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;get the best of me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;cause I find my confidence in you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;and I find my hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;when I lose control&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;last night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I saw you standing in the moonlight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;and you took my hand and we walked&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;beside the river&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;and you said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;don't be afraid, be strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I'm with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I'm with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000066;"&gt;I'm with you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114773895069813976?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114773895069813976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114773895069813976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114773895069813976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114773895069813976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/joshua.html' title='&apos;Joshua&apos;'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114703438921789003</id><published>2006-05-07T13:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T13:39:49.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Niche</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Relationships are all about falling into a comfortable routine.  With Josh and I, we've settled into a "call when you can, I'll see you when you're in town."  With Sean, we talk every/other day online or at least call or text message.  With Claire, our relationship is down to a quick phone call or voice message when we can shoot one off, and a huge bonanza when she's in town.  With Alan, it's now settled (ha - settled) into a 'routine' of "we see each other every day."  It's actually quite awesome.  Today was a great example of it.  (Yes, I know I should be studying, but my mind is totally elsewhere.)  He picked me up for church this morning (as he has done for the past...weeks) and then after bible study, we went to his parents for Sunday lunch.  It's so...comfortable.  I love it!  I can talk to Terri and Duane like they're my own family.  Duane, Alan and I walked around the back acre or so of the property, and I listened to them trade stories of go-karting, baseball, and haunted trails that commenced on the property.  After lunch, Alan went through his parent's record (yes, RECORD) collection, and we all laughed at what they had collected.  It just seems to fit so nicely.  Alan and I are close friends that happen to be in love.  And that's the best relationship to have.  With him, and his parents, and his roommates, it doesn't feel like I'm 'the girlfriend' to be scrutinized and observed.  I'm another 'friend' that's included because Alan includes me.  That's a really...cool feeling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;If anyone is thinking that this is totally dorky and a waste of their time to read, and is doing nothing but making them sick: what the fell are you doing ready my blog page anyways???  Don't you have something ELSE to do? :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;And I'm totally finding it hilarious/awesome that Alan and I are so much alike.  5 minutes and here comes the next mood swing! ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114703438921789003?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114703438921789003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114703438921789003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114703438921789003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114703438921789003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/niche.html' title='Niche'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114694319242832121</id><published>2006-05-06T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T12:19:52.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clark Gable</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"I kissed you in a style Clark Gable would've envied.  I thought it fitting."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Such a complete synopsis of how 'life' isn't real unless it's Hollywood.  A kiss isn't a kiss unless it's got a whole story leading up to it, and you can either make a story or a blog post out of it.  I love the dip-you-back-to-the-floor-kick-your-feet-in-the-air kisses just as much as the next romance-novel-driven girl, but when all is said and done, I just want to feel the soft kisses on my forehead that are given absent-mindedly when we're curled up in the recliner, watching a movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114694319242832121?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114694319242832121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114694319242832121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114694319242832121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114694319242832121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/clark-gable.html' title='Clark Gable'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114675030418991729</id><published>2006-05-04T06:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T06:45:04.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunshiney Day</title><content type='html'>I just want to commemorate the fact that the sun is SHINING outside and it is BEAUTIFUL!  I look great today (yeah, I do) and I feel so awake!!!  I had a great workout this morning - I jogged half the hill and walked half the hill today!!!  And then I went back and used the weird-looking elliptical machine too!  I AM PUMPED!!!  I have a very full day of studying ahead of me, but I am ready for it, b/c there is nothing going on at work, and it's 8:41 and I'm ready to go!  I apologize, but U2 is not cutting it this morning.  Ah - there we go - new album.  I love MP3 cds.  HAVE A GREAT DAY AND THANK GOD FOR IT!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114675030418991729?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114675030418991729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114675030418991729' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114675030418991729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114675030418991729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/sunshiney-day.html' title='Sunshiney Day'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114671208041343832</id><published>2006-05-03T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T20:08:00.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Counterpart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If you need anything I am here for you.  Have a great night and smile :).  I got you a sea shell.  I wish I could hug ya right now.  Lol smile and have a great day.  I'm glad I met you through Claire and that we are friends.  Agreed so thank you I truly appreciate and adore you now go and be happy.  And ps you wish you could marry me.  Ha oh I could.  You couldn't handle me.  No doubt I could and that's not me being arrogant thats me being confidant ha.  One day thirty years from now lol. Ha done.  Only bc I can cook amazing italian ha.  You are not too bad yourself either.  Smile babe :).  Hang in there :).  Smile :) love you.  (you are needed) So are you.  You make me smile have a wonderful day and night and if you need anything I am here for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's the little things in life that add up to make a difference.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114671208041343832?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114671208041343832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114671208041343832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114671208041343832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114671208041343832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/counterpart.html' title='Counterpart'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114651471940965554</id><published>2006-05-01T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T13:18:39.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;My BRAIN hurts!  I have a migraine, and I am going to tough this one out, so help me God!!!  It's the start of crunch week here at Study4Finals Central, and I am already wanting to be done.  Sadly, I don't get that much of a break.  I get a night in Etown, and then a Bridal Shower, and then a yardsale, and then I'm back at school.  Maybe I'll get a night with Alan somewhere in there.  I am so stinkin lucky that he understands that I have a lot of crap going on.  It's funny how I don't HAVE to fit him into my schedule - he just kinda falls in there.  I know that my other blog page is supposed to be for relationship stuff, but I am really focusing on the fact that I have been blessed in this relationship beyond belief.  We so often look at each other and say "Ok - so where's the catch?"  Ahh - I think I'm going to leave work if Melissa doesn't have anything for me to do.  It's not like I really get enough money offa this joke anyways.  And besides, I don't have any appointments, and there is SO much more I could be doing elsewhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;I miss Seth a lot.  I e-mailed him yesterday, and he sent me one back.  I'm so happy to know that he's alright.  I love talking to him - he's so down-to-earth and he's a great Christian balance for me.  I hope I get to see him soonly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;Thank you dear Lord that Alan takes the initiative and the time to say "Let's pray".  MAN - I love doing that with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;And is it possible that I can go through an ENTIRE day without anything BAD happening?  My prayer list is about 3 pages LONG!!!  And I'm not even the one that has to take care of it!!!  So guess it's not a case of "Why me?" but "Why God?"  b/c he has to handle everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;Ahh - the beauty of a blog page - wonderfully random, totally accessible and no pressure to use the backspace key.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114651471940965554?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114651471940965554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114651471940965554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114651471940965554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114651471940965554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/ow.html' title='Ow'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114650278434150397</id><published>2006-05-01T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T09:59:44.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1 John 3&amp;4</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Dr Joseph Trafton is an amazing professor.  I feel like I'm watching a play, or an interp piece in speech instead of sitting in a 75 student lecture hall.  He has this way of making what we're learning ABSORB without me knowing it.  I laughed so many times this morning, and I didn't even realize it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;He covered the books of John this morning, and I realized something as he was talking.  There are two big books in the Bible on Love: 1 Corinthians 13, and 1 John 3 and 4.  Love is a many splendid thing, as the song says, but 1 John clearly defines what love IS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Love is a sacrafice.  It means putting the other above you.  It's a continual round of sacrafices.  God's sacrafice of his son being, of course, the greatest example.  But love between anyone, is a sacrafice.  Some you enjoy making, some you don't even realize you make, and some that you make with an effort.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;It's not a bad thing, but it answers the question of "What is love?"  It is simply - a sacrafice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;(Yeah, random - but that's the title of the blog, baby!!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114650278434150397?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114650278434150397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114650278434150397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114650278434150397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114650278434150397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/05/1-john-34.html' title='1 John 3&amp;4'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114624544094303152</id><published>2006-04-28T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T10:30:40.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The ride home</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#663366;"&gt;Life is a barrage of faces.  This face, that name, that guy, this girl.  Meaning nothing, meaning the world.  And trying to keep them all straight, is a barrage to the brain.  Step in time to the music, don't miss a beat or you'll be dropped.  Spin, smile, turn, cry, dip, BREATHE, laugh, twirl, live, jump, love.  Life is a dance of many partners - which song will you remember?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114624544094303152?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114624544094303152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114624544094303152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114624544094303152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114624544094303152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/04/ride-home.html' title='The ride home'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114618536791621601</id><published>2006-04-27T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T17:49:27.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INXS Best</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;I just discovered that these posts have index limits on them.  Go figure.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;But I knew that I had lost my heart to a rockstar, after the encore.  Kurt had walked offstage (left) and had waved to Rachel and I on the way off.  (Of course, we went nuts.)  Well, JD's gorgeous self was walking offstage, and he had pointed to some random spots in the audience.  BUT, then he stopped on our end of the stage on his way off, and (oh Lord, I'm getting chills) POINTED at us, and said/yelled "You guys fucking rock!  I fucking love you guys!"  I lost it.  Rachel lost it.  Alan and Nathan lost it.  And it was a full half hour before I got all of it back.  Rachel and I grabbed each other and starting jumping up and down, screaming.  And then I grabbed Alan and started screaming.  He was laughing so hard (joyful, not laughing AT).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Man, that concert was freaking awesome.  Rachel and I still screamed every 20 seconds once we got outside.  Rachel gave me her e-mail address, so we'll keep in touch.  Alan and I were told that we have to stay with them if we ever come to Knoxville.  I'm looking forward to seeing them again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;I'll remember that forever.  Thanks, Alan, for taking me along to that.  ;-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114618536791621601?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114618536791621601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114618536791621601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114618536791621601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114618536791621601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/04/inxs-best.html' title='INXS Best'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114597864783592603</id><published>2006-04-25T08:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T17:33:47.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INXS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;OH MY GOD!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;OH MY GOD!!!&lt;/em&gt; OH MY GOD!!! &lt;/strong&gt;Ok, now I'll get into the actual story. I just wanted to say that INXS was totally freaking awesome!!! I loved EVERY MINUTE of that concert!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Alan and I walked around downtown Nashville for about 30-45 min, which was really nice, and would've been more fun had I worn more comfortable shoes. Downtown Nashville is surprisingly...upscale, in a country sort of way. I had a lot of fun being down there. Prom was going on, so one saw all TYPES of attire. I'd almost say I'm glad to be out of that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;So we get to the Ryman (FINALLY) and into our seats, which are on the balcony, right on the aisle, on the left side of the stage, front row. Awesome spot - props go to Alan all the way. We sit down next to this couple, who we had never seen before in our lives. TOTALLY HIT IT OFF!!! Rachel and Nathan were awesome!!! 27 and 32, respectively, and we all acted like we were 16yr olds at a concert. It was so cool being with them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;The opening band - Dirtie Blonde - would've been MUCH better had the sound worked good, but it just opened up an opportunity for us to get to know Rachel and Nathan better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Have mercy (;D) when JD Fortune waltzed his sexy ass out on stage, I thought Rachel and I were going to die. They opened with 'Suicide Blonde' and I did not stop dancing until the house lights came back on. All four of us danced, and sang and SCREAMED the whole night long. I think Alan and I made a few people behind us sick, but who the heck cares!!! It was an INXS concert!!! JD's body and voice just MOANED (heehee) sex, and the two bras that flew on stage (neither one were mine, but if I had a red one on, and a way to get it to him, I would've done the same) can attribute to that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;I was hanging on to Alan for half the concert, and we were singing in each other's ears/faces and dancing together, alone. I danced with Rachel, and we made the biggest scene! Such a scene in fact, that the lead guitarist/saxaphone player looked up at us 2 or 3 times. Seriously - looked up at us, and laughed once, when Rachel and I were being stupid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Before I forget, here's the set list, borrowed from the Rockband.com forum:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Suicide Blonde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Devil's Party&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Perfect Strangers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By My Side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Afterglow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Taste It&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Original Sin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;God's Top Ten&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Amazing Grace)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Elegantly Wasted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hungry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Never Let You Go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Need You Tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What You Need&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pretty Vegas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Encore:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;New Sensation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Never Tear Us Apart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hot Girls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Don't Change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;'Mistify Me' is in there somewhere, but I'm not sure where. I loved every song that came out of those amps. The entire concert was totally awesome - minus the VERY drunk lady that kept walking by us. I thought Rachel was going to push her over out of sheer meanness - although it would've been freaking hilarious!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;The best part is yet to be told: Rachel and I (when I say 'Rachel and I' I mean 'all four of us' - Rachel and I were just the most obnoxious) were standing really close to the rail, and everytime one of the band memembers would look in our direction, we would scream. We got Kurt's attention a few times, as I already told. BUT - we got JD to look at us, MORE than once. Like, four times. Once, when he was on our end of the stage, he looked up and SMILED at us. I felt myself melt - I think I might've had a music orgasm. Just thinking of his smile turns me into a hopeless groupie. I about yanked Alan's arm off at that point. (He got quite possesive/physical during the concert :D)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114597864783592603?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114597864783592603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114597864783592603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114597864783592603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114597864783592603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/04/inxs.html' title='INXS'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114572309330416005</id><published>2006-04-22T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T08:05:01.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chicks Dig Scars</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I would just like to say "OWWWW!!!" I went caving last Friday with some of the HFC crew, and I am bruised and scratched in places that aren't supposed to be!  My knees look HORRIBLE and I have a nice scratch on my back that prevents me from leaning all the way back in my chair.  But, oh, it was fun.  At least the first few hours - the last hour I was just trying to make it back.  I will admit, the fun went downhill when Alan left - but it was understandable.  By the end of the 5 hour tour, I was soaked from the chest down, and covered in mud ALL over, INCLUDING my hair.  I am still horridly sore, and my arms were already hurting on Friay night.  We went down two waterfalls, and I got to see 4 bats and a cave-adapted crayfish.  It was hard work, but the sights were beautiful.  I was cold, but so happy.  It was the good exhausted feeling.  Alan and I DRAINED the hot water heated at the house.  I think I steamed off most of the dirt, the water was so hot.  But it felt soooooo good.  I don't think I've ever slept harder than I did on friday night, either.  I complain, and complain about the after-effects, but I know that I will be going back into the cave later on this summer.  And I am SO looking forward to it!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114572309330416005?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114572309330416005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114572309330416005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114572309330416005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114572309330416005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/04/chicks-dig-scars.html' title='Chicks Dig Scars'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114554128875587186</id><published>2006-04-20T06:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T06:54:48.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stairs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Storey to storey&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Building to building&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Street to street&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We pass each other&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Storey to storey&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Building to building&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Street to street&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We pass each other on the stairs&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff6600;"&gt;So many people have the same story, the same life as the person next to them, but can't talk about a single thing, becuase of the fear of ridicule.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff6600;"&gt;A hidden crush, a secret longing, that you keep inside about that boy you sit next to in class, or the girl you see walk into the store everyday.  Why don't we say anything?  We know it will be the best relationship of our lives, but we are so scared to take the first step.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Don't pass each other by.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114554128875587186?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114554128875587186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114554128875587186' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114554128875587186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114554128875587186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/04/stairs.html' title='Stairs'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114538661631495006</id><published>2006-04-18T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T08:34:53.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whirrrr</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm totally getting into this thing - I know, I'm weird. But it helps to have...something to talk to. It's really warm in the computer lab on 3rd floor of Grise, and my hair smells like hamburgers (thanks to the Grand Opening) but there's something so wonderfully soothing about hearing the typing of the keyboards and the repetitive whirring of the fan blades desperately trying to beat the heat. I hear soft murmurs as I hear Josh ask the poor girl sitting next to him what the answer is for our SimNet exam that we're taking in about 30 min. He hasn't done the test yet. I'm halfway through the second one, for the 3rd time. I should be doing something constructive right now, what with all the assignments that my professors decided to give the last few weeks of school. But no, I'm sitting here, switching back and forth between assignments, revelling in the freedom and stress that is college.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114538661631495006?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114538661631495006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114538661631495006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114538661631495006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114538661631495006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/04/whirrrr.html' title='Whirrrr'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114538139292255331</id><published>2006-04-18T09:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T08:35:45.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RIP</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Wow. If the day gets any more eventful, I think I'll join Sean in his breakdown. I was at the gym this morning, biking away, and I look up on WBKO, and I see a missing person's report. But I know this person. It's Jay Hunter VanHooser, my little brother's friend from grade/middle school. He didn't go to school yesterday, and he didn't show up from work, and nobody knew where he was. The report said that he was suffering from depression and 'suicidal tendencies.' (Man - I hate that term.) Talk about a shock. I called Caleb when I got into the locker room, and Caleb didn't know anything about it. I said a small prayer, and quickly lost myself in work. Caleb called me in the middle of the day, terrifyingly upset. 'They' found Hunter, in a hotel room: he had shot himself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;How? How does a life get so bad, that the only way out is to die? How is there NO bright spot? Your parents divorce, your dad gets remarried, and the only solution...is to kill yourself?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;God, be with the students at Greenwood as they remember Hunter, and be with his mother, father and Nick as they come to grips with this horror. God, watch his soul, and please have mercy upon this teenager.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114538139292255331?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114538139292255331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114538139292255331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114538139292255331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114538139292255331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/04/rip.html' title='RIP'/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26400953.post-114537310841684859</id><published>2006-04-18T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T08:33:28.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wow - Day 1. I never thought I'd actually succomb to these things, but the pressure of needing an outlet was just too much. :) If anyone actually DOES read this, it won't be fancy or artistic or incredibly insightful. It will just be a continuation of what I normally do - ramble. About random stuff. One might see song lyrics, or poems, or stories in place of the innerworkings of my mind, and that just means that's what actually up there, working. So for those about to rock - I salute you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26400953-114537310841684859?l=blondeceo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/feeds/114537310841684859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26400953&amp;postID=114537310841684859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114537310841684859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26400953/posts/default/114537310841684859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blondeceo.blogspot.com/2006/04/wow-day-1.html' title=''/><author><name>Hannah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01078509632754405675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
