tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71818386020759983212024-03-13T13:40:25.615-04:00X-Tina's ShenanigansWord Vomit. This is literally everything that flows off my fingertips. Definitely my most liberal outlet. My most free one. The one that gets neglected most often. xoxo enjoy CUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger380125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-68255890474937811792018-04-05T10:47:00.000-04:002018-04-05T10:47:33.629-04:00Dating rambles <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yesterday SS asked me if I wanted to be his GF. I said yes of course. And now I find myself asking what changes now. After gf/bf status is established, what are the key changes that should take place....<br />
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This is my basic list....<br />
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>No flirty text buddies </li>
<li>No flirty instagram</li>
<li>No flirty snap</li>
<li>No flirty fb</li>
<li>etc</li>
<li>etc</li>
</ol>
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Flirty seems so innocence, but what starts as boredom can lead to dick picks and titty pics in no time. So its just best to just cut it out from the get go. </div>
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If your not ready to let some of those things go, then your not ready for a relationship. Simple as that. </div>
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Problem is, everyone is looking for PERFECTION.... this ideal image that has been shoved down our throats. And until we get that person, its like we constantly have a radar out for potential mates. </div>
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There is no such thing as perfection. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-39592553857119828192018-01-24T15:58:00.002-05:002018-01-24T15:58:29.027-05:00Will I Ever Be Good Enough<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know I'm wasting my time with the current guy I'm dating. Well call him SS. I think that's my specialty: <b>finding emotionally unavailable men who only want one thing and have zero intention of actually being with me. </b><br />
<br />
Here I am...<br />
<i>Giving my all to someone who doesn't want my ALL. <b>They only want a piece.</b> </i><br />
I just constantly question everything-<br />
<b>Am I good enough?</b><br />
<b>Am I thin enough?</b><br />
<b>Am I pretty enough?</b><br />
<br />
Why am I not good enough?<br />
<br />
SS says to me, <i>"Your such a good girl, Tina"</i><br />
and in my head, I respond with... <b><u>Yeah, but not good enough. </u></b><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-19053056676565875362017-09-14T16:10:00.002-04:002017-09-18T11:05:12.700-04:00Things tattoo parlors do that suck<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">These are my personal experiences. If you've never had any of these things happen to you, then high five and also, you're probably a guy.</span></i><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fmQIRDnxPmc/WbrhVLc2jqI/AAAAAAAAV8U/oAw-RLydE4I3qn58ysn5RH6Nf9Q0MrFQgCLcBGAs/s1600/giphy%2B%25286%2529.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="499" height="150" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fmQIRDnxPmc/WbrhVLc2jqI/AAAAAAAAV8U/oAw-RLydE4I3qn58ysn5RH6Nf9Q0MrFQgCLcBGAs/s320/giphy%2B%25286%2529.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Rudeness- As soon as I enter. Especially if I'm fully clothed and they can't see that I already have tattoos, so they just assume, I'm some newb and it's okay to try and scam me. If an artist/staff are rude. Just go to a different shop, in big cities or even medium size ones theres a different shop every 10 miles. Don't commit to the first shop you go to. It's ok to "shop" around. </li>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XbiehbY7Iu4/WbrheNZT6pI/AAAAAAAAV8w/oLkT6nhVeagcwpNoSBkaDKrUmIcW9ydAQCLcBGAs/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XbiehbY7Iu4/WbrheNZT6pI/AAAAAAAAV8w/oLkT6nhVeagcwpNoSBkaDKrUmIcW9ydAQCLcBGAs/s320/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Quote crazy ass prices- All shops have a shop minimum and obviously, you pay for what you get. BUT, there are still those instances, where no Jasper, I'm not paying $120 for a heart. </li>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jsrQmXjChoY/WbrhYwLjkdI/AAAAAAAAV8Y/2AyhQqRAq0ckUXIsMXaUoAfXXT34jBtJACLcBGAs/s1600/source%2B%25282%2529.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="180" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jsrQmXjChoY/WbrhYwLjkdI/AAAAAAAAV8Y/2AyhQqRAq0ckUXIsMXaUoAfXXT34jBtJACLcBGAs/s320/source%2B%25282%2529.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<li>Changes- When you agree on something and ask for it to be changed in a small way or a big way and the artist either says, "No" or acts like its the biggest inconvenience of his life. Sorry, Jasper, I'd rather have the heart a little bigger than a quarter since I'm paying $120. </li>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3bnxlnjElcw/WbrheF52jyI/AAAAAAAAV8o/KaPl3urPL_kfZftCPdDkm15bFpnJdIWrwCEwYBhgL/s1600/giphy%2B%25285%2529.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="223" data-original-width="400" height="178" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3bnxlnjElcw/WbrheF52jyI/AAAAAAAAV8o/KaPl3urPL_kfZftCPdDkm15bFpnJdIWrwCEwYBhgL/s320/giphy%2B%25285%2529.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<li>Placement- This kinda goes along with the changes, but this is after you've agreed upon the design/size. Once again, Jasper, I would like my heart to be straight, not crooked. I'm sorry you have to take an extra 2 min to wipe off the stencil and do it again. </li>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dsgdcRbmNP0/Wbrhd48Nu5I/AAAAAAAAV8c/Rj-aMJ2WqnwvowmEcDIUbuQhMNbae-c3wCEwYBhgL/s1600/giphy%2B%25283%2529.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="480" height="177" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dsgdcRbmNP0/Wbrhd48Nu5I/AAAAAAAAV8c/Rj-aMJ2WqnwvowmEcDIUbuQhMNbae-c3wCEwYBhgL/s320/giphy%2B%25283%2529.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<li>Creep- Once while getting a rib tattoo, the artist asked me to take off my bra. Why I don't know, you'd have to ask him. Being a nieve 18 yr old, I did it. It got really uncomfortable really fast. Some tattoo artists use their job as a dating/fucking tool. Those guys fucking suck.</li>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-APXYNa-uRvE/Wbrhd1bRV7I/AAAAAAAAV8g/n-cnT7JIsH4CXhYyrrYcqt60q5wK5wm3QCEwYBhgL/s1600/giphy%2B%25284%2529.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="322" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-APXYNa-uRvE/Wbrhd1bRV7I/AAAAAAAAV8g/n-cnT7JIsH4CXhYyrrYcqt60q5wK5wm3QCEwYBhgL/s320/giphy%2B%25284%2529.gif" width="300" /></a></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Same page- Be on the same page with your tattoo artist. Speak up, if all you have is $200. Your artist should also communicate any changes in price with you ASAP. Once, I came in to do the 2nd session of a tattoo. After the tattoo was over, he said, "that will be $300" not only did I think that was over priced for some shading, but that wasn't something we discussed prior. Of course, I paid the guy. It left me over drawn in my account and I never went back to him and told anyone who would listen to avoid him.</li>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-puzY4DzIGSk/WbrheL34cNI/AAAAAAAAV8s/7BK3BSOS5OgjHsVDgHMEa8c5KAQT820GgCEwYBhgL/s1600/giphy-downsized-large.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-puzY4DzIGSk/WbrheL34cNI/AAAAAAAAV8s/7BK3BSOS5OgjHsVDgHMEa8c5KAQT820GgCEwYBhgL/s320/giphy-downsized-large.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>TIPS:</i><br />
<i>-SPEAK UP, if you like/dont like it etc. </i><br />
<i>-LOOK at their portfolio! </i><br />
<i>-ASK about their experience level!</i><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-27281984728769364362017-08-22T11:18:00.003-04:002017-08-22T11:18:52.184-04:00I'm still ALIVE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Hi folks....</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>It's only been 2 years since I've made a post. But like everything on the internet, once you put it there it's there forever.</i><br />
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<i>I'm going to start a post every Wednesday- once a week and maybe go to twice a week.</i><br />
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<i>Blogging is nice because I'm going to write regardless if someone is reading it or not. Whereas the other social media platforms- there's so much riding on people "liking" your posts. Often, if a post doesn't get any likes within a certain amount of time, I'll just delete it. </i><br />
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<i>Here on my blog, there's no deleting. No comments, no views, eh who cares. </i><br />
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<i>So welcome back if anyone is reading. </i><br />
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<i>xoxo</i><br />
<i>Xtina</i><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-1372298551771909292015-10-20T16:12:00.000-04:002015-10-20T16:12:57.609-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How to survive for almost 3 months in a Foreign County on roughly $700:<br />
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1. Be extremely patient. Train times are about the only schedule that won't change. Everything else can change on a dime notice. Learn to relax and go with the flow when things go to shit.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv8kFWtWgEE/TmQytnf5IDI/AAAAAAAABUQ/CDmfAzLTfMU/s1600/339-pola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv8kFWtWgEE/TmQytnf5IDI/AAAAAAAABUQ/CDmfAzLTfMU/s400/339-pola.jpg" width="327" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highway Sign. Barcelona, Spain.</td></tr>
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2. Learn the basics of the language. Language was probably my biggest frustration. It took 2 months before I could really speak to people. But even then, as soon as I said, "Hola", the locals knew I was an American.<br />
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3. Find a lover. This is good for many many reasons. Honestly, this could potentially solve all of your problems. Money. Shelter. Food. Language. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-31682559682566414622014-05-27T00:36:00.000-04:002014-05-27T00:36:11.627-04:00Being Pregnant<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Boy or Girl <div>
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That is my current ponder in life. My mom and a lot of family think I'm having a boy. My mom has started to buy me boy baby clothes. Which I appreciate, if I'm having a boy. But right now, I don't know if I'm having a girl or a boy. Which leaves little things, like baby clothes undecided. There's also the way in which I raise them. If my child is a boy, I can teach him respect. I can teach him love. I can teach him that women aren't property. That a woman has a personality that he should always look to first. That looks aren't everything. I can teach him the value of life. That men and women, people of all colors are equal. </div>
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If I have a girl. I can teach her the same things. That a man has a personality that she should always look to first. That looks aren't everything. That men and women, people of all colors are equal. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Palatino, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I've spent 19 yrs teaching my daughter how not to be raped. How long have you spent teaching your son not to rape? -@deannaraybourn</span></div>
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Both will believe it, until school age where a boy pushes a girl. The girl falls, tells the teacher and the teacher says, "Boys will be boys." Explaining how boys express themselves and how she should accept it. At 6 this can happen. Girls are from a early age being taught how to be submissive. How to be quiet and how to accept. Woman are given unrealistic standards which if they aren't met are shunned. Women have the responsibility of not being a virgin, but not being a slut. They are asked, "what did you wear?" after rape. Women are blamed for the origin of sin for goodness sake. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #292f33; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Palatino, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them - Magaret Atwood</span></div>
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Yes, men have difficulties in media. But, I will feel safer about my son coming home late at night. Boys are taught from a young age to be a "Man". Which my definition is probably completely different from the definition of a man's. Mine, wouldn't be based off the amount of sexual partners you've had. It wouldn't take into account the checking book or the make/model of the car. Hopefully I can teach that to my son. Being a man is how you feel. It's inside, something that can't be changed with money, cars, or women. Which brings me to women: women are not something to be owned. Women aren't status symbols. And the media will fight me on this. </div>
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Some of these thoughts originate from the shooting that happened in California. These shootings are just a regular thing now. This one worse than others because of his youtube video. He felt that women were owed to him. He felt like a outcast because he was a virgin and hated the females because of it. He blamed all women and wanted to take them all down. One of his first stops was a sorority house. </div>
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Where did he learn that? </div>
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Media. His parents. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-85310222030600619972014-05-04T15:24:00.001-04:002014-05-04T15:28:39.676-04:00my shows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just watched this law and order episode where a black guy was pimping out this 16 year old runaway. The cops came and started questioning both of them. The problem is that the girl kept defending the guy. She thought he loved her and she wanted to protect him even though he was clearly taking advantage. The guy knew she wouldn't say anything and said, "I own that bitch."<br />
Only when the girl was presented with a picture of the guy with his baby momma and their two sons did she break. She had to be confronted with reality head on. The detective said, "Oh, you didn't know he had a baby mama."<br />
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This story was a reflection of my life. I believed him. And in the end he went back to his baby momma.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-89228504991500417472014-04-24T22:27:00.001-04:002014-04-24T22:27:58.074-04:00OH hey I'm preggo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>I'm going to be a single mother.</b> I have to get used to those words.<br />
This is something that I never wanted in life. No one wants to have a baby alone.<br />
Unfortunately, I believed in his honesty and loyalty. I believed <u>everything </u>he told me. That he wanted me to be his wife. That he envisioned a future with me and his other children together.<br />
<i>I believed him when he said he loved me.</i><br />
Of course, I should have known better. Been wiser. But his words were like sweet honey.<br />
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Everything changed when I found out I was with child.<br />
Everything.<br />
His list of transgressions kept growing and growing. I ignored so much because I felt obligated to my baby to try and make it work. At the end of it all, he was with his <a href="http://triplextina.blogspot.com/2014/01/fucking-baby-mommas.html" target="_blank">son's baby momma</a> and lied about it. I found out and I direct messaged her to tell her I was pregnant and <i>she said<b>, "he said u lyin he right here" </b></i>The conversation only got worse. He came home only to say, "I told you if you told her I would leave you."<br />
<b>I watched him pack his bags</b>. Soon I received another message from the other mother and she said "he just got here, say he sorry and want to make things work" I didn't respond. Good riddance.<br />
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<b>Getting out of an abusive relationship is like waking up from a coma. </b><br />
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<i>I am left with this growing baby inside me. It's nothing how I imagined, but I know I'm strong enough and brave enough to take care of this baby.<b> I have to be. </b></i><br />
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xoxo<br />
Christina<br />
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And no, abortion wasn't a choice for me. It's something the father wanted, even pressured me to do. But I knew if I did it, I would regret it for the rest of my life.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-24295426977401950812014-01-07T04:24:00.000-05:002014-01-07T04:30:13.150-05:00FUCKING BABY MOMMAS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The Hustler, the new guy that I'm seeing has 2 kids. A 4 year old girl that he takes care of and has zero drama with her mother. The other baby boy is only 10 months, and with that mom......<br />
<br />
We pick his son up and head to a family members. While there I play and care for the young boy. Nothing was asked of me, I just did. I love kids. We went to ci ci's pizza after. <i>Seriously enjoyed ourselves</i>. The Hustler had talked with her throughout the night, making sure it was cool to drop him off. She told him she was with some other nigga (her words) but that her sister was home so, we dropped him off without a second thought.<br />
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As I'm driving he tells me that he thinks someone is following me. I don't believe him and stop at a gas station. The car turns in with their lights out and then back out immediately, now I know something is up. We continue driving while said car is still following. H tells me to pull into a random apartment complex. As soon as I pull into a spot not pulling my car all the way into the spot, this bitch, cause now I know who I'm dealing with, hits my car. Just full on, going 15 mph not giving no fucks hits my car.<b> I'm already calling 911 as I'm getting out of the car.</b><br />
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H has friends in the complex, so as she left the scene the first time, he ran to their place to get help. In that 3 min span of time, this bitch comes back around and parks by my car. I walk straight up to her asking bout her insurance and trying to get a copy of her tag. She stands in front of her tag and won't let me look at it. I kindly ask her to move the fuck outta the way, and then she pushes me and we scrap a bit. Mostly it was her pulling my hair and me saying, "Please stop. Why are you doing this?" NOW, let me say this, as someone explained it to me: You ain't got no marks on ur face, no busted lip, no bruises, your head might be a little sore but that bitch was not from the streets, cause if she was you wouldn't be walking, in fact she'd be showing up at your place trying to finish it. So no, you didn't get your ass whooped no how. Of course once she stops she drives off AGAIN. H comes running up at this point with me screaming, I JUST FOUGHT THAT BITCH!!!! SHE ATTACKED ME!!!!<br />
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At some point in the fight, I lost my phone. I'm looking all over for it and find it several feet from where we were, silver lining it was undamaged. As I'm redialing 911, this bitch going to come back round the block like now she's ready to park for real. I'm ready this time tho, cause I'm yelling all sorts of shit. <b><i>All facts tho, like you a ratchet piece of shit, seriously, look at your life right now, bitch. Something along those lines.</i></b> An older Asian lady had come downstairs during the whole thing and was holding me back while H held her back. Anddddd then the cops show. I run straight into the cops arms looking for protection and she played her role perfectly as well. Yelling bout I DIDNT DO ANYTHING. blah blah blah.<br />
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In the end, I'm filing an a couple charges and <b><i>NOT TRUSTING NO BITCH. </i></b><br />
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Women need to learn how to move on, there is a reason he isn't with you. And fighting and yelling, is that really going to bring him back? I don't have kids so I can't speak on that connection, but H and myself included have done nothing but love that little boy. I think that's what gets me the most. That and this hoe talking bout, "WILL U STILL TAKE CARE OF UR BBY" after it happened.<br />
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Lord help me. I once again, can not make this shit up.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-91251029994462419632013-08-12T02:36:00.000-04:002013-08-12T02:36:45.382-04:00Jean Pockets<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>A poem begins with a lump in the throat.</i></b></span><div>
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Really, for me that's my best writing. When I'm sad and full of emotions. The Skin and I broke up. Fuck. We had this whirl-wind love affair. It was beautiful, the way it just happened. Once that haze wore off it was replaced by a bad aura. Our relationship ending, might also have to do with my discovery of a hotel receipt in his back jean pocket when I was doing him a favor by washing his clothes. </div>
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<i>Date: 8/4/2013 Check in: <b>11:30 p.m.</b> Guests:<b> 2 </b></i></div>
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Now, I can relay his story of why he needed this room in his home town, or I can just say that<b> I'm no fool. </b></div>
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I know I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it again, but: FUCK DATING. My standards are too high. My expectations are probably never going to be met. And I'm accepting it. <b>And focusing on me.</b> Getting my life to where I want it to be. </div>
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<i>I'm going to move to Austin next year.</i> Do what I wanted to do back in 2010 but was too afraid to. I don't know why I was afraid. <b><i>Shit, after Honduras nothing scares me. </i></b></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-57509732164631156182013-07-19T02:24:00.001-04:002013-07-19T02:24:38.830-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It goes without saying that I never update this blog. Where I used to be so public about things, now I just try to keep my life to myself. Not that it's any less interesting, but because I lack motivation to put what I have to say down. Down here, down on paper, any where. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm no longer talking to my sister, I'm trying to be more public about the loss of her friendship. It's been 3 months and some days are harder than others. Yeah, I talk about it like a death, because that's the way it feels. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our relationship slowly deteriorated after living with each other and then her starting a relationship where the guy didn't like me, which in turn made her not like me. She moved out a month before the lease was out. I heard from her once when she wanted me to co-sign on her electric. I said no, and that was the end. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A couple months ago, I was deathly ill, my mother asked my sister to check on me and give me a ride to the ER. She said, no way, and hung up the phone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We're sisters. We have each other's birthdays tattooed on us. I should mention that I wasn't perfect in the least, there are regrets. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I guess time will tell. Not to be morbid, but hopefully neither one of us dies before we talk to each other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>-xoxo-</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Christina</i></b></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-51959845794776250792013-03-24T21:52:00.001-04:002013-03-24T21:52:52.456-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Since that how it starts, I try to change the destiny and change my decisions.<div>
But it's too late. It's too late.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-19115610772006125462013-03-21T14:13:00.000-04:002013-03-21T14:20:18.437-04:00You're good in my bed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">s</span>ex is not a goddamn performance</i>. Sex should feel as natural as drinking water. It should not require confidence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe. Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh. It’s not about being “good in bed.” <b>It’s about being happy.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. <i>I don’t want a show. I want you. </i>Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you. Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be. I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want. It’s originality. It’s passion. It’s joy. Don’t say that something I like is ugly. <u>Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else.</u> If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>“Good in bed,” what. <i>You’re good in my bed</i>. </b>I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you. Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. <i>Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel. This isn’t a test.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">via <a href="http://www.reddit.com/r/sex/comments/wd78u/streamofconsciousness_on_sex/" target="_blank">Skywrtle</a></span></span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-78134786824441777522013-02-28T01:40:00.000-05:002013-02-28T02:00:02.179-05:00ADVENTURES IN DATING<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> was walking across the floor with one of my coworkers to finish a job. I looked across the elevators and there he was. <b>Tall, dark and covered in tattoos.</b> We locked eyes. Next thing I know I was giving him my number. I felt connected to him,<i> I mean any guy who finds me attractive while I'm in my uniform is worth a shot.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This guy was the same age as the <a href="http://triplextina.blogspot.com/2012/12/hot-friday.html" target="_blank">Drummer</a>. (maybe I need to stay away from the old ones??) We started talking, and had one "date". Soon after he began texting super late and on odd weekdays.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thursday 2:09 a.m.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>K:</b> Come over</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Me: </b>Nah, I'm good</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>K:</b> So ur done</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Me:</b> I think we want different things</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>K:</b> K</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once, again folks. I CAN NOT MAKE THIS UP. <i>This is the dating world</i>. This is whats out there. Grown ass men acting like pigs. I did not meet K in the bar, I wasn't drunk when I gave him my number. On our date, <b>he barely got passed 1st base</b>. I thought that since I met him organically things would be different. LOL.</span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Please come back for more horrific stories from the dating underworld.</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Joder. No se nada el donde mi viva es. Ahora no se nada. Mi viva es muy complicado.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Me gusta mucho el uno senior. Pero, no se if hombre feels el mismo. Quizás, no.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-20232945865581672462013-02-19T02:30:00.000-05:002013-02-19T02:30:04.659-05:00My Jam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/59786752" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe><br />
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<b><i>The only version of this beat;song that I support</i></b><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-86974016245827064692013-02-04T01:35:00.001-05:002013-02-04T01:35:21.396-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Stop.<br />
Look at everything around you.<br />
Everything.<br />
Don't second guess your exact thoughts at this moment.<br />
Own them.<br />
Own your thoughts.<br />
Own your actions.<br />
Stop.<br />
Breathe.<br />
Breathe.<br />
Move on.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-1936159282164784302013-01-19T21:29:00.001-05:002013-01-19T21:29:21.588-05:00My Jam<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NXp1TQPf2pY" width="459"></iframe><br />
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<b><i>Where the fuck are my friends??</i></b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-30350626870453219972013-01-16T15:58:00.000-05:002013-01-16T16:03:22.393-05:00Hot Wednesday <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Hola Amigos</span></b></div>
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Man, I love Bey. She really does seem to have it all. Beyond Talented. Successful Businesswoman. Wife. Mother. </div>
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<i>I've been meat/soda/jerk free for 16 days!!</i> The jerk part is the only thing that's questionable. I feel that if I'm in charge and I know what cards are on the table it eliminates the fact that he's a certified douche. But, who am I kidding?</div>
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<i><b>It's impossible to let go of all bad habits. <!--3--></b></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Enjoy the hot people</i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lornalitz Báez<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mglllO_YCAY/UPcSmjbNxWI/AAAAAAAADL8/laKY5JYW3Og/s1600/Peta+Todd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mglllO_YCAY/UPcSmjbNxWI/AAAAAAAADL8/laKY5JYW3Og/s640/Peta+Todd.jpg" width="421" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peta Todd<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jBMCwwsrQ2M/UPcS5jNT0GI/AAAAAAAADMI/zUa3hhmgkhs/s1600/phecda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jBMCwwsrQ2M/UPcS5jNT0GI/AAAAAAAADMI/zUa3hhmgkhs/s640/phecda.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phecda</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>~And just special for you~</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uLFb8ZwUvEA/UPcTYb4t3YI/AAAAAAAADMQ/TwpvPGuM5rw/s1600/stripper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uLFb8ZwUvEA/UPcTYb4t3YI/AAAAAAAADMQ/TwpvPGuM5rw/s400/stripper.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">xoxo </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Christina</b></span></i></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-53519492267299464992013-01-15T02:19:00.001-05:002013-01-15T02:19:58.484-05:00My Jam<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EgxX94212Yw" width="459"></iframe><br />
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<b><i>About that life</i></b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-87177586473707863242013-01-04T11:50:00.001-05:002013-01-04T11:50:43.113-05:00Friday Jam<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-e_3Cg9GZFU" width="480"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-62401207441221997782013-01-01T15:34:00.000-05:002013-01-01T15:39:40.083-05:00So this is the new year and I don't feel any different<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Another year.<b><i> 2013. </i></b><br />
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Lets us say adios to all the memories,<br />
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<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>3 new tattoos</li>
<li>Lived in Ft. Worth</li>
<li>Moved to back to my old stomping ground</li>
<li>Got my place</li>
<li>Started my highest paying job ever</li>
<li>Started Bartending </li>
<li>Visited Honduras</li>
<li>Rode horseback around the Mayan Ruins</li>
<li>Stayed single, which is bitter sweet. </li>
</ul>
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<div>
I feel like I had a cooler year <a href="http://triplextina.blogspot.com/2011/12/4-days-late.html" target="_blank">last year</a>, but I suppose it's all perspective. </div>
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Either way, <span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>2013 aka another year of me being flawless. </i></b></span></div>
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ALSO THIS IS MY 5TH YEAR OF HAVING A BLOG. IVE ONLY HAD MY CAT LONGER. :)</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-32538322029127894632012-12-20T22:31:00.000-05:002012-12-21T20:47:00.810-05:00Hot Friday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JD6jicLbd7U/UNKoFxcRSsI/AAAAAAAADGU/4jZWO2mnzjM/s1600/tumblr_mc9zw15Umt1r6ecc3o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JD6jicLbd7U/UNKoFxcRSsI/AAAAAAAADGU/4jZWO2mnzjM/s640/tumblr_mc9zw15Umt1r6ecc3o1_500.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Hola Gatitos!!</i></span></div>
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It's been a minute. I feel like Christmas has snuck up on us like a snake, like that time my brother got bit by a snake but we only knew it bit him waaaay later due to the fact that he had a pierced and bloody ear. Yeah, Xmas is like that.</div>
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<u>I was stood up last week by the drummer.</u> He had been honest with me, telling me that he's not looking for a relationship because of trust issues. Which is more than most guys tell me. He still seemed down to hangout and such until he just literally stopped texting on the day of our plans.<i> I have yet to hear from him.</i> Something of this level hasn't happened to me in a while. I thought "older" guys were above that childish behavior. <span style="font-size: x-small;">( He was 32)</span> Obliviously, I thought wrong. </div>
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Sometimes, I worry about being alone forever. <i><b>Like maybe soul mates don't exist.</b></i> Or maybe they do and mine just saw me and decided against it. IDK. </div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Enjoy the Hot People</span></i></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love her!</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-73425440750203077672012-12-03T00:12:00.000-05:002012-12-03T00:12:14.180-05:00WORDS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><b>Honey, Sweetheart, Baby, Mamacita, Lady, Woman, Ho, Whore, Bitch.</b></i><br />
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What's appropriate and what isn't?<br />
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<br />
I've been having problems with <strike>men</strike> boys at work, who seem to think it's okay to joke and call me Ho and Whore.<br />
The final straw was yesterday when as I was alone in a small linen closet with two other guys, and another guy walks in and immediately makes a comment about gang banging. I walked out, and went straight to my manager and told him about the comment. The kid comes and apologizes and says he didn't mean anything by it. I stare at him and tell him that comments like that are almost never appropriate unless you are about to watch some crazy porn. Meanwhile, someone in the background is talking about how you can say somethings to some people, and others you have to watch your words. I literally just want to punch everyone.<br />
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There is a fine line between flirty and sexual harassment. Is it my fault because I wear eyeliner and curl my hair and like to smile sweetly? <b>Of fucking course not.<i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></b>
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Men just need to learn some manners.<br />
<b>When in doubt on what to call a woman, her name will usually do just fine. </b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">-----</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">It should be noted that while in a relationship my partner can call me lots of things depending on the context ;)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">-----</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-47371865527898106112012-11-19T14:22:00.001-05:002012-11-19T14:22:28.949-05:00My Jam<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mYkv2O1Wyuw?fs=1" width="480"></iframe><br />
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So, I've decided to reconnect to my native roots.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181838602075998321.post-17998997596877793842012-10-26T12:19:00.000-04:002012-10-27T00:55:52.943-04:00Hot Friday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>HOLA AMIGOS!!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The pageant is tomorrow. The pageant. OMG. I am not ready at all. I still need to tweak my talent and work on my character bio. It's going to be a whirlwind of craziness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you're free<b> Sat, Oct. 27 @ 8 p.m. please come check out the </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>MS. CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE PAGEANT</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>@ the Nightingale Theater!! </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>I'm soo essited!! After the pageant, I'm stopping by my friend's Halloween party! It's going to be a long day, but I'm ready for the craziness!!!!</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i> Enjoy the Hot People!!</i></b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daisy Lowe<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>xoxo</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Christina</i></b></span></div>
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