<?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-29080942</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:33:44.599-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Where am I?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>69</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-6561921251669108021</id><published>2007-11-25T21:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T22:23:25.625-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hour and a Half Bath</title><content type='html'>Happy late Thanksgiving everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried something new this year... I cooked!&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I was nominated to cook by my real dad. Which was perfectly okay with me because usually I go to my step-dad's mothers house and eat the same dried out shit with a bunch of boring people every year. So this year I cooked for my dad and his side of the family. We decided non-traditional was the best. So, shrimp scampi pasta and crab stuffed pastry rolls with fresh steamed broccoli was the plan. The pastries were dry but good, the pasta was super good and I seriously over cooked the broccoli. It was funny, the one thing I wasn't stressed about turned out horrible. But, it was soo cool to laugh and have fun with his side of my family. Very cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... I've worked my ass off since then. Worked both jobs Friday, then all day yesterday and today. Decided to have myself a drinky poo and head to the bath tub. I'm reading Mystic River and decided to take it with me to the tub. I seriously ended up taking a super long bath, 1.5 hours to be exact. How funny is that! I got out and looked at the clock and just started to giggle like crazy. I guess I needed it. I have decided to read more often. It gets my mind of stuff flying around in my head. This week has been hard. Work and just missing that someone. YUCK! anyway, if I can pass an hour and a half with out thinking about anything but a book, then I'm there more often. I have two bookcases full of books that I'm going to either re-read or actually read. Try to ease my overflowing mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, one little funny....&lt;br /&gt;I saw an acquaintance of mine the other night who host sex parties as a business. I went right up to Candie (nice name I know!) and said "I need that rabbit thingy." "The one that cost like $65 or something." "Do you have it?" Of course she said. Then I told her that I hadn't had sex since March or so, she started laughing and said oh you mean the one that cost around $120 or so. LOL!!! I said oh yeah, the good one. She just looked at me like I was feigning for crack or something. It was so funny! She put her digits in my phone and said to call her. I don't know if I can justify spending $120 on a sex toy, but if it keeps me from one night stands or calling the ex to get back together... then so be it. Besides the one I have now, isn't that good. I get off best with penetration, and so I'm thinking that the dildo and the rabbit ears with help me feel comfortable enough to seriously get off as if I'm actually having sex. My dildo now just makes me hornier. sucks. I'm not very good at masturbating, but if this rabbit thing is as good as everyone says... maybe it will do the trick. We shall see....................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, one more side note:&lt;br /&gt;I'm seriously thinking about taking on a Charity. Any ideas? &lt;br /&gt;By chance Saturday, I was thinking about picking a charity to devote time too over coffee in the morning, and I went to work and the very first person that came across was a Team Developer for the Relay for Life in town. Interesting. I'm going to do much more investigating into it. My grandmother died from Breast Cancer and maybe it will be a way to get some closure on missing out on having her around as I've grown up. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. &lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that's another side note. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to bed. I'm going to read more. LOL! Take care&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-6561921251669108021?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/6561921251669108021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=6561921251669108021' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/6561921251669108021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/6561921251669108021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/11/hour-and-half-bath.html' title='Hour and a Half Bath'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-7218453231352082101</id><published>2007-11-13T00:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T00:45:05.797-06:00</updated><title type='text'>botox reject</title><content type='html'>so &lt;br /&gt;I was looking at my picture. and seriously? &lt;br /&gt;my lips look freaky. &lt;br /&gt;like too much botox or something.&lt;br /&gt;is that even how you spell that word?&lt;br /&gt;new picture coming soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and I'm considering saving up for some plastic surgery next year.&lt;br /&gt;things on the list:&lt;br /&gt;1. boobs&lt;br /&gt;2. Buddha&lt;br /&gt;3. wings&lt;br /&gt;4. back fat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this will all be after I reached my goal weight of course.&lt;br /&gt;that's what my friend said, who has done plenty of it.&lt;br /&gt;"get to the goal weight first and then do it." &lt;br /&gt;it makes all the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, just another random day in my life&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait, &lt;br /&gt;I was actually attracted to a cute boy at the bar tonight who turned out to be married to my friend's sister. Nice, I know.&lt;br /&gt;I've done it before. But not into it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;shit,&lt;br /&gt;the luck.&lt;br /&gt;Night everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-7218453231352082101?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/7218453231352082101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=7218453231352082101' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/7218453231352082101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/7218453231352082101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/11/botox-reject.html' title='botox reject'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-1361773687959674272</id><published>2007-11-04T18:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T19:20:21.152-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When I started to date you, I lost my identity.&lt;br /&gt;I started to become what I thought you wanted, an ideal of my perception.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to be....&lt;br /&gt;the girl you flirted with at the bar.&lt;br /&gt;I tried to be....&lt;br /&gt;the health fanatic.&lt;br /&gt;the perfect physique.&lt;br /&gt;the girl that was okay with seeing you when only you wanted.&lt;br /&gt;the girl that understood why your son and I hadn't got to know each other better when you said you loved me and we had dated for approx a year&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to be...&lt;br /&gt;the girl that really knew you&lt;br /&gt;the girl that you really knew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't&lt;br /&gt;I tried to be&lt;br /&gt;but I wasn't&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did I try?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did I try and worse, &lt;br /&gt;want &lt;br /&gt;to be something I'm not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why then?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-1361773687959674272?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/1361773687959674272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=1361773687959674272' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/1361773687959674272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/1361773687959674272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/11/when-i-started-to-date-you-i-lost-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-2426058223390393568</id><published>2007-10-31T00:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T00:32:41.088-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday night</title><content type='html'>I don't understand why people smack their lips why they eat and eat with their mouths open?&lt;br /&gt;first, your going to loose your food.&lt;br /&gt;secondly, and to me most importantly... I don't want to fucking hear you eat? Why would I? It's gross and annoying.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously,&lt;br /&gt;grown people.  didn't your mothers teach you how to be polite?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K, that's my post tonight&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, I will talk about my fantastic spider bite that hurts like hell, and what the surgeon said. Appt. at 4pm. I'm scared they are going to cut it out, yuck. We shall see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-2426058223390393568?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/2426058223390393568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=2426058223390393568' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/2426058223390393568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/2426058223390393568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/10/tuesday-night.html' title='Tuesday night'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-5839098008475852504</id><published>2007-10-28T06:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T07:26:43.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions....</title><content type='html'>Ummmm, it's 7am and I'm still up. Guess what I'm doing............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like it. A lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ex, who I ended up hanging with tonight suggested it. Interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we did, and now he's passed out in my bed and I'm awake typing to you all. &lt;br /&gt;Cyber Space.&lt;br /&gt;We've never done it together, and tonight was a surprise. &lt;br /&gt;He brought it up, interesting again.&lt;br /&gt;I told him he was taking me to my lowest level. and he was doing it on purpose. &lt;br /&gt;He said no.&lt;br /&gt;But I know whether he did it on purpose or not, I'm actually glad. &lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of hiding that part of me. So what if on occasion I do it. &lt;br /&gt;We did it all.&lt;br /&gt;Talked a lot.&lt;br /&gt;No crazy fucked up sex. Just hanging. It was good. LOL&lt;br /&gt;not the stuff, but just hanging without the "oh let's have sex" thing&lt;br /&gt;don't get me wrong, the shit was good, but ...............&lt;br /&gt;very nice. high fives actually&lt;br /&gt;No sex like I know all too well how it can be while your feeling the high.&lt;br /&gt;Interesting........&lt;br /&gt;that I wasn't feeling the sexual thing.&lt;br /&gt;I actually haven't had sex since February. and it was with him. Funny!&lt;br /&gt;or better yet, what's wrong with me?&lt;br /&gt;why am I not horny?&lt;br /&gt;seriously, &lt;br /&gt;over all?&lt;br /&gt;I was the other day for a sec..... then I masturbated, and didn't cum but was then done with it.&lt;br /&gt;huh?&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm drinking a dbl bourbon and sprite to try to come down.&lt;br /&gt;smoking a menthol, I don't even smoke. C what this shit does to me? LOL&lt;br /&gt;we did have some pretty good conversations. &lt;br /&gt;sometimes I feel like no one understands me&lt;br /&gt;one more cig, and then I'm done........&lt;br /&gt;sorry for the mindless rambling. What? why am I sorry? I'm just talking out loud. &lt;br /&gt;that is what this thing is all about.&lt;br /&gt;why do I feel for that man snoring in my bed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;man, I'm going to have one hell of a smokers headache tomorrow. or today I mean.... LOL&lt;br /&gt;I'm really not that spunky, LOOL&lt;br /&gt;winding down&lt;br /&gt;there are two men in my life which knew me&lt;br /&gt;one is on the east coast&lt;br /&gt;one here&lt;br /&gt;not the ex, but someone who gets me&lt;br /&gt;even if I had them, I don't know if it would be it...........&lt;br /&gt;k,&lt;br /&gt;sade has such a great soothing voice.&lt;br /&gt;k&lt;br /&gt;it's time for bed.............&lt;br /&gt;thanks for listening  &lt;br /&gt;kisses and hugs&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-5839098008475852504?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/5839098008475852504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=5839098008475852504' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/5839098008475852504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/5839098008475852504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/10/confessions.html' title='Confessions....'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-4158364080929398635</id><published>2007-10-26T20:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T22:44:48.560-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sad songs and Bourbon</title><content type='html'>What does it say about a person that periodically feels the need to clean out their life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me clarify...&lt;br /&gt;clothes&lt;br /&gt;jewelry&lt;br /&gt;shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;little pieces of meaningless paper....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say emotions,&lt;br /&gt;but no&lt;br /&gt;seems like they keep sticking around...&lt;br /&gt;fucking bourbon and sad songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, every time I do the "big" clean out, I tell myself never again am I going to buy anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a very soothing feeling, though.  Like starting new.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-4158364080929398635?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/4158364080929398635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=4158364080929398635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/4158364080929398635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/4158364080929398635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/10/sad-songs-and-bourbon.html' title='Sad songs and Bourbon'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-1122544290746839475</id><published>2007-10-26T00:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T00:36:08.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello!!!!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Okay, how many of you walk into a restaurant or bar 15 minutes before it closes?&lt;br /&gt;Annoying! Don't do it. few exceptions... just one beer or one shot. That's it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What part of "Last Call" don't people understand?&lt;br /&gt;I mean really? We do it for a reason. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey weird traveler guy, I'm not going to give you a ride to the local bar, walk or get your drunk ass some beer at the convienece store a block and a half away and go to your room and watch porno all night. Sleaze ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you leave when the lights go up? HELLO???? We want to go home. We are tired of serving you "just one more" and dealing with you thinking your cool, when really ... you aren't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours are posted for a reason. Adhere to them. Don't come early, and don't stay late. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and freaky green shirt newly divorced guy, stop staring at me like you are literally fucking or eating me out over the bar. Creep-a-zoid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay....&lt;br /&gt;I think I've vented enough.&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell that I had a bad night at work? LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note....&lt;br /&gt;My buddy Pat sent me an email last night. That was sooo cool. I haven't talked to him since I left HHI. He's just such a great guy. I hope all is going well with him. I miss him and that place a lot. I still have his number, I just might have to drunk dial him some night. Oh, his girlie friend might not like that. I'll make sure it's early enough, though.&lt;br /&gt;Man... I miss that place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, little updates:&lt;br /&gt;Last week I did a Spook Crawl. Basically we went around to a bunch of bars and drank something at each one. NO worries though, we rented a bus and had a sober driver. It was soo much fun. I hope to get pictures soon, and if they are good, I'll post them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my jobs wants me to move to another city to be a 1st asst. mgr for another store. Not going to do it. Going to stay here, finish school and then move when I get my own store. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's about it&lt;br /&gt;oh, thinking about adding another job, which would make three. Yes, I'm crazy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh,&lt;br /&gt;and interesting side note... man tells me not to move, just to hold out here for awhile. Now, more about man later... but very interesting. Very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K, kiddos... I'm off to bed. Sleep tight my fellow peeps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember, &lt;br /&gt;think twice about what you do at a restaurant or bar..................................&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-1122544290746839475?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/1122544290746839475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=1122544290746839475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/1122544290746839475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/1122544290746839475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/10/hello.html' title='Hello!!!!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-1862102977998937704</id><published>2007-10-05T22:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T22:21:36.739-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's me again....</title><content type='html'>I know no one is reading this anymore, but that's okay.  I thought it would be fun to start it back up.  Vent a little.  Try to be creative and witty, and just talk about nothing important.  A few things have happend since I last posted.... LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. took on another job.  &lt;br /&gt;2. only working three days at the stupid job I had before.  can't give it up yet, the money is too good.&lt;br /&gt;3. decided to go back to school.  for what you ask?  business.  well, actually it's technical accounting.  but it's supposed to be business something or other.  I just wanted to stop working soo much at the first original job, and get a chance to learn something again.  to feel a little alive again. in a sense.  yes, I know I'm typing with no captial letters, feels so good.  like I'm breaking rules or something.  just kidding. I don't know why I am, but I am.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try to be vigligant about posting.  if for nothing else but venting.  we shall see how it goes.... sleep tight&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-1862102977998937704?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/1862102977998937704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=1862102977998937704' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/1862102977998937704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/1862102977998937704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/10/its-me-again.html' title='It&apos;s me again....'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-3799146910272177223</id><published>2007-04-22T21:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T21:53:39.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is the most recent picture that I could find.  &lt;br /&gt;Still looking for a better one.  &lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone had a great weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-3799146910272177223?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/3799146910272177223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=3799146910272177223' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/3799146910272177223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/3799146910272177223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/04/this-is-most-recent-picture-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-6627153785080608471</id><published>2007-04-16T20:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T20:53:08.651-05:00</updated><title type='text'>NEW LOOK</title><content type='html'>hello everyone....&lt;br /&gt;LMAO!&lt;br /&gt;as if there is a lot of people out there checking this site out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as you can tell, I've changed my look a bit.&lt;br /&gt;don't fret...&lt;br /&gt;not sure if I like it yet.  just experimenting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;looking for a new picture&lt;br /&gt;give me time&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-6627153785080608471?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/6627153785080608471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=6627153785080608471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/6627153785080608471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/6627153785080608471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/04/new-look.html' title='NEW LOOK'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-1864695685876370732</id><published>2007-04-16T20:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T20:16:41.667-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Okay</title><content type='html'>so what's up with this new Google stuff? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can we say&lt;br /&gt;annoying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't post enough to know if it's better or not, but I sure as hell hope so for you that do.&lt;br /&gt;I had to remember my login and password again.&lt;br /&gt;That sucked.&lt;br /&gt;Crap... now I'm tired&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-1864695685876370732?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/1864695685876370732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=1864695685876370732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/1864695685876370732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/1864695685876370732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/04/okay.html' title='Okay'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-117574129644670187</id><published>2007-04-04T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-06T12:10:27.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tolerate</title><content type='html'>Last night I went out with some friends that were in town just for the night. Rod and Don. Now, let me back up... I just know Rod and met Don for the first time last night. I met Rod through my work. I'm an assistant manager for a resturant/bar in town. We are located right next to a hotel. Needless to say, we get a lot of travelers in to eat drink and be merry. Well, Rod happened to be stuck in this little town for about 3 months because of his job. His "home-away-from-home" was the hotel across the parking lot. Rod came in at least 5 nights a week while he was here. Hey, we have great food, drinks and hell we are just plain cool people. So, of course we all got to know Rod pretty well. Great guy, smart guy and loads of fun. He is married and has two kids. Now, during the time he graced us with his pressence, home life wasn't looking so good. You'd only catch glimpses of it, he was pretty good about dealing with it on his own. I could get some out of him, sometimes when I was bartending and he was there and we were slow we would just get talking about stuff. Me and my boyfriend (now the ex) and him and his wife... blah blah blah. He had good insight and I was an ear for him. During this time I could see him struggling with cheating on his wife. Now, that sounds funny to say... but first I've been in this business way to long and secondly, we are right by a hotel. It is a very interesting spot to be at. A hotel bar (kinda) that is hugely popular with the townfolk also. We are quessentially the neighborhood great place to be at. Good food, good people and alcohol! Perfect! &amp; with fresh faces all the time added to the mix. I've always been amazed at how close we get to the travelers. Most are here for a few days, weeks or months. We tend to become their second home. It feels good to us and to them. Many many return year after year and we all remember them or we remain in contact with them after they leave. Now, it is also fun to watch the different types of personalities that come in. You definitly see the married guys looking for a "good time". You see the young single ones looking to nail anything they can get their hands on. You see the ones that need acceptance. You see the ones that just need to be somewhere because they are lonely by themselves. You see the ones looking for a distraction. You also see the ones that are the nice average joe that just goes along with life. What I always find interesting and &lt;strong&gt;what always happens&lt;/strong&gt; is that you can watch those nice average joes change before your eyes. Case in point... Rod. Now, I don't mean change into something else, what I mean is you can watch them loosen up and have fun. And, slowly they start to think about their life and where they are in it, and how they feel about it. Suddenly, they are having fun again. Meeting different people and doing something different. Breaking out of the everyday mold that they live in. They are stimulated. In Rods case, he started hanging out with us alot. After we would close down, we'd take him with us to the other bars and then sometimes he'd end up going to someones house for breakfast after a long night of drinking. I personally only went out with him and everyone else about 5 times. But, he hung out with my boss and her friends more than that. A girl can tell usually if someone is "interested" in them, and I honeslty felt that all I had to do, or my boss had to do is give him the go ahead. He started to let down his guard, and if a cute girl would come by while we were out, he'd make a comment or whatever. No big deal! We would all laugh, hell we were all "just the guys" hanging out. She (my boss) and I started to pick up that they (Rod and his wife) werent' doing so hot. Now, both of us have had an affair with a married or "taken" man before. By our choice. But, neither one of us wanted to "do that" with Rod. Rod was tall attractive smart and nice. Perfect, too perfect. I was very attracted to him, and so was she... but we were the good girls this time and decided that we weren't going to go there with him. He had never cheated on his wife before. We were not going to be the selfish people we knew we could be. Both of us had not been that type of person for a long time. We also knew all the shit that goes with an affair, the guilt... the shame... the lust... the paranoia... the anxiety.... the naughtiness... and so on. We didn't do it. I purposly kept myself from hanging out too much, and she ended up on his last night here telling him that he didn't want to do that. That he didn't want to live with that guilt the rest of his life. He agreed. Well, to make this hugely long story a little longer... Rod ended up coming back after about a month for a meeting yesterday and he brought his friend down so they could golf a bit and hand out with us. So, of course we all are still friends and he came to the bar to eat, drink and be merry while in town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, sooo I'm getting tired.... I'm going to finally get to my point of the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after drinks at work, and then moving on to another bar... Rod asked me if me and (whats-his-name) are still together and I said no. He started to drill as of why, and I told him that we (meaning both Rod and I) knew (and had talked about) that we (ex and me) were not a true item. It wasn't ever meant to be. And I asked him about his relationship. He said that he was going to tolerate it. I said why? He said that if he divorced, it would cost him about 300,000.000. I said so the money matters more than your happiness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;now I'm not so stupid as to think that if I had to pay that amount of money to someone that it wouldn't make me freak out, choke, puke or make me want to shoot myself &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;But, I am an optimistic to a degree in thinking that "there just has to be a way" to make it all work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said no. But that if he can tolerate it, than why not stay. I, of course, argued that he wasn't really happy. His soul wasn't happy. He was just going to be content. He said not content, but he was going to tolerate it.  So I sat there a bit, and finally said to Don "it must just be my age".  He said it was.  See, the idea of tolerating something that isn't me or tolerating something that doesn't make me "soul" happy is something that I don't want to fatham.  But, that is just my age and my quest for happiness.  I realized that I tolerate a job I hate.  I tolerate people that I don't particually like. I tolerate a town I don't like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't want to just Tolerate life.  I want to live it, and love everything and everyone in it with all of me.  Wonder if I'll ever find it. &lt;br /&gt;Is it just my age that hopes for a rosy future?  Am I blind?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-117574129644670187?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/117574129644670187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=117574129644670187' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/117574129644670187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/117574129644670187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/04/tolerate.html' title='Tolerate'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-117549028252924834</id><published>2007-04-02T00:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T00:04:42.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>time to change...</title><content type='html'>I was just looking over my blog, and damn it... it's a little stale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this week I have set a goal to post (of course) and to redo my picture and maybe change it up a bit.  That is if I can figure out how to actually do that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also contemplating posting pictures of me in my process of trying to loose 10 more pounds.  Not sure if I'm going to, but just an idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone had a great weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-117549028252924834?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/117549028252924834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=117549028252924834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/117549028252924834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/117549028252924834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/04/time-to-change.html' title='time to change...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-117544277386100821</id><published>2007-04-01T10:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-01T10:52:53.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ola!</title><content type='html'>Hello eveyone.  That is assuming that people still come here to check out this blog.  It's been quite awhile.  I didn't realize it had been that long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UPDATE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I'm moved.  LOL!  It just took me months to do it.  LOL.  Love the new apt.  It's really cute and quaint.  I'll take pictures and post them soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer have a boyfriend.  I could post about it but, nah.... it's over.  No need to go over it again and bore you wonderful people with all the BS.  Let's just say, I should of known better.  But, I did learn that I am ready to try to have a relationship with someone.  Not that I'm going to be out there specifically looking, but I'm not going to avoid it either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work still sucks.  I just need to decide what I want to do with my life regarding work.  I just feel like time just keeps getting away from me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's the quickest update I could think of.  I'm going to try to post often.  Bare with me.  Today is April 1st.  A start of a new month and hopfully a start of a new dedication to me, myself and I. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH... I am super excited.  I heading to New Mexico to see my best friend that I haven't seen in years the end of May.  I can't wait!!!!  Wooo - Hoooo!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK - spell check isn't working.  That sucks.  So just know that I'm not as ignorant as my spelling capabilites might lead you to believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-117544277386100821?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/117544277386100821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=117544277386100821' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/117544277386100821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/117544277386100821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/04/ola.html' title='Ola!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-116982755515263379</id><published>2007-01-26T10:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T10:05:55.186-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving again.... yes again!</title><content type='html'>I'm moving to a new apt this weekend. &lt;br /&gt;Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;So I don't know when my internet will be set up again.&lt;br /&gt;Boo!&lt;br /&gt;I won't have to pay rent.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;But, I have to actually move.&lt;br /&gt;Boo!&lt;br /&gt;I've got to get motivated.  More Coffee.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you soon&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116982755515263379?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116982755515263379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116982755515263379' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116982755515263379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116982755515263379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/01/moving-again-yes-again.html' title='Moving again.... yes again!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116947026731274961</id><published>2007-01-22T06:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T06:51:07.433-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Monday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/81440/Snow%20Scene%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/200/780116/Snow%20Scene%201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We had a very snowy weekend. I took these pictures Saturday night, and on Sunday morning. It was the first real snow of the season. It has snowed before this year, but this was the first beautiful snow that fell for hours on end and put a hush on the world here. Saturday night when I got home, I just stood outside my apt and listened to how silent the night was. It was very neat. I really didn't do much this weekend. Worked mostly. Friday I fought with my boyfriend via text most of the day. I know, very stupid. Then we made up (sort of) later on that night, then instead of going home to bed (like I said), I decided to go see friends at another bar and have one more drink before I went home. When I left my boyfriend, I had every intention of going home, but on the way home I decided to have another drink. I was happy, I was in a great mood, we had made up! Needless to say, it looked like I lied to him when he tried to come by my house later on that night, and I wasn't home. He came out to the bar, and of &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/3344/Snow%20Scene%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/200/514454/Snow%20Scene%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;course I was&lt;br /&gt;having a total blast. He was a little miffed. He left. It was so weird, I felt like he was checking up on me. I've never had that happen. He said later, that he was coming to hang out, but when he got there, he just got irritated because he thought I lied about going home. Well, I can see where it would look like that, and putting myself in his shoes, I would of felt the same way. But, I'm not that type of person. I would never do that. Anyway, long story short.... he called at 8am to say we needed to talk. So, I cancelled lunch plans with Weed and called him back and said I was free after 11. Better late than never. He came over around lunch, and basically said he thought I lied and I said I didn't. And, then we started to talk about how many red flags we have already in&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/844159/Snow%20Scene%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/200/371374/Snow%20Scene%203.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; our relationship. I said do we have enough red flags to show that we weren't meant to be together? Then we talked a bit more. Sometime in the conversation, he said, "we are just better being friends". I said okay. Because I know it's true. Then he left, no kiss no hug. Then, after he left he called back to ask me to lunch the next day. I said sure, I'd call him after I got off work. I thought it strange, aren't we supposed to be friends now? But, we can do lunch as friends. On the way to work, he called to tell me to be careful when I go to work, and to call him when I get home from work. Then I got a text talking about how horny this weather makes him and asked if I had any suggestions. Weird, once again, didn't he say we were better off as friends&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/660636/Snow%20Scene%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/200/50844/Snow%20Scene%204.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;? I wanted to text back "get a girlfriend", but I just didn't reply. Sunday he calls, and just made misc small talk and I said I'd call him when I got off work. Then I got a text around 12, saying he cancelled lunch and asked for a rain check. I texted back "k". After work, I went home took a mini siesta and then went to my parents for supper. During my nap, he called and wanted to know what I was up to. I didn't call him back, I just turned off my phone. It's been off ever since. I just really don't want to talk to him. Not because I'm mad at him, but I just don't want to talk to him. I'm going to have to do the task of actually breaking up, I just am avoiding it. Ugh! Yuck! You know on Saturday when he said "we are better off just being friends" I felt such relief. Yeah! But, then after he left and I was just hanging out at my house I started to get sad and that confused me. Then, I started to think of him with another girl, and I got jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;These are the feelings that I don't like. The mixed up feelings you get that aren't what you normally feel. That's why I think it's easier to just stay single. I'm mad at myself for feeling them, because I don't really like this guy that much. The feelings just stem from my own insecurities. I don't like to be reminded that I have them. I do, and I have a lot of them. Yuck! Anyway, sorry to bore you all with my detail of the weekend, I was just talking it all out. I hope everyone else had a great weekend! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I got up at 5:30 this morning to do my yoga DVD before work, and I'm still sitting at the computer drinking coffee at 6:45. LOL, now I have to get ready for work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hey, but at least I said hi to you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/844159/Snow%20Scene%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/3344/Snow%20Scene%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/660636/Snow%20Scene%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/3344/Snow%20Scene%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/844159/Snow%20Scene%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/3344/Snow%20Scene%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/844159/Snow%20Scene%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/844159/Snow%20Scene%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/660636/Snow%20Scene%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/844159/Snow%20Scene%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/660636/Snow%20Scene%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/660636/Snow%20Scene%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/660636/Snow%20Scene%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116947026731274961?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116947026731274961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116947026731274961' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116947026731274961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116947026731274961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/01/happy-monday.html' title='Happy Monday!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116878770144241092</id><published>2007-01-14T08:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-14T09:15:01.476-06:00</updated><title type='text'>First time for everything...</title><content type='html'>Good Morning Everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 16 outside, and I'm taking as long as possible to get to ready for work. &lt;br /&gt;That's fricken cold.&lt;br /&gt;So, I decided to post a little something.&lt;br /&gt;Thursday night I had my first online masterbation session.  It was hot! I was talking with a friend, and all the sudden I got sooo turned on.  So, why not play?  Of course they wanted to see, and I only thought about it for a split sec.  Then, why not?  Anyway, it was soo hot.  I ended up having an orgasm twice.  Whoo baby, that was awesome.  My partner in this little experience was turned on, and of course I wanted to see too.  He kept on holding off.  (not fair!) But then, I became too focused on me and took care of things.  When done, I was patiently waiting for my little peep show, when a friend texted me and wanted to come over to talk about issues in her life.  Yuck!  So of course I said okay, and kept my friend online until she showed up.  Left him hanging when she finally showed up.  Sorry Charlie!   Beleive me it sucked for me too.  Anyway, upon waking up the next morning, I felt a little wierd about my little show.  I've never done anything like that before. I felt a mixture of exposure, wierdness and fear.  Then, I thought about it, and got turned on again.  LOL!  Anyway, I know it's not a big deal.  But, I can say I'm not sure if I would do it again.  I felt very vulnerable the next day.  I trust the other person with my peep show, but you just never know about people, things and circumstances out there in the world.  I'm not worried about him, I trust him.  I just feel vulnerable.  You just never know about this internet thing.  I know, I'm a paranoid freak! LOL!&lt;br /&gt;Fuck,&lt;br /&gt;it's 9:10.  I've got to get ready for work.&lt;br /&gt;Shit,&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm really turned on. &lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone has a wonderful day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My spell check isn't working, so forgive me for any misspelled words.  Too lazy to look them up in the dictionary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116878770144241092?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116878770144241092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116878770144241092' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116878770144241092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116878770144241092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/01/first-time-for-everything.html' title='First time for everything...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116806939303180345</id><published>2007-01-06T01:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T01:43:13.056-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight... I had every intention of posting about....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sex&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. anal&lt;br /&gt;b. Satisfied, but not what wanted&lt;br /&gt;c. not so good, left unsatisfied&lt;br /&gt;d. Relaying what wanted and needed &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(not necessarily in that order) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;relationships&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Why.&lt;br /&gt;b. Needs&lt;br /&gt;c. Understanding of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;communication&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Relationships&lt;br /&gt;b. Work&lt;br /&gt;c. Friends&lt;br /&gt;d. Life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;resolutions&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Am i going to do it&lt;br /&gt;b. What to chose to do&lt;br /&gt;c. What can I really believe in &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/467773/Hodge%20Podge%20218.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/200/759029/Hodge%20Podge%20088.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but, as I sat down at the puter,&lt;br /&gt;tonight&lt;br /&gt;my mind went blank.&lt;br /&gt;These are the things I want to talk about, but when faced with it, I have no idea what to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some day I will learn to speak well.&lt;br /&gt;Some day,&lt;br /&gt;I hope to be able to convey all my thoughts and feelings into coherent thoughts that others recognize as intellectual thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;The way I feel inside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;that others can understand!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe, they won't.&lt;br /&gt;and then&lt;br /&gt;I hope to not be worried about it.&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter what others think, right...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116806939303180345?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116806939303180345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116806939303180345' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116806939303180345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116806939303180345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2007/01/tonight.html' title='Tonight'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116735642748074609</id><published>2006-12-28T19:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T21:06:14.546-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas belly and feeling sick....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/788498/christmas%20and%20belly%20028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/320/600410/christmas%20and%20belly%20028.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So everyone, since I haven't posted an HNT in FOREVER....  I decided to post a lovely picture of my post christmas belly.  Now,  I really didn't pig out over Christmas, but I've been sick for two weeks and I haven't been to the gym in about a month now.  So, I feel sooo lazy and bloated.  I recently decided to try the relationship thing, (yeah I know... WHAT AM I THINKING?)  so being sick really sucks.  I feel so un-sexy!!!! Is that a word?  Anyway, I feel like shit and I'm extrememly self consious of my snotty nose, heavy breathing through mouth which causes chapped lips and phlelgm inducing cough which makes me feel like my breath is like&lt;br /&gt;draculas.  Not to mention... bad skin &amp; cloudy tired eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness the guy I'm seeing has been sick also&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to get well, then I hope I'll get to the gym,&lt;br /&gt;do my yoga and start on a new year. &lt;br /&gt;Any New Years resolutions out there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/1600/74748/christmas%20and%20belly%20026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6259/2182/320/723370/christmas%20and%20belly%20026.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to quit my job soon.&lt;br /&gt;Most of you know how much I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just too chicken shit to actually do it.&lt;br /&gt;I hate to leave someone hanging.&lt;br /&gt;But, as someone told me today...&lt;br /&gt;I am what matters.&lt;br /&gt;And if my health is directly effected by my job,&lt;br /&gt;mental and physical,&lt;br /&gt;then I need to look out for myself.&lt;br /&gt;He asked me what I wanted to do.&lt;br /&gt;And I couldn't answer.&lt;br /&gt;Why at 33 do I not know what I want to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that was quite the tangent.  I hope everyone has a great New Years.  I'll be working, once again. &lt;br /&gt;I am going to make the New Year count.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116735642748074609?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116735642748074609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116735642748074609' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116735642748074609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116735642748074609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/12/christmas-belly-and-feeling-sick.html' title='Christmas belly and feeling sick....'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116706001315519870</id><published>2006-12-25T09:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T09:20:13.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just wanted to send everyone very Merry Christmas thoughts and wishes!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I did get a camera, so woo hoo.... I can start having fun with pictures again.  I thought I'd send everyone a good Christmas morning picture to everyone, until I looked in the mirror.  SCARY!!!  Besides, I have to figure out how to work the damn thing anyway!  I'm off to my parents house for a day full of family, friends and food.  YEAH!!!!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Merry Christmas to all my blogger friends out there!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116706001315519870?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116706001315519870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116706001315519870' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116706001315519870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116706001315519870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116642431480642561</id><published>2006-12-18T00:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T00:47:52.510-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Helloooooooooooo Everybody</title><content type='html'>I just got my new puter hooked up and online. It feels great. Except that the screen is bigger than the keyboard, hey I just realized that. Wired. Note to self, bigger keyboard. It feels funny. Anyway.... Just wanted to post and say that I was up and running. Now, I hope to post more than I did before, or at least with more frequency than I have been. I hope everyone is having a fantastic holiday season. I sure can't seem to get into the groove of it at all. Last year I was going to soo many parties in HHI, and I was definitely in the spirit even though it was like 75 degrees there. This year, I can't seem to get into it. I tried to suggest a fun dinner with friends to celebrate the season, you know... Fancy dress, dinner, cocktails, good conversation and maybe dancing later and they all acted like that was the strangest thing ever. Now, I was talking just a nice dinner and such, they turned it into having some sort of party bus or something. Now, if we were in a big city, then great... Let's eat dinner, have drinks and bar hop in the limo. Big time!!!! But, let's face it ... my town has no cool bars to bar hop to. You want to bar hop to places to be seen and to be fabulous at, not the local watering hole where there is a line of trucks and El Caminos outside and a slew of Mullets waiting inside and they've never heard of a Cosmo and their idea of a glass of wine is Beringer White Zin. Now, that all sounds negative and snobby, I know, and god bless this town... but... I wanted to "go out out" (like that, LMAO!) You know, like fabulous food, fabulous fun and fabulous people. (why the hell am I using the word fabulous soo much? ) I'm such a dork. It just seems like the "going out" that people like to do in this town is to drink beer, get wasted and get laid. That seems to be the objective. No one celebrates, well except for the annual Christmas party that all the places of business have of course to show their employees how much they care about them. Well, and most bosses make the employees pay for their dinner. That's shitty! Now this little shing ding was supposed to happen Friday night, and already people are backing out. Well, that's okay. I'd rather just hang out with Weed, maybe my sister and eat a good dinner, laugh like freaks and then get a buzz and maybe just maybe get my ass on the dance floor at Diggers (that's only a possiblity Weed!) and get to bed early. That would be an ideal Christmas party for me here. LOL! Also, another bitch about the season.... The cold weather doesn't make me think of Jolly times for Christmas, it makes me think that it's fucking cold and there's no way I'm going to the gym. I'm going to hibernate in my house all day and night. I hate it when I feel that way. I haven't been to the gym in three weeks. That's HORRIBLE!!!!! The weather makes me feel lazy, but my health hasn't been the best either. I've seriously had a cold or something forever it feels. It's soooooooo annoying. Tomorrow, I'm going. I'm going to go run, and then I'm going to come home and do this kickass yoga DVD I got . Or maybe vise versa, but anyway... I'm going to do the yoga DVD for sure. The running depends on if I'm not hacking up my lungs still tomorrow. Hopefully my nose will be clear so I can do the DVD also. Breathe in Breathe out. Well, now that I've been a snob and rambled about lack of "fabulous" establishments in my town, and disgusted you with how snotty my nose is and how much phlegm I can cough up, I'll let you all sleep tight and have a wonderful night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116642431480642561?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116642431480642561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116642431480642561' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116642431480642561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116642431480642561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/12/helloooooooooooo-everybody.html' title='Helloooooooooooo Everybody'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116530297319361112</id><published>2006-12-05T00:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T01:16:13.303-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Greetings from OZ</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Actually, I can't say OZ. Kansas definitely isn't like some fairy tale land called OZ. It's fricken cold and barren. Well, except for the eastern side of the state. It's pretty there. Actually, Kansas isn't that bad. I'm just pissy because it's so damn cold here. I guess I just have to get used to it. First I want to apologize to everyone for not keeping this blog up. I've been busy with life and have neglected to vent and post for therapy for quite sometime. Secondly, I don't have a digital camera anymore, so hopefully I will get one soon so I can have fun posting pics of my world for you all to see. Thirdly, I won't be posting again for a while because my home computer has officially died and I have to get a new one. I would post from work, if I could have sometime in the office. But, my job is one of those jobs where there isn't any down time, and your constantly on the go from the moment you walk through the door until you walk out it at night. Today I slept all afternoon, so I decided to hang out and post this before I went home. I'm not going to get rid of this blog, because I really do enjoy reading the comments and I look forward to reading everyone else's blogs. I also enjoy the therapeutic factor of it. I probably won't write more until the new year, unless I get my puter at home working. I just wanted to say hello, and I wish everyone the best holiday season. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I do want to say something though real quick.... Why isn't life fair sometimes? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know, struggles build character, they give you strength and wisdom.... blah blah blah..... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I really don't want to hear it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's all true, but now I'm just frustrated.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;what am I doing with my life? Why isn't it working out? What am I doing wrong? Why can't I be in love? Why is the one that would be the closest the furthest away? Why don't I know for sure it would be him? What do I want to do with my life? Why don't I like what I'm best at? Why am I so scared to to develop my creative side? Why can't I be more secure? Why do I go through most of my day uncomfortable? Why do I feel so hopeless? Why can't I relax? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;just why? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;okay, enough of my rambling....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season. I'm sooo excited to hang out with my niece on Christmas. She will just be 1. Isn't that cute? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will check in as often as I can. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;Happy Holidays!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116530297319361112?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116530297319361112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116530297319361112' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116530297319361112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116530297319361112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/12/greetings-from-oz.html' title='Greetings from OZ'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116106000443056049</id><published>2006-10-16T22:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T23:40:05.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2 drink confused ramblings</title><content type='html'>Have you ever felt that something has changed and not been able to pinpoint when it changed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or&lt;br /&gt;Have you realized after-the-fact (whatever it was), that you felt different than you thought you would, and wondered when you changed how you felt in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;those thoughts are kinda the same ... but what about...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens when you know something has changed and you don't have a clue what to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;I feel lost. Unsure. Kinda relaxed, but kinda anxious. A bit sad, but only in the "whatever happens will happen" kinda way. Which I guess could be anxiety. Hmmmm....&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do with my emotions.&lt;br /&gt;That's the bottom line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I have done is: been a goofball at work, cooked dinner for the family, thought a lot, stared at nothing, stared at the candle, walked around, loved on my cat (real animal, you pervs LOL) , and listened to the silence. Oh yeah, and fixed a cocktail and then another. No, I haven't been smoking any pot tonight either, LOL. Although, that's not a bad idea....... nope, no need to make my brain analyze me anymore than it already is. I'm already starting to get a headache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like control,&lt;br /&gt;and right now I don't feel like I have control of my emotions.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do with that.&lt;br /&gt;And,&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do with the loss of control.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116106000443056049?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116106000443056049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116106000443056049' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116106000443056049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116106000443056049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/10/2-drink-confused-ramblings.html' title='2 drink confused ramblings'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-116067369167572045</id><published>2006-10-12T11:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T00:52:26.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>National Breast Awareness Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello everyone! In honor of National Breast Awareness Month, I thought I'd post one of my favorite pictures of my boobies again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/fourth%20of%20july%20%26%20bras%20043.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Now, I know I bitch about the torture of the contraption we women call a fucking bra, and men call over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. Every women does, but... I have to say that I am so glad that I have healthy breast to put in to a bra. My grandmother on my fathers side had breast cancer and ended up dying from it, and my aunt on my mothers side has always had issues with her breast. I remember when I was young coming across my grandmothers foam boob inserts, and looking at them with a young girls wonder. I was in sixth grade when she passed away, and I really don't remember if I had started to develop my breast at that time, but I remember not understanding why it was such a big deal to my grandmother to have the foam inserts in her bra. They weren't that big anyway, it's not like they gave her gigantic boobs. LOL. I remember first there being one insert, and then there being two inserts and then they were gone. I believe, if I remember correctly, I asked my Aunt Kim one time were they were and she said grandmother (that's what she insisted on being called) didn't need them anymore. Now my grandmother was a very classy lady, always perfectly coifed and dressed. Very regal all the time. God forbid if she didn't look impeccable 24/7. It must of broke her heart to not have her breast, her womanhood. I can't imagine what it would of felt like for her on that one day when she decided not to put a bra on and the inserts in. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I am 33, and I have my breasts. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Now they aren't perfect by any means, and Weed and I always talk about getting boob jobs, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;but I have them and I am sooo thankful for that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-116067369167572045?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/116067369167572045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=116067369167572045' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116067369167572045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/116067369167572045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/10/national-breast-awareness-month.html' title='National Breast Awareness Month'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115759699098245954</id><published>2006-09-06T21:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T21:43:11.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20029.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20028.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20023.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know, this is a lame post for HNT. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't have a digital camera anymore. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But you know what... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;it's exactly where I want to be right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm really missing Hilton Head and all my friends there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Pretty damn bad.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115759699098245954?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115759699098245954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115759699098245954' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115759699098245954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115759699098245954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-know-this-is-lame-post-for-hnt.html' title=''/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115747226272958595</id><published>2006-09-05T10:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T11:04:24.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I rode the short bus</title><content type='html'>Hello again everyone! I haven't been posting because I cleared out my cookies and temporary internet files and when I did that I deleted my log on information that I had saved. So for weeks now, I've been trying to remember what my log on and password were. Today, out of the blue I just typed in what I thought they were again, and presto! It's like magic. So, I apologize for not posting earlier, but I is a retard for not remembering my own log in information.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;I just got back from a cool canoeing trip with Weed and the Wedding Party. I seriously didn't think it was possible to drink that much in one day. Shit, I was wasted by noon everyday we were there. But, I had a great time. The Wedding Party is a cool bunch of people to hang out with, they are such great people. Weed of course is a dork, but... just joking Weed. It was super cool to get to hang out with her for an extended amount of time. We haven't got to do that in a very long time. So all in all, it was a fantastic Labor Day weekend. Well, except that I'm too fucking nice and dove into the water after a water gun and screwed up my left calf pretty badly. Then, the next day the canoe I was in hit a tree and sank, I fucked up my left forearm, wrist and hand in that little ditty. No worries though, it's all battle scars from a crazy, fun weekend. I'd do it all again. I hope everyone else had a great Labor Day weekend as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115747226272958595?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115747226272958595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115747226272958595' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115747226272958595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115747226272958595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-rode-short-bus.html' title='I rode the short bus'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-115577858936091506</id><published>2006-08-16T20:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T00:11:54.240-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy HNT!</title><content type='html'>Today I started to go through all my old photos to get some to put up in my new place and I came upon a trip Weed and I took to Arkansas many a moons ago. Weed, do you remember these? LOL&lt;br /&gt;They are a riot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Arkansas%20trip%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Arkansas%20trip%201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now in defense of her looking like the hoochie, I have some photos of me in almost the exact same poses as her, but dang it, I can't seem to find them. LOL &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, I came across this photo that was taken on the trip and it always seems to amaze me. I looked pretty good for as pissed off as I was that Weed took that picture of me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/way%20back%20when.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;That was sooo long ago! I wouldn't be caught dead in a bikini now. Thank god for old pictures to remind you of how you used to look! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Or do we really want to be reminded?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Happy HNT!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115577858936091506?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115577858936091506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115577858936091506' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115577858936091506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115577858936091506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-hnt.html' title='Happy HNT!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115577730432398645</id><published>2006-08-16T19:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T20:15:04.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The sad goodbye finally</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some pictures that I promised. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will miss the beauty of Hilton Head, and I already miss the friends I made there tremendously. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The pictures are of times spent, places seen &amp; experiences had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20010.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Sunday%20Afternoon%20005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Saturday%20night%20with%20Mikey%20014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Sunday%20Afternoon%20016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/River%20St%208-16-05.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/fourth%20of%20july%20%26%20bras%20009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20035.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/fourth%20of%20july%20%26%20bras%20003.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20025.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115577730432398645?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115577730432398645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115577730432398645' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115577730432398645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115577730432398645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/08/sad-goodbye-finally.html' title='The sad goodbye finally'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-115562177791303193</id><published>2006-08-15T00:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T01:29:11.623-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally, I'm back</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Well, I finally made it home and I feel like a tornado has already ran me over. I'm not sure if it's the four day move or Saturday nights "welcome home" festivities that Weed made me participate in &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(sounds naughty doesn't it?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;or that I feel like I'm walking around in a Ghost town with ghosts from my past but...Whatever the case, I can tell you that I feel like shit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm searching for Toto to comfort me in an unfamiliar place &amp;amp; the Lion to give me courage to be here after 10 years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Tin Man would come in handy if he were properly oiled and he had not found his heart yet, then these emotions wouldn't affect me so much. Oh and I've got to find that fricken Scarecrow, maybe he has my brain, because I'm pretty sure I didn't have it when I made this decision. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Okay, not too be too negative because it has only been three days (I know).... but I've absolutely fallen in-love with my little niece. I told myself over and over that I would not allow her to be a spoiled brat, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but damn it... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;if she's not the cutest, sweetest and happiest baby ever, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;then I don't know what. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm already smitten, damn it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope everyone had a fantastic week while I was gone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115562177791303193?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115562177791303193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115562177791303193' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115562177791303193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115562177791303193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/08/finally-im-back.html' title='Finally, I&apos;m back'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115504420977333007</id><published>2006-08-08T08:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T15:15:29.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying goodbye part 2:  the heart wrenching departure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Okay guys, sorry to disappoint you, but I have to load up the puter before I will get the chance to post the last part of my Goodbye Series. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I promise that I will post beautiful pictures as soon as I get settled in and maybe I'll turn it into a hello and goodbye thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; Anyway, everyone take care!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; I'll miss you while I'm gone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115504420977333007?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115504420977333007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115504420977333007' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115504420977333007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115504420977333007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/08/saying-goodbye-part-2-heart-wrenching.html' title='Saying goodbye part 2:  the heart wrenching departure'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115487415238895209</id><published>2006-08-06T08:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T21:59:51.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying goodbye.......</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Work,%20Bar,%20Zoe%20&amp;%20Me%20017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20017.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hello Everyone!&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'd post some fun pictures that I have.&lt;br /&gt;All these pictures are from the two bars that&lt;br /&gt;I worked at.&lt;br /&gt;Funny&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't have any pictures from my real job&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I had while living here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;I've meet some fantastic people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Work,%20Bar,%20Zoe%20&amp;%20Me%20022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20022.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm going to miss them terribly.&lt;br /&gt;But, I know that I'm taking a little bit of them&lt;br /&gt;with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The first four are from Montego Bay.&lt;br /&gt;It's the bar I worked at there and&lt;br /&gt;"the boys"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Another%20Day%20at%20the%20Bar%20006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Another%20Day%20at%20the%20Bar%20006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; They were so much fun!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Love you guys&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Work,%20Bar,%20Zoe%20&amp;%20Me%20012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/naked%20me%20005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/naked%20me%20005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last two pictures are of the sports bar I&lt;br /&gt;worked at named&lt;br /&gt;Casey's.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry they are so blurry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hard to hold the camera straight&lt;br /&gt;after few shots and beers. I'm just joking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I loved working at Casey's! &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/naked%20me%20006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/naked%20me%20006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They were like my surrogate family during my time here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Great friendships were formed at this establishment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So, that is my little ode to work for my time spent in Hilton Head. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I feel bad that I don't have any pictures to display of my "real job". But, just so you know, I didn't spend all my time hanging out in bars. LOL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I was the Beach Club Coordinator for one of the plantations on the island. I received an award for the work I did for them at the annual meeting last November. At my going away lunch, I received a wonderful framed original artists rendering of the architectural design for the building that I managed for them. My job there was a great learning experience and once again, I met some wonderful people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tomorrow I am going to post some more pictures of my time spent on HHI. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Friends, places &amp; scenery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will miss this place! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115487415238895209?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115487415238895209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115487415238895209' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115487415238895209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115487415238895209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/08/saying-goodbye.html' title='Saying goodbye.......'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115465770178017378</id><published>2006-08-03T20:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T21:15:01.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20037.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hey everyone! I'm sooo sorry that I haven't posted much lately. Maybe this blogger thing isn't for me. But, I have been overwhelmed (which you guys already know) with training the new girl and trying to get everything situated and ready for the move. Tonight, I've been packing FOREVER and it doesn't even look like I've made a dent. Mind you, I am definitely not a pack rat, in fact it drives my mom crazy how much I throw away all the time. Actually, I don't throw it away, I donate it to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. But, it disgusts me how much money I spend on nonsense. I've got soo much better, but I have a long way to go still which is quite evident in this packing excursion. But, that can be a whole other post.&lt;br /&gt;Through the last few weeks, I've done a lot of soul searching and I've really been battling with my choice to move, where I'm moving, the job I'm taking, the reasons why I'm moving and why I didn't go somewhere else. I seriously think I've damaged my brain. LOL. Anyway, I'm doing it. I'm praying that there is a guardian angel watching over me and I don't turn into the person I once was and I continue on my path to my happiness. I hope that they are giving me push on the back to make me continue. Or wait, could the nagging in my gut be just nervousness or my angel punching me? LOL Can't decide, but I just keep on trucking!&lt;br /&gt;Here's my HNT, sorry so late and so lame.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately it's something I probably won't be doing for a long time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dang it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20037.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I probably wont post next week, no puter on Thursday. I'll probably be back the next week with all sorts of stories of a road trip from hell with a mom, a dad, a cat, and of course Elvis. Should be interesting! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115465770178017378?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115465770178017378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115465770178017378' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115465770178017378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115465770178017378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/08/omg.html' title='OMG'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115406914961561093</id><published>2006-07-28T01:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-29T16:52:35.303-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Okay, so they say it's your Birthday.  Right?</title><content type='html'>That's all I could think of saying to represent what I am feeling. Not that I'm a Birthday freak or anything. I never want to celebrate, or call attention to the fact that it's my birthday. I've just never thought it was a big deal. Most of my friends think it's the greatest thing ever, but I just consider it to be another day. Anyway.......&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting here at my puter @ 2:30 am wondering why it didn't feel more special, and then in turn contemplating why I felt it should of been. I had a pretty atypical birthday day so to speak. I worked for an hour and a half, then I drove 30 minutes to the Mazda dealership to have them do the 30,000.00 mile service (because they said it should be done) &amp; had them check the brakes for the trip. NO courtesy car (yes, I made an appt, but whatever) so I walked about a mile in the heat to the Super Walmart. Sat at Blimpe (because it was the only food for miles) and read the latest edition of Poeple. I remarked to myself about how I wasn't more upset or frustrated and that it felt good to just sit because you had too and relax because you had the time to do it. Hung out in Walmart, bought toothpaste, lip gloss and a cool shirt. Heading back down the road in the heat to find out that I needed brakes and it would be another 250.00. Nice, I said. How long before they go? By the next oil change. Double cool. Will make appt in the next week, wanted to puke on the floor because stomach so upset because of the money. No money, got to get back to Kansas okay... yuck. Stomach upset. Anyway, leave there and head to house to shower and get ready to go out. Post boobie shot on blog, YIPPY!, and then head out to the bar. Friends already feeling no pain. A new friend (met through other friend) is a great gal, but she's very loud and very vocal. So, the evening consisted of her entertaining everyone at the bar. Not because she does flips and tricks, but because she was so loud and has this Boston accent that screams "pay attention to me". Have you ever had a friend that you hang out with that is just exhausting to be around?  That was her.  Anyway, as I sat at the corner of the bar staring off into space, Thomas walked in.  He's the boy that I just recently wrote about that had baggage and we had that wierd alchohol fused chemistry with?  Anyway, he was nice and we just hung out for a bit.  Then my horn dog of a friend said she'd take my place.  She's crazy!  She was serious.  Thomas didn't know what to say, it was a hoot.  Anyway, so I'm back at home feeling a little jinky reflecting on the day and thinking to myself, "hey wasn't to day supposed to be wonderful?"  But, then I felt selfish because hey, I got shit done that needed to get done &amp; my friends had a great time.  And, quite possibly I made a match between two friends.  LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115406914961561093?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115406914961561093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115406914961561093' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115406914961561093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115406914961561093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/okay-so-they-say-its-your-birthday.html' title='Okay, so they say it&apos;s your Birthday.  Right?'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115403709159980677</id><published>2006-07-27T16:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-27T16:51:31.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>They say it's my birthday.........  part two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, let's try this again..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/b-day%20pic.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;OKAY, so it's just a boobie shot.  But hey, that's pretty crazy for me!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;All the other pictures I took, screamed &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;"HIT THE GYM - BOOB LIFT - LIPO"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Happy HNT Everyone&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115403709159980677?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115403709159980677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115403709159980677' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115403709159980677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115403709159980677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/they-say-its-my-birthday-part-two.html' title='They say it&apos;s my birthday.........  part two'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115401130455940598</id><published>2006-07-27T09:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-27T10:07:42.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>They say it's your Birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hello everyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's official, I'm 33 today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Not sure how to feel about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So in honor of it being my birthday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;here's me in my birthday suit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(I've been trying to post a picture here for the last 30 minutes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Blogger is sucking today.  I'll try again later, fuck)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hope everyone has a wonderful Thursday!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115401130455940598?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115401130455940598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115401130455940598' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115401130455940598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115401130455940598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/they-say-its-your-birthday.html' title='They say it&apos;s your Birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115339804624387573</id><published>2006-07-20T07:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T14:07:23.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pivoting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; Happy HNT Everyone!!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;View 1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20028.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Upside down View&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Work,%20Bar,%20Zoe%20&amp;%20Me%20032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20032.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I'm sorry I haven't been around for a couple of days.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;It's been total chaos since I've made my decision to move.  Now I can't decide where to go.  I've been hashing out soooo much shit in my mind that I've become brain dead.  So, in honor of trying to get focused and relaxed I decided to post a picture of my tattoo. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;It is the chinese character for the word Pivoting.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Stay grounded but always rotate.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115339804624387573?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115339804624387573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115339804624387573' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115339804624387573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115339804624387573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/pivoting.html' title='Pivoting'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115282807483069083</id><published>2006-07-13T16:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-15T10:26:46.603-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rangers 47 + 3 part 2</title><content type='html'>1. &lt;strong&gt;What time did you get up this morning&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;opened eyes at 7am, feet on floor... 10ish&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;Diamonds or Pearls&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;emeralds&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;What was the last film you saw at the cinema&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;the last Matrix. don't laugh, I work too much cinema. Geezzz, such a sad sack&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;What are your favourite TV shows&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Rescue Me, Entorage, Carnival, Seinfield, Gray's Anatomy&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;What did you have for breakfast&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;nanna&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;strong&gt;What is your middle name&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Michelle&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;strong&gt;What is your favourite cuisine&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Itlalian or Mexican any day! anything spicy.&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;strong&gt;What foods do you dislike&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Ummmm, Liver? can't think right now of any for sure&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;strong&gt;Your favourite Potato chip&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Doritos&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;strong&gt;What is your favourite CD at the moment&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;I have Sirius radio, so I don't listen to CD's very often. But, in my CD player is Little Big Town&lt;br /&gt;11. &lt;strong&gt;What kind of car do you drive&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;2003 Mazda Dual Sport Pick-me-up Truck&lt;br /&gt;12. &lt;strong&gt;Favourite sandwich&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Tuna Melt&lt;br /&gt;13. &lt;strong&gt;What characteristics do you despise&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;selfishness, people who think they are better than others (whatever that is called), ignorance&lt;br /&gt;14. &lt;strong&gt;What are your favourite clothes&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;casual classics with some funky stuff occasionally&lt;br /&gt;15. &lt;strong&gt;If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;French Polyonesian islands&lt;br /&gt;16. &lt;strong&gt;What colour is your bathroom&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;mulit-colored wall paper. venetian village scene over and over (yuck!)&lt;br /&gt;17. &lt;strong&gt;Favourite brand of clothing&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Designer: Channel or Chole Real world: J Crew, Limited, NY Co, whatever I can afford LOL&lt;br /&gt;18. &lt;strong&gt;Where would you want to retire to&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;some island in the Carribean or possible the Grenedines&lt;br /&gt;19. &lt;strong&gt;Where were you born&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Kansas&lt;br /&gt;20. &lt;strong&gt;Favourite sport to watch&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Live - Hockey, Televised - Football&lt;br /&gt;21. &lt;strong&gt;Who do you least expect to do this / send it back&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;who knows&lt;br /&gt;22. &lt;strong&gt;Person you expect to send it back first&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmmmmmm ? not sure either&lt;br /&gt;23. &lt;strong&gt;Coke or Pepsi&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;anything Diet&lt;br /&gt;24. &lt;strong&gt;Are you a morning person or night owl&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Early morning&lt;br /&gt;25. &lt;strong&gt;Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everybody&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;I'm moving back home.&lt;br /&gt;26. &lt;strong&gt;What did you want to be when you were little&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure. I think my mother said I wanted to be a Ballerina. But, I can't remember&lt;br /&gt;27. &lt;strong&gt;What is your best childhood memory&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;watching the stars with my Aunt Kim&lt;br /&gt;28. &lt;strong&gt;What are the different jobs you have had or do in your life&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;bartender, buffet girl, manager, photo tech, coordinator, cahsier, hooker, part time party girl, Madam LMAO just joking&lt;br /&gt;29. &lt;strong&gt;Nicknames&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. &lt;strong&gt;How many Piercings&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;one in each ear&lt;br /&gt;31. &lt;strong&gt;Eye Colour&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Hazel&lt;br /&gt;32. &lt;strong&gt;Ever been to Africa&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;not yet&lt;br /&gt;33. &lt;strong&gt;Ever been toilet papering&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;no&lt;br /&gt;34. &lt;strong&gt;Been in a car accident&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;yes, not fun!&lt;br /&gt;35. &lt;strong&gt;Favourite day of the week&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Sunday&lt;br /&gt;36. &lt;strong&gt;Favourite restaurant&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;here: Aqua, the Jazz Corner, Fat Baby's / home: Playa Azual&lt;br /&gt;37. &lt;strong&gt;Favourite flower&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Lilac because it reminds me of my Grandmother&lt;br /&gt;38. &lt;strong&gt;Favourite fast food restaurant&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;I don't really eat fast food, but I'd say Quiznos or Arby's&lt;br /&gt;39. &lt;strong&gt;How many times did you fail your driver's test&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;KS - none, Oregon - twice, SC - didn't have to take it, thank god.&lt;br /&gt;40. &lt;strong&gt;Before this one, from whom did you get your last e-mail&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Travelocity&lt;br /&gt;41. &lt;strong&gt;Which store would you choose to max out your credit card&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Saks 5th Avenue, they have everything&lt;br /&gt;42. &lt;strong&gt;Who are you most curious about their responses to this questionnaire&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;everyone&lt;br /&gt;43. &lt;strong&gt;Last person you went to dinner with&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember&lt;br /&gt;44. &lt;strong&gt;What are you listening to right now&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;my mom yapping in my ear over the phone ;-)&lt;br /&gt;45. &lt;strong&gt;What is your favourite colour&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;white or black&lt;br /&gt;46. &lt;strong&gt;How many tattoos do you have&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;3&lt;br /&gt;47. &lt;strong&gt;What's your favorite time of the day&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;early early morning when the world smells new, very late at night when the world is resting from the day&lt;br /&gt;48. &lt;strong&gt;What are some of your favorite smells&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;skin, the rain at night, early morning air, garlic, basil, good cooking, the scent of a wood burning fire outside on a cold snowy night&lt;br /&gt;49. &lt;strong&gt;What are some of your favorite sensations&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;skin on skin contact, the high from exercising, massages, the sigh that you let out when you grab your cocktail and fall into the lazy boy and put your feet up at the end of a hard day&lt;br /&gt;50. &lt;strong&gt;How many people are you sending this to&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;everyone in blog land............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I changed 48 &amp; 49, I couldn't think of just one favorite thing.  Also, forgive all the spelling errors, my spell check isn't working............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115282807483069083?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115282807483069083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115282807483069083' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115282807483069083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115282807483069083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/rangers-47-3-part-2.html' title='Rangers 47 + 3 part 2'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115276159186629827</id><published>2006-07-12T21:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T23:36:10.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dinner, bath &amp; a little skin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy HNT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how my Wednesday went....&lt;br /&gt;I mailed, email &amp; faxed resumes all afternoon long. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Nice, I know, while I was at work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;Then I went for a run. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I contemplated not doing it, but I'm soooo glad I did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;After soo much mental strain today, I really needed to let go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I ran my ass off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Well, I wish I would of, but hey it felt like it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Eventually it will get off me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;4 miles, not bad.&lt;br /&gt;Then I had a great dinner of nonsense with wine,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/searching%20for%20a%20HNT%20012.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/searching%20for%20a%20HNT%20012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;then a hot bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Bath%20Tub%20Scene,%20take%20one%20013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Bath%20Tub%20Scene%2C%20take%20one%20013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt great to not have to work tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And,&lt;br /&gt;I had a great run!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I forced myself to run. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&amp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I got a shit load done for my move.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I feel so much better now. Big pat on the back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20031.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;   But now I'm pissed because I lost my 50 some odd questionaire that I did while I was waiting to post this HNT.  Fuck, that just irritates the shit out of me.  But, I'm not going to get my panties in a bunch.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I will answer the questionaire as my post tomorrow or the next day.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;No Worries&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Good night and sweet dreams my little angels.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115276159186629827?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115276159186629827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115276159186629827' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115276159186629827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115276159186629827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/dinner-bath-little-skin.html' title='Dinner, bath &amp; a little skin'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115273186368369473</id><published>2006-07-12T14:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T23:27:57.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rangers 47 questions + 3 more</title><content type='html'>I'm pissed, I just anwered all of these questions and it took about an hour to do, and I've lost it.  i promise I will repost later, but fuck that pisses off.  fucking shit.  I'm off to bed.  damn it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What time did you get up this morning?&lt;br /&gt;2. Diamonds or Pearls?&lt;br /&gt;3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?&lt;br /&gt;4. What are your favourite TV shows?&lt;br /&gt;5. What did you have for breakfast?&lt;br /&gt;6. What is your middle name?&lt;br /&gt;7. What is your favourite cuisine?&lt;br /&gt;8. What foods do you dislike?&lt;br /&gt;9. Your favourite Potato chip?&lt;br /&gt;10. What is your favourite CD at the moment?&lt;br /&gt;11. What kind of car do you drive?&lt;br /&gt;12. Favourite sandwich?&lt;br /&gt;13. What characteristics do you despise?&lt;br /&gt;14. What are your favourite clothes?&lt;br /&gt;15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?&lt;br /&gt;16. What colour is your bathroom?&lt;br /&gt;17. Favourite brand of clothing?&lt;br /&gt;18. Where would you want to retire to?&lt;br /&gt;19. Where you born?&lt;br /&gt;20. Favourite sport to watch?&lt;br /&gt;21. Who do you least expect to do this / send it back?&lt;br /&gt;22. Person you expect to send it back first?&lt;br /&gt;23. Coke or Pepsi?&lt;br /&gt;24. Are you a morning person or night owl?&lt;br /&gt;25. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everybody?&lt;br /&gt;26. What did you want to be when you were little?&lt;br /&gt;27. What is your best childhood memory?&lt;br /&gt;28. What are the different jobs you have had or do in your life?&lt;br /&gt;29. Nicknames?&lt;br /&gt;30. How many Piercing?&lt;br /&gt;31. Eye Colour?&lt;br /&gt;32. Ever been to Africa?&lt;br /&gt;33. Ever been toilet papering?&lt;br /&gt;34. Been in a car accident?&lt;br /&gt;35. Favourite day of the week?&lt;br /&gt;36. Favourite restaurant?&lt;br /&gt;37. Favourite flower?&lt;br /&gt;38. Favourite fast food restaurant?&lt;br /&gt;39. How many times did you fail your driver's test?&lt;br /&gt;40. Before this one, from whom did you get your last e-mail?&lt;br /&gt;41. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?&lt;br /&gt;42. Who are you most curious about their responses to this questionnaire?&lt;br /&gt;43. Last person you went to dinner with?&lt;br /&gt;44. What are you listening to right now?&lt;br /&gt;45. What is your favourite colour?&lt;br /&gt;46. How many tattoos do you have?&lt;br /&gt;47. What's your favorite time of the day?&lt;br /&gt;48. What's your favorite smell?&lt;br /&gt;49. What's your favorite sensation?&lt;br /&gt;50. How many people are you sending this to?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115273186368369473?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115273186368369473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115273186368369473' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115273186368369473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115273186368369473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/rangers-47-questions-3-more.html' title='Rangers 47 questions + 3 more'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115266359562138117</id><published>2006-07-11T19:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:19:55.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'>UP date</title><content type='html'>hey, I posted a draft today with an update for the Fourth of July. But, apparently it post on the date that you originally saved it. So, to get the up date, you need to scroll back to July 6th. Sorry, didn't know that it worked that way&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115266359562138117?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115266359562138117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115266359562138117' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115266359562138117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115266359562138117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/up-date.html' title='UP date'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115233442697671671</id><published>2006-07-07T23:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-08T08:03:52.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight, I broke my heart again</title><content type='html'>Tonight I broke my heart because I devastated another's. This is why I don't get close.&lt;br /&gt;Bear with me...&lt;br /&gt;I met him on the fourth of July, which stories still have to be told of that evening. But, to give it in a simplified version, I picked up a guy and took him home (well, actually to his house) and had awesome sex with him and a lot of fun hanging out with him. Now, I'm pretty damn sure that is the only time, well except for one other time, that I've ever done that. And I am struggling with feeling like a whore because of it. But, let's face it... Sometimes we are just in the mood for whatever, ( no matter what it is, not necessarily sex) and do we deprive ourselves just for what others deem to be wrong with whatever it is we are feeling? Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;the chemistry is there.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously there.&lt;br /&gt;He is absolutely not what I want. No way. Drives a motorcycle, not a Harley or a Chopper type, but something like a Honda. And, he drives an 80's Camero. Yes, you heard it right folks, an 80's era Camero. But, bless his heart, he has a lot of pride in it, and that's not a bad thing. He's from NY. 38, two kids with ex, lives with a roommate in a dorm type condo, has some issues with his finances that I haven't quite figured out. Not that financial stuff is an issue at this point, but something to do with a girl that wants to fuck him opening up a checking account for him. YES, I see all the RED flags. I'm not blind. But, there are serious sparks.&lt;br /&gt;So much so, that I knew I needed to lay it all out on the line before it got any deeper.&lt;br /&gt;After only screwing him Tuesday night, and talking to him on Wednesday and talking to him today (Friday), I felt a HUGE pull to let him know what was going on with me. Now, most would probably say that is a little soon to drop it off like it is, because technically we haven't even been on our first date much less talked about ourselves and what have you. But, once again, we just clicked. I had to be honest. So I told him how it was.&lt;br /&gt;I told him that I'm very independent. If he's looking for a girlfriend, I'm not going to be it. I don't like lots of phone calls a day, or a huge amount of hangin out either. I'm a loner. Then I dropped the bomb, also I'm moving home within a month or two. He looked at me with those big blue eyes, devastated. What? I said I'm sorry. He was floored. I told him that we needed to decide what we were going to do because the feelings were so strong between us. He agreed. He said he knew the chemistry between us was so strong that he knew it was too much of a good thing. I agreed also. I said, we could either hang out and have fun over the next month or so, or go a head and drop it here. We run the risk of getting to close if we continue to hang out. He wants to try to convince me to stay and he will take care of me. (LOL, yes I know, we already had those types of conversations after meeting for the second time.) But, it's not going to happen. I'm going home. He's got too much baggage, and I know if I were to stay we wouldn't stay together forever. He's a bit of a thug I think. I think he might have a temper too. I can't decide. Do I sound like I'm trying to convince myself? I am. We have so much fun. I just melt when I'm around him. Yuck!!!! Anyway, once again it broke my heart to have to break his. It was like I sucked the life out of him when I told him. It was so sad. I'm not trying to sound conceited or anything, by saying he fell in love with me and such at all, but it was obvious that I didn't make his night.&lt;br /&gt;So, now I don't know where we are. He said to call him tomorrow if I wanted to continue to see each other. He does, of course he wants to convince me to stay. Or should I just let it die and a little bit of us will die with it? Crap. Damn it    Damn it     Damn it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115233442697671671?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115233442697671671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115233442697671671' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115233442697671671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115233442697671671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/tonight-i-broke-my-heart-again.html' title='Tonight, I broke my heart again'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115227709570572493</id><published>2006-07-07T07:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T10:12:49.596-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Channeling Madonna</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Freshman%20Dance%2010001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Freshman%20Dance%2010001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't find a yearbook picture, but here's my freshman dance picture. Definitely was into Madonna, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Freshman%20Dance%2020001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here's my recent picture. Thank god Weed convinced me to get my eyebrows done back in the day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Work%2C%20Bar%2C%20Zoe%20%26%20Me%20009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;THANK YOU WEED!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115227709570572493?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115227709570572493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115227709570572493' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115227709570572493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115227709570572493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/channeling-madonna.html' title='Channeling Madonna'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115218855939460804</id><published>2006-07-06T07:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T17:15:40.470-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fourth of July shenanigans</title><content type='html'>I know this is a bit late, but I've had this in my "draft" file forever!&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/fourth%20of%20july%20&amp;%20bras%20014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/fourth%20of%20july%20%26%20bras%20014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/fourth%20of%20july%20&amp;%20bras%20003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/fourth%20of%20july%20%26%20bras%20003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/fourth%20of%20july%20&amp;%20bras%20011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/fourth%20of%20july%20%26%20bras%20011.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends and I hung out at this cute little bar for the fourth for about 5 hours. Needless to say, we were drunk bitches when we left. Then we went to another bar! Geez........ And for the rest of the night, you already read that post. But, as a follow up to that one, I actually hung out with him on Sunday, and man is he not my type. Great guy, nice and stuff, but we are soooo different that even if I were to stay here, we would never make it. Sexual tension combined with alcohol definitely was what the "chemistry" was that I so adamantly said we had. What a dork I am. Now, problem is to make him see it. We shall see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I get for drinking for 5+ hours. Sheeeeeeeettt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115218855939460804?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115218855939460804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115218855939460804' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115218855939460804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115218855939460804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/fourth-of-july-shenanigans.html' title='Fourth of July shenanigans'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115218790092350357</id><published>2006-07-06T07:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T07:23:06.813-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Torture</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/fourth%20of%20july%20&amp;%20bras%20043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/fourth%20of%20july%20%26%20bras%20043.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My bra is killing me! It was 2:30am when I finally got home from work. I couldn't wait until I could get this thing off and head to bed. Then I started laughing about the post I did a while ago about the pain of wearing a bra. Then I looked at my ta-ta's, and said, damn this bra makes my boobies look good as I pranced around in front of the mirror. So, here you go Sal and everyone else. Here's a picture of pure torture.&lt;br /&gt;Happy HNT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115218790092350357?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115218790092350357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115218790092350357' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115218790092350357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115218790092350357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/07/sweet-torture.html' title='Sweet Torture'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115162005402763554</id><published>2006-06-29T17:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T17:27:34.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Lisa%20&amp;%20Zoe%20031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Lisa%20%26%20Zoe%20031.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey guys, I'm sorry I'm posting so late. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This is the best I could come up with right now.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Happy HNT!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115162005402763554?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115162005402763554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115162005402763554' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115162005402763554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115162005402763554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/hey-guys-im-sorry-im-posting-so-late.html' title=''/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115133139065259706</id><published>2006-06-26T09:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T09:16:30.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>As promised</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Prom%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Prom%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Prom%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Prom%201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weed! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here you go, as promised this Monday and next Monday I will post my prom picutres. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I only found two different years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This one in my Junior picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; Man, I look like a bitch. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Damn. Anyway, maybe this will give everyone a laugh on another nasty Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Check out that saucy hair do! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115133139065259706?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115133139065259706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115133139065259706' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115133139065259706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115133139065259706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/as-promised.html' title='As promised'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115127640539147716</id><published>2006-06-25T16:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T18:00:05.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another day at work...........</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Storm%20Cloud%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Storm%20Cloud%201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a great Sunday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up to a cloudy sky and a cloudy head, as you already know.&lt;br /&gt;Then it starts to rain like crazy. Not good for the bride and groom that are getting married at noon on the deck. Definatly not good for me, since the mother of the bride thinks I'm god and can make the rain stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Rain%20clouds%201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the roof starts to leak. LOL, yep... no shit. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Ceiling%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Ceiling%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 149px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="159" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Ceiling%201.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I called the AC boys and told them to come after 3 to check it out. Then I spent the duration of the wedding reception emptying bus tubs full of water that I had propped up underneath the AC unit in the attic. I carried a total of 15 gallons down those fricken stairs. Fun! I had to rigg it up, so that the water wouldn't just drain on the floor of the attic which of course would cause the ceiling to cave in on the the mother of the bride's table conviently located very close to the leaking part of the ceiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the sky broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Break%20in%20the%20Sky%203.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then the leak stopped, and slowly but surely the ceiling started to dry out.  That's when I finally was able to take some pictures of it.  Next, the sun came out.  Yippy!  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, party is over.  They are happy and I'm off to the house for a cocktail and a nice bath.  The headache I woke up with is still here, and I'm hoping  a little hair of the dog with make it go away.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ruff! Ruff!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115127640539147716?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115127640539147716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115127640539147716' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115127640539147716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115127640539147716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/another-day-at-work.html' title='Another day at work...........'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115124314873620129</id><published>2006-06-25T08:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T08:45:48.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Bourbon, One Scotch and One Beer....</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Three%20Muskateers%20007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Good morning!&lt;br /&gt;Do I sound chipper? I'm practicing. I have a hangover and I've got to work this morning. Fuck. I didn't really drink that much, it's just been a while since I've drank as much as I did. We had a great time though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Three%20Muskateers%20013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Don't we look like it? LOL&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Oh, I only had one of those shots.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;That round anyway!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115124314873620129?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115124314873620129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115124314873620129' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115124314873620129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115124314873620129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/one-bourbon-one-scotch-and-one-beer.html' title='One Bourbon, One Scotch and One Beer....'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-115113718608080689</id><published>2006-06-24T02:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-24T03:19:46.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking ties</title><content type='html'>Just a quick OMG... I just broke it off with my convenient / "really want to be with him" fuck. Over IM. LOL, how funny. Sorry, no... not really funny, kinda tacky actually. But, he texted me while I was at work, and I didn't dare to text back so late. So I sent him an IM to tell him that I didn't' want to call or text this late. &amp;amp; I figured that now was better than never. He was just looking to get laid anyway, since I've ignored him for a month. I really just haven't been feeling it lately. Well, at least not with him. Tonight, I was just talking about how horny I was and that I wasn't going to break down and call "old reliable". I just don't want to be with him anymore. Not that we were together, but we were fucking and talking. Actually we had a great thing going. No commitments, no strings attached, good friendship. But, I'm just over it with him. Sound crude? It does by reading this, but there is more to the story. I'm just too tired to talk about it right now. I just wanted to say "OMG, I can't believe I just broke up with someone I'm not really seeing or should be seeing through an IM" Can you break up with someone when your not really seeing them? I felt the need to do the "break up" primarily because we are more emotionally and mentally connected than a typical "drunken friend fuck". I felt that out of respect to him and me, I needed to officially say "Hey, I'm ignoring you because I'm not into you anymore" I will elaborate at a later date. He can be used in the Demons section if and when I ever get to it. Anyway, just for every person out there, I did the cop out thing and "broke up" with someone in a cowardly way. I think you should always do the nasty work face to face. It's more respectful. But, oh well.... It's done. There's nothing I can do about it. Sleep tight fellow bloggers. And I really hope Weed is drinking the wedding party under the table tonight. I know she can drink. Have fun girl!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115113718608080689?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115113718608080689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115113718608080689' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115113718608080689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115113718608080689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/breaking-ties.html' title='Breaking ties'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115102881244339415</id><published>2006-06-22T20:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T12:35:12.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Night at the Office........</title><content type='html'>Okay, done with work. Or I mean, I'm done with what work I felt like doing. so I sit here and think all sorts of random thoughts. About the day, about people, about things.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the day -&lt;br /&gt;with in the last two days I've been to TJ Max three times. First I bought clothes, then I tried them on at home, went back to exchange them out for more and a pair of shoes, then I went back again because those clothes didn't fit like I wanted them too. Now you ask, why not try on there? Well, because I was in a hurry both times and was with my boss. So, we just cruised through there really quick before lunch. We are both addicted to TJ Max.&lt;br /&gt;Next, I went bra shopping. Ladies, you all know how fun that is. But, I was on a mission. I had to get a new bra, or two to go under my new sheer shirts. I HATE bra shopping. It's like the one necessary thing we need, but it's the most dreaded shopping experience in our life. Now boys, you guys go "what's the big deal?" "it's just a bra?" Yes, we know that believe me. But, how you see our boobies everyday is dependent upon what bra we wear. You see them as nice, perky, round or even possibly as voluptuous. We know they are pulled up, strapped in, pushed together, made fuller and nipples contained. So men reading this, thank your girl for going through the pain of bra shopping just so that we can give you the illusion that our boobs are perfect. Now I speak of course to those of us women out there that need to wear a bra for whatever reason. For all of you perky girls that don't need to wear a bra, fuck off and die. LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About people -&lt;br /&gt;My boss informed me today that it is very evident when I don't like a person. Damn it man! I thought I was being sneaky. LOL. Actually, it caused me to wonder... is that a bad thing?&lt;br /&gt;If someone asks me something, I tell them the truth. I won't lie. If need be, I can weasel out of being too brutally honest, but over all I think I'm honest with tack. But, if it's obvious when I don't like someone by my actions and reactions to them, then that bothers me. I don't want to be a "bitch". I try to be very polite and respectful to everyone. But, if I think someone is just stupid and ignorant I do have a hard time respecting them. So, I guess it shows. We were referencing our Chef of Security, and his attitude towards me the last couple of days. I guess he's pissed off at me, he's probably had enough of my disrespect. Tee- Hee!!! He's got to be the most ignorant person that I've ever worked with, or at least one of them. Obviously, it my feelings must show. LOL, thank god he's not my boss. But, I still feel shitty. So, I'm going to make a conscious effort to show more respect, he is an elder and his wife is slowly dying of cancer.&lt;br /&gt;Crap, I feel bad now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About things -&lt;br /&gt;All this thinking about how I show my feelings got me thinking about why I was feeling so negative. The last time I felt so irritated by people, situations, work or whatever..... I at a very negative time in my life. I was running a bar back home, and I was soo stressed out. I wasn't a nice person, now some wouldn't think that, but I didn't feel like a nice person. and I'm sure my employees &amp;amp; vendors felt that way sometimes. I let the tiniest of things get to me. It was always this or always that it seemed. Now I know part of that was because of the responsibilities I had, but I think a lot of it was just because I wasn't happy with my life at that point. Then I moved, and life changed. I opened up, became happier and much more relaxed. Now I have moved again, and I've only been here for a year. Beautiful scenery, beautiful people. New experiences, new ideas. So, why do I feel so crappy? Why do I have that tightening through my shoulders again? Is it because I am in control of something again? I have serious job responsibilities again? Possibly, but when I lived in my previous place, I ran a retail store. I had responsibilities there. Or did I? Not really, the owner and I were really the only two people that worked there, besides Christmas time. So, she never really let go. I just had the pay and fancy title. Maybe it was the lack of responsibility that made me a more relaxed person. That would make sense, but I like control. So, I'm not quite sure what it is. Why am I so unhappy? Some would think my job is super cool, the place I live in great and so on. I feel guilty that I'm not more thankful for what I have. But, I am. I just am not happy. Do I move? Do I stay and focus on me? Do I move and focus on me? I need to figure it out though, this black cloak that covers me needs to be lifted. It's weighing me down. Damn it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115102881244339415?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115102881244339415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115102881244339415' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115102881244339415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115102881244339415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/another-night-at-office.html' title='Another Night at the Office........'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115100989366358154</id><published>2006-06-22T15:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T15:58:13.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HNT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/lips.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/lips.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay Weed, here you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone,&lt;br /&gt;this is the inspirational picture for weeds famous character of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love it!&lt;br /&gt;I think she did a good job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LMAO&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115100989366358154?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115100989366358154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115100989366358154' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115100989366358154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115100989366358154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/hnt.html' title='HNT'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115094894602575026</id><published>2006-06-21T22:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T14:49:10.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Sister 101</title><content type='html'>Wednesday night -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had every intention tonight of talking about demons. I had been working up to it all day. But, then I got blind sighted with a phone call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My younger brother, the youngest of the family, called me for advice.&lt;br /&gt;Left me a message that said, "Please call me back. It's kinda important."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Family history in short form: Moved out when I was 17, been back (in house) off and on since then. Big age gap between me an other siblings, next oldest is 6 yrs younger than me. Caller just turned 21 in December. I wasn't really around while they (the other siblings) were growing up. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thought? He's in Jail or trouble and I don't' have the money to bail him out. Fuck! Not that he's a bad kid, but...... I'm afraid that I'm considered to be the "cool older sister" that parties and such, so why not call her instead of the parental units when in trouble.&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, that wasn't the case.&lt;br /&gt;Instead, he needed advice on what to do with his life.&lt;br /&gt;And he needed to make a decision today.&lt;br /&gt;"Please tell me your in jail and I need to come up with some money!"&lt;br /&gt;That's what I wanted to scream when he started with his questioning. That response was 100 times easier than trying to frantically search for some good solid sound advice that would make a difference to him and in turn make a difference in his life.&lt;br /&gt;Shit, the pressure!&lt;br /&gt;How do you give advice when you need it yourself?&lt;br /&gt;I was honest. I am always honest. I can't not be honest. I have to be true to myself. It's unfair to everyone that knows me if I'm not true to myself. Then they won't actually know me.&lt;br /&gt;Wow, did I get off on a tantrum or what? I think that's the Demon speech I had prepared coming out.&lt;br /&gt;I've got to get some sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today -&lt;br /&gt;To continue my story... &lt;br /&gt;I gave him my honest opinion.  Which isn't always what the person questioning wants to hear.  Well, he called me back last night to tell me that he took my advice.  Whew...&lt;br /&gt;First test score:   A+&lt;br /&gt;First  lesson learned:  Get your act together because others look to you for advice and as a role model. &lt;br /&gt;Crap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I've got to get going because Weed is nagging at me to get my HNT up today, not tonight.  So I've got to ditch the office for a bit to head home and get that up.  I hope everyone has a great Thursday!  Thanks for letting me ramble.&lt;br /&gt; (forgive all spelling errors, spell check isn't working)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115094894602575026?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115094894602575026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115094894602575026' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115094894602575026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115094894602575026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/big-sister-101.html' title='Big Sister 101'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-115083146333496609</id><published>2006-06-20T13:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T14:24:23.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Owner Appreciation Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/retard%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/retard%201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello Everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Owner Appreciation Day sucks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer stupid questions about the Beach Club.&lt;br /&gt;Answer stupid questions about rental of the Beach Club.&lt;br /&gt;Listen to residental property owners bitch because it's not a community center, seeing as they paid for it of course.&lt;br /&gt;Listen to Timeshare owners bitch because it doesn't have a bar or restaruant.&lt;br /&gt;Listen to everyone bitch because it's not open to the public.&lt;br /&gt;My head is going to explode.................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/retard.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" height="158" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/retard.0.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/retard.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/retard.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But,&lt;br /&gt;There is some ammusment.&lt;br /&gt;There are some interesting people that walk down this parking lot to the beach.&lt;br /&gt;Very interesting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and of course, I got to scan my head. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now, don't tell me there isn't fun to be had in all situations! LOL &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/tard%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115083146333496609?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115083146333496609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115083146333496609' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115083146333496609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115083146333496609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/owner-appreciation-day.html' title='Owner Appreciation Day'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115059927143265436</id><published>2006-06-17T21:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T21:54:31.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>question</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Have you ever went to bed hoping to go to sleep so you could get the day over and start with another one? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And then try to hurry through that day to get to sleep so you could get to the next day after that?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Then rush through that next day to finally get to the next one after that?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Is that life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't think that is what it should be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But, that's how I'm feeling today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;How do I stop the motion?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115059927143265436?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115059927143265436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115059927143265436' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115059927143265436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115059927143265436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/question.html' title='question'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115056293453578037</id><published>2006-06-17T11:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T11:48:54.563-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tag...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Bath%20Tub%20Scene,%20take%20one%20009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/Bath%20Tub%20Scene%2C%20take%20one%20009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anteros started a cool picture tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a picture or pictures of things that define you around your house or room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anteros, sorry it's taken me so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;3 am Saturday morning&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115056293453578037?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115056293453578037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115056293453578037' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115056293453578037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115056293453578037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/tag.html' title='tag...'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-115050509725809036</id><published>2006-06-16T19:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T02:03:31.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting for the Cable guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Waiting%20for%20the%20Cable%20guy%20007.jpg" border="0" /&gt; The couch I laid on all afternoon &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Waiting%20for%20the%20Cable%20guy%20018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Where I could of been.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/stoney%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Where I should of been.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Could a, Would a, Should of.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Cable isn't fixed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115050509725809036?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115050509725809036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115050509725809036' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115050509725809036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115050509725809036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/waiting-for-cable-guy.html' title='Waiting for the Cable guy'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115049244079207097</id><published>2006-06-16T15:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T16:14:00.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THE SHIRT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/The%20Shirt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/The%20Shirt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Entering into evidence.&lt;br /&gt;Yes it is a pink flamingo shirt.&lt;br /&gt;Your not imagining things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am guilty of owning a&lt;br /&gt;Pink Flamingo Shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the story....&lt;br /&gt;I moved here last May. I got a job working at a clothing store called Fresh Produce. Everything was very "beachy", relaxed &amp;amp; bright. Of course since it's a clothing store, they want you to wear the clothes they sell. All I had was black. Not too "beachy", huh? This shirt came in, and it was tacky love at first sight. I had to have something right? It would go well with all my black skirts and heels, right? And the cotton material and sleeveless cut was perfect because it's so fricken hot here in the summer. So I broke down.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm ashamed to say that I no longer work there, but I still wear the shirt sometimes. I've got to say......... I look hot in it with a little black skirt and saucy high heels! LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a fast and easy solution to a rushed morning.&lt;br /&gt;It's comfy.&lt;br /&gt;It's cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit, there's no justifying it................... It's so tacky. But, who cares!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear I haven't bought the "gold kiddies" that should go along with it.&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I have a pack. We won't let each other wear gold shoes ever like our grandmothers do. I won't break down on that ever.&lt;br /&gt;Except, have you guys seen the newest shimmering flats? LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115049244079207097?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115049244079207097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115049244079207097' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115049244079207097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115049244079207097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/shirt.html' title='THE SHIRT'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115040424433951276</id><published>2006-06-15T15:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T15:44:04.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Question%20Mark0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/400/Question%20Mark0001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is what I saw as I stared with intensity at my screen last night searching for something to say. &lt;br /&gt;Problem was, that I had so much to say that I didn't know where to start.  where to go.  what to say.  how to say it. &lt;br /&gt;Hell!  I couldn't even say what I was thinking.  Too much on my mind.  Brain over load.  So I went to bed.  Just mentally exhausted.  I have too many thoughts rambling through my mind constantly that it all just becomes a big blank white slate after while.  like white noise throbbing over and over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if I could just quite the hum. &lt;br /&gt;I promise I'll write something tomorrow.  I've got the whole afternoon to wait for the fricken cable guy.  Fun!  Damn cable.  LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115040424433951276?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115040424433951276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115040424433951276' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115040424433951276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115040424433951276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/this-is-what-i-saw-as-i-stared-with.html' title=''/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115017513072646439</id><published>2006-06-12T23:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T00:05:30.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Subjects avoided</title><content type='html'>I don't have the mental strength tonight to go where I wanted to go on my To Do list. But, just a thought to caress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think people who read books walk around through their day shifting in and out of different realities?&lt;br /&gt;If a book is good, don't you enter it as a participant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know personally, when I'm reading an intriguing book, I enter that world frequently during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It can be an escape, a thought provider, an answer to a question, a release or even (if need be) a conversation piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently started to read again. Now, working three jobs has made it quite challenging to read what I would of completed in three days, in a couple of months.&lt;br /&gt;But,&lt;br /&gt;the other day I had the wonderful sensation while looking around at all the issues going on around me, of retreating back to a chapter in my book that I'm reading and pondering where the author was going in it.&lt;br /&gt;That thought made me smile and reassured me that all the "issues" I had to deal with weren't&lt;br /&gt;consuming my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It comforted me.&lt;br /&gt;It made me smile with&lt;br /&gt; a secret knowledge&lt;br /&gt; that I haven't been consumed by work.&lt;br /&gt;Well, not quite yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115017513072646439?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115017513072646439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115017513072646439' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115017513072646439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115017513072646439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/subjects-avoided.html' title='Subjects avoided'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115017088738579651</id><published>2006-06-12T22:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T22:54:47.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Goof at an early age....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/scan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/scan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so hot!  LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/little%20me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/320/little%20me.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I was working the camera.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wait...................  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My hair looked bad even back then.  LOL.  It was preparing for my stint in the 80's.  Practicing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115017088738579651?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115017088738579651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115017088738579651' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115017088738579651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115017088738579651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/goof-at-early-age.html' title='Goof at an early age....'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115008367260414831</id><published>2006-06-11T22:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-11T22:41:18.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>To Do List....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/400/A%20day%20at%20the%20Beach%20007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a quick reminder&lt;br /&gt;of random thoughts&lt;br /&gt;I want to ponder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Subject 1:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Demons&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Subject 2:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;People who read.&lt;br /&gt;Walking in a different world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Subject 3:&lt;/strong&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;The infamous, " I'll never do that again......"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Subject 4:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peoples perceptions.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone sees things differently.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115008367260414831?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115008367260414831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115008367260414831' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115008367260414831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115008367260414831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/to-do-list.html' title='To Do List....'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-115007277040029469</id><published>2006-06-11T19:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-11T19:39:30.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday afternoon......</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/1600/Sunday%20Afternoon%20018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6259/2182/200/Sunday%20Afternoon%20018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hell kids, I had every intention to post a new intro, a better picture for my profile and talk about all sorts of stuff, but shit...... Sunday afternoon called. I love Sunday afternoons. This is a picture of some friends and I hanging today at Hemmingway's. At the bar by 2pm and home by 5pm. Got to love it. Now though, a short note is all I can do.... I'm too stoned.... sorry....heading for the hammock. I'll just chill for a while and get back to you in a bit. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope everyone else had a fantastic Sunday too. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-115007277040029469?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/115007277040029469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=115007277040029469' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115007277040029469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/115007277040029469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/sunday-afternoon.html' title='Sunday afternoon......'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-114992008584651547</id><published>2006-06-10T00:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-10T01:14:45.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A little bit more of me..........</title><content type='html'>Hmmmmmmmmmm.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I get off work early, it's dead at the bar, and I start to take pictures so I can post them here. I want everyone in "blog land" to see where I work and who I work with so they can get a better sense of me. As I'm taking the pictures, someone asks me if these are my goodbye pictures. No, I reply, they are for my blog. He asked me for the site, I said which one? The erotic one or the other one. Totally joking and really not thinking he would even be interested in either. He said, both. I said no way. I can't do that. He asked why. I just kinda grinned and walked away, did my shot &amp;amp; took a swig of beer. I didn't know how to handle that. So I, being the girl I can be (damn it), totally ignored it and prayed he would forget it. He kept on asking about it every time he could. I finally asked which blog he wanted the address to. He said both or at least the personal one, if need be he said, there's got to be a way to get to the other one through it. That made me cringe. I blushed and said, no way... Especially not now. Because there is a way, and I can't have someone reading that shit, and coming to work the next night with me. Something about that just unnerves me. Not about him as a person reading it, I think he's extremely cool, it was about someone on the other end knowing who I was personally as I wrote it. He was persistent. As much as to put a pen and paper in front of me, and bang on it to "get his point across". I felt really weird about giving him it. I told him no again, and said it was personal. He said, but you can share with strangers? It's on the internet for Christ sakes, he said. True, but.... They don't know who I really am. Is this a weird feeling to have? I told him that I liked the fact that no one really knows who I am. Even though I'm being completely honest, you don't really know me. So it's so wide open. Does that make sense?&lt;br /&gt;Or, is that 2nd shot of crown really kicking in?&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I should tell him or not. I know it's not a big deal to you, but to me, it is. Or at least, it's confusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI - I haven't slept with him. We've flirted pretty heavily. But, he's got too much baggage and a girlfriend to boot. He's a complex individual. You know, the one that you want to get inside of, but know you shouldn't touch it because it's a heartache waiting to happen.&lt;br /&gt;But, your very flattered that he would even be interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;promise to post the new pictures and profile tomorrow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-114992008584651547?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/114992008584651547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=114992008584651547' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114992008584651547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114992008584651547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/little-bit-more-of-me.html' title='A little bit more of me..........'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-114989730003703296</id><published>2006-06-09T18:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T18:55:16.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I swear I don't look that dorky anymore...........</title><content type='html'>I might be a dork, but I'm super fly now. LOL. Yes, dork. Or Suckwhore as Scum so affectionately calls me. Hello everyone who comes to see me after Weeds wonderful but humiliating post about me. Got to love her. Which I do. I'm so glad she is a part of my life.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I just wanted to say ello, and that tomorrow after a hard day at the beach I promise I will create a profile and put up some better pics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got to get to work. Yippy! Drunk old people and a band that plays the same set everynight. Love my job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-114989730003703296?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/114989730003703296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=114989730003703296' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114989730003703296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114989730003703296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-swear-i-dont-look-that-dorky-anymore.html' title='I swear I don&apos;t look that dorky anymore...........'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-114959869963618743</id><published>2006-06-06T07:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T07:58:20.410-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crown, Sun &amp; Gary Allan</title><content type='html'>As I sit down to write this little diddy, I have a nagging urge to grab a cigarette and a bottle of luscious Merlot, cross my legs, sit back and just bask in the glow of life. Chances in life to be more specific. But, then I reach for my coffee and get to typing. After all, it is only 8am and I've got to hurry so I can get to the gym before work. I'm a firm believer in wine only after 9:30am, and I don't even smoke.&lt;br /&gt;So let me tell you about the day that made my year..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 3pm on Sunday afternoon. We had just traveled 5 hours (which felt like 10) to Tallahassee, FL to see my favorite country singer Gary Allan perform the opening act for rascal Flatts. Yes, I know, it's country. I can't help it, I'm from the Mid-west. I like a little bit of everything. Anyway..... It's so fricken hot. There is a tour bus outside the hotel. My friend says, "I bet that's him". Whatever, you freak. I think you need a drink to clear your head. As she's changing into her swim suit in the bathroom, I look out our window. There about 7 floors down is the pool. I yell, "Hurry up. There's a bunch of hotties at the pool". "That tour bus must be for another band. I don't see my boyfriend out there". I giggle. "Come on damn it, I want a shot and some sun". Finally we get to the bar. Why is it when your so anxious for something, it takes FOREVER for something as basic as a Tequila shot and a shot of Crown. Anyway, 3:30pm, finally at pool after 3 hours at the bar and two fruit flies later, and one free shot of crown. The sun feels so good. A Couple hours in the sun, a few beers and then head to the concert. Yippy! As we are laying there, I decide to check out the boys at the other side of the pool. "Damn, those boys are cute!", I say to myself. Who cares, I just want to ...... Holy shit!!!!!!!..... It's him. OH MY GOD! I can't believe it. "Give me a cigarette." "What?" "It's him, it's him!" "Seriously?" "Yep, I can tell by the tattoos on his hand and arm." I smoke my cigarette with a shaking hand, contemplating if I should say anything or not, or just what the hell to do. "excuse me? My name is Mike. What is your name?" I look up and a smiling face is looking down at me. I tell him. "It's nice to meet you two. Our fiddler player is dying for a cigarette, can I bum one for him" "They aren't mine, they are hers. What band are you with?" "Gary Allan" Mike says. "Really, we just drove 5 hours from Hilton Head, SC to see him. What time do you go on?" Then he made some weird comment about how the Wreckers are really good. Which, I still don't know where that came from. Grabbing the cigarette my friend was offering, he said they started at 8:30 and said thanks, said our names again and said nice to meet you. After he left, I grabbed another cigarette. Still smoking with a shaking hand, I decided that I wasn't going to go over there and make a fool out of myself. It was enough for me to see him in "real life", and watch him hanging out with his friends. It's not like I stared or anything, but... I did sneak peeks every now and then. After they left the pool, I laid there in the warmth of the crown and sun, I thought how cool is it that something like that happened. It was perfect. My friend gave me a really hard time because I didn't go over there and say anything. Or try to get better tickets (we had nose bleed seats), and looking back in retrospect, I should of just asked the Mike guy if when they left the pool if he could at least introduce him to me or something. That I wouldn't bother him while he was playing with the boys, but if I could at least meet him. But, honestly.... I'm perfectly happy with how it all went down. I'm not that girl that would bother someone famous. I would respect their space. I mean, come one.... They get people going up to them all the time asking for shit or trying to get laid or whatever. I just consider myself extremely lucky to be one of two people besides them hanging out at the pool enjoying the sun, having drinks and relaxing.&lt;br /&gt;Except, they were drinking fruity drinks? Yuck!&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, after a few inquires later on at the bar... They were on 15 and we were on 11, and they stay there every time they come to town.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway kids................. What a wonderful way life throws chances out at you.&lt;br /&gt;Shit, I've got to get to the gym.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-114959869963618743?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/114959869963618743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=114959869963618743' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114959869963618743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114959869963618743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/crown-sun-gary-allan.html' title='Crown, Sun &amp; Gary Allan'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-114939540524775359</id><published>2006-06-03T23:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-03T23:30:05.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Experimental</title><content type='html'>Ohh, that title could have so many meanings. LOL But seriously, I tried to post a picture for my profile, and it didn't show up yet. So I wonder if it will every time I post something. Anyway, I'll try it. I am so excited though, tomorrow first thing I'm on my way to Tallahassee Florida to a country concert. Yes, I know. But, I love country so what. Rascal Flatts is the headliner and my all time favorite singer is the opening act. GARY ALLAN!!!! I love him. I am driving 5 hours just to see him. Rascal (sp?)Flatts is an exceptional group. But, GARY ALLAN is my man. Anyway, I'm also just excited to go on a road trip. I love road trips. I need to get away. Some might say I live in paradise, but just like any place after awhile, it gets old. It's also the wonderer in me. I can't stay still long. I've always got to see new things, meet new people and experience new experiences. Love it. So, I'm off to bed to get some shut eye before I head out on the wonderful road.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-114939540524775359?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/114939540524775359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=114939540524775359' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114939540524775359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114939540524775359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/experimental.html' title='Experimental'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29080942.post-114930281003561741</id><published>2006-06-02T21:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T21:46:50.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>10:15 Friday Night</title><content type='html'>I have been at work since 11:30am.  For the last couple of hours I've been watching some of the first episodes of Sex in the City on my computer.   Nice job huh?  Actually, it's late and I'm fucking tired and ready to go home.  But, I am inspired.  I feel good about being single.  Watching the episodes, and listening to the conversations they had really put things in perspective again.  I really like being single.  I love the fact that I can do what I want when I want.  Sucks when your horney as shit, but that's what "friends" and toys are made for.  Sound callosed?  Yes, it is.  But, it feels good to say it and it's the truth.  That is, until I get home and I want someone to tell me that the shitty day I had doesn't matter and rub that fucking aching in my lower back from my run this morning.  Then, I say .... why can't I have a boyfriend?  of course.  Honestly though, I'd rather be single.  I would love to find that one person that would compliment me and make me feel "whole" persay.  But, I am not willing to become emotionally invested in someone to even see if it will work.  That's the real truth.  Crap, the party is over.  I've got to go and start locking it down.  Just when I was getting really deep.  LOL, nah.  Hell, I know why I'm single.... it's now 10:40pm on Friday night and I'm at work.  I'm always at work.  I work three jobs.  I think I do it on purpose.  It's not always about the money issue.  It's also a bored issue.  anyway, until tomorrow when I'm at work, yes once again.  tomorrow it's 9am until about 11pm.  Fuck, I'm killing myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-114930281003561741?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/114930281003561741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=114930281003561741' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114930281003561741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114930281003561741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/1015-friday-night.html' title='10:15 Friday Night'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-114920139481804813</id><published>2006-06-01T17:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T17:36:34.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Geek in High School</title><content type='html'>I am such a dork. I ran into my neighbor at Barnes &amp;amp; Noble this afternoon. It was so weird. I lost all composure. He's hot. He's also single, or at least let's say he's not married. I've had several fantasies about having sex with him. I would safely say that after this afternoon and my reaction to a casual "run-in-to" I have developed a tiny bit of a crush on him. I saw it was him, panicked, wondered if he noticed me. Of course he did we were standing right beside each other!!! Hello! Then it all became a blur. He moved to the other side of me, because I was stuck to the floor checking out the two CD's I had special ordered, not reading the back sides mind you, more like staring a hole through them pretending to read them and slowly getting flushed and flustered. Yes, full on chest and check flush. Nice, huh. Kinda hard to hide that reaction huh? I moved out of the way finally, and said hi. He said hi. Meanwhile his two little girls had shown up beside him and were asking who I was. LOL. I know kids can read people, so I'm sure they were going "um Dad, who's that freaky girl all red and staring at those CD's in her hand over and over?" LOL. He leaned over and asked me what I was getting, and I said Rascal Flatts! What! Where the hell did that come from. So I said, I mean Little Big Town, which was the correct answer. Then continued to stare at the CD's with my head bowed until he left. Come on, how much can you read on the back of a CD? Tell you the truth, I couldn't even tell you the names of the songs by the end of the "episode". I usually have some much more control. What is going on? I can't believe what happened. The funny thing is, that I can tell there is sexual tension between us. Reminds me of the last male neighbor I had. Well, actually we will make that another time. Got to get to work to watch all the drunk old people dance the shag and make out in front of me while I'm making their drinks. Another fun exciting day in SC.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-114920139481804813?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/114920139481804813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=114920139481804813' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114920139481804813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114920139481804813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/06/geek-in-high-school.html' title='Geek in High School'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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-29080942.post-114912897176002665</id><published>2006-05-31T20:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T21:29:31.770-05:00</updated><title type='text'>First time for everything.......</title><content type='html'>Hello world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm nervous.&lt;br /&gt;I'm excited.&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;I feel fearless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I have decided to take a risk. I started a blog. woo-hoo, some of you say. It's old news now to have one of these things. But, to me... it means that I am actually going to make myself say all the things I've ever wanted to say or needed to say. I want to express what's always rambling through me. I hope it helps me to understand what the hell is going on in my head, heart and of course, my life. It's a venting log. A questioning log. An emotional log. A funny log. It's just going to be whatever I feel. I might dance around, run with intensity, or back peddle. I could also leap for joy, crawl on the ground, move forward fast or slow. Most definitely I will wallow in despair. But usually, I'll just walk through the day of emotions. So forgive me if I ramble sometimes and don't seem to make sense. That's just how my life is sometimes. Or, at least that's how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;First post over.&lt;br /&gt;Should this of been my intro?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29080942-114912897176002665?l=displacedbarwench.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/feeds/114912897176002665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29080942&amp;postID=114912897176002665' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114912897176002665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29080942/posts/default/114912897176002665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://displacedbarwench.blogspot.com/2006/05/first-time-for-everything.html' title='First time for everything.......'/><author><name>Lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04709463168729152316</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></feed>
