<?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-2888150989167491866</id><updated>2011-07-08T00:37:29.553-04:00</updated><category term='cooking'/><category term='story'/><category term='beer'/><category term='teeth'/><category term='magazine'/><category term='sweatshirt'/><category term='old'/><category term='annoyed'/><category term='interesting'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Hawaii'/><category term='video game'/><category term='college'/><category term='roommate'/><category term='music'/><category term='games'/><category term='cats'/><category term='happy'/><category term='website'/><category term='blog'/><category term='book'/><category term='freak out'/><category term='fraternity'/><category term='New England'/><category term='video'/><category term='confused'/><category term='coffee'/><category term='tv'/><category term='driving'/><category term='highschool'/><category term='kids'/><title type='text'>Some Things...</title><subtitle type='html'>Blabblings on some of the things that make me happy, annoyed, or any of the other numerous emotions out there.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-7024442422526567493</id><published>2009-07-05T20:35:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T21:51:46.965-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Blogging Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So even though I haven't blogged in forever, it doesn't mean that I don't LOVE to blog! Lately things have just gotten so crazy with the kiddos, and summer (which by the way means wedding season), and life, and I have just felt like I haven't had the time to devote to this blog that I would like. So, even though this blog is on hiatus... I've still got other projects in mind (and currently in the works!). And, since nannying is my gig, and blogging is a joy of mine, the newest blogging baby has been born! I'm co-writing a new blog with a college buddy of mine, &lt;a href="http://fallingmolly.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Molly&lt;/a&gt; (because she too is an awesome nanny!). And, since kids often times say the most ridiculous things, we thought we'd pool all of our funny stories from the summer together in one place! Hence the birth of... &lt;a href="http://campnanny.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Camp Nanny&lt;/a&gt;!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-7024442422526567493?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/7024442422526567493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=7024442422526567493&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/7024442422526567493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/7024442422526567493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/07/things-that-make-me-happy-blogging.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Blogging Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-7077032027450388778</id><published>2009-02-18T22:02:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T22:37:57.847-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: Jean Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SZzMsRFjRLI/AAAAAAAACtw/qdVQOcGDmOs/s1600-h/P2180792.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SZzMsRFjRLI/AAAAAAAACtw/qdVQOcGDmOs/s320/P2180792.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304339522008597682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;This story is far too amusing to keep to myself... so even though it is highly embarrassing, I have been feeling the need to share it with anyone who will listen (or in this case read)! Yesterday I had the day off due to the fact that the kiddos are on vacation, and so I made a late afternoon trip to the grocery store. Since I was meeting up with my best friend for dinner that night I decided I would put on one of my nice pairs of jeans. All was good... or so I thought... and so off I headed to the grocery store. About half way through my shopping I started noticing this odd feeling on the back of my leg. It felt as though there was something wet on my pants that had soaked through to my leg. Very casually I brushed off the back of my thigh yet I could feel no wet spot. This cycle of me feeling like my leg was wet, followed by me attempting to "brush it off" with no luck, went on for about fifteen more minutes. Finally I gave up, payed for my groceries, and headed home. Once at home I parked outside and started to unload the groceries. All of a sudden my leg felt extremely cold, and it was then that I discovered what the "wet" spot was on my pants. Turns out there was a huge... and I mean HUGE (see the above picture)... hole on the seat of my jeans. Apparently I had been walking around the entire grocery store like this... with my underwear exposed to the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-7077032027450388778?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/7077032027450388778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=7077032027450388778&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/7077032027450388778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/7077032027450388778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/02/stories-that-make-me-laugh-jean-edition.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: Jean Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SZzMsRFjRLI/AAAAAAAACtw/qdVQOcGDmOs/s72-c/P2180792.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-487787136875455315</id><published>2009-02-05T23:00:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T14:14:51.708-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='website'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='interesting'/><title type='text'>Things That I Find Interesting: 25 Things Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;As if Facebook wasn't addicting enough, the recent craze of the "25 Random Things" survey has made it even more of a black hole. I can honestly say that I love reading these things. I don't usually participate in these sorts of surveys, even though I get great joy out of reading them, but I thought this time I would give it a try. The concept behind this survey was easy enough, and everyone else's answers were so varied, informative, and enjoyable, that I thought I would throw some of my random fun facts out there too! I am utterly surprised at how quickly this survey has taken over our lives. Suddenly I find myself getting tagged left and right, and it is almost a game to see who will fill out the survey next. Every time I sign onto Facebook I get excited to see what new silly facts I can learn about my friends. As I stared at a blank page, 25 things seemed daunting to me at first. I really wanted to think of random facts that most people wouldn't know about me, and this seemed almost impossible. However, once I got started I kept thinking of more and more, and by the end I was sort of sad the survey was over. So here you go... 10 more for you to enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);  font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;1. I hate lipstick and almost never wear it. Instead I usually just opt for chapstick... or if I must, lipgloss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;2. I still consider myself a dork, but I can honestly say that I was by far my dorkiest in middle school, when I sported not only a perm, but bangs, glasses, and braces to boot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;3. I get scared incredibly easily (and unfortunately quite frequently too). Oddly, I can also scare myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;4. I love being creative, and thinking up new projects to start. The only problem is that I take after my dad, and somehow always manage to never quite finish any of these said projects. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;5. My parents painted our house at some point while I was away at college. I still think that my house is a bluish grey, and will tell people this. In all actuality my house is really a beige color... and I stare at it every day since I currently still live at home.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;6. I love fires in fireplaces, and cool breezes through open bedroom windows on warm nights.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;7. I eat frozen peas like they are candy... they taste amazing this way, and I've been a huge fan since I was a baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;8. I think that spoons are the best utensil ever... especially baby spoons (which can instantly turn almost any food into a comfort food for me).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;9. I hate bananas, I like to peel them though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;10. I have always wished that I liked jello and that I knew how to play the piano.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-487787136875455315?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/487787136875455315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=487787136875455315&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/487787136875455315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/487787136875455315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/02/things-that-i-find-interesting-25.html' title='Things That I Find Interesting: 25 Things Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-1862695316724452429</id><published>2009-01-28T21:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T22:49:27.413-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tv'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: CSI Miami Marathon Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;CSI: Miami is not a show that I watch regularly. However, every week A&amp;amp;E always has mini marathons, when they play a bunch of episodes back to back, and I can't help but get sucked in every time. It's a show that I can either turn on if I just need some background noise, or if I choose to sit and really watch it, I can become totally entertained and completely engaged in the story. CSI: Miami combines many of the things I look for in good TV all into once nice package. I understand that sometimes the situations are pretty unrealistic... and that Horatio is a total drag... but I still really enjoy what this show brings to the table. I mean it's got lots of nice bright colors, beautiful scenery, a good looking cast of characters, and interesting stories to think about and follow along with. Not to mention the characters play with some insanely cool tools, and there is also usually some pretty good music in each episode. However, I think my main reason for watching the show is Caleigh... because I am utterly in love with her hair.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SYEaJ0O2SPI/AAAAAAAACs4/yS2_7YknHIg/s1600-h/procter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 263px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SYEaJ0O2SPI/AAAAAAAACs4/yS2_7YknHIg/s320/procter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296543392706480370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;I wish this was my hair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/2888150989167491866-1862695316724452429?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/1862695316724452429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=1862695316724452429&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1862695316724452429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1862695316724452429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/01/things-that-make-me-happy-csi-miami.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: CSI Miami Marathon Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SYEaJ0O2SPI/AAAAAAAACs4/yS2_7YknHIg/s72-c/procter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-1785027759582396720</id><published>2009-01-25T21:31:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T22:07:21.287-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video game'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Super Mario Brothers Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;OK. OK. OK. I have been an AWFUL blogger recently. &lt;a href="http://fallingmolly.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Molly&lt;/a&gt; pointed out to me the other day that it had been almost two weeks since my last post. I had no idea it had been that long... I AM SO SORRY! My new toy (see picture below) finally arrived, and this is the reason I have failed to blog recently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SX0ghB9ZOJI/AAAAAAAACsY/rj67t9_hDJU/s320/P1250795.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295424488691284114" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;I blame it all on Mario. He sucked out all of my creative blogging energy, and held me captive... forcing me to save his girlfriend the Princess Peach, and defeat the evil Bowser at the same time. I must admit that I have been a HUGE Super Mario Brothers fan since the good old days of my original Nintendo Entertainment System. Finally an exciting single player game existed in my world, and Mario and I became fast friends. At the time not many of my friends were really into video games, and the ones that were really didn't enjoy playing Super Mario with me, due to the fact that I always beat the pants off of them. Oh well. This only allowed me to further my amazing skills... and thus fuel my passion for all things Super Mario. So once again, with this newest addition to my life and the Super Mario Brothers family, my creative juices went by the wayside, and my ridiculously juvenile competitive desires took over. However, I have successfully beaten the game... and am thus back to my normal regular blogging schedule.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-1785027759582396720?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/1785027759582396720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=1785027759582396720&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1785027759582396720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1785027759582396720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/01/things-that-make-me-happy-super-mario.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Super Mario Brothers Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SX0ghB9ZOJI/AAAAAAAACsY/rj67t9_hDJU/s72-c/P1250795.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-4328778215645496189</id><published>2009-01-13T21:35:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T22:57:23.552-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: Speeding Ticket Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;So this story doesn't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; make &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; laugh (due to the fact that in the end I had to shell out a fair amount of money), however, I suppose there is a bit of humor in it. At the end of my sophomore year of college I had intended to spend the last few days casually packing, and hanging out with my roommates. That all changed though when I got a call from my mom asking me to come home a day early. Our dog at the time was sick and had taken a turn for the worse. My mom was afraid we were going to have to put him to sleep, and she didn't want to go to the vet alone. After I hung up the phone I quickly packed up my stuff and threw it all into my car. Even though I was in a huge rush, I still managed to squeeze in a few moments to relax with my bestest buds, and chit chat before needing to say goodbye. Now as a side not I should probably add into this story the fact in that I tend to drive a little on the fast side (and that this is well known amongst all of my friends). So while we were chit chatting one of my friends, knowing I was anxious to get home quickly, happened to bring up my amazing speeding skills, and commented on the fact that she found it crazy that I had never gotten a speeding ticket. I sort of chuckled, gave my friends all big hugs, and hopped in the car to drive the three and a half hours home. By the time I actually made it on the road it was dark and nearing towards the end of the night. There were barely any other cars on the road, and I was making great time home until... Mr. Policeman decided to pull me over. It was an unenjoyable experience that ended with me receiving my first (and thank goodness so far my only) speeding ticket, and these words of wisdom from Mr. Policeman in a rather stern voice "didn't you notice that when you were passing all the other cars that they were STANDING STILL!" Ugh. I called my mom in tears and slowly continued my journey home. By the time I got home it was well past midnight and I was exhausted... so much so that I accidently left my ticket on the kitchen table (and at this point I hadn't exactly made it known just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;how&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; fast I was going). The next morning the truth came out in a funny turn of events. I won't come out and say exactly how fast I was going... but I will set it up for you as a sort of word problem below, should you be tempted to do the math. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;I am currently 27 (and will be 28 in May). I got my permit on my 16th birthday. As a Christmas present that year my parents got me a brand new car. My mother nearly fell over when she realized that the number she saw on the ticket was actually the speed I was going... not the year of the car (the two happened to be the same). Good luck figuring this one out!&lt;/span&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/2888150989167491866-4328778215645496189?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/4328778215645496189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=4328778215645496189&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/4328778215645496189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/4328778215645496189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/01/stories-that-make-me-laugh-speeding.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: Speeding Ticket Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-6437931616399517032</id><published>2009-01-07T18:41:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T21:43:50.306-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: Chicago Dining Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SWVDn01M2CI/AAAAAAAACsI/GciusbG5bBo/s1600-h/P2090120.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SWVDn01M2CI/AAAAAAAACsI/GciusbG5bBo/s320/P2090120.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288707688892258338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SWVDnlWO34I/AAAAAAAACsA/XYYOywS5sjk/s1600-h/P2090114.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SWVDnlWO34I/AAAAAAAACsA/XYYOywS5sjk/s320/P2090114.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288707684735836034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;February 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Since tonight is the premiere of the newest season (season 21) of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;The Real World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; I thought it would be the perfect time to share this story. This past February I went to Chicago with a couple of my guy friends to visit two of my most wonderful and dearest friends in the whole wide world, Sarah and Adam. Sarah is one of my bestest friends, and I hate that she lives so far away, but I do try to make it out to visit her as often as I can (or at least as often as my bank account can afford). So during this particular visit we happened to have the most amazing (and entertaining) dining experiences ever. It started on the first night, when we decided that we would all go out for a really nice dinner together with a couple of Adam's Chicago friends. It was a bit late in the night, and every place we tried to go had no open tables for such a large group. We were just about to give up when we stumbled across this one really cute restaurant, that just happened to have a table free. We were ecstatic, since we were starting to get really hungry at this point. So we gathered together, and the hostess led us to our table. AND by table, I really mean our room. Somehow we managed to snag our own private table, in our own separate little room (much like a Chef's Table). It might just have been the most amazing thing ever. The rest of the diners were out in the busy restaurant eating and chatting away, while we were in this fancy mahogany room, surrounded by wine and liquor bottles, in our own little private oasis. The waitress would come in pour us our glasses of wine, and then close the french doors behind her, leaving us to continue being our ridiculous crazy selves. Unfortunately I have no pictures to share of this dinner, but it was definitely one of my top five best dining experiences ever. After the amazing dinner of fabulous food and wine, and great conversation, we were pretty sure that this moment could not be topped. HA... were we wrong. The next day we decided to grab a quick lunch at a bar/brewery/pub place down the street from Sarah and Adam's condo. We noticed an extremely LARGE line outside the door and got very worried that we would get stuck waiting, and thus our quick lunch would not be. We went inside to check on the wait, only to discover that there actually was no wait. Hmmm we all thought. How odd. Anyways, we sat down and ordered several of their beer samplers (they brew their own beer - so obviously we had to try all of their offerings) and perused the menu. Our table just happened to be right next to the entrance to another room. In this other room there were several tables with people sitting, but no one was eating, and even though these people were all sitting together, they appeared to not know each other. Once again, hmmm we all thought. At this point we started to notice groups of about 10 people at a time walking into the room, and after about 15 minutes they would then leave (some a bit upset) and a new group would come in. So finally we stopped a girl as she was walking by us and asked her what was going on. She was a bit crazy, and looked at us like "Oh my God (insert valley girl voice here)... how can you not know what's going on?!?" before telling us in a rather loud and obnoxious voice that "Duh, it's the auditions for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;The Real World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;, season 21!!!!". Oh... oops! Silly us for not knowing. So needless to say our "quick" lunch turned out to be about a three hour lunch, due to the fact that we could not keep our eyes off of the train wreck that was the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Real World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; auditions. We had a few other stellar dining moments as well during this trip... but these two were &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the best&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 26, 139); text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-6437931616399517032?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/6437931616399517032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=6437931616399517032&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/6437931616399517032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/6437931616399517032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/01/stories-that-make-me-laugh-chicago.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: Chicago Dining Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SWVDn01M2CI/AAAAAAAACsI/GciusbG5bBo/s72-c/P2090120.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-9121755243955832962</id><published>2009-01-06T20:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T21:43:54.612-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Mr. Jones Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&amp;amp;playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=454399741c"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;This morning in the car I heard this song three times (on three different radio stations). I was lucky enough to hear it in its entirety each time too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Mr. Jones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; is one of my absolute all time favorite songs, so I got pretty excited. Since it's an older song it isn't really played on the radio that much anymore, and when I do hear it on the radio I seem to only catch the very end of it. Because of this, it seemed a bit odd to me this morning that I would get so lucky as to hear this great song like I did... so I decided to take it as a sign of good things to come!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-9121755243955832962?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/9121755243955832962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=9121755243955832962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/9121755243955832962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/9121755243955832962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/01/things-that-make-me-happy-mr-jones.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Mr. Jones Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-6201955101049865810</id><published>2009-01-06T12:44:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T18:44:25.047-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='annoyed'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Annoyed: Rebranding Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;So I have been meaning to write this post for days now, but I kept distracting myself... with things like cocktails and computer games and stalking the Amazon website to track the status of my recently purchased new toy (a black Nintendo DS - which I am just a little &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; excited about, and unfortunately all of my checking and rechecking of the website is not speeding up it's arrival... go figure!). So I apologize that I have not posted in so long. Anyways... Happy New Year everyone! I know personally I am really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;glad that 2008 is over (I'll just say it wasn't exactly my best year ever), although I am feeling a little more anxious then usual because I have hopes that 2009 will be a really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; good year (and I am a tad nervous about implementing some new changes in order to make this happen). Which brings me to this post. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);  font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;So the other week I was out running some errands, and I stopped into the grocery store to pick up a few things, one of them being some Diet Pepsi for my mom. Well, I stood in the aisle of the store for a few minutes, staring blankly at the spot on the shelf where the Diet Pepsi usually is. I couldn't find it... or any other variety of Pepsi for that matter. And this is why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 119px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SWOdY4SDTtI/AAAAAAAACqo/kBVN1JPCwRw/s200/new+pepsi.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288243438213615314" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;They'd gone and changed up their logo/design/branding. For those of you out there that do not know this about me, I REALLY don't like change. I understand that change is often required, and that good things can actually come from change... but these facts don't really ease my worries about change. There are some changes that I am OK with (usually when they are suggestions made by me), for example getting my haircut, or moving the furniture around in my room. Then there are the changes that just don't sit well with me, like the above mentioned rebranding, or like when my parents painted our house while I was away at college, and I came home to a completely different colored home (in these instances it was not my idea to alter the said object, and chances are my opinions were not taken into consideration). So I picked up a case of the "new" Diet Pepsi and continued on down the aisles contemplating how ugly I though this new design was, and how I couldn't believe that they had gone and changed it on me (I don't even like Pepsi... but still... how could they do that to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;me&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;). Then I hit the OJ aisle and was faced with this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 94px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SWOdZFfTuPI/AAAAAAAACqw/kgOwMPmEi6s/s200/new+tropicana.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288243441758877938" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Oh gosh. Now my favorite orange juice has gone and rebranded itself as well. Why? What was the world trying to tell me? Yet again another ugly new design, but the message was pretty clear... both of these companies were attempting to revamp their image, and produce a better looking and feeling product (I'm not sure they have succeeded, but they didn't ask me my thoughts... for if they had you would certainly NOT being seeing these new designs on your supermarket shelves!). However, I had to wonder. Is 2009 going to be the year of the rebranding? Is there something new and exciting out there for everything, and everyone? Well, I guess 2009 should also be the year for the rebranding of Victoria... and that is my New Year's resolution... to make some BIG changes, so that I can have a better and happier year than I did last year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-6201955101049865810?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/6201955101049865810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=6201955101049865810&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/6201955101049865810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/6201955101049865810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-i-have-been-meaning-to-write-this.html' title='Things That Make Me Annoyed: Rebranding Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SWOdY4SDTtI/AAAAAAAACqo/kBVN1JPCwRw/s72-c/new+pepsi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-3974219623231559877</id><published>2008-12-28T23:37:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T23:54:41.542-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freak out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tv'/><title type='text'>Things That Freak Me Out: Unsolved Mysteries Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;The show below FREAKS me out. Everything about it makes my stomach turn in knots. The man's voice gives me nightmares. The theme song sends shivers down my back. And the fact that the majority of the cases have yet to be solved provides me with a very unsettling feeling. Thank goodness that this show is no longer on the air, because when it was I would go into a panic the second I saw it (or heard it for that matter) and immediately scream for the clicker to change the channel... or I would simply run out of the room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;          &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6gZ3Lv09tM4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6gZ3Lv09tM4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-3974219623231559877?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/3974219623231559877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=3974219623231559877&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3974219623231559877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3974219623231559877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-freak-me-out-unsolved.html' title='Things That Freak Me Out: Unsolved Mysteries Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-6381922535325326116</id><published>2008-12-27T20:34:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T22:49:28.237-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='interesting'/><title type='text'>Things That I Find Interesting: Horoscope Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Over the years I have become less and less of a fan of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Cosmopolitan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; magazine, but once again I have managed to accidently prolong my subscription for another couple of years. So, even though I don't really like the magazine, there is one thing that they publish in their January issues that I always look forward to... their "Bedside Astrologer" booklet. This booklet is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Cosmo's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; version of a quickie yearlong horoscope guide. In college my roommates and I used to keep a copy of it on our coffee table at all times, right next to the dream interpretation dictionary... because one never knows when they may need some heavenly guidance. And while you may laugh, these books often proved useful at cheering us up after a bad day. The situation typically went something like this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;We'd come home for lunch (usually with food from the Skellar... which meant something fried, or something oozing with sauce and cheese). We would then plop on the couch and let out a sigh of relief, only to then rant about how "bad" our day had been. At this point one of us would usually jump up, and rather excitedly say "let's read our horoscopes!". Because honestly, when isn't it a mood lifter to think that your destiny might involve meeting the man (or woman) of your dreams by the end of the week, only to be whisked away by them on a romantic dinner, where you will also learn that you have just stumbled into some huge fortune (which you will obviously use to buy all those new clothes you've been coveting). However, a bad horoscope was bound to pop up every now and again. I mean a dream date is great, but losing your friend to a jealous coworker, and then getting blamed for a spoiled group project, not so much. So if this was to happen, we simply went to plan B... the dream dictionary. If horoscopes failed to brighten our mood, then surely discovering the truth behind our dreams would. Because, how can you not get excited to learn that dreaming about flowers actually means that your newest crush might just bloom into a new relationship, if tended to properly (I totally just made that up... but it sounds good right?).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So this morning when I finished glancing over my 2009 horoscope in review (as dictated by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Cosmo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;) in my handy dandy "Bedside Astrologer", I was reminded of a conversation I had a few months ago with a friend of mine. We were standing in a bookstore, and while he was searching for a specific book, I was browsing through a very detailed and quite nice horoscope book. He found what he wanted, glanced at me and said "you don't really believe in those do you... because you know you may not be the sign you think you are?!". Uh, oh! What?!? OK so I don't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; believe that my astrological sign dictates the way I will behave. Also, I certainly don't think that what my horoscope says will really happen to me. AND it does make total sense what my friend was saying, because it is true that the stars are not in exactly the same positions now as they were when the original astrological chart was designed. BUT none of that takes away from the fact that I find horoscopes, and astrology, to be extremely fascinating. I won't go into detail about my intrigue in this subject, due to fear of sounding like a fruit loop, but I will admit that when he said I might not be the sign I thought I was, a little part of me was let down. To me it's sort of cool and mysterious to think that my future could already be predisposed to something, based on the way the stars were alined when I was born. But, NO... now my friend is telling me I may have been "reading" someone else's future this whole time. So as soon as I finished reading my horoscope this morning I quickly did some &lt;a href="http://www.livescience.com/widgets/birthday.html" target="_blank"&gt;research&lt;/a&gt;, and GASP... I am not the sign I thought I was. All my life I believed I was a Taurus... turns out I am supposed to be an Aries. Oh dear... what to do now!?!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-6381922535325326116?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/6381922535325326116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=6381922535325326116&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/6381922535325326116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/6381922535325326116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-i-find-interesting.html' title='Things That I Find Interesting: Horoscope Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-3041832090729250619</id><published>2008-12-25T11:12:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T10:16:06.061-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hawaii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Mele Kalikimaka Edition, Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Merry Christmas (or Mele Kalikimaka as they say in Hawaii!) everyone. I hope you all have a wonderful day surrounded by family and friends... and filled with oodles of love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVOxAVFob6I/AAAAAAAACpY/S3kCnfyZgRc/s1600-h/santadanceshulamkcc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 311px; height: 221px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVOxAVFob6I/AAAAAAAACpY/S3kCnfyZgRc/s400/santadanceshulamkcc.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283761407054606242" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&amp;amp;playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=f40d0bdd58"&gt;&lt;/embed&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/2888150989167491866-3041832090729250619?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/3041832090729250619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=3041832090729250619&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3041832090729250619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3041832090729250619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-happy-mele.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Mele Kalikimaka Edition, Part 2'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVOxAVFob6I/AAAAAAAACpY/S3kCnfyZgRc/s72-c/santadanceshulamkcc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-1008264887878993859</id><published>2008-12-24T14:23:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T10:16:34.680-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hawaii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Mele Kalikimaka Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVKMYsgtohI/AAAAAAAACpQ/QRKk_Kmj5Cg/s1600-h/picnik+jonah%26morgan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVKMYsgtohI/AAAAAAAACpQ/QRKk_Kmj5Cg/s400/picnik+jonah%26morgan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283439668752130578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;December 2005, A Hawaiian Christmas Eve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;(Morgan and Jonah)&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/2888150989167491866-1008264887878993859?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/1008264887878993859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=1008264887878993859&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1008264887878993859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1008264887878993859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Mele Kalikimaka Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVKMYsgtohI/AAAAAAAACpQ/QRKk_Kmj5Cg/s72-c/picnik+jonah%26morgan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-8693193983952221450</id><published>2008-12-24T12:16:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T15:06:26.281-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New England'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confused'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Confused: Kumon Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVJujy7R6XI/AAAAAAAACpI/YkKvNxaC3O4/s1600-h/PC150795.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVJujy7R6XI/AAAAAAAACpI/YkKvNxaC3O4/s320/PC150795.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283406874103900530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Kumon, oh Kumon. What is &lt;a href="http://www.kumon.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Kumon&lt;/a&gt; you ask? For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Kumon world, let me introduce you to the "coolest" way for a kid to learn, and enhance their math and reading skills. Kumon is a learning center based on a method of teaching that was created by some Japanese man who was disheartened by the fact that his son was struggling in school. Apparently Kumon has been around for about fifty years, although I had never heard of it (or seen anything relating to it) until about five years ago, but anyways. They also have bunches of workbooks available, if for some reason your child feels like doing even more work... for fun. I'm not quite sure when the Kumon bug hit (or if it is this popular in other parts of the country), but around where I am from it is all the rage... and thus this is where I start to get confused. In general, as a concept, Kumon makes a lot of sense... and I am pretty sure it probably works too. Kids even get excited to learn, as they are rewarded for every aspect of their progress with stickers, trophies, and prizes. However, around here Kumon is not exactly used to help improve your child's skills, it is really used more as a tool to catapult you into the cool category. If your child is in Kumon you are somehow a parent God, belonging to some strange group of "cool" parents. Parents seem to be jumping on this bandwagon not because their child is having math or reading issues, but because they want their child to be better than their friend's and neighbor's children. Kumon is popular for all the WRONG reasons, and it is like a cult... I kid you not. It starts when you join, and you are immediately welcomed into the club with the above pictured Kumon box (designed to hold all of your daily Kumon work). This box will stay with you for the rest of your Kumon life... or until you reach the much coveted level G (the levels go through the alphabet starting with A, and if you get to G you are on your way to genius-hood) when you will be presented with a blue and silver box so that you can then brag to all your Kumon buddies. As a child in the program you will be forced to do daily pages of work so that you will get the basic ideas of math and reading drilled into your head. You will hate being forced to do extra work on top of your school homework, and in the end you will become resentful of your parents (while I can't prove this I am pretty sure it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;will &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;happen). The thing is, you will then become so good at your math and reading that you will outsmart all the other non-Kumon kids in your class, and then what is your teacher to do when you are in the 5th grade, but you are on highschool level math. Seriously, our school systems can't be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; bad that it would warrant such a big surge in Kumon goers simply because no one is learning how to read and do math. I get it, if you are struggling in these fields, which many are, then Kumon WOULD be a great way to help your child grasp these concepts. But what many need to realize is that by applying to the cultish version of Kumon you are creating a child SO good at their math and reading skills that the child then becomes oddly displaced. The child becomes too advanced to be helped by their teachers (and often times their parents as well) and is so far ahead that they probably aren't getting too much out of their schooling either. Sure, I bet it is pretty exciting to be able to say that you are 10 and doing algebraic expressions, but honestly how much of it are you actually grasping due to the fact that this skill relates to NOTHING in your daily life at home &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;or&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; at school. OK well now that I have gone off on this subject (and could for a lot longer it appears), I seem to have forgotten what my actual point was in blogging about Kumon, so I will simply leave you with an apology... for boring you to death with my ranting (thanks for reading though)! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-8693193983952221450?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/8693193983952221450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=8693193983952221450&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/8693193983952221450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/8693193983952221450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-confused-kumon.html' title='Things That Make Me Confused: Kumon Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SVJujy7R6XI/AAAAAAAACpI/YkKvNxaC3O4/s72-c/PC150795.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-7881252014084410148</id><published>2008-12-21T16:25:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T16:55:09.699-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Fireplace Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;What a great way to stay cozy and warm on a snowy, cold, grey, or dreary day. So sit back and snuggle in. While you're at it why not make s'mores, put on some good music, or watch a movie... just enjoy the peacefulness of it all, and relax.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SU65bUgTOgI/AAAAAAAACpA/a9gvth12ISY/s1600-h/PC210800.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 340px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SU65bUgTOgI/AAAAAAAACpA/a9gvth12ISY/s400/PC210800.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282363291963963906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;I love fires in fireplaces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-7881252014084410148?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/7881252014084410148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=7881252014084410148&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/7881252014084410148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/7881252014084410148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-happy-fireplace.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Fireplace Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SU65bUgTOgI/AAAAAAAACpA/a9gvth12ISY/s72-c/PC210800.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-2644944505270009670</id><published>2008-12-20T19:34:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T11:21:08.615-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hawaii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: Hawaiian Santa Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So there isn't exactly a story that goes with this post... it is really ALL about the picture, but here is a little background information to help set the stage. Three years ago I spent Christmas in Hawaii with the family I was nannying for at the time (the adorable five children I have mentioned in some of my previous posts). Christmas Eve we went to a really nice restaurant for a great dinner, and while we were there eating Santa Claus stopped by for a surprise visit. Morgan, who was about 3 at the time, was totally excited for Christmas. However, she was also very confused and worried as to how Santa would find her in Hawaii, since she wasn't at her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; house. Well at dinner that night Morgan took one look at the Hawaiian Santa and FREAKED out. She proceeded to jump under the table and hide for her dear life, all while crying and screaming at the top of her lungs. Of course being the fabulous nanny that I am, I managed to capture this HYSTERICAL moment... so that I could torture her for years to come!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SU2P6-53X_I/AAAAAAAACo4/LbL5CmCFELc/s1600-h/MorganSanta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SU2P6-53X_I/AAAAAAAACo4/LbL5CmCFELc/s400/MorganSanta.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282036181456347122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;December 2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Of course once Santa left the room Morgan pretended like the whole thing had never happened... and that her hiding was her being SO excited to see Santa!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-2644944505270009670?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/2644944505270009670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=2644944505270009670&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/2644944505270009670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/2644944505270009670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/stories-that-make-me-laugh-hawaiian.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: Hawaiian Santa Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SU2P6-53X_I/AAAAAAAACo4/LbL5CmCFELc/s72-c/MorganSanta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-1423612831300014055</id><published>2008-12-17T22:05:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T08:16:29.758-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Schenectady Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Hmmm... OK, so you may not know it but Schenectady is pretty &lt;a href="http://www.schenectadyparking.com/trivia.php" target="_blank"&gt;cool&lt;/a&gt;. Hehehehe! Yeah... maybe not so much, but one can dream. Anyways, I did spend four years of my life there, thus leaving me to have some sort of connection with the place. Typically my conversations of Schenectady go somewhat like this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);  font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Person: "Oh, and where did (or do - depending on the time frame) you go to college Victoria?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Me: "Um, Union College."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Person, with a look of utter confusion on their face: "Oh, where is that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Me: "Eeeee. Oooooh. Yeah. Schenectady, New York."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Person: "HUH? Where is that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Me: "Upstate New York, near Albany."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Person, pretending to have a clue (or at least feign interest): "Oh." But obviously this person is still confused, and really just focussing on the town's name "Ummm. How do you spell that? And oh wait... how do you say it again?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;It goes something like this S.C.H.E.N.E.C.T.A.D.Y! And it is pronounced like this sken-eck-ta-dee! Give it a try... it's kinda funny actually (but not so much when you must repeat it over and over again because that is where you live!). So anyways, due to the fact that this town has a CRAZY name, and I went to school there, I sort of get excited when I hear it mentioned in something dare I say... famous (well maybe not famous, but something mainstream). I actually sort of feel an odd sense of pride. Not because I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; Schenectady, but more like because I lived there for four years... and lived to tell the tale (and yes... that I am proud of). In reading the list of the cool things "our" town (and by our I mean us amazingly awesome Union peeps) did I discovered that Schenectady has a weird tie to Christmas! Who knew? It turns out the GE plant's zip code is 12345... and I guess many a child (misguided I may add) send their Santa letters to this zip code. Let me tell you wonderful children of the world... Santa most definitely does NOT live in Schenectady New York!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&amp;amp;playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=6766af20a4"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;An example of "our" coolness!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-1423612831300014055?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/1423612831300014055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=1423612831300014055&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1423612831300014055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1423612831300014055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-happy-schenectady.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Schenectady Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-4031188267070708195</id><published>2008-12-15T15:03:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T22:47:40.546-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='annoyed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='games'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Annoyed: Word Game Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Being an only child I usually snatch up any chance I get to play a board game. It may sound weird, but the only reason I didn't like being an only child is that I never had someone (i.e. a sibling) to play board games with me 24/7, and they simply don't make a ton of single player board games. It's not that my parent's didn't play board games with me, because they did, but honestly no grownup wants to play Candy Land ten times in a row (trust me, I've done it... it's not pretty)... especially when they need to be making dinner. So like I said, I typically take up anyone on their offer to play a board game... EXCEPT that is if that game is a word game. I am AWFUL at word games. I much prefer puzzle or logic based games. I am a pretty smart individual (at least I think so), and I have a pretty good vocabulary (I mean it's certainly not in the genius range, but it does show that I had a very good education). The problem is, when I play word games (especially Scrabble... which I pretty much loathe) my brain seems to revert back to that of a first grader's. I suddenly forget what the simplest words mean and how to spell them, thus leaving me to look like a complete idiot. I refuse to play Scrabble with my parents, due to the fact that they always beat me by at least 75 points by making words like qat and zephyr, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; managing to place these on triple word scores. I meanwhile am lucky if I make a word like pillow, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;or&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; manage to place at least one of my letters on a double letter score. Thus as a requirement, I usually need &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;at least&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; one cocktail before I can be convinced to play Scrabble... at ALL... with ANYONE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-4031188267070708195?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/4031188267070708195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=4031188267070708195&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/4031188267070708195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/4031188267070708195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-annoyed-word-game.html' title='Things That Make Me Annoyed: Word Game Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-8701646680713070909</id><published>2008-12-14T22:57:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T12:01:38.671-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Christmas Book Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SUXakp5XRnI/AAAAAAAACoo/0AmCz_4ARrY/s1600-h/sc00424e13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 162px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SUXakp5XRnI/AAAAAAAACoo/0AmCz_4ARrY/s200/sc00424e13.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279866461418374770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;In keeping with the Christmas theme, since it is that time of the year, I decided that I would share my favorite Christmas book. After much googling last night in an attempt to find a link or a summary or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; about this book to share in this post, the only thing that I discovered, much to my sadness, is that this book seems to no longer be in print, and it is now sort of a "collectible". It's too bad they don't publish it anymore, as it's a really cute book. It's a very simple story about a lady named Maud, who lives on Beacon Hill in Boston, with her two dogs and her cat. Maud LOVES Christmas time because she gets to spend it cooking, decorating her tree, shopping at Filene's Basement, and attending fancy events at the Museum of Fine Arts. Maud also LOVES to make lists, and even though she saves everything until the last minute, she always has a great time whatever she is doing. The thing that I always loved about this book though is the illustrations. They alternate between black and white (with red accents) and bold and colorful pictures. The illustrations are a bit wonky, but in a cutesy "it's like a child drew them" sort of way. There are also tons of funny little details, and lots of characters to check out, and every time you read the book you are sure to notice something new. Every Christmas I still love to read this book, even though my copy is now old and worn... with a cover that has been lovingly taped back together (no doubt by my mother, who also kindly penned in my name on the front cover, for fear of it getting lost on the occasions that I brought it in for show and tell at school).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SUXYBFPXVjI/AAAAAAAACoY/Xc7oDSzGRFQ/s1600-h/storyboard.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SUXYBFPXVjI/AAAAAAAACoY/Xc7oDSzGRFQ/s1600-h/storyboard.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 343px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SUXYBFPXVjI/AAAAAAAACoY/Xc7oDSzGRFQ/s400/storyboard.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279863651259864626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;A sampling of illustrations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 26, 139); text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-8701646680713070909?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/8701646680713070909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=8701646680713070909&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/8701646680713070909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/8701646680713070909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-happy-christmas_2251.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Christmas Book Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SUXakp5XRnI/AAAAAAAACoo/0AmCz_4ARrY/s72-c/sc00424e13.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-3954712361857345046</id><published>2008-12-13T23:53:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T10:19:01.685-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Disney Christmas Special Edition, Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;OK, so I just realized that the version of the Disney Christmas special that I found on YouTube (and that I posted for your viewing pleasure earlier) is missing a couple of very good scenes. I have these scenes on my old childhood version, and they are just too good to not share... so here they are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dOvbsj2ytf0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dOvbsj2ytf0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QdbpkDmCY8k&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QdbpkDmCY8k&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); "&gt;And my personal favorite is the Donald Duck clip below!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oEK55X8XLUE&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oEK55X8XLUE&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&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/2888150989167491866-3954712361857345046?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/3954712361857345046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=3954712361857345046&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3954712361857345046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3954712361857345046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-happy-disney_13.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Disney Christmas Special Edition, Part 2'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-3627983542415181223</id><published>2008-12-13T22:47:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T23:10:18.907-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Disney Christmas Special Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;I have been on a YouTube kick these past few days, and I just discovered one of my favorite Christmas videos on there. When I was little I used to have this Disney Christmas special on a VHS that my mom had recorded for me (back when this was some new and cool technology, and it was like a miracle to be able to tape your favorite things off of your TV). Every year I would watch this movie come the holidays. Over the years though the tape quality got worse and worse, and eventually it was packed up, and sent to be buried under piles of boxes in our attic. Since I haven't seen this movie in several years, I was just a little too excited to find it on YouTube. So once again I have modern technology to thank for allowing me to enjoy this classic Christmas special... and now you can enjoy it too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6CUFn2uh0G4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6CUFn2uh0G4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Sk2AI0zPr3w&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Sk2AI0zPr3w&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/llqMDnYXtFM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/llqMDnYXtFM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sKGQe5Z9wiY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sKGQe5Z9wiY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AojPgDJ1gCo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AojPgDJ1gCo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-3627983542415181223?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/3627983542415181223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=3627983542415181223&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3627983542415181223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3627983542415181223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-happy-disney.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Disney Christmas Special Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-1642558634926570392</id><published>2008-12-12T12:27:00.024-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T00:10:08.262-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tv'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Old School TV Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;So this morning I went to my favorite &lt;a href="http://www.marylous.com/" target="_blank"&gt;coffee place&lt;/a&gt; to grab an iced coffee, and well... all the employees were dressed up as fictional characters (yes weird, but they often randomly get dressed up in various assorted garb). Anyways... my favorite coffee server was dressed up as Brad from Hey Dude... which then led us to reminisce about all the great old school television shows that we used to watch growing up (Nickelodeon had some of the best, if I do say so myself).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-82257f275c1cdc57" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D82257f275c1cdc57%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331170956%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6861C485CB9DEF8C80F34F20F30243A7835F4EB.1D6DE92C653F8A94D3FFD8B938624E539891385D%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D82257f275c1cdc57%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DWsEuMDMGUQZl9Q7K3Nw2ewMFjO4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D82257f275c1cdc57%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331170956%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6861C485CB9DEF8C80F34F20F30243A7835F4EB.1D6DE92C653F8A94D3FFD8B938624E539891385D%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D82257f275c1cdc57%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DWsEuMDMGUQZl9Q7K3Nw2ewMFjO4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;So of course Hey Dude led us to remember this other fine gem of a show.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-1c2d8be7d820d258" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D1c2d8be7d820d258%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331170956%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D59C0CC8DA1BD40A66E1CBD088DA7F4F91013E2B0.64CBA786B2A1BBF3670341D014A2688DB1BC78EA%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1c2d8be7d820d258%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DmTGyxkgLR4BNO0AS2NhDd2EMOD8&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D1c2d8be7d820d258%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331170956%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D59C0CC8DA1BD40A66E1CBD088DA7F4F91013E2B0.64CBA786B2A1BBF3670341D014A2688DB1BC78EA%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1c2d8be7d820d258%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DmTGyxkgLR4BNO0AS2NhDd2EMOD8&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Then, once I got home, all of the reminiscing made me think of some of my other old Nickelodeon favorites.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-S8cs8_8XHQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-S8cs8_8XHQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NcqSfAHvuAo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NcqSfAHvuAo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BBT7AmVypp8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BBT7AmVypp8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);  font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Thanks to &lt;a href="http://www.retrojunk.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Retro Junk&lt;/a&gt;... for indulging me in my little trip down memory lane!&lt;/span&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/2888150989167491866-1642558634926570392?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=1c2d8be7d820d258&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=67f6f583e35d88ef&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=82257f275c1cdc57&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=c14abe2c549abc53&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/1642558634926570392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=1642558634926570392&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1642558634926570392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1642558634926570392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-happy-old-school-tv.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Old School TV Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-3848197642604227827</id><published>2008-12-09T20:51:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T23:53:53.720-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fraternity'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: Frat-Feet Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So I had originally had another idea in mind for today's post, as the kiddies get out at 12:15 today and I had been planning on blogging about my annoyance at the school half day, and how it really interferes with one's schedule... BUT THEN... I got inspired by something else. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);  font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;In blog commenting with &lt;a href="http://www.fallingmolly.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Molly&lt;/a&gt; this morning we reminisced over one very specific aspect of our college experience... that of frat-feet. I'm not too sure that a "real" word exists for this condition, but I will be sure to explain in great detail what we mean by this phrase. So at our school the social scene was primarily attending a fraternity party. When attending said fraternity party it was important to choose your shoes wisely. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;High heels were never a good choice as you tended to look a bit silly and out of place, and everyone usually stared at you with the "Oh my God I can't believe she wore &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;those... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;HERE" sort of look. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Shoes of any real monetary value (or sentimental value for that matter) were also never a good choice, as they were sure to get tromped on and wind up caked in layers of mud and beer sludge. This would then leave them with a slightly dingy, sticky, and yet shiny glean. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Sneakers were usually fine, unless a cup of beer got spilled on your foot, which was a strong possibility. If that was to happen then you were left with a slight smush in your step when you walked, and a sopping wet sock for the rest of the night... not to mention a shoe that then reeked of beer for the next few weeks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So the usual choice, and by far the BEST choice, was the flip flop. Flip flops were a great choice for a party because they are simple and go with everything, not too mention they are comfortable, so you can dance the whole night long. But the best thing about them is that you can very easily clean them (or replace them), and they look pretty close to new again, and this is something that you can't really do with any other type of shoe once a fraternity party has had its way with them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;However, there was one BIG drawback to the flip flop... frat-feet. By the end of the night one's feet were always COMPLETELY DISGUSTING! So much so that when you took your flip flops off it basically looked as though you were still wearing them... just now in a nice flesh color. And the thing is you never really knew exactly what this mixture of "stuff" was on your feet, nor did you want to even attempt a guess. You knew your feet were filthy, and covered in beer sludge, and literally black, but you never truly wanted to know just how horrifically gross they really were, because if you actually thought about what might &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; be on them it would probably make you want to throw up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So every night you would simply walk back to your dorm... choosing to ignore your frat-feet and pretend they didn't exist, and crawl into your bed. Maybe you would wash your feet, usually not, although the thought would always cross your mind, but it would always seem like such a BIG effort. Sometimes on a rare occasion though you may actually decide to take the effort to wash off your horrible frat-feet. Problem is though that lots of times it wouldn't always go so well, because let's just say beer + small tiny sink (or shower, but that is way worse) + water + slippery soap = HUGE wet dirty MESS! So like I said lots of times you would just go to bed, placing your horrible frat-feet on your "clean" sheets. When waking up the next morning... in a slightly different state of mind... you would then think to yourself "AHHHHH GROSS. I can't believe I went to bed without washing my feet!" However, you would then go out that night and do it all over again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So with this pattern of yucky frat-feet, and crawling into bed with them unwashed, one might think it would make you want to wash your sheets more often. Because let's face it they are really not all that clean once you've put your frat-feet on them (because even though you don't want to imagine what is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; on your feet, you do know that you have now just transfered some of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; onto your bed... oh yuck!). But... we were college students, and let's face it laundry was a pretty low priority on the to do list. And when laundry was done quarters were precious, and clothes came first... especially the jeans and tank top you wanted to wear to said fraternity party... so obviously sheets came last... if at all. Once again... YUCK! But totally true... and we all did it too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So this got me to thinking, and now I am totally wanting to go scrounge the blogosphere to see if I can find any other people's ridiculous stories about frat-feet... because surely Molly and I couldn't have gone to the only &lt;a href="http://www.union.edu/" target="_blank"&gt;school&lt;/a&gt; were frat-feet were an issue.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-3848197642604227827?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/3848197642604227827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=3848197642604227827&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3848197642604227827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3848197642604227827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/stories-that-make-me-laugh-frat-feet.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: Frat-Feet Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-2478582297562306233</id><published>2008-12-08T21:02:00.015-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T11:41:30.966-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='confused'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fraternity'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Confused: Fat Joe Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Lately several of my local radio stations have decided to play this song on heavy rotation, thus leaving me slightly confused.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;         &lt;embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&amp;amp;playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=f7af08bf3b"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);  font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;I don't really mind too much the fact that this song has suddenly reemerged on the radio because, although I am totally embarrassed to admit it, I actually enjoy this song (I am pretty sure I even have it on a mix CD somewhere). However, this song is just not popular anymore, in fact I think it is about 5 or 6 years old at this point. So I am just really confused why all of a sudden this one random song is being played ALL the time. Did I miss the memo that said this song is the new "it" song all over again. I mean I am sure there are some people out there who have never heard it before and when they do they think "oh this is a fun new song!", but for me I hear it and think this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/ST3SrPHj-SI/AAAAAAAAChM/msAIE2JzUjI/s1600-h/Chi+Psi+dancing.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 400px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/ST3SrPHj-SI/AAAAAAAAChM/msAIE2JzUjI/s400/Chi+Psi+dancing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277605978582546722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;2000&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);  font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Far too many lonnnnngg nights at Chi Psi... dancing... like an idiot (as pictured above!). And oddly many of these nights ending with me walking home in my wonderful friend's (and housemate at the time) shoes, because after all night dancing she just couldn't bear to walk back to our house in her high heels. Since I would usually wear sensible shoes like flip flops, it just somehow always seemed like a "great" idea to trade shoes with her in order to get us home. Let me also just mention the fact that her shoes were only about three sizes too small for me. Yet at the time it really did seem like the best thing to do. Yes... sometimes I am a genius! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-2478582297562306233?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/2478582297562306233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=2478582297562306233&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/2478582297562306233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/2478582297562306233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-confused-fat-joe_08.html' title='Things That Make Me Confused: Fat Joe Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/ST3SrPHj-SI/AAAAAAAAChM/msAIE2JzUjI/s72-c/Chi+Psi+dancing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-1772036733264089383</id><published>2008-12-07T18:18:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T14:52:16.698-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Everclear Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/STxZ-2Hop9I/AAAAAAAACgU/AlfTT4QUnEA/s1600-h/vic,lpac.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/STxZ-2Hop9I/AAAAAAAACgU/AlfTT4QUnEA/s400/vic,lpac.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277191799585679314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;2000&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;As I mentioned before, my college freshman year roommate Lindsay and I had very dissimilar tastes... especially when it came to music. She preferred the alternative rock genre while I was drawn to basically anything that could be heard on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Dawson's Creek&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;. So needless to say this difference made for some very uncomfortable moments in our room when one of us insisted upon listening to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; music without headphones. However, there was always one thing that could quickly remedy this problem. What was this thing you ask? Ahhh, it was none other then our, yes I repeat OUR, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Everclear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; CD. This particular CD, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So Much for the Afterglow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;, was the ONLY music that we both loved, and would agree upon happily listening to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;together&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;... without headphones. The only argument that would then arise after our decision to play this CD was made, was whose copy we would use. So much of our freshman year was spent listening to this CD on repeat, because many times we just couldn't be bothered to attempt to do our homework, clean the room, and talk to each other all with a pair of headphones on. Our mutual love of this CD didn't end at freshman year though... instead it came around full circle, and capped off our senior year as well, in some bizarre twist of fate when Everclear actually came to play at our school's Springfest. While I'm pretty sure the rest of the campus was a little disappointed in the fact that this was who was headlining Springfest (as Everclear wasn't exactly popular anymore at this point), but... Lindsay and I basically felt like we had just died and gone to heaven. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;                        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&amp;amp;playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=8d50d7e8c5"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;For your listening pleasure... a song off of that fabulous CD!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-1772036733264089383?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/1772036733264089383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=1772036733264089383&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1772036733264089383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1772036733264089383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-happy-everclear.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Everclear Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/STxZ-2Hop9I/AAAAAAAACgU/AlfTT4QUnEA/s72-c/vic,lpac.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-5030734037594025583</id><published>2008-12-04T15:06:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T23:34:19.339-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='annoyed'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Annoyed: Rolling Backpack Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;I like rolling suitcases, I also really like backpacks. However, all I have to say is that the person who decided to combine these two ideas has obviously never been around children, which is odd since the target audience of the rolling backpack &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; children. It seems like a sensible invention... until you add the child that is. For starters, I strongly believe that a backpack should not be three times the size of the child carrying it, and the rolling backpack (no matter who the manufacturer is) is always gigantic. Secondly, I also believe that at least until you get to highschool your backpack should never be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; heavy that it requires wheels to transport it from point A to point B. Thirdly, since the majority of the children using these rolling backpacks are under the age of 12, the "drivers" of these bags are sure to be self absorbed and not at all aware of the general public, and the personal space that these individuals need. And lastly, I just don't understand why the inventor of the rolling backpack didn't realize that when the backpack was being rolled that the handle would &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;obviously&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; become a weapon of some sort, like a sword or a bat... thus allowing the child to cause even more chaos with the already annoying backpack. So with all of that said, I warn you to always watch out for the rolling backpack trailing behind a child, because you never know when you will get whacked with it... or get your toes run over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-5030734037594025583?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/5030734037594025583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=5030734037594025583&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5030734037594025583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5030734037594025583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-annoyed-rolling.html' title='Things That Make Me Annoyed: Rolling Backpack Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-2536124704803624618</id><published>2008-12-02T13:00:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T14:51:22.572-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Feel Old: Dentist Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;I don't consider myself to be old. However, there are sometimes moments in my life that happen when I am forced to reference something from my childhood, thus making it seem as though this was a lifetime ago. This morning was one of those times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;I was taking the oldest of the three kids that I take care of to the dentist's office for an orthodontist appointment, and as we near the entrance she looks at me shocked and says: "Oh, you knew this is where it was."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me, thinking that she was amazed by my skills in directions (which I actually completely lack) and impressed that I didn't need her to tell me where the dentist was, replied: "Yup... this is the same place where I used to come to get my teeth cleaned when I was a kid."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Amazed she looked at me and replied: "Oh... this place has been around THAT long!" And then she went into denial over the fact that this is how I knew the way to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt; dentist. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;I looked at her and said: "What do you mean this place has been around for THAT long? You make it seem like I am ANCIENT!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Her response... a devilish smirk and then laughter. Gee thanks... I am NOT that old!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-2536124704803624618?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/2536124704803624618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=2536124704803624618&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/2536124704803624618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/2536124704803624618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-make-me-feel-old-dentist.html' title='Things That Make Me Feel Old: Dentist Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-5421455301268408483</id><published>2008-12-01T15:10:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T11:06:47.839-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='website'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='interesting'/><title type='text'>Things That I Find Interesting: FOUND Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/STREu4LEs7I/AAAAAAAACgM/bUEhoZG701M/s1600-h/toughbounce.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 346px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/STREu4LEs7I/AAAAAAAACgM/bUEhoZG701M/s400/toughbounce.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274916635701195698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.foundmagazine.com/comments/732" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Tough Bounce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;My mom recently introduced me to the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;FOUND&lt;/span&gt; magazine &lt;a href="http://www.foundmagazine.com/" target="_blank"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;, and now I am addicted. The website in and of itself is a very simple concept, it is simply a collection of stuff (usually drawings, photographs, and notes) found by people in random places. The content of the found stuff ranges from sweet and charming to humorous and ridiculous. What truly makes this website amazing though is all of the comments that people leave behind, it is almost as if the objects take on a whole new life than that originally intended by their creators. The above picture is my absolute favorite from the site. As a wannabe graphic designer I am amazed at the pure emotion portrayed in this very simple illustration. You may not view the picture the same way I do (as there are several different ways it could be interpreted), but the truly unique thing is that no matter how &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; view it, this is a picture that causes a reaction... and it gives you something that you can identify with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/2888150989167491866-5421455301268408483?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/5421455301268408483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=5421455301268408483&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5421455301268408483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5421455301268408483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/12/things-that-i-find-interesting-found.html' title='Things That I Find Interesting: FOUND Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/STREu4LEs7I/AAAAAAAACgM/bUEhoZG701M/s72-c/toughbounce.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-8900759326439023991</id><published>2008-11-25T19:48:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T22:24:43.901-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: Turkey Trot Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSyc8oHgjSI/AAAAAAAACf8/ykkZ7UrB870/s1600-h/PA290492.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;In honor of Thanksgiving I thought I would share a funny memory of this little one below (Cobas). The story doesn't have too much to do with Thanksgiving other then the fact that it took place around this time last year. Cobas was 3 at the time, and we were at his town's annual Turkey Trot (along with his four other siblings). It was freezing out, and far too early in the morning for me to be braving this situation, but what can you do. We bundled up and headed over to the school where the Turkey Trot was being held. I attempted to keep these five super excited (and extremely friendly) children corralled in one general location while I assessed the situation, and got them all registered to run in the Turkey Trot. It was pure chaos everywhere, and the kids kept dashing off on me, or asking me fifty million questions. I simply had my eyes set on the hot chocolate (although I was wishing it was coffee at this point), and the breakfast snacks on the table... all the while wishing this whole event would be over soon. So we are taking it all in, attempting to keep as warm as possible, and waiting our turns. However, something is really bothering Cobas, and he keeps tugging on me. And this is why:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSyc8oHgjSI/AAAAAAAACf8/ykkZ7UrB870/s1600-h/PA290492.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSyc8oHgjSI/AAAAAAAACf8/ykkZ7UrB870/s320/PA290492.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272761829119003938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;October 2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Cobas, pulling on my pant leg: "Tia, Tia (his nickname for me)."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "Yes Little One (my nickname for him)." Cobas just stares at me and then stares at the snack table.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Cobas, still pulling on my pant leg: "Tia!" Then he whispers something that none of us can hear, let alone understand. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "Huh? I can't hear you cutie."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Cobas: "Oh." Then he looks at me with this little innocent smile and whispers something again. Again we can't hear him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me, bending down this time so I am at his level, and can hopefully at least read his lips if he decides to whisper again: "What is it Little One?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Cobas, as he points to the snack table and smiles: "Tia?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "Oh! Would you like a snack? Are you hungry?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Cobas, all excited that I have finally understood what he is talking about: "Yeah!" So the two of us head over to the snack table where Cobas' smile suddenly turns into a look of shear panic. Once again he tugs my pant leg, and then he pulls me down to whisper in my ear. "Tia? Where are they? Will you ask the girl if they are all gone?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me, totally clueless as to what he saw on the table before, that apparently is now gone, and causing him panic: "Cobas, what are you looking for?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Cobas, just looks at me like "Duh, Tia. How could you not know what I am looking for." and then he yells: "THE SHRIMPIES!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me, finally discovering what it was he was looking at on the table: "Cobas... those aren't shrimp, they're doughnuts, and there are plenty. Would you like one?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Cobas, completely let down: "OH... no." And then he walks away from the snack table with no shrimp... and no doughnuts... and all the while I am hysterically laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Yup... I am pretty sure he is the only 3 year old who would mistake doughnuts for shrimp cocktail... and then be terribly sad about his lack of shrimpies!&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/2888150989167491866-8900759326439023991?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/8900759326439023991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=8900759326439023991&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/8900759326439023991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/8900759326439023991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/stories-that-make-me-laugh-turkey-trot.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: Turkey Trot Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSyc8oHgjSI/AAAAAAAACf8/ykkZ7UrB870/s72-c/PA290492.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-5824006947882207601</id><published>2008-11-24T15:12:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T17:58:45.055-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='magazine'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Paste Magazine Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;A couple of years ago my dear friend Jenna introduced me to an &lt;a href="http://www.pastemagazine.com/" target="_blank"&gt;amazing magazine&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;. I have since become a subscriber to this magazine (&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Paste&lt;/span&gt;), and every month I am like a little kid at Christmas time waiting for its arrival. You see not only is it a great magazine filled with lots of cool stuff BUT it also comes with a mix CD. I am only slightly obsessed with mix CD's (but I will save that for another post), so I am always eager to tear open the package and see what &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Paste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; has in store for my little ears. They never fail to put together an interesting mix of music, some of it is great, some of it not so much. Either way though it is music that I would have probably never come across on my own, and so I am always happy for the new discoveries. So, if you are a big music fan, I strongly suggest that you go check out &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Paste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;... I doubt that you'll regret it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-5824006947882207601?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/5824006947882207601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=5824006947882207601&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5824006947882207601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5824006947882207601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-happy-paste.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Paste Magazine Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-1737777189566353489</id><published>2008-11-23T20:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T21:01:50.099-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beer'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Brewery Tour Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;I like beer. I like my friends (but this one goes without saying). I like doing things that make me more "knowledgeable". I like that the most perfect combination of these three things is... a brewery tour! I've gone on a couple this year, and I must say it is one of the best ways to spend a day. What is better then spending some nice relaxing time with a friend, going on a random adventure, learning something new, and getting to drink beer at the end of it all. Also breweries offer up a fascinating array of people to satisfy your people watching desires. There is the cute adorable chubby little baby who can't stop smiling at you and your friend. There is the group of beer geeks who ask way too many questions (many of which go unanswered because they are out of the realm of the tour guide's "scripted" material). And then there is the group of underage kids, who make a big scene and don't understand why the tour guide won't serve them a beverage when they not only fail to present an ID, but also claim that beers like Natty Light are God's gift to human kind. So, if you are looking for some random fun... may I suggest to you a brewery tour!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-1737777189566353489?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/1737777189566353489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=1737777189566353489&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1737777189566353489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1737777189566353489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-happy-brewery-tour.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Brewery Tour Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-4071484871351882431</id><published>2008-11-22T15:36:00.020-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T14:56:26.796-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='annoyed'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Annoyed: ID Picture Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Why is it that ID pictures happen to be some of the most horrible things out there! The whole idea of getting a new ID of some sort is enough to put me into a state of dread. First it starts with the nuisance of having to wait in line to get your picture taken, and fill out the appropriate paperwork. Then it evolves into dissatisfaction when you see your picture, because obviously there will be something wrong with it, and it's not like you really get a chance to do it over. Then there is the ultimate sigh of horror when you get your ID, and see the end product, because then you realize you are now stuck with this thing for at least a good 4-10 years. So in honor of the dreaded ID picture here is a sampling of some of my horrors from over the years, and feel free to laugh... I know I always do!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmwMkpqjKI/AAAAAAAACfo/gpmOG1Z9DWs/s200/sc0002a4de02.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271938568857226402" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 176px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmsbjxWKGI/AAAAAAAACfc/HhMfK1zbYV0/s200/sc0001e7c404.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271934428272535650" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 155px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmsbiQaSsI/AAAAAAAACfU/b3hbt_1Yo7s/s200/sc0002a4de.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271934427865959106" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmsTEWtj5I/AAAAAAAACfE/0oKx35WUr6M/s200/sc0001e7c403.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271934282400370578" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmsSXOAd2I/AAAAAAAACes/mX6vngnbi3I/s200/sc0001e7c4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271934270284265314" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 153px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmsRXaiZdI/AAAAAAAACek/6jQ0SIfkRdk/s200/sc0001d7f0.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271934253156951506" /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmsSXOAd2I/AAAAAAAACes/mX6vngnbi3I/s1600-h/sc0001e7c4.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 166px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmsSwTvIAI/AAAAAAAACe0/Q0npHs8ux1c/s200/sc0001e7c401.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271934277019181058" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmzFRQkAGI/AAAAAAAACf0/KhGSlHUFmhs/s200/sc0001e7c402.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271941741927465058" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-4071484871351882431?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/4071484871351882431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=4071484871351882431&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/4071484871351882431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/4071484871351882431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-annoyed-id-picture.html' title='Things That Make Me Annoyed: ID Picture Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSmwMkpqjKI/AAAAAAAACfo/gpmOG1Z9DWs/s72-c/sc0002a4de02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-8592497279768122740</id><published>2008-11-21T18:29:00.015-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T21:20:29.547-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='highschool'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: "Car Accident" Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;An old &lt;a href="http://mjxmj.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;friend&lt;/a&gt; of mine sent me a message on Facebook the other day in which she reminded me of this guy that we went to highschool with. I laughed after reading her message, and then immediately thought of this story. But first let me give you a little background info on this guy that we went to highschool with. He was quite the character, and one of those kids that everyone knew. He wasn't exactly well known though because he was super nice or really talented at something... no he was well known because he had a "unique" sense of style. I say "unique" because his style revolved around one specific article of clothing, his shoes. He LOVED these shoes, the rest of our school HATED these shoes. They were a pair of old Birkenstock clogs, which really doesn't seem all that bad, except for the fact that they had holes in the top and his toes would stick out. But everyday it was always all about these shoes with him (it was actually a tad ridiculous his love affair with these shoes). I remember he had a hard time choosing his senior picture because of his shoes. He really liked the far away full body shot, but he was bummed because the true "essence" of the shoes had not been captured (and by that I mean that you could vaguely see the shoes in the picture, but since it was so far away you couldn't see his toes... and yes I am totally serious). He also used to want to be Dawson from Dawson's Creek. This isn't soooooo bad due to the fact that this was back in the day when Dawson's Creek had just begun, and was all the rage, and well who didn't want to be Dawson (or Pacey, Joey, or Jen). However, he would actually pretend he was Dawson. He had a name for his version of the show, and he would give us weekly updates on how it would play out. Odd, but true... and for some reason we all went along with this (and his many other idiosyncrasies). So needless to say this kid was quite the interesting one! However, he also wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier, which brings me to my story. Our junior year we had a first period class together. It was geometry, and he would always sit diagonally one seat behind me (that way he could attempt to cheat off of me). This didn't exactly bother me due to the fact that I was on to his scheme... oh, that and the fact that he would blatantly ask me if he could cheat off of my tests (he wasn't exactly Mr. Sly). So anyways, one day I am sitting at my desk and he comes tearing into our classroom, a little on the late side, and we have the following interaction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);  font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;He makes a bit of a scene and looks at me: "Vic, Vic, are you alright?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Surprised, and quite confused, I sort of just blankly stare at him and respond: "Ummm, yeah. Why?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;He then says: "Weren't you just in a car accident?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "Ummm. No."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Him: "Are you sure?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me, still totally confused: "Yeah, I'm sure."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Him: "But I just drove through five corners (this insanely awful intersection near our school) and I saw your car... smashed and on fire!".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "Oh, but it wasn't me. I've been here this whole time."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Him: "But it was YOUR car. Are YOU sure you're OK."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me (and by now I am really wanting to start laughing like crazy, but I am nice, and so I am holding it in so as not to make him feel even more ridiculous then he is already being): "I am positive. I am OK, and it really wasn't MY car, but thanks for the concern."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Him: "But it looked like YOUR car. Are YOU SURE it WASN'T?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "Yup, I'm sure." And then I thought this to myself: "Ummm, yeah. OK I get it buddy. It LOOKED like my car, but it WASN'T MY CAR!" Apparently though this was a bit of a lost cause, as he just really wasn't getting it, and so we continued to go on for just a little bit longer with more of the same back and forth as above. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;So I really was not in a car accident that day. The car he saw may have looked like mine, but it wasn't, and for some reason he just could not wrap his head around this fact. So during the rest of class he just sort of looked at me like I had just survived some horrific event, and it was a miracle that I was sitting here at my desk... unharmed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-8592497279768122740?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/8592497279768122740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=8592497279768122740&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/8592497279768122740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/8592497279768122740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/stories-that-make-me-laugh-car-accident.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: &quot;Car Accident&quot; Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-182586128991054912</id><published>2008-11-20T15:45:00.034-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T08:34:39.832-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='annoyed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Annoyed: Bad Day Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Today is just not my day! I don't understand why when you are having a bad day EVERYTHING seems to go wrong. When I have a bad day it is not usually one huge awful thing that happens to me, but is instead usually a collection of tiny mishaps (one after the other) that lead to an overall feeling of frustration. On days like these all of the most random things seem to go wrong, and no matter how hard I try I just can't seem to get anything right. So with that said, I thought I would leave you with this song for your listening pleasure, because &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;oe Purdy's&lt;/span&gt; singing makes having a bad day actually... tolerable!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;             &lt;/span&gt;         &lt;embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&amp;amp;playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=475513b1c9"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;On a side note... I would have left you with the song &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bad Day&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;Daniel Powter&lt;/span&gt; but that just seems like such an obvious choice. Oh... and one of the kids I used to take care of (Morgan - featured in my post about &lt;a href="http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-happy-curtis-stone.html" target="_blank"&gt;Curtis Stone&lt;/a&gt;) was obsessed with that song. She would sing it for us over and over at the top of her lungs. So after listening to that song pretty much on repeat for a good three months I sort of despise it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-182586128991054912?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/182586128991054912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=182586128991054912&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/182586128991054912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/182586128991054912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-annoyed-bad-day.html' title='Things That Make Me Annoyed: Bad Day Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-2992021838427170447</id><published>2008-11-19T20:20:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T20:14:24.202-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: College Roommate Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSS8Zc9EPFI/AAAAAAAACXY/xI1AUnMoQpI/s1600-h/n518353355_375048_2223.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSS8Zc9EPFI/AAAAAAAACXY/xI1AUnMoQpI/s320/n518353355_375048_2223.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270544609385397330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;2000&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;I went to Union College. A small liberal arts college that can be found in the oh so wonderful town of... Schenectady, New York! While there I managed to learn many interesting things and meet many fabulous people. I also managed to have a pretty amazing time while I was at it! It was a HUGE transition for me at first, but luckily I had the pretty awesome girl pictured above (my freshman year roommate Lindsay) by my side. As freshman we were pretty clueless, and obviously new to the whole "college scene", none the less we managed to get ourselves into plenty of crazy hijinks. As roomies we had a pretty special bond. She was the hockey playing, mechanical engineering, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;Creed&lt;/span&gt; listening, Mexican blanket loving sidekick to my sometimes too girly for Lindsay to handle, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;Enya&lt;/span&gt; listening, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Titanic&lt;/span&gt; watching, free spirited self (if that makes any sense at all!). Basically we were pretty much polar opposites. However, we got along incredibly well, and our living situation couldn't have been happier. Even though we drove each other crazy, we also had the best times together, and made some of the most amazing memories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;And to think, I never would have met Miss Lindsay had it not been for the wonderful people at Res Life (please insert sarcasm here)! You see, before we started college we had to fill out this little questionnaire about our living styles. According to Union we were placed with our freshman year roommate by a computer. The choices were made purely by chance, but dictated by the answers we had given on our questionnaires (and as I said before Lindsay and I were polar opposites, so I am not quite sure how we matched up on our living styles, but whatever!). So, I am just wondering... if Lindsay and I were put together by pure chance, why is it that my wonderful roomie and I happen to look so much like the two adorable little girls pictured below!?!   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSS8ZVyVyGI/AAAAAAAACXQ/5vfKxVf_JNE/s1600-h/littleviclinds.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 320px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSS8ZVyVyGI/AAAAAAAACXQ/5vfKxVf_JNE/s320/littleviclinds.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270544607461361762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;1988&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Oh right... because we are those two adorable little girls! Go figure! I wind up at this small college that half of the world has never heard of and I am "randomly" placed with one of my childhood friends... who also happens to be from the same town as me! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-2992021838427170447?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/2992021838427170447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=2992021838427170447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/2992021838427170447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/2992021838427170447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/stories-that-make-me-laugh-college_19.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: College Roommate Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSS8Zc9EPFI/AAAAAAAACXY/xI1AUnMoQpI/s72-c/n518353355_375048_2223.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-9106480955761119318</id><published>2008-11-17T15:07:00.020-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T08:47:18.890-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cooking'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Curtis Stone Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSHPfaFyxlI/AAAAAAAACWA/o4gu5z_yQpQ/s1600-h/chef_image4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSHPfaFyxlI/AAAAAAAACWA/o4gu5z_yQpQ/s200/chef_image4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269721177486706258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Curtis Stone is my boyfriend. HA! OK, well obviously he is not my boyfriend, but a girl can dream. Right? For those of you who are not familiar with the dashing man pictured above, please let me be the first to introduce you to Curtis Stone. He is quite adorable, funny, talks with an Australian accent, and he cooks. He is also the host of TLC's show &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Take Home Chef&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;. About two years ago TLC added this great show to their daily afternoon lineup, and at the time I was nannying for a family with 5 kids. Needless to say life taking care of 5 kids is quite chaotic, so Curtis always added a nice little perk to the dinner making hour. Around this time I had quietly, and successfully, converted all five of these adorable children into little TLC (my favorite channel) followers. It was also around this time that the second youngest (Morgan, who was about 4 at the time) had decided that she had about four boyfriends. Day after day we would have to hear about all of her many boyfriends. There was the older boy who lived down the street, the little boy from her preschool class, Harry Potter, and then last but not least (and our personal favorite) Vin Diesel. So after having to hear about one of these boyfriends practically every time she opened her mouth (and she is a talker) I had had enough. I decided I was going to poke fun of her a little, and thus that is how Curtis Stone became my boyfriend. I loudly announced while making them dinner one day, and watching &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Take Home Chef,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt; that Curtis Stone would now be my new boyfriend. All five off them laughed at me, with the older three getting even more of a chuckle because they knew I had said it as a way of playing around with Morgan. So all of us (me, and the five kids) kept this running joke going on for quite some time, and one day we had the following little "moment".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;I was down in their kitchen, being a fabulous multi-tasker while making them dinner. I was helping the second oldest (Maiah) with her homework, emptying the dishwasher, and doing the laundry, all while drooling over Curtis Stone on the TV. Maiah happened to glance up and notice the TV: "Hey Vic, it's your boyfriend!" I nod, and smile, and say: "I know!" I then run upstairs to quickly switch over the laundry. As I am getting to the top of the stairs I hear the oldest (Madison) call from her bedroom on the next floor up: "Victoria! Your boyfriend is on!" I reply: "I know. Thank you. Maiah and I were watching it in the kitchen." Then I remember that Madison is supposed to be cleaning her room, so I quickly get on her on how she shouldn't be watching TV and she should be cleaning her room instead. Blah, blah, blah. So I turn the corner to get to the laundry room and find the middle child (Jonah) watching TV in the room across the hall. He nods hello and says to me: "Batoria your boyfriend is on!" Once again I reply: "I know, thank you!" I go into the laundry room only to hear Morgan screaming my name throughout the house. I come out of the room thinking, oh dear what now. I see the littlest (Cobas) has decided to join Jonah in front of the TV. Cobas looks at me and smiles, then says: "Tia (his nickname for me) boyfriend!" I giggle and go to hunt down Morgan. I find her and ask her what is wrong and why is she screaming my name at the top of her lungs. She replies: "Oh... I just wanted to let you know that your boyfriend is on TV!" Oh geez! So even though Curtis Stone is not really my boyfriend he is sure more then welcome to pick me up at the grocery store and come home to cook for me... anytime he wants!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-9106480955761119318?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/9106480955761119318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=9106480955761119318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/9106480955761119318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/9106480955761119318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-happy-curtis-stone.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Curtis Stone Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SSHPfaFyxlI/AAAAAAAACWA/o4gu5z_yQpQ/s72-c/chef_image4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-4130509169808300271</id><published>2008-11-16T18:32:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T14:14:38.738-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='annoyed'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Annoyed: Lunchbox Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Don't get me wrong, I actually really do like lunchboxes. They are usually very cute, and serve an important purpose. However, when taking care of children the lunchbox takes on a whole new life of its own. You no longer think of the lunchbox as a cute accessory to a backpack that safely carries a lunch from point A to point B, but instead it becomes this annoying box that many times turns into a biohazard zone. What should be a simple task of packing or unpacking one's lunch somehow always turns into the biggest battle ever, many times ending in fights or even tears. The first half of the lunchbox disaster always starts like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "(Insert child's name here) did you pack your lunch yet?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Child: "No, I am going to do that right now."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Ten minutes later, Me: "OK, is your lunch ready yet?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;After standing staring into the cabinet for ten minutes and not moving, Child: "No... I don't know what to pack, there is nothing that I want." I then proceed to rattle of a list of whatever there is to eat in the house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Child: "OK, fine. I guess I will have (insert whatever food they have chosen, begrudgingly I might add)."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Ten minutes later, Me: "OK, are you done now?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Child: "No, I still need to find a snack."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "AHHHHHHH... OK fine, well hurry up!" Ten more minutes and the lunch is finally packed, then I proceed to go on for another five minutes reminding said child to get their lunchbox into their backpack. It wouldn't be soooooo bad if I only had to do this for one child, but the above scenario must be repeated for each child in the family, which in this case is three. The second half of the lunchbox battle goes like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "(Insert child's name here), please empty your lunchbox and put it away."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Child: "OK."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Ten minutes later, Me: "Did you put your lunchbox away?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Child: "No, not yet."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "OK, please do that now."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Child: "OK."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Ten minutes later, Me: "Did you put your lunchbox away yet?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Child: "No, I am doing my homework now. I will put it away when I am done."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "Fine, please put it away."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Ten minutes later... I have moved into another room. Said child finishes their homework and comes to join me. Once again, Me: "Did you empty your lunchbox and put it away?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Child: "Yup!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;Me: "Great!" I then head into the kitchen to do something else where I find either one of two scenarios. One is that the lunchbox has in fact been emptied, but is still sitting on the counter, and not in the cabinet where it belongs. Two is that the lunchbox is still sitting there, completely full of their lunch. So in the end, after pestering three children to empty their lunchboxes for about an hour, I get stuck emptying the stupid things and putting them away. If I am really lucky I will be sure to find some disgusting rotting piece of ancient food that they have left behind as a present for me! Sometimes something great happens though... they buy their lunch at school!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-4130509169808300271?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/4130509169808300271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=4130509169808300271&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/4130509169808300271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/4130509169808300271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-annoyed-lunchbox.html' title='Things That Make Me Annoyed: Lunchbox Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-5157124758662565747</id><published>2008-11-15T22:40:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:07:41.778-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Stories That Make Me Laugh: Idea Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;Getting a new idea is always exciting. You suddenly have this rush of energy to see your new dream and thought come to fruition. However, when I get a new idea, or hear someone say the words "I've got an idea" I am always reminded of this little cutie below&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SR-XOcg6qWI/AAAAAAAACU8/alHpm3qYVrQ/s1600-h/nicholas.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SR-XOcg6qWI/AAAAAAAACU8/alHpm3qYVrQ/s400/nicholas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269096363474987362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;March 1997&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;My friend (who shall remain nameless due to the fact that he is now 13 and would be oh so embarrassed if he knew I was sharing this story) was, and still is, a doer and a thinker. I started taking care of him when I was only 15 and he was 3 months old... we have a close bond, and he is pretty much like a brother to me since we sort of grew up together. I swear he was born talking (OK well not really, but he did honestly start talking really early, and not just baby babble, he was quite the intelligent little sentence maker). We would spend our days talking for hours, discussing the way the world worked (sure, a sort of odd thing to be doing with a 1 year old, but like I said he was very smart), and playing. One of his favorite things to do though was to come up with new ideas, and you could always see the wheels turning in his head with each new discovery. We would be sitting playing and all of a sudden his big blue eyes would start to twinkle and he would just look at me with this cute little smirk. Then he would point his little chubby index finger in the sky and say to me "Tu-Ta (his nickname for me) I got idea!". He would then proceed to tell me, in detail, exactly whatever his idea was. It could be something as simple as "let's play with the blocks" to something more complex like "but if we stack all the blocks on top of each other they might get too high, and then they will fall down, and we will have to start all over again". Even to this day he still gets that same smirk and twinkle in his eye when he gets really excited about something, and sure enough the words "I've got an idea" are usually not too far behind. Back in the day I never knew what was going to come out of his mouth after he uttered those words "Tu-Ta I got idea!". Whatever it was though it always made me laugh... and to this day whenever someone mentions that they have an idea I always, always, think of my little friend and smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-5157124758662565747?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/5157124758662565747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=5157124758662565747&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5157124758662565747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5157124758662565747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/stories-that-make-me-laugh-idea-edition.html' title='Stories That Make Me Laugh: Idea Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SR-XOcg6qWI/AAAAAAAACU8/alHpm3qYVrQ/s72-c/nicholas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-5414417428770450460</id><published>2008-11-14T10:51:00.026-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T08:45:27.881-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teeth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freak out'/><title type='text'>Things That Freak Me Out: Loose Teeth Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So the other day I was picking up the kids I take care of from their school when the middle child decided to show me her new loose tooth. I immediately had the same reaction that I do whenever I am stuck in this type of situation. I cringed, quickly looked away, and forced a smile... all while I attempted to feign excitement over the wiggling little white object in her mouth. You see just the thought of a loose tooth makes me sick to my stomach, the actual sight of one is enough to make me have a total freak out. You could say, as odd as it is, that I have a small phobia of loose teeth... and it is all due to the toy pictured below.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SR2u7K_SsVI/AAAAAAAACUc/LlkNKJT6iUI/s1600-h/instrument.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SR2u7K_SsVI/AAAAAAAACUc/LlkNKJT6iUI/s400/instrument.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268559470678683986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Christmas 1986&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This toy was a musical instrument that had interchangeable pieces. And on one fateful day two of these pieces got stuck together. I was about 5 and had a nice little set of "strong" baby teeth, or so I thought. Since I couldn't pry these stuck pieces apart with my little hands I thought that I would use my "strong" teeth. This was an extremely bad decision, and at the time had I known that the following outcome would result in my being scarred for life I probably would have thought twice, and asked a grownup for some help. I don't even remember if I got the pieces apart. What I did manage to do though was separate one of my teeth from it's cozy little home in my mouth, and just so you know this tooth was firmly planted into my gums and not at all a teeny bit loose. It fell into the white carpet of our living room, and I am pretty sure I must have started to wail in pain. Next thing you know I am sitting in my dad's lap with a bloody facecloth shoved in my mouth while my mom is searching the carpet for the lost tooth and frantically calling the pediatrician. I was never the same after that experience. While most kids loved having a loose tooth, and the whole right of passage it brought with it, I instead would have a melt down. I would refuse to eat, or if I was starving I would only eat super soft food that I could chew on one side of my mouth. I never wiggled or pulled out any of my own teeth on my own free will, and instead let them hang in my mouth by mere threads of skin (I know totally gross). I wound up with my adult teeth and my baby teeth occupying the same spaces at the same time far too often, and in turn had to have a good portion of my baby teeth extracted by the dentist. Thank goodness though that my braces were able to fix all of the mess that I created with my teeth. And as a final parting message all I have to say is... please don't ever, ever, use your teeth as pliers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-5414417428770450460?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/5414417428770450460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=5414417428770450460&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5414417428770450460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5414417428770450460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-freak-me-out-loose-teeth.html' title='Things That Freak Me Out: Loose Teeth Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SR2u7K_SsVI/AAAAAAAACUc/LlkNKJT6iUI/s72-c/instrument.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-3057486493621650958</id><published>2008-11-13T11:20:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T09:40:48.384-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='annoyed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New England'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driving'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Annoyed: Rotary Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;I live in New England. New England, for some strange reason, has decided that rotaries are the best invention ever. However, New England needs to realize that the rotary is not actually an ideal way to control traffic flow. The majority of the other states in our country don't feel the need to use rotaries in their roadway designs (or if they do it is very rare), and this makes the prevalence of them in New England even that much worse. Now not only do we have traffic from the people waiting their turn to use the rotary, we also have chaos and confusion from the people who don't know how to drive in one. We seem to have rotaries all over the place, merging onto and off of highways, at busy intersections, and even on random back roads. I really hope that one day New England realizes the error of their traffic controlling ways and makes a decision to ban the rotary... until then I will just scream in annoyance every time I encounter one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-3057486493621650958?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/3057486493621650958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=3057486493621650958&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3057486493621650958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/3057486493621650958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-annoyed-rotary.html' title='Things That Make Me Annoyed: Rotary Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-5300331813374468560</id><published>2008-11-11T21:32:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:04:20.115-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Cat Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRpC7pHXMQI/AAAAAAAACTU/RREjKwxqCAI/s1600-h/P2280174+copy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRpC7pHXMQI/AAAAAAAACTU/RREjKwxqCAI/s400/P2280174+copy.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267596306579665154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;My two kitties: Owen (on the left) and Sullivan (on the right)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-5300331813374468560?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/5300331813374468560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=5300331813374468560&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5300331813374468560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5300331813374468560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-happy-cat-edition.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Cat Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRpC7pHXMQI/AAAAAAAACTU/RREjKwxqCAI/s72-c/P2280174+copy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-5534675164980331088</id><published>2008-11-10T21:17:00.024-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:03:37.022-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sweatshirt'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: Orange Sweatshirt Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRkUjD8iWII/AAAAAAAACS0/ebig-kcGTpM/s1600-h/orangesweatshirt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 119px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRkUjD8iWII/AAAAAAAACS0/ebig-kcGTpM/s400/orangesweatshirt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267263831773698178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Not only do I love my orange sweatshirt, I apparently love to take pictures with Cobas while I'm wearing it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-family: 'lucida grande'; "&gt;I own an orange sweatshirt. I can honestly say that orange is not exactly the most flattering of colors for me (I am far more of a blue girl), however, the sweatshirt was calling out my name the minute I stepped into the store the day I bought it. It is by far my most favorite sweatshirt I have ever owned. I have had it for several years now, and it is still just as soft and lovely as the day I bought it. It keeps me super warm, is so cozy, and the fit is just right, plus the color always brightens up my day. This sweatshirt also somehow manages to go with anything, of any color, that I may chose to pair it with. So basically, it is hard for me to not have a smile on my face when I am wearing this sweatshirt due to all of its amazing characteristics! Since sweats are the main staple in my wardrobe (they are cozy, keep me comfy, and stand up to the mess that I always seem to get into when I am hanging with the kiddies), it is pretty safe to say that this sweatshirt is in heavy rotation. Thank goodness for American Eagle (and their sister store Aerie) and their sweatshirts/sweatpants... without them I would be lost.&lt;/span&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/2888150989167491866-5534675164980331088?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/5534675164980331088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=5534675164980331088&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5534675164980331088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/5534675164980331088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-make-me-happy-orange.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: Orange Sweatshirt Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRkUjD8iWII/AAAAAAAACS0/ebig-kcGTpM/s72-c/orangesweatshirt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2888150989167491866.post-1555949955308126958</id><published>2008-11-10T14:57:00.014-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T10:02:19.832-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coffee'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Happy: K-Cup Edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;So I have decided to start my journey into blogging the same way I like to start my journey into a new day... with a nice cup of coffee!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRiSWekAflI/AAAAAAAACPE/8vJt0I4yRSI/s1600-h/brewer_modern_specEdit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRiSWekAflI/AAAAAAAACPE/8vJt0I4yRSI/s320/brewer_modern_specEdit.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267120679068663378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"&gt;While I greatly enjoy drinking coffee, I am not a huge fan of making it (nor am I very good at making it), and so I would much rather simply go out and buy my morning cup. However, this tends to eat up quite a considerable amount of pocket change. Then one day I met the &lt;a href="http://www.keurig.com/"target="_blank"&gt;Keurig brewer&lt;/a&gt;, like the one pictured above, and my coffee drinking life was changed for the better! My brewer allows me to make one steaming hot cup of yummy delicious coffee whenever I may want it. It's so easy I can even do it when I first wake up, and am half asleep, as there is no need to measure anything. All I have to do is choose what flavor I am in the mood for (and there are plenty of K-Cup flavors for you to pick from), place my cup in the proper location, and hit one little button. There is no left over coffee to go to waste like there is when you are forced to make a whole pot in a regular machine, and everyone can have the flavor and strength of coffee they like. Perfection in a cup! I now find myself with a little more money in my pocket... and a much bigger coffee addiction. Oh well... at least it's yummy coffee I am drinking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2888150989167491866-1555949955308126958?l=vicchick1804.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/feeds/1555949955308126958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2888150989167491866&amp;postID=1555949955308126958&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1555949955308126958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2888150989167491866/posts/default/1555949955308126958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vicchick1804.blogspot.com/2008/11/thing-that-make-me-happy-k-cup-edition.html' title='Things That Make Me Happy: K-Cup Edition'/><author><name>Vic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09095615547859793790</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/Sx1sUcOlj2I/AAAAAAAADfo/B2NuzS-KdkU/S220/n518353355_1058669_1063.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ST7PgQY0qts/SRiSWekAflI/AAAAAAAACPE/8vJt0I4yRSI/s72-c/brewer_modern_specEdit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
