<?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:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' 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-7499746341735916537</id><updated>2024-10-25T04:02:08.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Documentation of Chronic Boredom</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-691825862486853612</id><published>2012-07-07T17:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2012-07-07T17:33:27.448-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello, My Friends</title><content type='html'>Well, my friends, I&#39;ve cracked. The call of the blog can no longer be ignored and I&#39;ve decided to return to the great days of sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings with those virtual beings I call my friends.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Scratch that, I&#39;m just bored out of my mind right now, and the title of my blog (as you all so fondly remember being titled &quot;A Documentation of Chronic Boredom&quot;) is no longer irrelevant. When I transferred to Belmont and I actually got friends and such, I didn&#39;t actually have anything boring to blog about. However, now that it&#39;s summer and I have absolutely nothing to do, I have plenty of things to moan and groan about for your enjoyment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is just gonna be a sort of &quot;Welcome Me Back!&quot; type post, not really about anything in particular, but I am going to try to keep updating it for the rest of the summer at least. Hold me to it! Send me angry tweets and texts if I don&#39;t and I&#39;ll probably just give you an excuse, but it&#39;ll be nice to feel loved.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, I already know what my next post is going to be about, so I&#39;ll probably get around to posting that in a little bit. Actually, who am I kidding? I know very well I&#39;ll post it cause it&#39;s not like I have anything better to do!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/691825862486853612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2012/07/well-my-friends-ive-cracked.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/691825862486853612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/691825862486853612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2012/07/well-my-friends-ive-cracked.html' title='Hello, My Friends'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-2794132257363061362</id><published>2012-02-18T17:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-18T19:11:13.507-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I&#39;m Backkkk</title><content type='html'>Hey Errbody. So guess what? It&#39;s been like four months since I last blogged, and for that I am terribly sorry. I know some of you must be at the edge of your seats every time you check twitter, hoping that I&#39;ll have posted something new, so if I&#39;ve caused anybody any distress I can&#39;t offer an apology strong enough. Anyway, I&#39;m going to try to start blogging again, not just for your sake but for mine as well. I learned on Thursday that looking through old blog posts can really make a class go by much faster, but I ran out, and if I want to stay sane next semester I&#39;m gonna need to get crackin early. Did that make any sense at all? I&#39;m really not concerned with that, but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I can&#39;t really think of any one thing to blog about right now, since it&#39;s been so long since I posted anything at all, so I&#39;m just gonna post a list of ten things that you&#39;ll hopefully find entertaining. So yeah.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ol&gt;
&lt;li&gt;In case you didn&#39;t know (which you should. I even made this news Facebook official!), I no longer go to UTC. I&#39;m a Belmont Bruin all the way now! Well, that&#39;s not to say that I suddenly have school spirit, cause that&#39;ll never happen, but I definitely like Belmont much better than UTC (Sorry Bekahhh, Delaney, and Emily! I do miss you all!). But for real, the name of this blog really isn&#39;t relevant anymore, but I like the way it sounds so I&#39;m just gonna stick with it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Sara Bareilles is having a concert at Belmont on April 15, thus making clear that transferring to Belmont is the best decision that I have ever made in my entire life. For real. It&#39;ll be the third time I&#39;ve seen her live, and yeah, I know none of you really care very much about this. I did steal a poster of her from a bulletin board though! That was fun!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I&#39;ve actually made friends this semester. I know, right?! My best friend that I&#39;ve made this semester goes by the name of Logan. He cried when Whitney Houston died and his hero is Sarah Palin, so I&#39;d say he&#39;s at about -75 on the cool point scale, but what can you do?&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I&#39;ve lost 12 pounds this semester. No joke. I have to go see a nutritionist and everything! But the food at Belmont is disgusting, and I honestly can&#39;t eat any more of it than I already do. I take two bites, and then my stomach says &quot;Nope that&#39;s good! I&#39;m full. Really. Don&#39;t give me any more of that nasty!&quot; And then it tells my brain that I&#39;m full and my brain listens and I stop eating and die.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Someone on my floor got arrested last week for gun possession. That was cool.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I&#39;ve already been to two concerts this semester (He Is We and Dia Frampton), and I&#39;ve already got 6 more planned! (Lights, Kelly Clarkson, Sara Bareilles, Feist, Ingrid Michaelson, and He Is We). Hopefully the list will grow even more!&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Delaney brought me a sandwich from the Yellow Deli a few weeks ago, thus making her the best friend I&#39;ve ever had.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I potentially have a stalker.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I might be (like 96% sure) going to London in January for 5 months.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Lady Gaga will be touring America while I&#39;m in London. That kinda sucks.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Welp, that&#39;s it. See you never!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/2794132257363061362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2012/02/im-backkkk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2794132257363061362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2794132257363061362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2012/02/im-backkkk.html' title='I&#39;m Backkkk'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-380611959298848411</id><published>2011-10-29T18:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T18:17:40.323-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Trapped in Chattanooga</title><content type='html'>This is the first weekend I&#39;ve spent in Chattanooga in a LONG time, and there is a reason for that: There is absolutely nothing to do. Seriously, the one thing UTC students do for fun on the weekend is go home. Which is why I always choose to go home. Well, I didn&#39;t go home this weekend. But not by choice.&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
It&#39;s Emily and Delaney&#39;s fault. I blame them completely. They both went home this weekend, and failed to take me with them. Delaney went home without even telling me, so I never even had the chance to ask her for a ride. Emily, on the other hand, DID inform me that she was going home. So I asked her if I could get a ride with her. Our conversation went something like this:&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Me: Are you doing anything exciting this weekend? &lt;i&gt;(Note: This was a sarcastic question. I didn&#39;t genuinely care.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Emily: Oh, I&#39;m actually going home.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(My spirits lifted. I was going to get to go home!)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Me: Oh, can I ride with you?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(Emily did this facial expression thing where she sort of looked apologetic but really on the inside I knew she wasn&#39;t sorry and was kind of enjoying the fact that she could make me miserable.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Emily: Er, noooo.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Me: Wait, really?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Emily: Yeahhh, sorry.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Me: Um, why?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Emily: Erm, because I&#39;m really looking forward to driving home on my own. I get to sing along to my songs when I&#39;m alone.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Me: Well it sure didn&#39;t stop you from singing when I rode with you last time.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Emily: Blah blah blah blah blah.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Anyway, the short and short of it all is that no one would take me home, even though I pay for gas when they do! People can just be horrible at times. And I&#39;m trapped. Stuck. Held hostage. Bored out of my mind.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
The End.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Six Weeks.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/380611959298848411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/10/trapped-in-chattanooga.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/380611959298848411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/380611959298848411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/10/trapped-in-chattanooga.html' title='Trapped in Chattanooga'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-4264544643384910596</id><published>2011-10-15T21:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T21:50:37.735-04:00</updated><title type='text'>HI. I&#39;m Christina. I&#39;m Blogging For Austin Because He Is Lazy</title><content type='html'>So. I go to Vol State. I hate it. I&#39;m visiting Chattanooga. I love it. Austin is telling me to use more details in my sentences and refrain from &#39;fragments&#39;. But, actually, none of my previous sentences were fragments, thank you. But, I will respect his wishes. As I walked into Austin&#39;s room, I am greeted by an array of colorful socks everywhere, accompanied by a shoe on the tv stand. One shoe. Also, there is a bountiful amount of food located in numerous places. His new favorite addition to his room, however, is a &amp;nbsp;paper ribbon for breast cancer awareness that says &quot;Save Second Base&quot;. He thinks it&#39;s hysterical. Austin also has about 9752572349283 different school notebooks strewn haplessly across the floor. I say it&#39;s a mess, but he says it&#39;s not... LIES. Another sad thing about his room? There&#39;s a mere one picture of me. Uno. Unos. I. (and that, unfortunately, is the extent of my knowledge when it comes to displaying &#39;one&#39; in different ways) And in that ONE picture, my eyes are closed. What am I currently doing? Being forced to fabricate my own &#39;guest blog post&#39; while listening to Korean or some other strange foreign music while Austin dances around the room, NOT blogging......&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He just got very excited about his teacher giving him a scratch n sniff sticker on his test.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That concludes my blog post.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/4264544643384910596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/10/hi-im-christina-im-blogging-for-austin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/4264544643384910596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/4264544643384910596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/10/hi-im-christina-im-blogging-for-austin.html' title='HI. I&#39;m Christina. I&#39;m Blogging For Austin Because He Is Lazy'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-6819161672466474048</id><published>2011-09-28T09:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T09:59:15.381-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Worst of the 80s</title><content type='html'>Not much of a story to go along with this post. We watched this music video in sociology today, and it made me a little happier than it should have, so I though I&#39;d share it with you. Keep an eye out for the guy from Reading Rainbow!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;iframe allowfullscreen=&#39;allowfullscreen&#39; webkitallowfullscreen=&#39;webkitallowfullscreen&#39; mozallowfullscreen=&#39;mozallowfullscreen&#39; width=&#39;320&#39; height=&#39;266&#39; src=&#39;https://www.youtube.com/embed/MZjAantupsA?feature=player_embedded&#39; frameborder=&#39;0&#39;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/6819161672466474048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/worst-of-80s.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/6819161672466474048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/6819161672466474048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/worst-of-80s.html' title='The Worst of the 80s'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-933449453822268354</id><published>2011-09-27T22:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T22:12:03.107-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Creepmore and the Succubus - An Unspoken Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkzktCKZsBm-tLCoNt5xuYZCo_c6MLM8N1OtKGqpDuNN0S3L05XkM1TKgfo1xSD49h7-d4hFgy-phlhSXhk3n6swA34ciU9NZluzPpT-vEkE06XUNDiSIqerGczQoiQr2oPANnnslYNE9/s1600/Screen+Shot+2011-09-25+at+6.55.26+PM.png&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkzktCKZsBm-tLCoNt5xuYZCo_c6MLM8N1OtKGqpDuNN0S3L05XkM1TKgfo1xSD49h7-d4hFgy-phlhSXhk3n6swA34ciU9NZluzPpT-vEkE06XUNDiSIqerGczQoiQr2oPANnnslYNE9/s1600/Screen+Shot+2011-09-25+at+6.55.26+PM.png&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcI0MyhlREK1mI65I9_7SqOaVZsT0YZCyJiTYCmmmaTZbmBakObB5wgtb0ErGONpmRI2fzSMf-DHJI0XX-cPKoJG7LmGQwG0FaiHE5fkKk7eps_zs8kXowj8Z1AGnyOFj7WdgFwbQkwIdI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2011-09-15+at+9.34.31+PM.png&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;174&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcI0MyhlREK1mI65I9_7SqOaVZsT0YZCyJiTYCmmmaTZbmBakObB5wgtb0ErGONpmRI2fzSMf-DHJI0XX-cPKoJG7LmGQwG0FaiHE5fkKk7eps_zs8kXowj8Z1AGnyOFj7WdgFwbQkwIdI/s200/Screen+Shot+2011-09-15+at+9.34.31+PM.png&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers&#39; eyes;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;What is it else? A madness most discreet,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;original-line&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom-width: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font: inherit; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Trebuchet MS&#39;, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;-William Shakespeare&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This post will be a little different than any of my others, in that it&#39;s not really about me at all. In fact, it&#39;s a story that I&#39;m pretty sure most of you know very well, and probably speak about quite often unless you&#39;re one of the two main characters. If you have no idea who either of these people are, then this story might not be of much interest to you, but it could be good to read if you want to better understand the thoughts that go through a pair of star-crossed-lovers&#39; minds.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To better understand our pair of hopeless romantics, let&#39;s first start by taking a closer look at the definitions of their names. (Taken from Urban Dictionary)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;&quot;&gt;Linnea&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;A succubus from hell sent to stamp on the heart of young innocent boys. The only known way to defeat a Linnea is to remove it&#39;s vagina through a complex surgical procedure.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;&quot;&gt;Todd&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Times;&quot;&gt;Male displaying generic &quot;frat-guy&quot;
behavior traits. Is not necessarily in an actual fraternity, or in college for
that matter. Constantly asserts his manliness through loud obnoxious boasts
relating to topics that can include, but are not limited to, car
size, how drunk he got/how many &quot;bitches&quot; were at/he had sex with at
the party, bench pressing, and possibly irrational exaggerations with regard to
extreme sports that he is, in reality, probably not that good at.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilElIUPC2Y0nFLbcJxJNYEDk3xDnLs5ZT3WznYJoz00qsZnUKfpvTpZzSW-BQJZrfmLKOc6OtySmz_4Gl2IAeknzpI97hDZORGLB39yO_SPhXQh71vprTARi9yhLT4xAwy2Iyo9PFokK2x/s1600/254999_10150207502031313_508201312_7005761_598961_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilElIUPC2Y0nFLbcJxJNYEDk3xDnLs5ZT3WznYJoz00qsZnUKfpvTpZzSW-BQJZrfmLKOc6OtySmz_4Gl2IAeknzpI97hDZORGLB39yO_SPhXQh71vprTARi9yhLT4xAwy2Iyo9PFokK2x/s400/254999_10150207502031313_508201312_7005761_598961_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;300&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Above: We have here our two subjects, sitting together&lt;br /&gt;
at a graduation ceremony.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
As you can clearly see from those definitions, neither party involved can be completely blamed for their inability to confess their love to one another. Linnea is &quot;a succubus from hell sent to stamp on the heart on young innocent boys,&quot; and thus has a difficult time being able to admit her feelings due to her duties as a demon. Todd, on the other hand, is a &quot;generic &#39;frat guy&#39;,&quot; which clearly shows that he&#39;s not exactly right in the head to begin with.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Still, when two people have been in love for so long, and everyone and their mother is aware of it, one has to wonder: why have these two love doves been unable for so long to finally let go of their inhibitions and and admit to one another that there is no one else in the world that matters more?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Before we attempt to uncover the answers to that question, let&#39;s first examine our subjects as individuals, discuss how they met, and in turn discover the meaning behind their supposed hatred for one another and how it contributes to the mystery that is their love.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PaTU_exkGefObulA3mmQehdZzabNHLTf7GA9I_uqZHTfDL2SaQak8KlbeJk3q2nhPmLGaVPbHd6scd8eCdqtepI4IhB8KEAcuF62au4mumNkp8vZIw-bqCgghFwq2zm9_kVqDlkcDjYp/s1600/216142_1024526570635_1149373783_30108163_6026_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PaTU_exkGefObulA3mmQehdZzabNHLTf7GA9I_uqZHTfDL2SaQak8KlbeJk3q2nhPmLGaVPbHd6scd8eCdqtepI4IhB8KEAcuF62au4mumNkp8vZIw-bqCgghFwq2zm9_kVqDlkcDjYp/s320/216142_1024526570635_1149373783_30108163_6026_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Pictured: Linnea as a toddler, expressing her future &lt;br /&gt;
emotions for Todd through song.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;&quot;&gt;Linnea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
A. Linnea Williams was born on August 24, 1994, in Orange County, California. It was not a natural birth, however, as no birth of a succubus ever is. A contributing factor to her demonic lifestyle may be that her estranged grandmother, a Wiccan, was present at the birth. Her parents chose to raise her as normally as they could, and in 1999, they moved to Tennessee.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: x-large;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbEdi2hc4yzKKFuauXreFIE97i2_oE2Vci7oVfyzUuSVWkBXV9uuIQTLBHPSYuj-L48dBiKMpync7wjc1Euawhv890LChyqQx-_xv2xxfl-d6vO84N1TKqtSzFijjEKchyphenhyphen_YkSsuxbkjO/s1600/Cute-Baby-Boy.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbEdi2hc4yzKKFuauXreFIE97i2_oE2Vci7oVfyzUuSVWkBXV9uuIQTLBHPSYuj-L48dBiKMpync7wjc1Euawhv890LChyqQx-_xv2xxfl-d6vO84N1TKqtSzFijjEKchyphenhyphen_YkSsuxbkjO/s320/Cute-Baby-Boy.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: x-large;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Todd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Todd P. Creekmore was born on ???. At only five years of age, Todd&#39;s world changed forever, due to his failure to answer a simple addition problem in his Kindergarten class. From that point foreword, Todd determined himself to be the best at everything, and in effect, he ended up isolating himself from all of his peers. In addition to being the smartest, he also desired to be the coolest, hence his frat-like tendencies.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Linnea and Todd began going to the same school in the 6th grade, but didn&#39;t really begin to talk until 7th grade. When they were in that fateful year of their lives, they actually posed with each other for a picture at a school dance. It was from that point onward that they both knew that they were destined to be together.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQUOdrTD4jXdI6T4zUmTy8YlEL7eHjv9QABCCd9GSO8kPuZmcH6hpyEZ6o3wcUx8XVPPoVHHdwZI17mnLAHyjgTa_e9nQ3GUoKWfw678fmVJtP9PywBmB-pRHkgOPJI_P9fXUlsuTrxU9x/s1600/i_am_todd_2-1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;577.2151899&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQUOdrTD4jXdI6T4zUmTy8YlEL7eHjv9QABCCd9GSO8kPuZmcH6hpyEZ6o3wcUx8XVPPoVHHdwZI17mnLAHyjgTa_e9nQ3GUoKWfw678fmVJtP9PywBmB-pRHkgOPJI_P9fXUlsuTrxU9x/s640/i_am_todd_2-1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Following the school dance, their relationship then took a break. A four year break, to be specific. In their Junior year of high school, they began to see more and more of each other due to having some classes together. Immediately the romantic feelings came rushing back to both of them. The problem was, they were both terrified of each other! Not terrified like in a &quot;you might kill me&quot; kind of way, but in a &quot;I&#39;m scared you might break my heart&quot; kind of way.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
They were both so unwilling to admit their feelings to one another that they both began to create false relationships. Todd claimed to only be entrusted in women of a certain ethnic varieties, while Linnea claimed to only be willing to date guys who played soccer, or who were friends of those who played soccer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They both lived their individual lies for a few months, until Linnea actually decided to &quot;date&quot; someone else. In retaliation Todd did the unthinkable. He asked Linnea&#39;s best friend to prom in revenge.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6jEweydESuukLcwU0EVarMqWrnz_PY2ptmgAUiqjcNJ_loaOin62BkGFqxrNdZdipOk4uAXojTok2sufpm5xxCTLWB-LeI9KC0ejn48l_hAkF_d6_jyR5hBVgQX2q7yJiF9bBHDirOAN/s1600/221045_1996068142544_1268697150_32386531_4840158_o.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6jEweydESuukLcwU0EVarMqWrnz_PY2ptmgAUiqjcNJ_loaOin62BkGFqxrNdZdipOk4uAXojTok2sufpm5xxCTLWB-LeI9KC0ejn48l_hAkF_d6_jyR5hBVgQX2q7yJiF9bBHDirOAN/s400/221045_1996068142544_1268697150_32386531_4840158_o.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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This was too much for Linnea to handle. She was absolutely heartbroken. Her best friend Scarlett had betrayed her, and it was for someone she had never even spoken to before. Things were tense for a while, and Linnea&#39;s only escape from it all was by obsessing even more over the soccer team.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
Things quickly began to change, however, as the day of graduation for the current seniors drew nearer. Linnea realized that once they were gone, she would have no more friends, and (gasp!) no more soccer team. She needed a new guy to stalk, otherwise her own senior year would be spent eating lunch in a bathroom stall and laughing way too hard at teachers&#39; jokes. So she had to act fast.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
Luckily, Todd was ready and waiting for her, and they began to go on secret dates. Things were good for a while. They enjoyed each other&#39;s company, and they really couldn&#39;t imagine spending their time with anyone else. Pictures to the right, you can see a picture of the happy couple on their first date, which was an outing to the forest to gaze at the stars together and ponder about their future.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
Things couldn&#39;t have gone smoothly for forever, however. The two were lucky enough to both be able to go to Orlando on an FBLA trip, and they were excited to go on their first vacation together. Disney World! Below, you can see how they wouldn&#39;t let me sit in the front row of Splash Mountain, because they wanted to experience the drop together. So I had to sit in the back.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_zJioWOM7FU6WI86prrter9DJXMy1rdCcSchyHfdMMAyNzkDwXbOb9CAalmTnww-i-emaFVW5_vh8jfjKpdqtJJ2wJPCVmhzv9FpEpDjC9BK8iDs2DpCX9JPj84aS1yJDEp65U65F42p/s1600/296155_10150283120926313_508201312_7706221_5584308_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_zJioWOM7FU6WI86prrter9DJXMy1rdCcSchyHfdMMAyNzkDwXbOb9CAalmTnww-i-emaFVW5_vh8jfjKpdqtJJ2wJPCVmhzv9FpEpDjC9BK8iDs2DpCX9JPj84aS1yJDEp65U65F42p/s400/296155_10150283120926313_508201312_7706221_5584308_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
That&#39;s when things grew rough. For the FBLA national competition, they competed in different events, and both placed in the top five of their respective categories. However, this event caused much jealousy between the two. Linnea got third place in her category while Todd got fifth, and Todd couldn&#39;t bear the the thought that she was smarter than him. And Linnea, while placing higher in the competition, didn&#39;t win as much money as Todd did, so she was pretty bitter. So things were rough.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
Fast foreword to now. They both act like they hate each other, but somehow are willing to work together on a FBLA competition together. But will their romantic relationship spark up again? And more importantly, will they go to prom together?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
I think we all know the answer to that last question, but only time will tell.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
Disclaimer: The preceding blog post may or may not have been fictional. Not entirely fictional, but maybe just a little.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/933449453822268354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/creepmore-and-succubus-unspoken-love_27.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/933449453822268354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/933449453822268354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/creepmore-and-succubus-unspoken-love_27.html' title='Creepmore and the Succubus - An Unspoken Love'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkzktCKZsBm-tLCoNt5xuYZCo_c6MLM8N1OtKGqpDuNN0S3L05XkM1TKgfo1xSD49h7-d4hFgy-phlhSXhk3n6swA34ciU9NZluzPpT-vEkE06XUNDiSIqerGczQoiQr2oPANnnslYNE9/s72-c/Screen+Shot+2011-09-25+at+6.55.26+PM.png" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-4638784425647441020</id><published>2011-09-27T19:10:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T19:10:47.639-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Exam</title><content type='html'>I had my very first college exam yesterday, and I can honestly say that I had never been more scared of a test in my entire life. It was in Psychology, which is my hardest subject to begin with, so I knew it was going to be a doozie. But to top it all off, it&#39;s worth 33.33333 etc. of my grade, so if I wasn&#39;t nervous enough already, I just had that much added pressure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I normally wake up at 7:30 every morning, but for some reason I woke up at 6 yesterday. I think it was my conscience or something telling me that I needed to study, because form the moment I woke up I had this empty pit I&#39;m my stomach. So I got out of bed bright and early (although I guess bright isn&#39;t really the right word to use, considering the sun hadn&#39;t even risen yet) and crammed my head full of as much information as it could take.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At about 8 I finally left my room and went to get my morning routine of a chicken biscuit. My hands were shaking so much that it was hard to get the food into my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I had another class before psychology, so after eating brekkie I went on to sociology. We spent the class discussing meditation, and how some people find that meditating before a test helps them remember stuff. So when the class got out 20 minutes early, I made my way right back to my room and YouTubed &quot;how to meditate.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I made it through the deep breathing, but when the instructor told me to close my eyes and let the golden light surround my soul, I couldn&#39;t take it anymore. So instead I just studied some more.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thirty minutes before the exam I finally left my room and made my way toward the class. I only made it out of my building and down the street when I realized I had forgotten the most important thing. I sprinted back into Stophel and up to my room, and grabbed a pair of headphones. Then I was on my way again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I put the headphones into my iPhone and put it on &quot;Higher&quot; by The Saturdays. I learned a few months ago that that is my lucky song, and any time I listen to it before a test or a presentation, it always makes me do better. So I wasn&#39;t about to test the theory now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I made sure to jump over the big stone school crest thing in the middle of campus too, otherwise I would have had to turn around again and go touch the statue in the library to reverse the curse.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I finally made my way into the waiting room and sat down on the floor to study just a little bit more. That wasn&#39;t really possible though, because I was too distracted by the girl next to me, who was actually looking over her notes and CRYING. I&#39;m not joking.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But then I went in to take the test, and then it was all over.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And the world seemed happy again.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/4638784425647441020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/first-exam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/4638784425647441020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/4638784425647441020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/first-exam.html' title='First Exam'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-7584142239431149217</id><published>2011-09-24T22:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T22:17:20.459-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Room Inspection</title><content type='html'>I briefly told you about my room inspection in my last post (well, actually I only mentioned that I had one), but stupid ALW complained that I didn&#39;t go into enough detail. So I&#39;ll do that now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I recieved a note on my door on Thursday afternoon that stated we would be having a room inspection on Friday from 12 to 2. So on Friday at 12 I got a knock on my door. I opened it, and my RA said &quot;You passed!&quot; and left. That was it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82EL4Kol0er6HRR91wxyFA0ON-Q1O3uTx8vzRhc_gPOw35T5qQQFgEMdhQuUXESpONDcHgx7HqLdN38IYzaH3QCshBUaujkYbdIyCVZxilLy5lTEdmgNQ4cOA611coTPTcVY_S3iAf8zZ/s1600/IMG_0184.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82EL4Kol0er6HRR91wxyFA0ON-Q1O3uTx8vzRhc_gPOw35T5qQQFgEMdhQuUXESpONDcHgx7HqLdN38IYzaH3QCshBUaujkYbdIyCVZxilLy5lTEdmgNQ4cOA611coTPTcVY_S3iAf8zZ/s640/IMG_0184.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/7584142239431149217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/room-inspecion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/7584142239431149217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/7584142239431149217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/room-inspecion.html' title='Room Inspection'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82EL4Kol0er6HRR91wxyFA0ON-Q1O3uTx8vzRhc_gPOw35T5qQQFgEMdhQuUXESpONDcHgx7HqLdN38IYzaH3QCshBUaujkYbdIyCVZxilLy5lTEdmgNQ4cOA611coTPTcVY_S3iAf8zZ/s72-c/IMG_0184.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-2915472422884570597</id><published>2011-09-24T13:47:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T13:48:56.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Update</title><content type='html'>I&#39;m running out of things to blog about. But it&#39;s not my fault that nothing interesting has happened other than the few things I already told you about. So for this post I&#39;m just going to give you a bullet list of all the things I did in the past week, and hopefully it will be interesting/funny. If not, oh well. I&#39;m sure something fun has to happen next week, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My Week&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Studied for a Psychology exam (fifteen hours?)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Ate Chick-fil-a (x10)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Had a room inspection (and passed!)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Watched Big Brother UK (Five episodes yesterday alone!)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Watched the new Sara Bareilles music video (x6)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Lost my keys&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Found my keys in the laundry basket&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Went to the Trail of Tears memorial&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Brought a DVD player from home&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Left the remote at home&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Got my mom to overnight ship me the remote&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Watched an episode of The Vampire Diaries&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;FINALLY watched an episode of my British soap opera!&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Wore jeans and a hoodie on accident on a day it was really hot&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Wore that hoodie inside out&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Forgot to eat a bagel&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Did not go eat out even though we were supposed to&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Worked on a very epic blog post that you should be seeing soon&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Skyped Austin and Christina. And Mary Grace&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Did not Skype Sarah. Does she exist anymore?&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Took a nap&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Did not get Frozen Ice&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Talked about the Virgin-Whore complex in English&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Learned about the spitsuckspitsuckspitsuck theory in Psychology&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Got sorted into Ravenclaw&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;That&#39;s it&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I was honestly expecting this list to be a bit longer, but I can&#39;t actually think of anything else I did this week. Live and let die, is what I say.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Maybe Scarlett will get that reference.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/2915472422884570597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/life-update.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2915472422884570597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2915472422884570597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/life-update.html' title='Life Update'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-8183368077665039065</id><published>2011-09-23T17:07:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T17:09:27.335-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Angry</title><content type='html'>I was supposed to go eat somewhere tonight. It was going to be fun. Plans had been made.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But then stupid Delaney had to go and text me and say that she and Emily wanted to just go to Taco Bell real quick instead. So no eating at a restaurant. And no fun.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That is all.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/8183368077665039065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/angry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/8183368077665039065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/8183368077665039065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/angry.html' title='Angry'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-928919127041082475</id><published>2011-09-23T15:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T16:37:55.221-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It Would Make My Day To Pay For Your Dinner, But Can I Please Have Some of Your Blood?</title><content type='html'>You may have seen me tweet this sentence a few weeks ago, but I never actually got around to explain what it meant. So that&#39;s what this blog will be about. There&#39;s no punchline or kick in the stomach at the end, though. It&#39;s just a fun little story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My psychology class is ridiculously difficult. It&#39;s one of those college classes that high school teachers tell you about where there are only three tests in the class, and that&#39;s&amp;nbsp;it. Each test counts for 33.3333 percent of my grade. So you can understand how I might be worried. The up-side is that my teacher does give us some extra credit opportunities (21 whole points). The down-side is that the extra credit opportunity is donating blood to the red cross.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t know if you&#39;ve like, ever met me, but if you have then you should know that giving blood is not something I do. It&#39;s not that I&#39;m against it or anything like that. It&#39;s that I&#39;m terrified.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So yeah, I was under the impression that I would just have to make really good grades in psychology, because that extra credit was not coming my way any time soon. But then my teacher told us that if we couldn&#39;t give the blood ourselves, we could get a friend to do it for us and still get the six bonus points. So it was time to start working on that charm you all know and love me for (/sarcasm.).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My first victim of interest was Lisa. I won&#39;t post her last name to protect her identity, but her brother&#39;s last name is Rangel. We were all eating at Mellow Mushroom like two weeks ago, and I kindly asked her if she had ever given blood. Of course she said yes. So that&#39;s when I began to beg her to give me her blood, and she was all like, &quot;Oooooh, &amp;nbsp;don&#39;t know. Maybe, let me think about it. Blah blah blah.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And that was when the infamous quote happened. I said, &quot;It would make my day to pay for your dinner, but can I please have some of your blood?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then she said something along the lines of, &quot;No. I am rich and don&#39;t need your peasant money. I get paid $1000 a year to go to school, because I am so intelligent in the head and such, so you paying for my five dollar dinner really doesn&#39;t mean anything to me. You keep your money and I&#39;ll keep my blood.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So it appeared that Lisa was not going to give me her blood.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The next blood donating candidate was Bekah, who is Emily and Delaney&#39;s roommate, and who I lovingly refer to as Bekahhh, due to the unfortunate spelling of her name. Even when I have it spelled the right way on here, I still get a little red line under it because it says it&#39;s not a real word. Her last name is quite hysterical as well: Hutsenpiller. Hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So anyway, I asked her to give me some blood, and she actually seemed quite willing. Score! And then Emily asked Jacob, who is Bakah&#39;s best friend (they&#39;re secretly dating), if he would donate blood for her, and he said yes! So all was well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yesterday was finally the blood donating day. We got to the Red Cross place one minute before it closed, so they had to stay open late for us. I guess they really wanted some blood.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Normally when you give blood, you have to fill out this online form that&#39;s all about you&#39;re, um, extracurricular activities (in bed), but since it&#39;s online it&#39;s not really an invasion of privacy. But this time, the doctor asked Bakah all of them out loud, out in the open, so that was quite fun to watch (She answered no to all of them! Don&#39;t worry!).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then they gave blood. And Jacob got a free shirt. And Bakah did not.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I got my extra credit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All&#39;s well that ends well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/928919127041082475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/it-would-make-my-day-to-pay-for-your.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/928919127041082475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/928919127041082475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/it-would-make-my-day-to-pay-for-your.html' title='It Would Make My Day To Pay For Your Dinner, But Can I Please Have Some of Your Blood?'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc17b_7v3QE4nOR4r8St68qiMWeYgb97DlqeW9QWPKGn9Nr9dSFEr48SQHYTDQJ2ImtWySmbpa1TREhTlPBOo0V45lRhxPOrmkH-KCpVGCAYPL8seGPO8Qny19lDvkMWzJp2u9FxIi8Hj4/s72-c/IMG_0636.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-8230872333063620116</id><published>2011-09-22T20:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T21:10:26.609-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Quest For Ice That Ended In A Trail Of Tears</title><content type='html'>Hello All! I feel like I haven&#39;t posted a &quot;this is what I did today&quot; post in awhile, so yesterday &amp;nbsp;decided that I would take you along with me on a Frozen Ice trip, which just happens to be my favorite part of college. I can&#39;t say that the trip went quite according to plan, but whatever, it&#39;ll make a good (I hope) blog post. If you think this post is boring, then I&#39;m sorry. Truly, I apologize, but you should still enjoy looking at the pictures or something. So here it goes, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;
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In case you are a complete idiot, you have probably thought to yourself that the phrase &quot;Frozen Ice&quot; is a bit redundant, but that&#39;s beside the point. That&#39;s what we called it the first time we made the trip, and even though we&#39;ve realized since then that it&#39;s actually called &quot;Hawaiian Ice,&quot; it feels a bit disloyal to call it anything else.&lt;br /&gt;
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The Frozen Ice is not exactly a quick walk away from campus, so Delaney and I were being a bit risky when we left for the ice at about 6:20. We told Emily to come too, but she had to go watch Bones or look for more dancing couples or something. So off we went.&lt;br /&gt;
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First we had to cross the ridiculously lengthy road, which is always a bit dangerous considering that the light isn&#39;t visible.&lt;/div&gt;
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And then we had to walk down a sidewalk where all of the rich people in Chattanooga go.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Next was the (little) bridge...&lt;/div&gt;
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And the Art District.&lt;/div&gt;
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Then the terrifying glass bridge. I&#39;ll post a different picture of it a little bit later. But it&#39;s made out of glass. Like, it&#39;s clear.&lt;/div&gt;
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Then the HUGE bridge across the lake (or river?)&lt;/div&gt;
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And then we were finally there! See? Look! There&#39;s the Frozen Ice cart right there!&lt;/div&gt;
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...and there&#39;s the owner. Driving away.&lt;/div&gt;
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And getting further away.&lt;/div&gt;
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And further.&lt;/div&gt;
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So we had to walk all the way back across the bridge. Sans Ice.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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And we were sad.&lt;/div&gt;
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And then a random little girl rode a tricycle across the bridge.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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When we got across the bridge we saw a dog.&lt;/div&gt;
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And then we went to the Trail of Tears (TOTs) memorial.&lt;/div&gt;
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It was fitting. Because we were sad. Because we didn&#39;t get any Frozen Ice. So we had to walk back across the glass bridge.&lt;/div&gt;
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And back to campus it was.&lt;/div&gt;
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The end.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/8230872333063620116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/quest-for-ice-that-ended-in-trail-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/8230872333063620116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/8230872333063620116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/quest-for-ice-that-ended-in-trail-of.html' title='A Quest For Ice That Ended In A Trail Of Tears'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpWXfHmfrBkaatE27NzstJS9pfABIDR2JF8SgMCOJlhYgQXaefSPFTsJerJAaGFBD2vduObhULFK-dmxUknb0BRvqjkPYyQbfaTZZZN9KMx5A1edWxwhCKv8O9VxX-_fboICX81ZvrIRmw/s72-c/IMG_0516.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-2975996806370688696</id><published>2011-09-22T13:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T13:24:39.057-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I like Dogs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
I found this essay on my desk when I went into English today. Please read it. I&#39;m not sure if the class was using it as an example for what not to write, or if a student actually turned this in. But it made me feel good about myself regardless.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWt8AZfhXUZozqPhUBNwAW1pwkgKDFzxuPf8Mrxycp3m-lIUUE0a3ckS3lzKHa6ko1HWSKxs9TjMTOTdBJAhpoKVTJdL3ZwKOeguwlJtrt3PI0H0F9B9Uvt-zVxX6tGTS6MKIHW10ZKSk/s1600/IMG_0629.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;580.8917197&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWt8AZfhXUZozqPhUBNwAW1pwkgKDFzxuPf8Mrxycp3m-lIUUE0a3ckS3lzKHa6ko1HWSKxs9TjMTOTdBJAhpoKVTJdL3ZwKOeguwlJtrt3PI0H0F9B9Uvt-zVxX6tGTS6MKIHW10ZKSk/s640/IMG_0629.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/2975996806370688696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-like-dogs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2975996806370688696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2975996806370688696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-like-dogs.html' title='I like Dogs'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWt8AZfhXUZozqPhUBNwAW1pwkgKDFzxuPf8Mrxycp3m-lIUUE0a3ckS3lzKHa6ko1HWSKxs9TjMTOTdBJAhpoKVTJdL3ZwKOeguwlJtrt3PI0H0F9B9Uvt-zVxX6tGTS6MKIHW10ZKSk/s72-c/IMG_0629.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-4336967840168221910</id><published>2011-09-21T10:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T10:30:33.875-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nigella Talks Dirty</title><content type='html'>I found this video last night, and since I&#39;m seriously lacking for things to blog about, I figured I&#39;d post it. Warning: It can not be said that this video is the most appropriate of sorts, but get over it. It&#39;s hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/4336967840168221910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/nigella-talks-dirty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/4336967840168221910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/4336967840168221910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/nigella-talks-dirty.html' title='Nigella Talks Dirty'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-9097958997004128940</id><published>2011-09-20T19:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T19:49:51.869-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Heathcliff, It&#39;s Me, Linnea</title><content type='html'>I was skyping Austin today, and she started to talk about this music video she watched in English today. And then she played the song and danced to it. And I whipped out my phone and filmed it. Enjoy! And don&#39;t ever let her forget this!&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/9097958997004128940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/heathcliff-its-me-linnea.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/9097958997004128940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/9097958997004128940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/heathcliff-its-me-linnea.html' title='Heathcliff, It&#39;s Me, Linnea'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-1991946106712999662</id><published>2011-09-20T18:49:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T18:49:42.622-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Unfortunate Case of the Visor</title><content type='html'>By now you should all be pretty much clued in to the fact that college is not my favorite thing. Actually, it&#39;s awful, but that&#39;s beside the point. I could give you a list of all the things I hate about it, but for now, let&#39;s just focus in on the worst thing of all: The visor.&lt;br /&gt;
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Just look at it. It&#39;s like a baseball cap, only without the hat part of the situation. If the goal of wearing one is to block the sun, then time and time again the wearers of this monstrosity will be defeated, considering that their ENTIRE head is is being exposed. If the goal is to look like an idiot, then congratulation, sir, you win. They&#39;re like headbands for guys, with a duck&#39;s mouth sticking out from the wearer&#39;s forehead.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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They&#39;re awful.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/1991946106712999662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/unfortunate-case-of-visor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/1991946106712999662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/1991946106712999662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/unfortunate-case-of-visor.html' title='The Unfortunate Case of the Visor'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuFp7ox4uRzG9ibeLjkGCMVhD2PHmLdg0FOXhXTWovPkx3QmZFomBIp5Dzu2zi2oq72Ftu0CMYD6qF-5c299Bs3q7crU-f5SJkAo2HD8XoYCNAZPQqT4jF8RL5j0uZxzCvD7Lj82zrwPOD/s72-c/403638.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-1067024098076599890</id><published>2011-09-20T12:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T13:13:26.419-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Video: Colbie Caillat (And The Hag)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
Here&#39;s a video I took of the concert on Saturday. So you can see that things weren&#39;t all bad that night. Colbie was amazing. However, if you look closely at this video (actually, you don&#39;t really have to look closely at all), you can see... &lt;i&gt;her.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;Also be listening closely, because about half way through the video you can hear a scream, which is her as well. She made that noise the entire night.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/1067024098076599890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/video-colbie-caillat-and-hag.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/1067024098076599890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/1067024098076599890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/video-colbie-caillat-and-hag.html' title='Video: Colbie Caillat (And The Hag)'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-6462764406206518938</id><published>2011-09-19T14:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T20:38:32.486-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Got In A Bar Fight. Like, For Real.</title><content type='html'>Okay, maybe it&#39;s not exactly the kind of bar fight you&#39;re thinking of. But still, when you look at your list of bar fights compared to mine, I&#39;d have to say that yours is kind of lacking.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was going to post this on Saturday night, right after the event happened, but I was too exhausted, and yesterday I didn&#39;t have much time because I was traveling and all, so I&#39;m finally getting around to it. So you&#39;re welcome. Anyway, here&#39;s what happened on Saturday night...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was supposed to see Colbie Caillat in concert twice this summer, but both of those tour dates got canceled (as is my luck with almost every concert I attend). So when I found out that she was going to be promoting her new CD in Nashville at the Tin Roof, I was obviously excited and quickly bought a ticket. I had to drive all they way down from Chattanooga for the concert, but I thought it would be very much worth it because (1) I got to leave Chattanooga for a weekend, and (2) I got to see Colbie Caillat live. It never crossed my mind that it would be one of my worst concert experiences ever (Although I&#39;m not sure any concert will ever be as bad as the time when I was supposed to see Kelly Clarkson, but she got replaced by the Dixie Chicks at the last minute. Trade off? I think not!).&lt;br /&gt;
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Anyway, back to the real story.&lt;br /&gt;
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The Tin Roof in Nashville is not my ideal venue for a concert. I guess they normally have smaller indoor concerts, because the inside of the bar was pretty tiny, but as part of some summer concert series they had a stage set up in a sketchy alley/parking lot/junk yard out to the side of it. I didn&#39;t even know it was going to be an outdoor concert until a few house before I got there, and I was less that thrilled. But whatever, I was there to see Colbie Caillat perform, and I wasn&#39;t going to let a little bit of heat stroke get in the way. There were no seats at this venue, except for the rude people who brought lawn chairs and took up enough space for five people to stand, and every standing spot was general admission. I got there just late enough to not be in the front row. Still, I was here to enjoy myself, so I just let it slide.&lt;br /&gt;
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So I had to stand in that spot for a good hour and a half before the first opening act went on, and by the time it began my back was already in some serious pain. Remember how I have scoliosis? Like for real? And how I was in physical therapy all of last semester for it? Yeah, keep that in mind.&lt;br /&gt;
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So the first opener went on, and by this point there were three thousand people in the audience (Seriously! Three thousand! I was expecting maybe five hundred!). So it&#39;s not like it was possible for me to leave my spot. If I did, there was no chance I would get it back. But my back was killing me, as per usual when I am in these settings, and I was already doing that thing where I bend over and sort of roll around on my hips to make the pain go away. Nothing was going to get in the way of my good time! That is, except for the three Real Housewives of Nashville, who were standing right in front of me. Yeah, the story&#39;s about to get really good.&lt;br /&gt;
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I&#39;ll start by saying that these three women, who were in their late forties, were drunk out of their minds. Seriously, by the end of the evening I genuinely believe that one of them had about fifteen drinks. Let me begin by describing the three of them to you, and then I&#39;ll get onto the good stuff. I could tell that they were all wealthy. They married rich, and were stuck in unhappy marriages that they were only in for the money. They dressed like they were going out to some fancy social event, wearing their pearls and high heels. That&#39;s not to say that they looked nice, though, because they didn&#39;t. They looked like two dollars an hour prostitutes, twenty years south of their prime. One of them was really country and really blond, and obviously used a full can of hairspray. She liked to sing along really, really loudly, and if I&#39;m being completely honest, she wasn&#39;t half bad... for a mediocre opera singer. So that was fun. The second woman really just looked like she had just been dragged along to the concert by her two drunk friends, and looked like she would have preferred to be anywhere but here. The last woman was the worst. Really, the only word I can use to describe her is &quot;whore.&quot; Something happened early on in the opening act that gave me this impression of her, but I&#39;m going to wait until the end of the story to tell you that part.&lt;br /&gt;
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Sometime during the first act, the first woman, the blond one who sang, stepped on my foot. And she was wearing heels. And the heels were made out of knives. Well, no, not really, but they might as well have been. The woman turned to me and said with a drunken smile &quot;Oh honey! You better watch where you&#39;re going!&quot; Um, excuse me? So I said back, &quot;Um, I think you best be watching where you&#39;re going,&quot; except I didn&#39;t actually say that at all. I just let it go. No use dealing with a crazy drunk.&lt;br /&gt;
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Anyway, this is when the story gets good.&lt;br /&gt;
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As I said before, my back was really hurting me. And since I was in the second row, I didn&#39;t have the rail to hold on to for support. Then out of nowhere, a gift from the heavens, the miserable friend went to go make her life a little better by getting a round of drinks. The most horrible of the three then scooted over into her spot along the rail, making an empty space right in front of me. So I grabbed on to the bar for support. Note: I did not take a step foreword. I was standing in the same spot I had been in for the past two hours, only my arm was stretched about a foot in front of me. No big deal, right? Ha!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Diagonal to me, to the right of my arm, was the third drunk. About thirty seconds after I held onto the rail, she looked down at my hand and smiled. Then she put her hand on top of mine, grabbed my middle finger, and bent it back all the way. I&#39;m not joking. My hand immediately released from the pole in pain, and then the woman grabbed into it and squeezed it hard enough to hear a popping noise. She looked me square in the eyes and said, &quot;Oh, Nuh-uh. I know you might think you&#39;re all privileged and all that, but let me tell you something. You&#39;re not. You can try all you want to move up to the front, but it&#39;s no use. This is my spot. So... Back. Off.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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I was at a loss for words. She smiled and the turned beck toward the stage. I was silent for a good ten seconds, but then said, &quot;Uh, are you serious?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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She turned back around and laughed. She looked at me maliciously and said &quot;As a heart attack.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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I was still shocked that she said anything in the first place, and I didn&#39;t really want to start a major argument (and I couldn&#39;t think of a good comeback), so I just said, &quot;You could have &lt;i&gt;asked&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;me to move. &amp;nbsp;And I wasn&#39;t even trying to take your spot. My back was hurting, so I just held onto the bar for support.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;You don&#39;t have back problems!&quot; She yelled at me. &quot;You&#39;re still a little kid. &lt;i&gt;I &lt;/i&gt;am a middle aged woman. &lt;i&gt;I &lt;/i&gt;have back problems.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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I stared at her is disbelief. I should have just not said anything else, but whatever. All I said next was this. &quot;Actually, I have scoliosis.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You don&#39;t have scoliosis! &lt;i&gt;I &lt;/i&gt;have scoliosis!&quot; Let&#39;s face it. She was crazy. I should have said back to her something about how if she really did have it she wouldn&#39;t be at a standing room only concert in six inch heels for five hours, but I didn&#39;t. Instead, I said. &quot;Actually, I was in physical therapy for five months for it, so yeah, I do have back problems.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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She scoffed and yelled, &quot;How old are you?!&quot; I should have said, why does that matter? But instead I told her I was eighteen. So, using her great reasoning skills, she said all smugly to me, &quot;Well, my son is &lt;i&gt;19,&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;so maybe I&#39;ll start taking you seriously when you&#39;re his age.&quot; Am I the only one who noticed that this is like, a three month age difference?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She was being ridiculous, so I said to her, &quot;You are being ridiculous.&quot; She was actually shocked that I would say that to her. Meanwhile, her friend, the opera singer, was busily trying to get the to turn around or apologize to me or something, but the evil one just gave her glares and said, &quot;Don&#39;t tell me what to do.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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She was glaring at me. &quot;Are you really going to continue to talk to me that way? I am a &lt;i&gt;lady!&quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&quot;&lt;/i&gt;Actually, you&#39;re a hag,&quot; I said, only not really. What I did say was this: &quot;I am more mature than you could ever hope to be.&quot; And it felt good.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Her eyes were now possessed by some demon. Looking right at me, she said, &quot;Kiss. My. A**.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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I laughed right at her and said, &quot;What?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And she said again, though this time a bit more crudely, &quot;Kiss. My. &lt;i&gt;F**king. &lt;/i&gt;A**.&quot; (Excuse the language. I&#39;m quoting, so it doesn&#39;t count.)&lt;br /&gt;
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I just stared at her and said, &quot;...no.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
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And then she actually screamed! And she yelled, &quot;Keep on talking to me that way! I dare you! Do you want rolls on your eyes?!&quot; She drew a circle around her wrinkly, botoxed face with her finger. &quot;Do you even know what rolls&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;are?!&quot;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&quot;...&lt;/i&gt;No.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And she exploded. &quot;fjdklfjdklhcjdkls! Well how about I go get that big black man over there and ask him to &lt;i&gt;teach &lt;/i&gt;you what rolls on your eyes are!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I said, &quot;No, that&#39;s okay,&quot; and at this point the tag along friend came back with three drinks. She looked at the hag and asked what was wrong with her. And then the evil one just look right at me and said, &quot;I can&#39;t even deal with it right now.&quot; Then the friend was like, &quot;Well what did he do?&quot; And my sworn enemy yelled loud enough for everyone to hear, &quot;He pushed me! He wanted my spot and grabbed my shoulder and shoved me to the ground!&quot; And the friend gasped.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then a couple, who were next to me and behind the three witches said, &quot;That&#39;s not what happened...&quot; And the crazy women yelled, &quot;Don&#39;t get involved!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But the couple offered to trade spots with me and I gladly accepted the offer. I got a better view anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Nothing else happened for about thirty minutes, but then crazy lady just became pathetic. The second act was now playing, and they were doing a cover of the One Republic song &quot;Apologize.&quot; It got to the chorus of the song, and then when the moment was just right, the woman turned to me, now about five feet away, and said in all seriousness, &quot;It&#39;s too late to apologize.&quot; I just rolled my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The fight was basically over, but she did say one more thing to me once Colbie was done. The concert ended, and she immediately turned to me and said. &quot;I am &lt;i&gt;not &lt;/i&gt;a bad person.&quot; And I said, &quot;Okay.&quot; And then I left.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So that&#39;s basically the end of the story. I just have one more thing to say. Remember how I said I saw her do something before the concert even started? Well, this is what it was: I saw her send a text to someone that said &quot;I&#39;ll be a MILF for you.&quot; And then when the concert was over she called her husband to come pick her up. So I&#39;m sure that&#39;s a really happy relationship going on there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, that&#39;s it. Sorry this post was so long, but I had a lot to say! Hopefully you thought it was funny. And it&#39;s ALL true. I hope she got alcohol poisoning that night.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/6462764406206518938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-got-in-bar-fight-like-for-real.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/6462764406206518938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/6462764406206518938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-got-in-bar-fight-like-for-real.html' title='I Got In A Bar Fight. Like, For Real.'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-5720136561480429993</id><published>2011-09-15T14:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T16:28:00.849-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And That&#39;s When They Started Passing Out Hangers</title><content type='html'>It&#39;s been a few days since I last updated you on the abortion/protest situation, but that&#39;s because I didn&#39;t want to post this until I had the picture to go along with it. Unfortunately, the antiabortion peeps have moved on to Knoxville, meaning that the protest has subsided as well, but not before the most amazing thing of all happened.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The protesters started passing out hangers! Get it?! Like, do it yourself abortions! I&#39;m not actually sure what point they were trying to make, because to me it seems like passing out hangers would be something to happen on the anti side, but whatever. I&#39;m not gonna try to delve into the mind of a feminist. Actually, its more likely that theses people weren&#39;t actually protesting at all, but were just doing it for a laugh. Regardless, it was pretty funny.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50MgNkxNw87g1Vf7htmcRouOC6MPqhuE1JYqJGayuHOqaYtRboIamJ9j2RobCNCG3Djf7dJtaKfXKkh4d5ISr5WlSaedfpyMfv4cSSK_2s46bUzY19Opt7N2Opfw5zCDaipNBRZO-MuCR/s1600/abortion+kit.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50MgNkxNw87g1Vf7htmcRouOC6MPqhuE1JYqJGayuHOqaYtRboIamJ9j2RobCNCG3Djf7dJtaKfXKkh4d5ISr5WlSaedfpyMfv4cSSK_2s46bUzY19Opt7N2Opfw5zCDaipNBRZO-MuCR/s640/abortion+kit.jpg&quot; width=&quot;382&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;You probably can&#39;t read the sign very well, but it says &quot;FREE Abortion Kit!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
And the two guys to the right are passing out the hangers.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fun Stuff.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To conclude this story I&#39;ll post just a few more images of the protest. And then this story will be over forever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhoNBh5UdtZq32Dl-8XYrF-Pp4_g31GWPDTVIeUlNmAlGVsgZZelGTC6yhUxxaeNa5mk2kh84gV7B2fEWWvJlY5zt4csPKyppQZm9ELYy0wnSAWfMnRYwwmrbOd6H1SQQfZw59DfjCCsep/s1600/IMG_0328.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhoNBh5UdtZq32Dl-8XYrF-Pp4_g31GWPDTVIeUlNmAlGVsgZZelGTC6yhUxxaeNa5mk2kh84gV7B2fEWWvJlY5zt4csPKyppQZm9ELYy0wnSAWfMnRYwwmrbOd6H1SQQfZw59DfjCCsep/s320/IMG_0328.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJ91coWAHh0-xRJhh_IS6uMtBL0tq7uo8IAwsXK8DZB2PChu42j1AprKPR3zsZx42imlSiq0N3FVk9jMoGpdAZ0bVXCnvwvMNpZCb_d_LdQQFwccSMasltCKmjTgkApSRpic1KlBf5lVb/s1600/IMG_0329.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJ91coWAHh0-xRJhh_IS6uMtBL0tq7uo8IAwsXK8DZB2PChu42j1AprKPR3zsZx42imlSiq0N3FVk9jMoGpdAZ0bVXCnvwvMNpZCb_d_LdQQFwccSMasltCKmjTgkApSRpic1KlBf5lVb/s320/IMG_0329.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUSjjOM3v-i8LtqEMpb2pkTNbPNF0YE_HFsqjcOwydlIR4tGnca5QgmPp6B2_XxZuOhwmrHwo5hSMmrYcoD67kKPeU5GR88SK8V-l59ybd4zkW4FaLLtWakSIfX1LKGKx3LfTs9U19Gvt/s1600/IMG_0330.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUSjjOM3v-i8LtqEMpb2pkTNbPNF0YE_HFsqjcOwydlIR4tGnca5QgmPp6B2_XxZuOhwmrHwo5hSMmrYcoD67kKPeU5GR88SK8V-l59ybd4zkW4FaLLtWakSIfX1LKGKx3LfTs9U19Gvt/s320/IMG_0330.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6zkyj2gT8WFWuLpTJ60rd-6rEOqM5YHSn3OffAa_1cW1FnT4IzRGCL_-7fuyDxz-FkHXclcYlkeAk9PIHMEK8EkhrVE4HT8HHqruMkdWDP9bXXI3ZjZFBjW99njZHnWucX9AZTYNsps4H/s1600/IMG_0455.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6zkyj2gT8WFWuLpTJ60rd-6rEOqM5YHSn3OffAa_1cW1FnT4IzRGCL_-7fuyDxz-FkHXclcYlkeAk9PIHMEK8EkhrVE4HT8HHqruMkdWDP9bXXI3ZjZFBjW99njZHnWucX9AZTYNsps4H/s320/IMG_0455.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;One day later...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
The End.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/5720136561480429993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/and-thats-when-they-started-passing-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/5720136561480429993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/5720136561480429993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/and-thats-when-they-started-passing-out.html' title='And That&#39;s When They Started Passing Out Hangers'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50MgNkxNw87g1Vf7htmcRouOC6MPqhuE1JYqJGayuHOqaYtRboIamJ9j2RobCNCG3Djf7dJtaKfXKkh4d5ISr5WlSaedfpyMfv4cSSK_2s46bUzY19Opt7N2Opfw5zCDaipNBRZO-MuCR/s72-c/abortion+kit.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-2992738037962474987</id><published>2011-09-14T20:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T21:12:34.314-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Asian Invasion: A Korean Obsession</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Some of you may know this about me, others may not. I currently have an addiction/obsession (fit for Todd. Hello Rajuju!) that has brought my level of patheticness to new heights. It&#39;s called K-Pop. For those of you that are a bit slower than most, that&#39;s Korean Pop. As in pop music.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;I first heard about K-Pop from a music blog that I go to a lot, and when I first saw it I was like, &quot;This is the stupidest thing I&#39;ve ever seen.&quot; But then I saw more and more posts about it, and I slowly became addicted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;There are about a million pop groups in Korea, and I could list them all for you, but lets be honest:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;2NE1 is the only one that matters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghUY4Pbzj1KcSyDkBZSvqPnkIGaSjRxiRNVrQqyKbzb3UeWAyaP8EoPRMB2ZF22DbVA36Gn8FWX2g47cZdGs9h_qibAHTVJhH1mQ8QjXTM7pHKjH_K6THPLpg4dDsmQTdC-SB0fS6pEjm6/s1600/2ne1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;417.703125&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghUY4Pbzj1KcSyDkBZSvqPnkIGaSjRxiRNVrQqyKbzb3UeWAyaP8EoPRMB2ZF22DbVA36Gn8FWX2g47cZdGs9h_qibAHTVJhH1mQ8QjXTM7pHKjH_K6THPLpg4dDsmQTdC-SB0fS6pEjm6/s640/2ne1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;2NE1 (Pronounced 21 or To Anyone) consists of four band members. They are (from left to right): Bom, CL, Dara, and Minzy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;I get the feeling you still don&#39;t quite understand just how amazing they are. Just know this: They actually sing live, which is more than can be said for most American pop stars, and they are crazy good performers. This is not a joke. If you still don&#39;t believe me, just watch this video of them performing their song &quot;I Am The Best, &quot; which is one of my favorites of theirs. And be sure to watch out for Dara and CL, cause they are my favorites!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;object class=&quot;BLOGGER-youtube-video&quot; classid=&quot;clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000&quot; codebase=&quot;http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0&quot; data-thumbnail-src=&quot;http://1.gvt0.com/vi/3I5_E4cwdJE/0.jpg&quot; height=&quot;266&quot; width=&quot;320&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;movie&quot; value=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/v/3I5_E4cwdJE&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds&quot; /&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;bgcolor&quot; value=&quot;#FFFFFF&quot; /&gt;&lt;embed width=&quot;570&quot; height=&quot;402.5625&quot;  src=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/v/3I5_E4cwdJE&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds&quot; type=&quot;application/x-shockwave-flash&quot;&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;See!? Was that not amazing?! I could post about 100 more performances just as amazing as this, but I seriously doubt you&#39;d watch them all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;However, as a parting gift, I will leave you with this. It&#39;s a video of the group practicing their &quot;I Am The Best&quot; performance, and it&#39;s filmed with just one camera, so you get a better look at the dance moves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen=&#39;allowfullscreen&#39; webkitallowfullscreen=&#39;webkitallowfullscreen&#39; mozallowfullscreen=&#39;mozallowfullscreen&#39; width=&#39;320&#39; height=&#39;266&#39; src=&#39;https://www.youtube.com/embed/fl19JYqW6MI?feature=player_embedded&#39; frameborder=&#39;0&#39;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
You&#39;re welcome.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/2992738037962474987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/asian-invasion-korean-obsession.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2992738037962474987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2992738037962474987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/asian-invasion-korean-obsession.html' title='Asian Invasion: A Korean Obsession'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghUY4Pbzj1KcSyDkBZSvqPnkIGaSjRxiRNVrQqyKbzb3UeWAyaP8EoPRMB2ZF22DbVA36Gn8FWX2g47cZdGs9h_qibAHTVJhH1mQ8QjXTM7pHKjH_K6THPLpg4dDsmQTdC-SB0fS6pEjm6/s72-c/2ne1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-3868353219285297563</id><published>2011-09-14T12:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T12:29:20.709-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Confederate Dead</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Yesterday Delaney decided she wanted to go exploring, so that is what we did. We told Emily she could come too, but she was being all mopey and said she&#39;d rather Google pictures of couples slow dancing (?). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwm7j0qKMtaEPOd95WiL_uyu59zz-kAqr0w8QGP2kEg2K25AqyIAUP14Ex_xHKLoedK2ZbSjBPec1YM3i7wjvs1fsJDdlrXr58Roh8MbVey3UyMjwERlYKNVKd_pTidScfdffGngcTMjW/s1600/IMG_0341.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwm7j0qKMtaEPOd95WiL_uyu59zz-kAqr0w8QGP2kEg2K25AqyIAUP14Ex_xHKLoedK2ZbSjBPec1YM3i7wjvs1fsJDdlrXr58Roh8MbVey3UyMjwERlYKNVKd_pTidScfdffGngcTMjW/s320/IMG_0341.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Apathetic Emily&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;So anyway, Delaney and I went exploring around campus. Apparently Delaney has a thing for graveyards, so that&#39;s where we went first.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihX-Z2F4IzaazduDbvUIoEjYiK5Uf-yboqpAmj6QjO6KSVTavofr54W0Wh7hqhm5lpWvln-6OGpd-pdQ6O5rkPRgVR269Ug8eI1S5D0bmWs05DmQYpyaazRkhQHH8wvW-K5L4L_InGBh28/s1600/IMG_0370.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihX-Z2F4IzaazduDbvUIoEjYiK5Uf-yboqpAmj6QjO6KSVTavofr54W0Wh7hqhm5lpWvln-6OGpd-pdQ6O5rkPRgVR269Ug8eI1S5D0bmWs05DmQYpyaazRkhQHH8wvW-K5L4L_InGBh28/s640/IMG_0370.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSe6oXXrnM4f0ffhZflEQhjFi94Phi_Oslte4odh6l89NLF8YlFarhfotQoULEb7rS47Os4jdH0BPj4FBywKcsJzDtQQnbUZGGe9Uo6dUqtnkGyPucIu0XPFAxNVD7PUjnwEZaqu2kYhe/s1600/IMG_0382.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSe6oXXrnM4f0ffhZflEQhjFi94Phi_Oslte4odh6l89NLF8YlFarhfotQoULEb7rS47Os4jdH0BPj4FBywKcsJzDtQQnbUZGGe9Uo6dUqtnkGyPucIu0XPFAxNVD7PUjnwEZaqu2kYhe/s640/IMG_0382.JPG&quot; style=&quot;cursor: move;&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwGkBALStxPY0Dk3T4GZ5DRhp4yVglQvlXHCCG8W7PiIZeVRdJ78jYcW5oph7GW7Epjbew-J8JTBeE-yz9IzDnoVbMPZYl10IgBKXjn7Uv-lS1m-FLhX2S3L-TEZGzXZvpktGUZ1gew2I/s1600/IMG_0371.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwGkBALStxPY0Dk3T4GZ5DRhp4yVglQvlXHCCG8W7PiIZeVRdJ78jYcW5oph7GW7Epjbew-J8JTBeE-yz9IzDnoVbMPZYl10IgBKXjn7Uv-lS1m-FLhX2S3L-TEZGzXZvpktGUZ1gew2I/s640/IMG_0371.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj0DB-hcbBoHvRHRimZmbjd8ez7BQjlTrmoPCIAlYLzwIGuCM8FGyxdc2j7l99CRQt75pmXVgnFHnfLPsERXp-vnQjUjL2GUdP4JRfowOCMQK0qqpYtMaRjg3gaMi6H2fxE53d306YnbA2/s1600/IMG_0388.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj0DB-hcbBoHvRHRimZmbjd8ez7BQjlTrmoPCIAlYLzwIGuCM8FGyxdc2j7l99CRQt75pmXVgnFHnfLPsERXp-vnQjUjL2GUdP4JRfowOCMQK0qqpYtMaRjg3gaMi6H2fxE53d306YnbA2/s640/IMG_0388.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwSe6oXXrnM4f0ffhZflEQhjFi94Phi_Oslte4odh6l89NLF8YlFarhfotQoULEb7rS47Os4jdH0BPj4FBywKcsJzDtQQnbUZGGe9Uo6dUqtnkGyPucIu0XPFAxNVD7PUjnwEZaqu2kYhe/s1600/IMG_0382.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Then we went back to the main campus and broke into the campus church! Not really, though, because only the front door was locked. If you walked around to the back their was a handicap button that opened the door.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aZE-K99yiUyN60jpYZlk_RhxmjAN43JMzO4hVOeppXhKINFAMFUMjVbz0hB7mUrdfeTWtl4h0YxA4p4v_PLjaZNmr3TNAEjZfzrXe-nrtQoMAG5KGcKh-522a0AbuOHrqrzYzOFe82cy/s1600/IMG_0396.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aZE-K99yiUyN60jpYZlk_RhxmjAN43JMzO4hVOeppXhKINFAMFUMjVbz0hB7mUrdfeTWtl4h0YxA4p4v_PLjaZNmr3TNAEjZfzrXe-nrtQoMAG5KGcKh-522a0AbuOHrqrzYzOFe82cy/s640/IMG_0396.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAfq8eJ2svkfOkgoWT3WN7gQTUP2mzxr08IT67ZicWBcs-oV-YCgplQ_FE7-FGKZfP0mKl1mdR6AS9bwCuDkRe2I4kYLnYkUWkhaoMP9Dj6Q562gh5QbkzLppPqrf0NDAPREe8MahG6_Iy/s1600/IMG_0399.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAfq8eJ2svkfOkgoWT3WN7gQTUP2mzxr08IT67ZicWBcs-oV-YCgplQ_FE7-FGKZfP0mKl1mdR6AS9bwCuDkRe2I4kYLnYkUWkhaoMP9Dj6Q562gh5QbkzLppPqrf0NDAPREe8MahG6_Iy/s640/IMG_0399.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTa5voTxDqVhgxd3wkhUmtwKxSqA-s8LLrvHmmYo8ns1FTpcTsdZYlB4-d1MLA7Uvs3RTLOkYkwVx856R2rBHRLpH1ipiq-Mr4yml_EW6lxlKaaTKgO-Gl33UFNt5K7V_OYXmH4Z1NNwa/s1600/IMG_0406.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTa5voTxDqVhgxd3wkhUmtwKxSqA-s8LLrvHmmYo8ns1FTpcTsdZYlB4-d1MLA7Uvs3RTLOkYkwVx856R2rBHRLpH1ipiq-Mr4yml_EW6lxlKaaTKgO-Gl33UFNt5K7V_OYXmH4Z1NNwa/s640/IMG_0406.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Delaney&#39;s attempt at photography&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvtRQm3z5g4NQvO3KxAWHuGtjJ1SMSg0ts0lpl9R4-9H5BtA7Kz7I9DibtJpCLeD1JiavRnVKurwcp2qkaWKqG-VmxPsUcjXER7sBbr6Uea2v-69-CFZWzc7ehI-C0-NAChJgBpQwr5kt/s1600/IMG_0409.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvtRQm3z5g4NQvO3KxAWHuGtjJ1SMSg0ts0lpl9R4-9H5BtA7Kz7I9DibtJpCLeD1JiavRnVKurwcp2qkaWKqG-VmxPsUcjXER7sBbr6Uea2v-69-CFZWzc7ehI-C0-NAChJgBpQwr5kt/s640/IMG_0409.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;Then we saw to the side of the church a door that looked like it led to a dungeon, so we tried to get through, but it was blocked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQTY2EozerLNOPt5LB1YIY-m45Di9aUUM97rX0w6CNeSUQHJ-F_N9kaySYEhnUJperf65vhxs-CXBB3raNEPxZDg5cR1WWT3pK0WD8Mnhf_nOo7nekDk8kseuwlDlqbVQPBa8WB_otgbL/s1600/IMG_0426.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQTY2EozerLNOPt5LB1YIY-m45Di9aUUM97rX0w6CNeSUQHJ-F_N9kaySYEhnUJperf65vhxs-CXBB3raNEPxZDg5cR1WWT3pK0WD8Mnhf_nOo7nekDk8kseuwlDlqbVQPBa8WB_otgbL/s640/IMG_0426.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
But that&#39;s about it for yesterday. No more fun for me. Obviously. I&#39;ll post a few more pictures of the adventure just because. Click them to make the image bigger!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDpQaylRzOmHjIJ8F65nPcPAo7sjwWq1-KOgINJdyldLT56aANwrydaWx8WAP6OBZfh_J8k1-kNc6f5caoPAd7d3Cbefg5FjLht_03XGWolEpV1N8b18HQBcx1VQ2R7sYwVxApuU8uMqe/s1600/IMG_0412.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;200&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDpQaylRzOmHjIJ8F65nPcPAo7sjwWq1-KOgINJdyldLT56aANwrydaWx8WAP6OBZfh_J8k1-kNc6f5caoPAd7d3Cbefg5FjLht_03XGWolEpV1N8b18HQBcx1VQ2R7sYwVxApuU8uMqe/s200/IMG_0412.JPG&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oN68RZSmI1jM9pTRBJz21R1KiBKOUEXv-VjSZJhH0Xmg9qBioMnjVis-WSUGReGHkzj1ZuWDkkyd2lcp59hG2Og1o8foiMG0m4kSHgdxhxLGHQEsr6dVD6dGw-CRHXNsyLqOFlXQB1um/s1600/IMG_0420.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;200&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oN68RZSmI1jM9pTRBJz21R1KiBKOUEXv-VjSZJhH0Xmg9qBioMnjVis-WSUGReGHkzj1ZuWDkkyd2lcp59hG2Og1o8foiMG0m4kSHgdxhxLGHQEsr6dVD6dGw-CRHXNsyLqOFlXQB1um/s200/IMG_0420.JPG&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwq_tDJMTPxIdg2LXn_xPN3Pxoc6xY-uXFEa4NFIBx0I7gngSGy_4gNfUfQffVYpOdDX2VrkVM9Y_blYisSa3moipI5masRuycfUR31w3WI3c1GdDhHTfG5f05uqgX4cSgV2fsoqB9-A3/s1600/IMG_0424.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;200&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwq_tDJMTPxIdg2LXn_xPN3Pxoc6xY-uXFEa4NFIBx0I7gngSGy_4gNfUfQffVYpOdDX2VrkVM9Y_blYisSa3moipI5masRuycfUR31w3WI3c1GdDhHTfG5f05uqgX4cSgV2fsoqB9-A3/s200/IMG_0424.JPG&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxSH_kbaRC3hfcRD8re4VAHrw1bLCAUID62Pc7wrm0jGMHCPpN64qABasZC6lOKsyvVKiHEWB2QZS0fimwtIYYZXRK-5Al9LjIEMQ7IgxkVhLL-OZSatoqxthNXdsKoDh6mv5PCgXU6p0/s1600/IMG_0427.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;200&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxSH_kbaRC3hfcRD8re4VAHrw1bLCAUID62Pc7wrm0jGMHCPpN64qABasZC6lOKsyvVKiHEWB2QZS0fimwtIYYZXRK-5Al9LjIEMQ7IgxkVhLL-OZSatoqxthNXdsKoDh6mv5PCgXU6p0/s200/IMG_0427.JPG&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/3868353219285297563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/our-confederate-dead.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/3868353219285297563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/3868353219285297563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/our-confederate-dead.html' title='Our Confederate Dead'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwm7j0qKMtaEPOd95WiL_uyu59zz-kAqr0w8QGP2kEg2K25AqyIAUP14Ex_xHKLoedK2ZbSjBPec1YM3i7wjvs1fsJDdlrXr58Roh8MbVey3UyMjwERlYKNVKd_pTidScfdffGngcTMjW/s72-c/IMG_0341.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-1706801087466204874</id><published>2011-09-14T10:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T14:13:30.887-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not A Hellen Keller Impression</title><content type='html'>Here&#39;s a little story to hold you over until my next lengthy post. I&#39;ve only got 20 minutes until Psychology, so I&#39;ll try to make this quick. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yesterday in Intro to Music, the most amazing thing happened. If you&#39;ve talked to me recently, you&#39;ll know that I hate that class because of how incredibly boring it is, but yesterday&#39;s class was completely worth it. My teacher in that class is really nice, but he&#39;s also not all there. Anyway, he had been teaching us for about 20 minutes, when out of nowhere he started yelling at the entire class for no reason. He said, &quot;It is impossible to do two things at once, and if you are currently doing more than one thing right now, that means you&#39;re not paying attention to ME! Now take off your headphones! NOW!&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, no one moved, because no one was actually wearing headphones, so everything was all quiet and awkward for a bit. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My teacher was breathing heavily now, and for a moment I thought he was looking at me, so I checked if I was wearing headphones just to be sure. I wasn&#39;t. Then my teacher yelled again. &quot;I said to take off the headphones NOW!&quot; And he pointed at a guy sitting in the fourth row. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The guy pointed at himself with a confused expression on his face and my teacher said, &quot;Yeah, you&quot; all sarcastically. Then the guy reached up to is ear and pulled out a wire. He said, &quot;This is a hearing aid. I&#39;m deaf.&quot; And the room got really quiet. It was one of those awkward moments where all you can think to to is laugh, but I didn&#39;t think that would be appropriate, so I had to bite the insides of my cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My teacher looked really embarrassed and said, &quot;Oh, well... Hearing aids are okay. Just... No headphones! Haha.&quot; Then he looked directly at the guy with the hearing aid and whispered loudly, &quot;I&#39;m sorry!&quot; and it was really awkward. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That&#39;s the end of this story. I want to try to post a picture with every blog I post, but I didn&#39;t get a very good one of my music room, so you might not really be able to see anything at all. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdRzvhtsclgXjB916LZOkKoeLY7jeWSUjBkN9Ua-fmksbdnA9EjpY1UrdK2orn6zNPVBpNvhuLGvAsBrlv6BOO_DA6w-Pog6pXFhvdzM0mLNyA_4NRO-RsKJbFVV5LkoLM8at5i4WLy1R/s1600/IMG_0326.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdRzvhtsclgXjB916LZOkKoeLY7jeWSUjBkN9Ua-fmksbdnA9EjpY1UrdK2orn6zNPVBpNvhuLGvAsBrlv6BOO_DA6w-Pog6pXFhvdzM0mLNyA_4NRO-RsKJbFVV5LkoLM8at5i4WLy1R/s640/IMG_0326.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/1706801087466204874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/heres-little-story-to-hold-you-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/1706801087466204874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/1706801087466204874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/heres-little-story-to-hold-you-over.html' title='Not A Hellen Keller Impression'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdRzvhtsclgXjB916LZOkKoeLY7jeWSUjBkN9Ua-fmksbdnA9EjpY1UrdK2orn6zNPVBpNvhuLGvAsBrlv6BOO_DA6w-Pog6pXFhvdzM0mLNyA_4NRO-RsKJbFVV5LkoLM8at5i4WLy1R/s72-c/IMG_0326.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-4589561086780402856</id><published>2011-09-13T11:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T13:37:47.644-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Uterus, My Business</title><content type='html'>Remember yesterday how I told you about abortion alley? Well they took all the pictures down last night... only to put them right back up bright and early this morning. I still don&#39;t want pictures of dead babies on my blog, so I&#39;m just gonna post a picture of one of the tables where people could go pledge to never have an abortion or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAE6uzYiMzInstAm5dhjpU6gLmh0LKKpCQVHyAToZ023f7kJ1u8o1qs5wppTqSOixyB2W_KQvr8BLcyasCFo9My6EGEI0WRQaLONucng7PsIg1qo6VLeAiHs8easAU6dy4Ung_gYHGBvOY/s1600/IMG_0302.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAE6uzYiMzInstAm5dhjpU6gLmh0LKKpCQVHyAToZ023f7kJ1u8o1qs5wppTqSOixyB2W_KQvr8BLcyasCFo9My6EGEI0WRQaLONucng7PsIg1qo6VLeAiHs8easAU6dy4Ung_gYHGBvOY/s640/IMG_0302.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The only difference about today&#39;s bloody subjection is that the alleyway now has protesters! I can&#39;t tell you how immensely happy it made me to be a witness of the campus&#39; first protest! Granted, there were about 8 of them, and their signs were a little lackluster compared to the images of cut open stomachs, but whatever. There was even an old woman protesting with them! I don&#39;t know if she was a teacher or a mom, but it made me smile regardless. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglqcmV5jUWqLniD6EiA6T6aGYAs_Ks-ya2F0o-pj7Yqbh3FIg8kHsp7_uB-0xM7TXGFz6o8DLnqnMZ048oXtwq79HsWWy47BhAQjfY3pI-Up5SmZ23R8tDBN1C0-TS-5zGxxRobNJh0NRu/s1600/IMG_0301.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglqcmV5jUWqLniD6EiA6T6aGYAs_Ks-ya2F0o-pj7Yqbh3FIg8kHsp7_uB-0xM7TXGFz6o8DLnqnMZ048oXtwq79HsWWy47BhAQjfY3pI-Up5SmZ23R8tDBN1C0-TS-5zGxxRobNJh0NRu/s640/IMG_0301.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Here&#39;s a better look at some of the signs. I tried to get a picture of all of them, but you can only walk up and down cardiac hill with your iPhone pointed right at them before the protesters start to catch on to what you&#39;re doing. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1TcN76sPVkcpu5Kguf9k4n8526bjGaxpiseG_aflrCb4zn5lDDI2JkULERtD1mh9iWpl7Fh-S0GIki1Uieh92ESXPiNnsAFiNlCUfY-rLAKVO1fxyjTEbt1-XO9khcsGZi2LoLO2eZ7N/s1600/IMG_0298.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1TcN76sPVkcpu5Kguf9k4n8526bjGaxpiseG_aflrCb4zn5lDDI2JkULERtD1mh9iWpl7Fh-S0GIki1Uieh92ESXPiNnsAFiNlCUfY-rLAKVO1fxyjTEbt1-XO9khcsGZi2LoLO2eZ7N/s640/IMG_0298.jpg&quot; width=&quot;478&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;lick image for better quality so you&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;can read the signs!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Don&#39;t you hate it when young people get all political? Or is that just me? It&#39;s annoying. No one cares what your opinion is.&lt;br /&gt;
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I heard some people say in English this morning that the picture are probably going to be up for the rest of the week, so I&#39;ll try to keep you posted on anything else interesting that happens with them.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/4589561086780402856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-uterus-my-business.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/4589561086780402856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/4589561086780402856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-uterus-my-business.html' title='My Uterus, My Business'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAE6uzYiMzInstAm5dhjpU6gLmh0LKKpCQVHyAToZ023f7kJ1u8o1qs5wppTqSOixyB2W_KQvr8BLcyasCFo9My6EGEI0WRQaLONucng7PsIg1qo6VLeAiHs8easAU6dy4Ung_gYHGBvOY/s72-c/IMG_0302.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-2816893673216716119</id><published>2011-09-12T20:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T13:40:56.458-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Did Stuff With People!</title><content type='html'>Let it be known that on September 12, I did stuff with people. I know, right?! It&#39;s amazing! Granted, the little outing did have to begin by me texting to Delaney, &quot;Let me know when you&#39;re eating,&quot; just like every over time I see people begins, but whatever. So the fun began at about 5, when I went over to E &amp;amp; D&#39;s dorm.&lt;br /&gt;
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The fun began with Emily telling me that I had atrocious eyebrows (you see what I have to put up with?), so Delaney felt it necessary to pluck them. With tweezers.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo5CMwVK926LA88P1IQAS488Ih7S3IgH9YoXH_smDHVSvRXSZ38cvFW1wRtnAxuV4JQRLXewg7KCzwXiOB4cdaXM3EfqqwDHfVGTr9CGoZI4f-wRrDMmbHu-gXxrdBpPCpx7zu0a3VaAWW/s1600/IMG_0204.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo5CMwVK926LA88P1IQAS488Ih7S3IgH9YoXH_smDHVSvRXSZ38cvFW1wRtnAxuV4JQRLXewg7KCzwXiOB4cdaXM3EfqqwDHfVGTr9CGoZI4f-wRrDMmbHu-gXxrdBpPCpx7zu0a3VaAWW/s640/IMG_0204.JPG&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
So that was great fun. When they were done fixing my face Emily said it still looked rough, so she would bring her electric razor to school next week. Thanks for that.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggI_xxBGeYA6dtbhUKB3QHFHj9Sg52cE_VmU5v-TWy7Hs3MUD6-W3b1Go-SdwNaEN5s4MLEwIuedM-gzE7cN7QkitWs3JS3dKguqmyjQvUHYuTGRPZx2PBT2wrrnkKUtTSkLzuQ_skQXOV/s1600/IMG_0221.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;450&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggI_xxBGeYA6dtbhUKB3QHFHj9Sg52cE_VmU5v-TWy7Hs3MUD6-W3b1Go-SdwNaEN5s4MLEwIuedM-gzE7cN7QkitWs3JS3dKguqmyjQvUHYuTGRPZx2PBT2wrrnkKUtTSkLzuQ_skQXOV/s640/IMG_0221.JPG&quot; width=&quot;450&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So as payback for that I took really awful pictures of them at dinner. Pictured here is the demon some refer to as Delaney. See the look of possession in her eyes? &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvKTkqdgwLuK02lZneW0nD8K-QY4kihajyQGnwI0qfFGtj7zXqZw3xPUC9lX55_938uVm8avUmZF2ui-65seztSnc0rzNQ6qDYa_SomS8LGdarXevLGgsdlKW07WpiGLcuE4HmQG78NYH/s1600/IMG_0222.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;450&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvKTkqdgwLuK02lZneW0nD8K-QY4kihajyQGnwI0qfFGtj7zXqZw3xPUC9lX55_938uVm8avUmZF2ui-65seztSnc0rzNQ6qDYa_SomS8LGdarXevLGgsdlKW07WpiGLcuE4HmQG78NYH/s640/IMG_0222.JPG&quot; width=&quot;450&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Next we have Emily, who at the moment this picture was taken saw a group of Frat boys and felt it necessary to do her best monkey impression. I don&#39;t know why. Do we think she succeeded? Let me know in the comments.&lt;br /&gt;
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But that&#39;s about it for fun today. I could post some mean pictures of Bekahhh, but I need her blood, so I&#39;ll keep her on my good side for now. That&#39;s all I got for now.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/2816893673216716119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-did-stuff-with-people.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2816893673216716119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/2816893673216716119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-did-stuff-with-people.html' title='I Did Stuff With People!'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo5CMwVK926LA88P1IQAS488Ih7S3IgH9YoXH_smDHVSvRXSZ38cvFW1wRtnAxuV4JQRLXewg7KCzwXiOB4cdaXM3EfqqwDHfVGTr9CGoZI4f-wRrDMmbHu-gXxrdBpPCpx7zu0a3VaAWW/s72-c/IMG_0204.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7499746341735916537.post-1590384061571793173</id><published>2011-09-12T14:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T13:49:02.576-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I&#39;m Aware, Thanks; or, That Day When Cardiac Hill Became Abortion Alley</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YXWyDfFpVotaNPr5meQeVplg3eP4tTvqQMC5Gmi52xrHkU6nPFicVaSmZK7h3yOehrFCHKlrshdSqY4I34ATUo2jXxTfR3zzOWTlQ6-3rOOAXfNQmiZmrqO8EKkLMeyTKBJzdUHZTEao/s1600/Genocide+Photo.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;570&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651537375312732002&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YXWyDfFpVotaNPr5meQeVplg3eP4tTvqQMC5Gmi52xrHkU6nPFicVaSmZK7h3yOehrFCHKlrshdSqY4I34ATUo2jXxTfR3zzOWTlQ6-3rOOAXfNQmiZmrqO8EKkLMeyTKBJzdUHZTEao/s640/Genocide+Photo.JPG&quot; style=&quot;display: block; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;&quot; width=&quot;570&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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I stumbled upon these lovely signs this morning on my way to class. Take a few steps further down cardiac hill and there I was faced with about 30 more, only these were much more graphic. I guess some sort of anti abortion group on campus was doing an awareness project or something. But for real- these images were disgusting, and NOT what I wanted to be looking at right after breakfast. They were like, bloody babies going down drains and people crying and frown faces. And they were HUGE! &lt;br /&gt;
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And what makes it even worse is that the billboards were right next to the cafeteria, so after I was finished with all my classes and i was on my way back to my dorm, when I passes the signs all I could think was, &quot;It smells really good. I&#39;m hungry!&quot; which is obviously a horrible thing to be thinking when there are aborted babies all around you! So that was fun.&lt;br /&gt;
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Also, let it be known that of the 5 people I saw passing out pamphlets next to the pictures, 3 of them were smoking and 1 of them had blue hair. So I don&#39;t think they were really sending out the intended message.&lt;br /&gt;
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I&#39;d post a picture of the ginormous wall of pictures, but I don&#39;t really want an image of the unborn on my blog. It&#39;s not really on my list of things I love.&lt;br /&gt;
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Was this post insensitive? Hope not!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/feeds/1590384061571793173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/1590384061571793173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7499746341735916537/posts/default/1590384061571793173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chronic-boredom.blogspot.com/2011/09/blog-post.html' title='I&#39;m Aware, Thanks; or, That Day When Cardiac Hill Became Abortion Alley'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YXWyDfFpVotaNPr5meQeVplg3eP4tTvqQMC5Gmi52xrHkU6nPFicVaSmZK7h3yOehrFCHKlrshdSqY4I34ATUo2jXxTfR3zzOWTlQ6-3rOOAXfNQmiZmrqO8EKkLMeyTKBJzdUHZTEao/s72-c/Genocide+Photo.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>