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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcFRX8-eyp7ImA9WhRRFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724</id><updated>2011-11-28T18:16:54.153-08:00</updated><category term="exercise" /><category term="child" /><category term="poor" /><category term="media" /><category term="sad" /><category term="boyfriend" /><category term="stress" /><category term="news" /><category term="free" /><category term="rape" /><category term="parent" /><category term="adhd" /><category term="exhusband" /><category term="criminals" /><category term="cops" /><category term="youtube" /><category term="tantrums" /><category term="motivation" /><category term="diet" /><category term="haiku" /><category term="job" /><category term="roman" /><category term="makeup" /><category term="court" /><category term="polanski" /><category term="Halloween" /><category term="pain" /><category term="mom" /><category term="fat" /><category term="weight" /><category term="kids" /><category term="healthy" /><title>Inside Bipolar Mind</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></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><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/InsideBipolarMind" /><feedburner:info uri="insidebipolarmind" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYFRHw5fCp7ImA9WxBUE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-7138121793118233698</id><published>2010-02-27T18:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T18:28:35.224-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-27T18:28:35.224-08:00</app:edited><title>Reasons Portland aint so grand....</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;I &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; my hatred for bridges does bias my opinion a &lt;em&gt;teeny&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;bit, here in the "City of Bridges".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;However, tonight, as I tried to ride the train across a bridge to see my daughter in the hospital, I had a panic attack, and had to turn around and go home....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I discovered... Tri-Met... Portland's public transit...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSJeCY8tI/AAAAAAAAAIg/SyPRs0-F974/s1600-h/tri-mettrain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSJeCY8tI/AAAAAAAAAIg/SyPRs0-F974/s320/tri-mettrain.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So normal from the outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;No wonder it's so much cheaper than CA's Metro....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;On the inside... Like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nS1jqtduI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ig4SxNd67LU/s1600-h/homeless.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nS1jqtduI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ig4SxNd67LU/s200/homeless.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Except drunk and disorderly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Or dealing drugs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Or vomiting or urinating.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Makes going over the bridges.... Fun?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Here's kid in the 1st E.R.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSB2D6VuI/AAAAAAAAAIA/JNyRfSr8LWs/s1600-h/Kira+hospital.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" kt="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSB2D6VuI/AAAAAAAAAIA/JNyRfSr8LWs/s200/Kira+hospital.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And here's view from first hospital: &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSKmrDzoI/AAAAAAAAAIo/_d8J3IOTsug/s1600-h/waterfall+hospital.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" kt="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSKmrDzoI/AAAAAAAAAIo/_d8J3IOTsug/s200/waterfall+hospital.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Which weirds me out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;When my dad was in the god-forsaken hospital built on a hill overlooking the river (here in Portland),&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;this was the view: &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSF-LzA1I/AAAAAAAAAII/ui2ql1FOjCw/s1600-h/Ps+hosp+view.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSF-LzA1I/AAAAAAAAAII/ui2ql1FOjCw/s320/Ps+hosp+view.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;But they took excellent care of him....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Here's an update on my piggies:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;They're loud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;They have terrible behavior.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I don't even think they like eachother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;It's like family...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSAIgHCLI/AAAAAAAAAH4/CBnYrRGSgtI/s1600-h/Deb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSAIgHCLI/AAAAAAAAAH4/CBnYrRGSgtI/s200/Deb.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And finally, back in December (?) we had snow for about 4 hours here.&lt;br /&gt;
I got stranded at work, did I mention this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSITKLVhI/AAAAAAAAAIY/ccfAp_x7eMg/s1600-h/snow+car.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSITKLVhI/AAAAAAAAAIY/ccfAp_x7eMg/s320/snow+car.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Yeah... that charming little corolla.... would NOT move once hitting the &lt;strike&gt;mean&lt;/strike&gt; icy streets of PDX...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;My boss recommends I find an apothecary and get a tincture to help my anxiety for crossing bridges.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I've ALMOST finished my rug...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSHDrvdVI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/KM3nTQZMVTU/s1600-h/scarf+rug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSHDrvdVI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/KM3nTQZMVTU/s320/scarf+rug.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I &lt;strong&gt;MADE&lt;/strong&gt; that shit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Oh.... And I've become a full-on vegetarian... But I doubt I'm gonna lose any weight over it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Love you guys!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-7138121793118233698?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eiNO227zNYIG-0JgKC7BaTQIOmI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eiNO227zNYIG-0JgKC7BaTQIOmI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eiNO227zNYIG-0JgKC7BaTQIOmI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eiNO227zNYIG-0JgKC7BaTQIOmI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/9unn7phKujo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/7138121793118233698/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/02/reasons-portland-aint-so-grand.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/7138121793118233698?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/7138121793118233698?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/9unn7phKujo/reasons-portland-aint-so-grand.html" title="Reasons Portland aint so grand...." /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S4nSJeCY8tI/AAAAAAAAAIg/SyPRs0-F974/s72-c/tri-mettrain.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/02/reasons-portland-aint-so-grand.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkINQ3k-fyp7ImA9WxBUEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-1685292773210691379</id><published>2010-02-26T22:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T22:03:12.757-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-26T22:03:12.757-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sad" /><title>No Awards here</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Well, the crazy news is: child has entered an inpatient psych hospital.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I keep saying it's the best thing and that we FINALLY got her help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Of course, I cried a lot tonight. She kicked me out of visiting her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I hafta drive &lt;strong&gt;over bridges&lt;/strong&gt; to see her, thru an hour's worth of traffic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I know that doesn't mean a lot to an 11 year old.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She just wanted to get back to the kids to watch Barnyard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She demands I come all the time, but insults living with me. (I'm "mean". It's so laughable. She gets away with everything, just because she's such a tyrant and everything MUST end up her way. She TOTALLY is like the Queen of Hearts. I'M Alice.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; it's not personal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I hope everything turns out okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's just hard to see lights at ends of tunnels.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-1685292773210691379?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/j9YOcfr0cKoyb8I6bZASv7CwkpA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/j9YOcfr0cKoyb8I6bZASv7CwkpA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/j9YOcfr0cKoyb8I6bZASv7CwkpA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/j9YOcfr0cKoyb8I6bZASv7CwkpA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/U0bLHkIWnIc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/1685292773210691379/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/02/no-awards-here.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/1685292773210691379?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/1685292773210691379?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/U0bLHkIWnIc/no-awards-here.html" title="No Awards here" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/02/no-awards-here.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0AMSHY9fCp7ImA9WxBVEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-5185593766797449933</id><published>2010-02-15T20:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T20:49:49.864-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-15T20:49:49.864-08:00</app:edited><title>Happy P Day</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S3oh2kdXElI/AAAAAAAAAHo/N_RpgMLb9KU/s1600-h/KITTY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S3oh2kdXElI/AAAAAAAAAHo/N_RpgMLb9KU/s320/KITTY.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;My bf sent me an email to work of hilarious pix like the one above.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;My direct supervisor picked out the one above and sent it back to me with the title:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;"This is SOO YOU"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Everytime I look at it, I can't stop laughing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Laughing is a rarity these days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Child has turned into serious split personality. I can't even say bad things today because today's personality was the good child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I can only pray the doctors will catch on and get her the help she needs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Local&amp;nbsp;law enforcement only encouraged "physical discipline". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;It's not that I don't &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; to &lt;strike&gt;beat&lt;/strike&gt; "physically discipline" my child... It's that it's ineffective.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I'm relying on prayer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;My dad bought/mailed us 3 books about children with defiance problems, etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend read all 3.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Much to boyfriend's dismay, we already DO &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;all&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; the techniques in all 3 books.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sweet.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Why don't the techniques work?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S3ojmI2M-NI/AAAAAAAAAHw/UCCA8-PCc7g/s1600-h/HappyJesus-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S3ojmI2M-NI/AAAAAAAAAHw/UCCA8-PCc7g/s320/HappyJesus-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Try to be happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Spread positivity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Don't eat meat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-5185593766797449933?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g0F4kVh2vt7AFAF9OQQBtW7deq4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g0F4kVh2vt7AFAF9OQQBtW7deq4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g0F4kVh2vt7AFAF9OQQBtW7deq4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g0F4kVh2vt7AFAF9OQQBtW7deq4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/sGiDABFyD7s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/5185593766797449933/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-p-day.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/5185593766797449933?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/5185593766797449933?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/sGiDABFyD7s/happy-p-day.html" title="Happy P Day" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S3oh2kdXElI/AAAAAAAAAHo/N_RpgMLb9KU/s72-c/KITTY.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-p-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAFQH86fip7ImA9WxBXGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-3951306350988791466</id><published>2010-01-30T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T16:11:51.116-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-30T16:11:51.116-08:00</app:edited><title>Fillin In</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here are some texts from recent past:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Me: The verizon fios guys came by to say hi.&lt;br /&gt;
BF: What?? They were like "We're from Verizon, just wanted to say hi" ?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Ummm Yeah... Just tryin to sign people up...&lt;br /&gt;
BF: Who does that... that scenario only happens in bad porn movies... you better not fuck them!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Kid: Mommy! Sombody stole my bike!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
Me: OMG, that friggin sucks&lt;br /&gt;
Kid: I want a new one NOW&lt;br /&gt;
Me: No&lt;br /&gt;
Kid: I'm going to throw myself in front of a car if I don't get a new one NOW&lt;br /&gt;
Me: I'm saving that text for the doctor&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div align="center"&gt;Strangely, I don't think I've let on how much I hate bridges. Have I mentioned the paralyzing panic attacks?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And F Kaiser right, because I can't get into a psychiatrist to save my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hate heights. I hate water.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here are some pictures of the beautiful, nature-oriented city I CHOSE to move to:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TE-1mfW9I/AAAAAAAAAHI/QskLBYxjedE/s1600-h/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TE-1mfW9I/AAAAAAAAAHI/QskLBYxjedE/s320/full.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TFA6VJRcI/AAAAAAAAAHY/rVvH_WUvZ1c/s1600-h/portland-oregon-bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TFA6VJRcI/AAAAAAAAAHY/rVvH_WUvZ1c/s200/portland-oregon-bridge.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TE9-XFb4I/AAAAAAAAAHA/iJ1j8NE-In4/s1600-h/bridge+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TE9-XFb4I/AAAAAAAAAHA/iJ1j8NE-In4/s200/bridge+1.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TE_-w2E3I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/gEW1YYu6Jug/s1600-h/portland-bridges2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TE_-w2E3I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/gEW1YYu6Jug/s320/portland-bridges2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I requested trees&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;It's like God's cruel joke....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;In other news, the child may be bi-polar also, hence explaining the hellraiser-similarities.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;However, it may be a mental hospital making the final diagnosis, seeing as how i have KAISER and they'd rather see you DIE before actually treat you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;My dad's coming in April.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;It's not soon enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I'm still trying to get rid of chemicals. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I only have one last bottle of toxic cleaner left. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Everything else is being cleaned au naturale.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;My work is trying to kill me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I think I'm not cut out for work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I've always known I'm not cut out for LIFE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Oh, but I still want another kid someday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TKm6IU1RI/AAAAAAAAAHg/fVHT2PAaUxs/s1600-h/352_1186362715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TKm6IU1RI/AAAAAAAAAHg/fVHT2PAaUxs/s400/352_1186362715.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Stay tuned in future for crochet yummyness&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-3951306350988791466?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l1BqboIhfTv1AJ_RsM-iBojIar8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l1BqboIhfTv1AJ_RsM-iBojIar8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l1BqboIhfTv1AJ_RsM-iBojIar8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l1BqboIhfTv1AJ_RsM-iBojIar8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/EQ3dSlm131A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/3951306350988791466/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/01/fillin-in.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3951306350988791466?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3951306350988791466?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/EQ3dSlm131A/fillin-in.html" title="Fillin In" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S2TE-1mfW9I/AAAAAAAAAHI/QskLBYxjedE/s72-c/full.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/01/fillin-in.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YGR3wzfyp7ImA9WxBQF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-3739437309355548979</id><published>2010-01-17T14:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T14:58:46.287-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-17T14:58:46.287-08:00</app:edited><title>Not back for long</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S1OSEpnLr3I/AAAAAAAAAG4/FOh1RRs-pH8/s1600-h/blasphemy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S1OSEpnLr3I/AAAAAAAAAG4/FOh1RRs-pH8/s320/blasphemy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Hello world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;The past few months have FLOWN by.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;My father is down in California, waiting till March to move back up here so he can make my life miserable with his stuff E V E R Y W H E R E.... &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;But in the meantime, he left my daughter and boyfriend to carry on in his name...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S1OSCgThTnI/AAAAAAAAAGw/kvHAkWHNOMo/s1600-h/Mikes+bar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S1OSCgThTnI/AAAAAAAAAGw/kvHAkWHNOMo/s320/Mikes+bar.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;The above pic is what you may find on my boyfriend's side of our bed on any given week....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Today I posted that pic on my facebook and Boyfriend flew into a humiliated rage and cleaned it up... &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;"Clean up" meaning just throwing most of it away.... Not ALL of it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Let's not kid ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;My life is being swallowed by dirt and mold.I don't have the energy to keep up with the amount of dirt output these things/people are throwing at me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I've been reading a lot lately. This is a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I've read ALL of the Percy Jackson books.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I read "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" and "The Queen's Fool". (An AWESOME book)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I continuously check out books out of the local library about sustained living.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I've developed a fear of toxins and dangerous chemicals in everything. I mean EVERYTHING.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;But not THAT big a fear obviously. Still usin the Comet. Still eatin the red meat.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;All in due time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;I will leave you with an awesome recipe from the book: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;"&lt;u&gt;Clean Naturally. recipes for body, home and spirit. by Sandy Maine"&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;Eucalyptus-Mint All-Purpose Disinfecting Soft Soap for Kitchen and Bath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;5 cups grated castile soap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;1/2 cup baking soda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;1 teaspoon borax&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;6 cups hot peppermint tea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;1 teaspoon eucalyptus essential oil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;"Put grated soap into a 3-quart stainless steel saucepan and add hot mint tea. Simmer for 15 minutes on low heat. Add baking soda, borax, and eucalyptus oil. Store in a labeled plastic jug or squirt bottle. Shake before using."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13;"&gt;"Can be used for washing dishes, floors, stoves, refrigerators, sinks, and hands. It's mild to the skin but effective enough to get cleaning jobs done. The eucalyptus and mint provide a disinfecting quality as well as a fresh scent. Any areas washed with this soap will be undesirable to crawling insects and flies--they'll stay away for quite a while."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Now if you'll excuse me, I need to figure out how to save our money so I can get to Whole Foods. P.S. Trader Joe's let me doooown! (They had NO organic body washes!!--Even Target had some!!!)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;P.S. Boyfriend's jumped on the baby-makin train. I think he's just bored and wants a friend.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;So far we've got Sylar for a boy and Calypso for a girl.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Ok ok, he's not really on board with the name Calypso, but F him, this is my blog.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-3739437309355548979?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YqcBH8NqlynB7XanhjWOtv5f8uE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YqcBH8NqlynB7XanhjWOtv5f8uE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YqcBH8NqlynB7XanhjWOtv5f8uE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YqcBH8NqlynB7XanhjWOtv5f8uE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/lKdJr55h5zE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/3739437309355548979/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/01/not-back-for-long.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3739437309355548979?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3739437309355548979?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/lKdJr55h5zE/not-back-for-long.html" title="Not back for long" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/S1OSEpnLr3I/AAAAAAAAAG4/FOh1RRs-pH8/s72-c/blasphemy.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2010/01/not-back-for-long.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIFQns8fCp7ImA9WxNaFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-3849244479317281211</id><published>2009-11-29T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T09:58:33.574-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-29T09:58:33.574-08:00</app:edited><title>Today is Boyfriend's birthday!!</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;Today is Boyfriend's birthday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We bought him two milk chocolate candy bars. One box of Andes. One box of Anne's chocolate covered cherries.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Yes, he is on a diet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;For Thanksgiving, I had to make a ham AND&amp;nbsp;a turkey. (kid wanted turkey, boyfriend only likes ham)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;No problem....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I turned on the potatoes to boil on the back burner. Except I actually turned on the front burner. And left a pot lid on it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(Dont judge-I have those electric coils that you can't tell which one is lit. Unless you read which dial you're turning. And I was stressed, ok?)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So I went back to check on the very cold potatoes twenty minutes later. And discovered I'd been heating up the stove on the front burner w/ a lid on it to trap in all that extra heat for 20 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Turning the stove... Black.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The next night, I made Swedish Apple Pie. (And it is fucking DELICIOUS. Except I don't actually eat that. So I just take everyone's word for it.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I left the plastic mixing bowl on top of the stove while the apple pie was burning.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So some yellow plastic was burned onto a different coil burner this time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And my mixing bowl is now gone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My father being here has been horrific.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Boyfriend complained for the first 3 days about the heater being on so high all day long and how he's a "prisoner" in his own room 24-7 because he cant bear to come out into the sauna. (Yeah, my dad gets migraines in the cold)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Then my dad borrowed the car. And rolled down the window. The window that cannot be rolled down. So first Boyfriend bitched to me about how I'M gonna hafta come up w/ the $400 to fix the rotor HE broke. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Then the men fixed it. Together.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My father's stuff is everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;EVERYWHERE.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's invading every crevice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I had no idea how much dirty dishes one person could create.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And my father bought a table &amp;amp; chairs for us from Kmart for Thanksgiving. Because he didn't want to eat on the floor again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Boyfriend was not thankful.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It wasn't the dining set he'd imagined.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But a folding table &amp;amp; chairs is better than nothing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm thankful I have a job. To escape to. Even tho I deal w/ crazies there too. I'm still new enuf that my coworkers who've been there longer hafta deal w/ it all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I get to come home and deal w/ the madness here.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We have two new gorgeous guinea pig babies. Lily &amp;amp; Deb. Pix to come.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Boyfriend's sneaking up on me now to see what all the typin's about.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Love.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-3849244479317281211?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2rFvyvPjnMwsLVerl5HoNeteHSc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2rFvyvPjnMwsLVerl5HoNeteHSc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2rFvyvPjnMwsLVerl5HoNeteHSc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2rFvyvPjnMwsLVerl5HoNeteHSc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/2c81FGqUyek" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/3849244479317281211/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/today-is-boyfriends-birthday.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3849244479317281211?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3849244479317281211?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/2c81FGqUyek/today-is-boyfriends-birthday.html" title="Today is Boyfriend's birthday!!" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/today-is-boyfriends-birthday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MMRH45cSp7ImA9WxNaEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-3905831829701217743</id><published>2009-11-23T20:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T20:04:45.029-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-23T20:04:45.029-08:00</app:edited><title>New News</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwtXyYw6TsI/AAAAAAAAAGg/u15YcwFsYCc/s1600/pdx1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwtXyYw6TsI/AAAAAAAAAGg/u15YcwFsYCc/s200/pdx1.jpg" yr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hoo-Ray for us: My daddy's getting picked up from the airport, as&amp;nbsp;I type!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(NO I am not picking him up Silly. I do not &lt;em&gt;go&lt;/em&gt; over bridges. They were not made by God. God does not intend for me to traverse over his great plains of water. I try not to defy God more than I already have.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(edited note: Boyfriend just called me to say there is NO bridge from Beaverton to PDX. I don't believe him. He thinks he can trick me.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;On Wednesday, We are going to look at/pick up some new babies for the house!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This is one of the possible future &lt;strike&gt;inmates&lt;/strike&gt; family members!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwtZ17L4a4I/AAAAAAAAAGo/GXBjiH_i0EI/s1600/JANE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwtZ17L4a4I/AAAAAAAAAGo/GXBjiH_i0EI/s200/JANE.jpg" yr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;She's KILLIN us over the pix, its so hilarious! She looks like a lil mop or something!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;LOL She looks like a CARTOON!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Except for all the obvious, things are going GREAT.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;BTW, me and my master-chef skills shall be making Thanksgiving feast.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Ham. AND. Turkey.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Because Boyfriend &lt;em&gt;doesn't eat turkey&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And Child &lt;strong&gt;HAS TO HAVE&lt;/strong&gt; turkey on thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;(Let's hope I don't burn anything)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-3905831829701217743?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I_yev_Y6NldVudyO38XgK7kozxg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I_yev_Y6NldVudyO38XgK7kozxg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I_yev_Y6NldVudyO38XgK7kozxg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I_yev_Y6NldVudyO38XgK7kozxg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/UNvUYW4WaTk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/3905831829701217743/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/new-news.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3905831829701217743?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3905831829701217743?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/UNvUYW4WaTk/new-news.html" title="New News" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwtXyYw6TsI/AAAAAAAAAGg/u15YcwFsYCc/s72-c/pdx1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/new-news.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak4GSXY8eip7ImA9WxNbGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-6696802261863241861</id><published>2009-11-22T14:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T14:28:48.872-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-22T14:28:48.872-08:00</app:edited><title>I hate tears</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Swm5JMPTQfI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/z5h366qvtsQ/s1600/Peanut.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Swm5JMPTQfI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/z5h366qvtsQ/s200/Peanut.JPG" yr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We're giving back the ferret tonight that we bought earlier in the week.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Apparently, ferrets STINK. Who knew? Oohhh right... my parents mentioned it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Peanut will be forever missed. He is insane and out of control and loving and hyper&amp;nbsp;and playful and adorable.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He IS the animal version of my daughter.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thank goodness, next weekend Peanut will be replaced with guinea pigs. A lady a mile away has a litter of guinea babies and we'll be visiting her shortly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The responsibility of an animal? Priceless.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Apparently, I love &lt;strike&gt;to be tortured&lt;/strike&gt; animals and the &lt;strike&gt;infinite piles of poo&lt;/strike&gt; joys of caring for them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My boyfriend has stated that we'll be cleaning the house meticulously tonight. Like top to bottom. Especially vacuuming and sweeping and mopping. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Went like this:&lt;br /&gt;
Me: But we don't have a mop.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend: Then we'll need to get on the floor and clean by hand.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me: When you say "we"......&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend: We'll do it together.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me: But you haven't cleaned ONCE since we've moved in.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend: This really needs to get done. The ferret has stunk the place up.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me: Once again... Who exactly is "WE"???&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend: TOGETHER baby.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I truly think he thinks that by "directing" me to do something, he's somehow fucking participated.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I will never understand how men think they don't need to clean ANYTHING at all. (I pray if I ever have a son, I don't force him to be my servant so that he won't end up like all the other men in the world.) My father is coming on Monday to visit. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kid told boyfriend today "How come my mom ONLY dates guys who have no brothers or sisters and who's dads have died?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;This next part was at the top, but i put it at the bottom. Read if you wish. It's just so lovely to vent sometimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My dad sent me a link to a "news story" basically about a 10 year old, out of control 5th grader, who gets tased by a cop. And it makes my heart so sad. And I know exactly how that mother feels. I KNOW. I know how she felt when FOR HOURS her child screamed and kicked and hollered and attacked. God, I know. I won't post the link here. It just basically says the cop came and the kid did the same to him so he tased her and then she behaved. The mom called the cops herself. Fyi, I have the phone number to my local police posted by mirror. For this same situation. Where I cry and look at the paper and pray to God asking what to do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;There MUST be like a support group. I HAVE the books. And I know we're not alone. It's just SO hard to go thru it. And not everyone is blessed enough to gain advice and help. My heart absolutely breaks for that mom. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But anyway, MY monster is doing pretty wonderful. Pretty wonderful. Communication combined with discipline is probably the key. Patience is also, but I've had bucket truck landmine-loads of that for years. And not discipline like spanking. Discipline like planned out EVERYTHING. We have plans for how to get up, what to do when getting up, what to do afterward, .... what to do when to get home... even what to do when wanting to play or wanting to go online. And we have these plans written out for regular days and holiday/weekends as well. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When I had my baby, I thought the 2 of us would be free spirits, coming and going as we pleased.... Who knew that I'd have the baby who couldn't handle being anything NEAR a free spirit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-6696802261863241861?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7F1WUhZAZcYNLt_anu2ECINxwyc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7F1WUhZAZcYNLt_anu2ECINxwyc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7F1WUhZAZcYNLt_anu2ECINxwyc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7F1WUhZAZcYNLt_anu2ECINxwyc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/saC6jM61oCI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/6696802261863241861/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-hate-tears.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/6696802261863241861?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/6696802261863241861?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/saC6jM61oCI/i-hate-tears.html" title="I hate tears" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Swm5JMPTQfI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/z5h366qvtsQ/s72-c/Peanut.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-hate-tears.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MFSHk9eip7ImA9WxNbF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-3073486101075565823</id><published>2009-11-20T20:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T20:56:59.762-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-20T20:56:59.762-08:00</app:edited><title>How to get your 11-year old to make her own sandwich</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Steps to tricking your junior high spawn to making their very own sandwich&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1. Make them a tuna sandwich.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2. Put leftover tuna salad into fridge.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;3. Announce to boyfriend (whom child despises) that there is leftover tuna in fridge for his lunch.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;4. Leave house for 30 min to carpool to work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;5. Boyfriend returns home to tuna salad dish in sink with bread bag open on counter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;6. Ask Child what happened to tuna/ Did she enjoy her 2nd tuna sandwich?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;7. Have wide-eyed child proclaim vigorously that she DID NOT ever "eat" the leftover tuna. (Will never admit to not "stealing" or "taking" tuna)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;TA-DA!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;For my next trick, I will leave some vacuuming for Boyfriend to do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-3073486101075565823?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sfKA9BQt9GMy0kNbw1ApqdiuUlA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sfKA9BQt9GMy0kNbw1ApqdiuUlA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sfKA9BQt9GMy0kNbw1ApqdiuUlA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sfKA9BQt9GMy0kNbw1ApqdiuUlA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/xjNt9sOYd0U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/3073486101075565823/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-to-get-your-11-year-old-to-make-her.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3073486101075565823?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3073486101075565823?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/xjNt9sOYd0U/how-to-get-your-11-year-old-to-make-her.html" title="How to get your 11-year old to make her own sandwich" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-to-get-your-11-year-old-to-make-her.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYMQHw-fCp7ImA9WxNbFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-4979357139901180121</id><published>2009-11-16T21:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T21:53:01.254-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-16T21:53:01.254-08:00</app:edited><title>A New Day</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend searched for jobs. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Has mass-interview w/ Christmas Tree lot company. &lt;strike&gt;Are you f-ing kidding me?&lt;/strike&gt;Yay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwI3lHImh1I/AAAAAAAAAGA/MatohDWgHPw/s1600/American_gods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwI3lHImh1I/AAAAAAAAAGA/MatohDWgHPw/s200/American_gods.jpg" yr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;I'm reading American God by Neil Gaiman. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;I gotta give it up to Boyfriend. He &lt;strike&gt;normally only picks out pubescent girly tween goth bullshit&lt;/strike&gt; sure knows how to pick a good book! I'm tot enraptured. For realz. It's verrry strange.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwI2YIoS8TI/AAAAAAAAAF4/JZL-gp76s38/s1600/tb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwI2YIoS8TI/AAAAAAAAAF4/JZL-gp76s38/s200/tb.jpg" yr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;Tomorrow (or the day after) I'll get chest xrayed. To make sure there is no TB in them there hills.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I googled TB &amp;amp; this is what tb does to people?---&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm fairly sure I definitely do NOT have that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwI3w90RD9I/AAAAAAAAAGI/ttIFa_RprbM/s1600/Picture+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwI3w90RD9I/AAAAAAAAAGI/ttIFa_RprbM/s200/Picture+036.jpg" yr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"&gt;And.......... Next Monday.............7 short days...............&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Poppy (aka MY DAD) comes to town!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;WOOT!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He's my savior. He'll eat my Thanksgiving turkey (even if it's burned)He'll take Kid to her first pro basketball game (Go Portland Trailblazers!) and he'll be here to guide me to whether I'll go ALONE to my new job's holiday party at the zoo, whilst Boyfriend heads to California for a week for a "family reunion".&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kid has been doing FANTABULOUS ever since the cops showed. She's been takin her meds and behavin all over the place. Good thing. I'm very close to a nervous breakdown. But with Poppy comin, It's like all my worries have an end date!!! However... Poppy's only staying for two weeks. =(&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;All good things must come to an end. (Till he returns in March &lt;u&gt;for good&lt;/u&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I used to hate my dad. For no good reason.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I think he tries to be logical. And I exist only in an emotional realm.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nowadays, however... He's the only man I know I'll love &amp;amp; trust completely forever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Although... Boyfriend's certainly been proving himself in ways I never imagined he'd hafta suffer thru.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sometimes... Life suprises you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;In good, and in bad, ways.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-4979357139901180121?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/C1w7zQU9ANl6LaUd3ttKmtoThm4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/C1w7zQU9ANl6LaUd3ttKmtoThm4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/C1w7zQU9ANl6LaUd3ttKmtoThm4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/C1w7zQU9ANl6LaUd3ttKmtoThm4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/H0SMNr3sF7A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/4979357139901180121/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/new-day.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/4979357139901180121?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/4979357139901180121?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/H0SMNr3sF7A/new-day.html" title="A New Day" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SwI3lHImh1I/AAAAAAAAAGA/MatohDWgHPw/s72-c/American_gods.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/new-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8GQ345fSp7ImA9WxNbE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-2137269705356956109</id><published>2009-11-15T11:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T11:20:22.025-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-15T11:20:22.025-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cops" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="job" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tantrums" /><title>My milkshake brings all the cops to the yard</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So, Lots of fun things have been going on. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I did get a new job, and have been working hard there. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm struggling to get to know everyone and not F&amp;amp;#k up because everyone else there seems to be &lt;strike&gt;annoyingly perfectionistic&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;flawless.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;They didn't TELL me I'd need a car to &lt;strike&gt;do their evil bidding/run errands like a bitch&lt;/strike&gt; get occassional supplies for the office... I was plannin on bussin' it everyday... So we were forced to finally &lt;strike&gt;bow down to the man and hand over our life savings&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;get car insurance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;OH, and then Boyfriend got laid off at &lt;strike&gt;Hell&lt;/strike&gt; work. And then the state sent him a letter saying &lt;strike&gt;they're really&amp;nbsp;gonna&amp;nbsp;fuck him&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;his disability is getting cancelled as well. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;OH, and then my TB test came out negative, meaning I have &lt;strike&gt;a horrible, deadly communicable disease and am&amp;nbsp;gonna get fired&lt;/strike&gt; to get a chest x-ray on Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;OH, and then child threw a tantrum on Friday night. And the &lt;strike&gt;noisy, stomping, screaming, good for nothing&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;neighbors called the cops.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And then the child told the cops that a few weeks ago, during another tantrum, we pushed her and she hit her head &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(Dont fkng judge. You don't know what happened, You aren't there when Kid throws herself around like the &lt;strong&gt;Exorcist&lt;/strong&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend and I are upset. Boyfriend was slightly more upset than me. Ok, boyfriend was beside himself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Boyfriend's stepdad has been in prison for over a decade for murder after his girl friend's kid died under his care. And stepdad supposedly did NOT kill the kid. Even took him to the e.r...... &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can only imagine boyfriend saw himself &lt;strike&gt;getting anally raped&lt;/strike&gt; going to prison forever, all because &lt;strike&gt;he was unfortunate enough to get involved with a psychopath like myself who&amp;nbsp;comes with her own junior psychopath&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;Kid throws herself around like a maniac and beats us up during tantrums. The female cop advised boyfriend that she can't arrest kid for beating us up until she turns 13. At 13, if kid is still doing this, I'll probably end up going to the hospital. Kid has got STRENGTH.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So we've got MAJOR kid control goin on now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;OH, P.S. The tantrum started cuz Kid thinks she doesn't hafta tell us where she's playing at, and that it's perfectly o.k. to play with boys (even tho boyfriend caught one of said boys smokin the ganja a few months ago).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;OH, and I AM nervous about Child Protective Services. And having to take time off of work to deal with this stuff. I hafta get Kid into counseling like THIS WEEK. I imagine my conversation at work will go something like this:&lt;br /&gt;
Oh Hi New Boss. I hafta take off the afternoon tomorrow. I know I have TB. And haven't fully learned my job yet, so someone else is still doing double-duty. But the&amp;nbsp;state thinks I beat my kid, so I need to go&amp;nbsp;plead/prove that she still belongs in my home &lt;strike&gt;where she beats me up for an hour or two if she doesnt get her way.&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend needs to get a job so we can pay our bills.... And buy Christmas presents...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kid has been &lt;strike&gt;obnoxiously bugging&lt;/strike&gt; asking recently for a hamster, which then transformed into a guinea pig. Boyfriend became o.k. with the guinea pig idea. But then went to Petco (while he was spending time alone trying to figure out &lt;strike&gt;if he would kill himself&lt;/strike&gt; how to deal with kid now) and discovered that he'd prefer if Kid got a FERRET instead of a guinea pig. My dad however, has been advising Kid that ferrets piss everywhere. As if Kid CARES about piss she's never gonna clean up?????? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So today ALL of us are goin to Petco to look at the ferrets/ guinea pigs, and decide which one Kid will get for Christmas. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;With our &lt;strike&gt;multi&lt;/strike&gt; single income.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Lots more fun stuff has happened. But this is long enough and detailed enough. It's obvious we just need prayer &lt;strike&gt;and wine&lt;/strike&gt; and time. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kid is doing wonderful. She is back on her meds. We will see how the next few weeks go. She understands she's not a wild dog and can't just go outside and play willy-nilly where we don't know where she is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-2137269705356956109?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3O3IzAT8sxvoL5qFaDt2drir3NA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3O3IzAT8sxvoL5qFaDt2drir3NA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3O3IzAT8sxvoL5qFaDt2drir3NA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3O3IzAT8sxvoL5qFaDt2drir3NA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/w48GUVgVSLw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/2137269705356956109/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-milkshake-brings-all-cops-to-yard.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/2137269705356956109?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/2137269705356956109?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/w48GUVgVSLw/my-milkshake-brings-all-cops-to-yard.html" title="My milkshake brings all the cops to the yard" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-milkshake-brings-all-cops-to-yard.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EERn4yeyp7ImA9WxNUF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-5717818014850069381</id><published>2009-11-08T16:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T16:13:27.093-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-08T16:13:27.093-08:00</app:edited><title>Happy Sunday</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Svdd4NdWeBI/AAAAAAAAAFw/ueTzWD_IqL8/s1600-h/oc+fair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Svdd4NdWeBI/AAAAAAAAAFw/ueTzWD_IqL8/s200/oc+fair.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Back before the kid was stronger than me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kid threw a horrible tantrum today and friday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But today's ended with her being all rational and clear-headed and well-spoken. WTF. Who's kid is that???&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;THANK GOD.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And I got a job.&amp;nbsp;I take the piss tests, etc, tomorrow. And then, boyfriend's job stated they're going under and everyone should get another job within the next 6 months.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Because God hates me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And then I wrote on Facebook "Apparently God &amp;amp; I don't have the same sense of humor" and one of my high school friends commented "that doesn't suprise me".&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And I'm pissed about that. Cuz fuck her. I pray better than her. Who does she think she is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And my scrapbooking attempts have been comin out UGLY.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm just stressed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Oh, and I have to start taking the bus to work. Get up at 5ish, Get Kid ready for school including making breakfast &amp;amp; lunch for Kid, Leave Kid home alone, Walk IN RAIN to bus stop.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dear God, Pray for us.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tonight we're going to Payless to get some rain boots for myself and kid...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-5717818014850069381?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5TaV-kQ_jqJEFPrk6Hl_JNEauU4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5TaV-kQ_jqJEFPrk6Hl_JNEauU4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5TaV-kQ_jqJEFPrk6Hl_JNEauU4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5TaV-kQ_jqJEFPrk6Hl_JNEauU4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/Qg7zep45sDM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/5717818014850069381/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-sunday.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/5717818014850069381?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/5717818014850069381?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/Qg7zep45sDM/happy-sunday.html" title="Happy Sunday" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Svdd4NdWeBI/AAAAAAAAAFw/ueTzWD_IqL8/s72-c/oc+fair.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-sunday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUCRnc9cCp7ImA9WxNUFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-8518186351731889332</id><published>2009-11-05T14:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T15:04:27.968-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-05T15:04:27.968-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="exhusband" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="criminals" /><title>Inmates save deputy's life</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www2.tbo.com/content/2009/nov/04/inmates-credited-rescuing-hillsborough-deputy-duri/"&gt;Here's a story about how these inmates came to the rescue of a 64 year old prison guard&lt;/a&gt;. You can even watch the freakin &lt;a href="http://www2.tbo.com/video/2009/nov/04/inmates-saved-deputy-sheriffs-office-s-88759/"&gt;VIDEO&lt;/a&gt; of the attack.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't know why it brings tears to my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Maybe because when I dated a former convict, who did go back to prison, and I visited him for 2 years, and then married him when he got out, I received LOTS of criticism.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What really needs to be criticized in today's world is our justice system.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Some of these people need to be locked up, away from being able to harm others.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And some of them... some of them will save your life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Not all&amp;nbsp;criminals have no moral compass.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
P.S. there are NO VICTIM-LESS CRIMES. &lt;br /&gt;
every time a criminal is caught, he as already done that crime a minimum of THREE times!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-8518186351731889332?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gd5P-2pQwkBgqIeXmrz_Dl6h4aw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gd5P-2pQwkBgqIeXmrz_Dl6h4aw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gd5P-2pQwkBgqIeXmrz_Dl6h4aw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gd5P-2pQwkBgqIeXmrz_Dl6h4aw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/U6p0ZddNWkU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/8518186351731889332/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/inmates-save-deputys-life.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/8518186351731889332?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/8518186351731889332?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/U6p0ZddNWkU/inmates-save-deputys-life.html" title="Inmates save deputy's life" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/inmates-save-deputys-life.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8AR348fSp7ImA9WxNUFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-1257496271198011680</id><published>2009-11-05T09:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T09:40:46.075-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-05T09:40:46.075-08:00</app:edited><title>This is why I rock</title><content type="html">I've been stressed, and have therefore taken up at least one of my old crafty ways: Scrapbooking.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SvMJocv5i1I/AAAAAAAAAFg/p47sBFkPw7o/s1600-h/Scrapbooking+nephews.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SvMJocv5i1I/AAAAAAAAAFg/p47sBFkPw7o/s200/Scrapbooking+nephews.jpg" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend says he &lt;em&gt;doesn't know anyone who scrapbooks, he thought only old maids did that.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;However, he says it laughing and says I'm so cute.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I say&amp;nbsp;I don't know anyone who scrapbooks either, but&amp;nbsp;everyone's just&amp;nbsp;hella jealous. They wish they had awesome pic books like me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Fuck, it beats doing drugs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;On a more awesome note:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;A few weeks ago, I discovered, whilst looking thru my sent emails, that at least HALF of the job listings I was&amp;nbsp;responding to.... I had &lt;strong&gt;forgotten&lt;/strong&gt; to attach my resume.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I didn't tell anyone. I just started to pay WAY MORE&amp;nbsp;attention.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Yeah, soooo yesterday, I let&amp;nbsp;the child borrow my phone because she had a school&amp;nbsp;party afterschool and I wanted her to have a phone in case of emergency...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I realized (after calling her to tell her where we were parked) that...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have no voicemail set up.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;That's right. In case you needed to call me and set up an interview for my non-resumed application? Or hire me for one of those awful interviews I did go on???&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Yeah. You couldn't have reached me anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I'm not a huge idiot (apparently I actually am), but when I changed my phone number a few months ago to have an Oregon area code, my voicemail was wiped out at that time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend wasn't happy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;He left me my first voicemail.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;It went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hi there! This is a prospective employer calling to offer you a position. But since you have no voicemail, and we have no way of reaching you, we're gonna go ahead and offer that job to someone else. Better luck next time! Dumbass.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I'm not sure what's going on. I feel so dumb. I mean when I discovered I had no voicemail, I told boyfriend, who said Yeah... I know. But he hadn't put 2 and 2 together. So I blamed him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I'm normally not this absent minded.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I learned a long time ago, Relapse is actually the set of behaviors you exhibit (your addict behaviors) right before you actually use again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I'm starting to worry that this is my relapse. I think about using a lot. When I used, I would make the &lt;strong&gt;stupidest&lt;/strong&gt; mistakes. I know I'm not low enough to use at this point. And I know I wouldn't ruin my relationship for it again. But someone needs to tell my mind and body to &lt;strong&gt;get fuckin with it.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SvMN6L39WzI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Bn5XJnGxTHY/s1600-h/Picture+072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SvMN6L39WzI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Bn5XJnGxTHY/s320/Picture+072.jpg" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;This is why I moved to Oregon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-1257496271198011680?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CuL9rCSPEU2ruSeA_kfvmK5n8CI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CuL9rCSPEU2ruSeA_kfvmK5n8CI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CuL9rCSPEU2ruSeA_kfvmK5n8CI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CuL9rCSPEU2ruSeA_kfvmK5n8CI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/rkuJFYj7e7E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/1257496271198011680/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-is-why-i-rock.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/1257496271198011680?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/1257496271198011680?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/rkuJFYj7e7E/this-is-why-i-rock.html" title="This is why I rock" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SvMJocv5i1I/AAAAAAAAAFg/p47sBFkPw7o/s72-c/Scrapbooking+nephews.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-is-why-i-rock.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQER3o_fSp7ImA9WxNUEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-7398636016192480265</id><published>2009-11-02T12:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T13:38:26.445-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-03T13:38:26.445-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stress" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="job" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boyfriend" /><title>Facebook &amp; Fred Meyers</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sooo the boyfriend's job is like an outsourced company that answers Sprint customer service calls.... But they suck. They did their shit wrong. The turnover rate is like 80% or something.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So Sprint's probably going to shut it down.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Do we know what that means??? It means our late rent is going to turn into NO rent.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;In the meantime.... boyfriend's not happy. Plus, while he's still there, he gets all Sprint's VERY ANGRY customer calls.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Can I say it's Sprint, since I don't actually work there? Or should I say "shall-remain-nameless-&lt;strike&gt;suck-ass&lt;/strike&gt;-phone-company" ?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Truth be told I've heard bad words about T-Mobile, ATT, Verizon, &amp;amp; Sprint. Soo.... try Boost?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Last night, I was annoyed because he states that we're going to pay rent late (incurring $75 fee) because payday isnt till end of week and the car payment has to go in first. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Why? Because the car is in his &lt;strike&gt;bitch ass motherfucking piece of shit worthless blood sucking&lt;/strike&gt; mother's name also. And she'll "tow" the car if it's not paid on time. She won't HELP and loan us money till the end of the week.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: lime;"&gt;(Update: &lt;u&gt;MY&lt;/u&gt; mom is going to give us the money to help us out. AGAIN. even though she's a single gal tryin to live on her own. AGAIN she's helping me. I probably owe that bitch like 4 grand. Know how much we owe boyfriend's mom?? NADA. Cuz she's a cunt who won't loan us money for 3 fukin days! Seriously. This is $150 we're talking about. That bitch is NOT invited to my wedding.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I decided I am &lt;strong&gt;not wrong&lt;/strong&gt; in determining I am not going to have that woman in my life &lt;strong&gt;ever.&lt;/strong&gt; So I rolled over, angry, refusing to "talk" anymore.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend said: "You are mean."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Apparently he's still in 2nd grade. And it cut deep.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So today I've sent out 3-4 more resumes (even though what I'd like to be doing is&amp;nbsp;&lt;strike&gt;getting pregnant and cooking&amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;scrapbooking) and I'm currently in the Fred Meyer site trying to apply. Although it's kicked me out 3 times so far, so apparently it's an omen. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Facebook's annoying me. I think their games are getting more popular, so trying to play is an exercise in patiently reloading over &amp;amp; over. Boyfriend thinks it's lame I go on Facebook to &lt;strike&gt;reconnect with old friends&lt;/strike&gt; grow crops, decorate houses and grow fish. Recently TWO different people called my living room in Yoville a porn pad!! Personally, I think it's my retro 70's glasses.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Su9HoaqBiTI/AAAAAAAAAFY/eDrzQsrXiio/s1600-h/yoville.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Su9HoaqBiTI/AAAAAAAAAFY/eDrzQsrXiio/s200/yoville.jpg" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Boyfriend also is currently upset I'm not studying up on &lt;a href="http://arcanelegions.com/"&gt;Arcane Legions&lt;/a&gt; so I can actually play with him, so boyfriend's credibility is nil.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And now I'm tryin to remember if I posted pix of my little &lt;strike&gt;arguing spawn&lt;/strike&gt; pixie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Su9D8wh0fPI/AAAAAAAAAFI/B8QLe87K3OE/s1600-h/kira3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Su9D8wh0fPI/AAAAAAAAAFI/B8QLe87K3OE/s320/kira3.jpg" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I'm a good mom so there she is. In all her sugar glory. She's separating out the candy she's keeping for herself and the candy she's giving to my boyfriend. Guess which pile is hers?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Please God Let me get a job!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-7398636016192480265?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dBt3dnlVf_q-6PXsQ-Gq0iddZG4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dBt3dnlVf_q-6PXsQ-Gq0iddZG4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dBt3dnlVf_q-6PXsQ-Gq0iddZG4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dBt3dnlVf_q-6PXsQ-Gq0iddZG4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/G202NJeSh9c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/7398636016192480265/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/facebook-fred-meyers.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/7398636016192480265?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/7398636016192480265?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/G202NJeSh9c/facebook-fred-meyers.html" title="Facebook &amp; Fred Meyers" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Su9HoaqBiTI/AAAAAAAAAFY/eDrzQsrXiio/s72-c/yoville.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/11/facebook-fred-meyers.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYCQ3syfCp7ImA9WxNVGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-3544346531970718306</id><published>2009-10-29T09:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T09:36:02.594-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-29T09:36:02.594-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Halloween" /><title>Hallowpeen</title><content type="html">I used to love Halloween. When I was a child, my father was southern baptist pastor, I wasn't allowed to watch secular cartoons or go trick or treating. Erego, as an adult, I fell in love with Halloween!!!! &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My ex-husband and I half planned an elaborate Halloween dress-up wedding. Then he dragged me to the county clerk becuz I was too psychotic about getting everything planned on time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before he left us, Hallowed Eve 2007, we dressed up kid in 3 different costumes. Yes, 3. My child isn't spoiled or anything. But at least she was 9 and could appreciate it! When else is it appropriate to have costume changes?? (Besides maybe you're wedding, and Halloween is as fabulous as a wedding, but annual!!!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But in '08 he left us in August, and we were basically homeless in October. Kid dressed up as Sharpay from HSM and I was at work. Extended family took her to get her sugar rush. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This year, I haven't been feelin it. I've been just so angry as this was always OUR favorite holiday. The ex-husb and I even painted our whole house red &amp;amp; black and vampire themed. And that was for year-round!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess boyfriend's always carved pumpkins, so we knew we were gonna do that, and I really wanted to give Kid a normal experience. So we bought pumpkins and carved them. Kid carved about 2 inches worth of the design and gave up. I carved it for her. It was my first carving experience!!! I did AWESOME!! I did Zero. Boyfriend did Jolly Roger or something like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunBP1-kxoI/AAAAAAAAAEo/0rvXwkMc5XE/s1600-h/mikes+pumpkin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398058106311984770" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunBP1-kxoI/AAAAAAAAAEo/0rvXwkMc5XE/s200/mikes+pumpkin.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunBWY-oM-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/SA2YEZxwOKI/s1600-h/mikes+pumpkin+dark.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398058218786665442" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunBWY-oM-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/SA2YEZxwOKI/s200/mikes+pumpkin+dark.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunBfUfhcXI/AAAAAAAAAE4/qB-YP1pCnHs/s1600-h/PUMPKIN.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398058372201279858" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunBfUfhcXI/AAAAAAAAAE4/qB-YP1pCnHs/s200/PUMPKIN.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AND&lt;/strong&gt; I get to be all Martha Stewart and bake pumpkin seeds because boyfriend eats anything edible, so that will get to be his snack tomorrow!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday, boyfriend annoyed me to &lt;em&gt;talk to him&lt;/em&gt; (He hates when i'm "quiet")... Shortly after I started talking to him... He announced I was &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;AWAKENING THE SLEEPING DRAGON&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;NOT a sexual comment. He was actually stating that I was obnoxiously bothering him to the point that his &lt;em&gt;inner dragon&lt;/em&gt; was AWAKENING!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later in bed:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Boyfriend:&lt;/em&gt; How are we gonna split the monies when you get a job?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt; You'll pay all the bills, and whatever you can't afford, I'll pay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Boyfriend&lt;/em&gt;: That's not fair... &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;wait for it... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;cuz I might need spending money sometimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt; What for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Boyfriend&lt;/em&gt;: Cuz what if I want to....&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;wait for it... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;buy a GAME or something? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;NOT AN ENGAGEMENT RING. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;NOT HOUSE SUPPLIES. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;NOT CAR MAINTENANCE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;GAMES&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love my gamer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I could be vegetarian. I fucking wish. I swear y'all I'm trying. I swear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://natnests.blogspot.com/2009/10/for-halloween-truly-scary-story.html"&gt;Nat's Nest wrote a blog&lt;/a&gt; with a post to &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/OPINION/10/28/opinion.jonathan.foer/index.html"&gt;CNN's article on MEAT&lt;/a&gt;. Go fucking read it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then send me your vegetarian recipes that my kid might actually eat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't remember anything else to write.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunC-OYLiGI/AAAAAAAAAFA/rK5Ejg-t_sA/s1600-h/cari+%26+me.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398060002647443554" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunC-OYLiGI/AAAAAAAAAFA/rK5Ejg-t_sA/s200/cari+%26+me.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to be smart. OH YEAH, I found my best friend from college (I only went one year before I dropped out and got knocked up) on facebook, and she &amp;amp; I had a grand ole time remembering the old days... And she reminded me: I DID used to be smart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's a pic of us. Drinking. At a Halloween party!!! LOOOVE halloween!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I'm determined to re-do this blog site so that the angles aren't all jenky.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to write up the dimensions, I know. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But someday, you'll see, It'll be allllll purtyful here!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So dress up and smile your best. Spook someone. Let a spider live free. Watch the Addams Family. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enjoy Halloween!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-3544346531970718306?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MB3pPwDl_pkOM_9h0DXIrEwqmKg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MB3pPwDl_pkOM_9h0DXIrEwqmKg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/Xq1KI4yyfqg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/3544346531970718306/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/hallowpeen.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3544346531970718306?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3544346531970718306?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/Xq1KI4yyfqg/hallowpeen.html" title="Hallowpeen" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SunBP1-kxoI/AAAAAAAAAEo/0rvXwkMc5XE/s72-c/mikes+pumpkin.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/hallowpeen.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4DR389eCp7ImA9WxNUEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-4223511342685602800</id><published>2009-10-27T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T11:36:16.160-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-03T11:36:16.160-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stress" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sad" /><title>Take your pills children</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I dont want to type, but always hallucinate I'm blogging. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I do re-writes and edits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;It's sick I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Essentially, for the past 10 days or so, I've been missing/skipping 1 of the 2 doses of my daily meds. Not on purpose. I forget.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I have to take it with food (Lithium alone = gut wrenching pain &amp;amp; light-headedness), and I don't usually eat until lunch or dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Having said that.... Not taking Lithium correctly... Well folks, it's not recommended.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Example A: Boyfriend takes kid and I to Dollar Tree for Halloween cards for our few remaining loved ones in California, and then to Winco to buy remaining grocery list and pumpkins to carve! (No time till the last minute, right??)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;In portland, it seems to have always rained just a little bit earlier, so the roads are always kinda wet.... And boyfriend's driving.. well it aint so good. And Kid? She seems to not have the Mute button on her mouth once again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I thought I was going to throw myself out of the car, or walk home before we even got to the 1st store. I kept saying "IM NOT IN THE MOOOD", but they didn't seem to get it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Much later, I did tell boyfriend about missed doses and he immediately backed off. In Fear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;But, I couldn't tell them while i was IN my mini-attack, because I could just FEEL the TEARS right at the ducts, just waiting for me to say something about my fragile emotional state so they could POUR out everywhere, giving away my secret of lack of control over my OWN DAMN EMOTIONS. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I had a job interview today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;IT WENT SOOOO WELL. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;But the people put me in a room by myself for a few minutes before they came in to interview me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I almost left. It was horrid. I was doubled over and rocking. I was soo nervous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I DID learn my lesson. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Today, I ate daughter's bagel for breakfast so I could cram my pills into my gullet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And I took the 2nd dose at dinner time, when i would NORMALLY be just remembering my 1st dose!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Yay for me!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Maybe by next week, I'll be back to myself, and I won't think boyfriend doesn't love me anymore. (I mean, does everyone's boyfriends play with themselves on such a regular basis???)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;p.s. He's quite the little computer buff, so if he figures out my password, which i need to remember to change right now, or my site address, then HI HONEY, I LOVE YOU. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-4223511342685602800?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/V9LyoHv97Zh6IkHyaF_3lTxVuDI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/V9LyoHv97Zh6IkHyaF_3lTxVuDI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/riKRdNVj6Io" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/4223511342685602800/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/take-your-pills-children.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/4223511342685602800?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/4223511342685602800?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/riKRdNVj6Io/take-your-pills-children.html" title="Take your pills children" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/take-your-pills-children.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEBSXoyeSp7ImA9WxNVEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-8449601143032638087</id><published>2009-10-21T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T12:50:58.491-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-21T12:50:58.491-07:00</app:edited><title>Not dead yet!</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/St9lf44SFXI/AAAAAAAAAEY/anUme5496ns/s1600-h/3480327105_d821fe27e5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395142477131945330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/St9lf44SFXI/AAAAAAAAAEY/anUme5496ns/s200/3480327105_d821fe27e5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sooooooo I'm STILL sick. I have officially been in Oregon 5 1/2 weeks, and have been sick all but ONE of those weeks. WEAK. My old coworker says my immune system took a hit from the stress of the move. I'm apt to believe her. Cuz otherwise, I'd have swine flu. And I don't. I never had a fever. I had one week of really feelin allright, and then daughter woke me up at 5:30 a.m. coughing all over me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've given myself till the end of this week to be better. I'm mostly better. I still have this cough, as if I'm still a smoker. In fact, if I still smoked, this would all make sense!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently swine flu is going around boyfriend's work. Like REAL bad. Even one employee DIED from it. So they're shuttin the place down this weekend to decontaminate. But until then, everyone just has to keep workin. And boyfriend was a premie so he has a weak immune system, so if he gets it, it's CURTAINS! Except... the guy who sits next to him actually is HIV positive, so HE'S super-pissed! If they miss any work, they get fired. Soooooo..... go to work... possibly die.... What more can you ask for for $10/hour right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So thus far in Oregon, I have.... bombed two interviews MISERABLY. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The most important thing is: I'm learning to deal with my jealousy issues. I get so psycho mad at boyfriend..... But it's my issues that are causing it. My husband left me 14 months ago. Just decided to not be with me anymore. And because of him, I have doubt in all men. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Boyfriend got a card from California. And damnitall if it wasn't all addressed to him in a GIRL'S handwriting. It took everything I had not to open it...... Thank God it was hours before he came home.... I just had to learn to TRUST him and to trust that he loves ME. It was from his old church group in Calif. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to learn to let go and to allow him to have a past and to have friends and acquaintances. It's honestly taking quite a bit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But.. he's pretty awesome. Like a golden retriever. Every morning wakes up and tells me he loves me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have this apartment. And his mom put down an additional $350 pet fee deposit (so i was told) when boyfriend moved in.... First we had boyfriend's two dogs, but they didn't like it here, so they went back to cali to be w/ wicked mother. Then we had my two dogs, but one of my dogs.... well he just wasn't quite right... And we didn't have the money to take him to the vet to take care of his skin condition, blah blah blah. So we took him to the humane society (which has a 99% adoption rate), so hopefully he'll find his place with a really old woman. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I was cleaning (I do this from time to time, however this time i was doing it cuz i was moving kid to her own room!!!), and in our walk in closet, our laundry pile had piled up to about 3 feet high.... I did ALL the laundry (thanks to my momma who put money in my bank account!), and &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/St9lUXcKRGI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/WsQ0k3xTmLE/s1600-h/0826091601%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395142279177061474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 146px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/St9lUXcKRGI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/WsQ0k3xTmLE/s200/0826091601%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;in the BACK of the walk in closet......... it smelled like some dog had peed... and then died. It was rank. I threw two sheets away.... But my good friend in Cali had given me a "Real" baby doll (one of those $400 kind, I'm including a pic. Dont be jealous. You know you want a fake doll that looks, feels, &amp;amp; weighs just like a real baby too) and the baby&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/St9kRZmAgOI/AAAAAAAAAEI/nff4LvuArrs/s1600-h/1021091219%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395141128704000226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/St9kRZmAgOI/AAAAAAAAAEI/nff4LvuArrs/s200/1021091219%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; had somehow gotten up in the mix and had like... mold growing on it....&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. It was the nasties. So I lit a candle in there to help with the stank. Then when I was done, I took the candle out. And it spilled a little. Dear God. My cranberry candle spilled on the beige carpet. Boyfriend had just bought me this candle as part of a Get Well gift. I let the wax harden on the carpet... Hopefully I can just cut it out later. When I feel better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We're NEVER getting back the deposits, are we?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However... All in all... in the grand scheme of things..... I haven't cut myself. Kid hasn't thrown any tantrums really. Things are going REALLY well. For someone who doesn't have a car, or any money, or any tie to any outside civilization...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and I love you too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-8449601143032638087?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G-prIqnKISmrNn8iGl5oZU5J4GE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G-prIqnKISmrNn8iGl5oZU5J4GE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/MFsLhv287DI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/8449601143032638087/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/not-dead-yet.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/8449601143032638087?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/8449601143032638087?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/MFsLhv287DI/not-dead-yet.html" title="Not dead yet!" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/St9lf44SFXI/AAAAAAAAAEY/anUme5496ns/s72-c/3480327105_d821fe27e5.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/not-dead-yet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0AHSXY6fyp7ImA9WxNWFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-4207275323753425950</id><published>2009-10-14T19:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T20:02:18.817-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-14T20:02:18.817-07:00</app:edited><title>Nothin positive here...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/StaPJwX0gaI/AAAAAAAAAEA/8Ei-c80Q3aI/s1600-h/aggression.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392655001589154210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 165px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/StaPJwX0gaI/AAAAAAAAAEA/8Ei-c80Q3aI/s200/aggression.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have hate. And so much more so. I am so sick. I have been sick for awhile now. It sucks so bad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently, when one is sick, it can appear as if one is NOT sick, and hence everyone around you just thinks you're lazy and should be awakened at all hours of the day and night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My boyfriend's best friend moved out. Like left 15 minutes ago. Quit his job and moved out. Back to good ole Cali.  "Oh Melissa, don't worry. You move up here with your daughter and we'll take care of you and we'll all live together and work everything out and everything will be okay."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only thing I&lt;strong&gt; know&lt;/strong&gt; is I need to teach my daughter NOW that NO MAN ever tells the truth EVER. In fact, I think it's already too late as she's already 11 years old. I should've started when she was born. How could I have known?? I had no clue men were such bold faced liars.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh P.S., My boyfriend says I'm passive-aggressive. I feel bad. That's just a horrible mental-health term for BITCH. And God... He's right. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get me wrong. He deserves it. He's an idiot who befriends ex-girlfriends on Yahoo Connections ("Honey I was trying to DELETE them from my yahoo messenger!"), and even he fell prey to his best friend's MAN-lie about staying here and helping out... you know... with things of semi-importance... like bills... and food... and RENT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/StaOvnIS2UI/AAAAAAAAAD4/z82FgcTpqAg/s1600-h/Picture+048.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392654552431515970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/StaOvnIS2UI/AAAAAAAAAD4/z82FgcTpqAg/s200/Picture+048.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been a ungodly psychotic beast, but I've been in agonizing pain with this non-swine flu... It sucks. The apartment is a nightmarish mess... if burglars came in right now, they'd just turn around.. like oh hell no we're not searching thru that mess! (Not to worry tho-- we've got a security guard just in case: See pic of seriously fierce doggies!!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't have money to wash clothes (seriously oregon.. $2 a load???), so kira and i are down to are laaaaaaaast options...... here's a funny post by &lt;a href="http://tortured-optimist.blogspot.com/2009/10/laundry-day.html"&gt;Don't Make Drugs on how to do laundry&lt;/a&gt;... SO reminds me of my idiotic boyfriend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One positive note: Boyfriend and I can have our OWN room. (Kid will have HER own room!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Down side: We may not even LAST long enough to get all our stuff moved over into the room....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(cue sad music)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I know I know... I need to pick everything up.. be the damn savior... boyfriend's struggling at work and is working serious overtime now to make up for nobody else bringing any income in... i just seriously bombed a choice job interview... we're now short a car... Somebody better start prayin')&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OH and how funny is it that &lt;a href="http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cake Wrecks&lt;/a&gt; were on the front page of Yahoo news all day today?? So awesome press!!! Except... they posted a post... and then took it down? Was it due to the media? Who knows! Comedy!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-4207275323753425950?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UAKJL8CcCajyybXNKV3uZ54Gits/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UAKJL8CcCajyybXNKV3uZ54Gits/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/hqOqxcIDmD8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/4207275323753425950/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/nothin-positive-here.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/4207275323753425950?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/4207275323753425950?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/hqOqxcIDmD8/nothin-positive-here.html" title="Nothin positive here..." /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/StaPJwX0gaI/AAAAAAAAAEA/8Ei-c80Q3aI/s72-c/aggression.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/nothin-positive-here.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUBR3g8fCp7ImA9WxNXGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-7867049937554176127</id><published>2009-10-07T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T15:24:16.674-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-07T15:24:16.674-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="haiku" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stress" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="makeup" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boyfriend" /><title>To hell with Wordless Wednesdays + Haikus!</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0Ka0KPS6I/AAAAAAAAACQ/IAfAj0XMDzY/s1600-h/profanity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389975784826817442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0Ka0KPS6I/AAAAAAAAACQ/IAfAj0XMDzY/s200/profanity.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The bf asked me to scratch his back "HARD" last nite. I totally did! But ... I &lt;em&gt;kinda&lt;/em&gt; said &lt;strong&gt;EW EW EW&lt;/strong&gt; the whole time.... I dont want his &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;nastyass&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0FrDRFGCI/AAAAAAAAACA/drgIAbz2zd4/s1600-h/extr+nail+art.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;kin cells under my perfectly designed fingernails...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 121px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 122px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i172.photobucket.com/albums/w29/Pinkkfrost/extrnailart-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I kid I kid. As if I could afford to have these kindof nails?? But then the bf was all &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;How come you treat me like a 2nd rate citizen all the time? As if I'm so dirty that you can't even scratch me without getting grossed out?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Ummm P.S. .. that &lt;em&gt;kinda&lt;/em&gt; came after.... he found out... I'd &lt;em&gt;kinda&lt;/em&gt; thrown away some of his stuff... And I had to &lt;strong&gt;help&lt;/strong&gt; him dig it out of the trash can.... He kept saying things like&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;How &lt;strong&gt;COULD&lt;/strong&gt; you throw away my LIMITED EDITION Army of Darkness DVD????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I paid THIRTY FIVE dollars for &lt;u&gt;this&lt;/u&gt;!!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;(This being a glass pyramid thingy that one of the sides of the pyramid open up... to put something in??? I dont know. I dont understand. Its junk to me. And fuck, cant he &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0QqIfJ7PI/AAAAAAAAADg/jfmb4E-5-fo/s1600-h/Metallica-St-Anger.gif"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389982645051059442" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 115px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 114px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0QqIfJ7PI/AAAAAAAAADg/jfmb4E-5-fo/s200/Metallica-St-Anger.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;just unpack? Our stuff came up 3 1/2 weeks ago. Sheesh. Disgusting.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0NmAYiW4I/AAAAAAAAACw/OLknumY5UEA/s1600-h/Metallica-St-Anger.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm kinda laughing rite now. If he ever found out i wrote that he said that...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0QctwRg3I/AAAAAAAAADY/HeQRdI_GTA8/s1600-h/Metallica-St-Anger.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://kandeethemakeupartist.blogspot.com/2009/10/are-you-hurting-or-sad.html"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389976176358399906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 97px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 177px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0KxmupH6I/AAAAAAAAACY/RN6nYQntydY/s200/kandee.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;And then&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://kandeethemakeupartist.blogspot.com/2009/10/are-you-hurting-or-sad.html"&gt;Kandee the makeup artist wrote a blog called &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Are you hurting or Sad&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Except, I follow her on facebook too. So I saw it on my phone this morning when I checked my facebook. And then online again when I got online. And then on here where I follow her on blogger. And dangitall. She's so crazy beautiful. Some people just hit the nail on the head.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;People like this have invigorated my frkn LOVE of makeup.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0NYxsKdqI/AAAAAAAAACo/c5XQ9XgMaFw/s1600-h/blk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389979048338945698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0NYxsKdqI/AAAAAAAAACo/c5XQ9XgMaFw/s200/blk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Once upon a time, my exhusband had gotten me the most beautiful little zippy car, a hyundai accent, and then it was stolen. and then stripped. and then set on fire. (i swear we lived in a decent-ish neighborhood... perhaps it was my drug-dealing husband's doings???... we'll never know) So like $200 worth of Avon was *POOF* gone. And 4 pairs of Docs. And allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll my makeup. Now technically.. I dont &lt;em&gt;wear&lt;/em&gt; makeup.... except when i do. And lately, ive been feelin sooo bleh. i just want to wear makeup! i used to do drugs. i used to hang out a wee bit in the Hollywood scene. one of my partners in crime had an in at Sebastian makeup (Trucco makeup). we used to get the &lt;em&gt;hookup&lt;/em&gt;. i had SOOO much makeup. and even then i only wore it cuz i'd look like hell on wheels &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; wearing it next to my glamoricious gang. even my coworker used to mock me over my full line of MAC brushes, despite my otherwise grungy shell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;And now the bf's saying, i &lt;strong&gt;CAN&lt;/strong&gt; go to school in January.... I mean &lt;strong&gt;ONE&lt;/strong&gt; of us needs to... We'll be poor and destitute forever... But maybe I can just get a job until then ? And Maybe I can just work at where he started working? U know. The place with the HUGE turnover rate? I love his suggestions..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me now....&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0PtWiXFMI/AAAAAAAAADI/kRVoBYd7hqU/s1600-h/shower4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389981600850580674" style="WIDTH: 106px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0PtWiXFMI/AAAAAAAAADI/kRVoBYd7hqU/s200/shower4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Maybe me in the future? ...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0QC48bdFI/AAAAAAAAADQ/1fBRJEZUXHc/s1600-h/nurse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389981970863977554" style="WIDTH: 117px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 113px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0QC48bdFI/AAAAAAAAADQ/1fBRJEZUXHc/s200/nurse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;--yes i know who that is hee hee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;PS  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;A haiku is a japenese style poem. It goes 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My life sucks right now&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;School means 40 bucks an hour&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rent might get paid then&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Kids always wants things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Nothing is ever enough&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I'm for sure going insane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Boyfriend says loves me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Driving me crazy slowly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;I question his love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-7867049937554176127?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4IrqA5JxFfXMiY5H12oAge6XVVs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4IrqA5JxFfXMiY5H12oAge6XVVs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4IrqA5JxFfXMiY5H12oAge6XVVs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4IrqA5JxFfXMiY5H12oAge6XVVs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/7Cv4n6-_hCA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/7867049937554176127/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/to-hell-with-wordless-wednesdays-haikus.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/7867049937554176127?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/7867049937554176127?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/7Cv4n6-_hCA/to-hell-with-wordless-wednesdays-haikus.html" title="To hell with Wordless Wednesdays + Haikus!" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/Ss0Ka0KPS6I/AAAAAAAAACQ/IAfAj0XMDzY/s72-c/profanity.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/to-hell-with-wordless-wednesdays-haikus.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8ER34yfSp7ImA9WxNXGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-5987465068904754750</id><published>2009-10-06T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T14:16:46.095-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-06T14:16:46.095-07:00</app:edited><title>Tamed Tuesday</title><content type="html">Today I woke up feeling better than usual.&lt;br /&gt;I've discovered we can't "afford" for me to go back to school to be a nurse, so I'll have to return to the lame-o &lt;a href="http://www.ratracerebellion.com/"&gt;Rat Race&lt;/a&gt;, looking for a job (any job!!) that I'll be miserable at for a very long time and will never be able to take the next step in life.&lt;br /&gt;Sadder note: Maybe can't dye my hair pink? Still debating.&lt;br /&gt;You know what would be cool? If I could get a cool job, like &lt;a href="http://talesfromthetoystore.wordpress.com/"&gt;this girl here&lt;/a&gt; who just started working at a sex shop. Wicked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something to be happy about: Just checked the menu, and tonight is Tuna Helper!! Yay!! No slaving away for me tonight!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The child has met another friend (they only last her about a day or two, max) and is, of course, infatuated with spending every moment over there.  Her parents are church-goers, which means that maybe soon we will be too. yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so edgy and yucks. And I cannot afford to buy that stupid Wellbutrin, so that shit's just not gonna happen.  And everyone's just gonna hafta get over it. I'm a bitch. Oh well. Winter's gonna be rough, that's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boyfriend's best friend keeps spending dollars at work on &lt;em&gt;candy&lt;/em&gt;, which of course is toootally just upsetting the boyfriend.... I have no money for my bills, let alone laundry money... Last night I curled my hair. Nobody noticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I discovered haikus. But am too lazy to actually employ them. But just so you know, I am in love with them, and do plan on utilizing them in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boyfriend skipped around a conversation about us getting married this morning. Sigh. It must be love. So I looked online and found &lt;a href="http://www.unique-vintage.com/ivory-taffeta-silver-lace-wedding-gown-p-2965.html"&gt;another dress&lt;/a&gt;. It's not my fault. It fell into my browser.  Let's all pray that he's secretly saving up for a beautiful engagement ring, and not another dungeons &amp;amp; dragons toy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-5987465068904754750?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/opkRM9QCgPWDKQ8OFEjSuWWQO48/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/opkRM9QCgPWDKQ8OFEjSuWWQO48/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/Fvm4eRJtbPc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/5987465068904754750/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/tamed-tuesday.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/5987465068904754750?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/5987465068904754750?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/Fvm4eRJtbPc/tamed-tuesday.html" title="Tamed Tuesday" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/tamed-tuesday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcERnY7fyp7ImA9WxNUEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-1426926077082251586</id><published>2009-10-01T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T11:36:47.807-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-03T11:36:47.807-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stress" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="job" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sad" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poor" /><title>Thursdays tend to suck</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ff0000;"&gt;O.k., once again, i seem to have made my boyfriend become a despondent, meloncholy nuisance because I am being mean and angry and he deserves it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I think this is at least the 2nd Thursday in a row this has happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;He doesn't tell his family about me.  This hurts my feelings.  What.. I'm supposed to meet them at the wedding??  Are we HAVING a wedding?  They don't approve of me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;How am I supposed to be NICE with all the above??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So I am stuck with no job!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't even have the desire to have friends (he has tons).  I can only hope that Adsense through Google eventually does give me some dollars each month?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yes? Has this happened to anyone else?? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Next week I will finally get my cord to my camera so I can upload real photos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;In the meantime, I hafta find a way to make bits of money.......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;***cue devious music***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-1426926077082251586?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWe-f5k4LIv3bRUMj5bOX24hM8o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWe-f5k4LIv3bRUMj5bOX24hM8o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWe-f5k4LIv3bRUMj5bOX24hM8o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YWe-f5k4LIv3bRUMj5bOX24hM8o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/Hmb4l-OSld0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/1426926077082251586/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/thursdays-tend-to-suck.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/1426926077082251586?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/1426926077082251586?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/Hmb4l-OSld0/thursdays-tend-to-suck.html" title="Thursdays tend to suck" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/10/thursdays-tend-to-suck.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8BQH85fSp7ImA9WxNUEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-8772434278929203065</id><published>2009-09-30T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T15:24:11.125-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-01T15:24:11.125-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="motivation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="healthy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="weight" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fat" /><title>The low-down on Fat</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;O.k., so here goes. This is a long blog. But I have to put it down in writing so it's down and over with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;I am so inspired by others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;I have always said that I NEVER lose weight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;In fact, the only time my weight ever went DOWN was when I was daily using methamphetamine (that's speed -- an illegal narcotic, for all you non-addicts out there).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;My bestest friend's wedding was September 12th and I was a bridesmaid. We were fitted for our dresses in June. At that time the bridal shop said my measurements were for either a size 18 or 20. My best friend looked at me and said "Well, do you plan on losing weight before the wedding?". I said "My body NEVER loses weight". We opted for the size 20.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Throughout June and July, I was homeless, living in my other "best" friend's living room. I was so stressed out living there, and my impending out-of-state move, that I could not force myself to eat dinners. I ended up losing 15 lbs. A first in my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;In August, when I picked up my dress, it was 2 sizes too big. Cuz I love spending money I don't have, especially on last-minute alterations for the first time in my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;On Sept 12th (that's right, I left FROM the wedding), I moved to Oregon w/ my child, boyfriend, &amp;amp; his best friend. With the exception of my beautiful child, we are all grossly overweight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;My boyfriend has taken up EA Active on the Wii. The EA Active on the Wii SUCKS. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;His best friend states he'll take up the gym when he can afford it. States "you're not gonna catch him sweating in his underwear in his living room".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;My boyfriend even buys light mayonnaise and carrots &amp;amp; celery for snacks. He had gastric bypass few years ago. He thinks his stomach has stretched back out now as if he never had it though. He wants to buy a new scale due to mine only going up to 300. I told him NO!!!! You lose weight!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;I'm already bipolar. I'm in a new place, with no job, no friends, no money. The boys currently work from noon to 10pm. I'm alone all day... Getting the motivation to do anything, diet or workout, is rough. I don't even have the motivation to do the things I actually NEED to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;As previously blogged, I hate the wii. But I've discovered fitness videos on youtube. Very cool. I just need to do a few a day. Especially until I can afford to get a bike.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Another girl's blog reccommends the site: Nutrimirror.com to moniter calories, etc. Also, on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://exhotgirl.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;ExHotGirl's blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt; she has a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tickerfactory.com/ezticker/ticker_designer.php"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;weight loss ticker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;. I'm totally adding that to my blog too! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;There are so many girls blogging about their weight loss journey... It's amazing!! And so many success stories. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;I also will be blogging about my cooking skills.... and lack thereof. I need recipes. I need help.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;My biggest problem right now is I started in June at 205 lbs. I now am approx 187 lbs. And it feels SO wonderful. I need so much further to go. I need to not be proud at something handed to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;And I know, once my boyfriend (who a few years ago went from 430 lbs to 190 lbs) starts losing weight, I'm going to go insane with jealousy. I am so jealously competitive with men. It's a sickness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Join me in my battle of motivation, diet, exercise, emotionality, cooking, &amp;amp; inner research.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-8772434278929203065?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8kQuTd8LFGvCGjdIBQsBRpkR7qM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8kQuTd8LFGvCGjdIBQsBRpkR7qM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/yHCcgw13ceo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/8772434278929203065/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/09/low-down-on-fat.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/8772434278929203065?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/8772434278929203065?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/yHCcgw13ceo/low-down-on-fat.html" title="The low-down on Fat" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/09/low-down-on-fat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4HRX46fCp7ImA9WxNXEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-3808053781974730743</id><published>2009-09-29T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T21:12:14.014-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-29T21:12:14.014-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parent" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="child" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="adhd" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pain" /><title>Healing</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonight, the REAL reason why I started a blog, happened again.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My daughter, 11, supposedly with ADHD, threw another tantrum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She blames, accuses, whines, cries, stomps, hits, throws, aggravates.... for a little over an hour.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;At times, I feel so bad for her. She cannot control herself. She cannot pull herself together.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then it happens. My own patience level hits its max. She HAS to be touching me. Screaming. Hitting. Pulling. Tugging. Accusing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have to get away and lock myself in another room while she screams and cries and beats on the door.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The anger boils up. I think and fear the worst. I want to call the police. Child services. I'm the worst mother on the planet. Why did God give me this child? Why did God give this poor child me as a mother? I have gone through it ALL. I have done the Nanny 911 lessons. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387108307091919842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 149px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 190px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsLadpLFE-I/AAAAAAAAABw/Q14Ft7ZIw4M/s200/jerk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eventually, weariness kicks in. She subsides and is sad and emotionally hurt. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know she has these problems inside her and they manifest themselves into this nightmare when she can no longer take it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;HOW do I cure these problems?????&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;What can one do????&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-3808053781974730743?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hzIORZ6f3h0g2CxB57r7c1vGmIA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hzIORZ6f3h0g2CxB57r7c1vGmIA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/6DMg0xdVkIw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/3808053781974730743/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/09/healing.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3808053781974730743?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/3808053781974730743?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/6DMg0xdVkIw/healing.html" title="Healing" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsLadpLFE-I/AAAAAAAAABw/Q14Ft7ZIw4M/s72-c/jerk.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/09/healing.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUADRn06fSp7ImA9WxNUEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571039901744507724.post-7824007897367161258</id><published>2009-09-29T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T15:22:57.315-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-01T15:22:57.315-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="free" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="exercise" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sad" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fat" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="youtube" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poor" /><title>Exercise is for the motivated</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I tried laaaame EA Active yesterday.... First the thigh holster would NOT stay on!!! I had to practically cut off circulation to keep it on. Then I took off my pants (my boyfriend just does the whole thing naked), and had it strapped to my bare leg. Not so wonderful. Then tried to do the 2nd exercise: Squats. But if you don't do the squat deep enough, it doesn't acknowledge it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;L.A.M.E.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So I quit it. But I do have to find some way to exercise.. seeing as how I'm not so good at the whole diet thing... barely have enough money to buy groceries for dinner...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Grrrrrr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Update @ 3:45 pm.... I found some videos online... discovered free workout videos (good ones by Spark People) on Youtube.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;However..... I feel like it's going to take me DAYS to work up to this.... I could only complete about 4 minutes of one and one minute of another....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3571039901744507724-7824007897367161258?l=insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uCUfwPDh_lG5-NuO8Ov8s07OWwE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uCUfwPDh_lG5-NuO8Ov8s07OWwE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~4/qQ-wHN44FSY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/feeds/7824007897367161258/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/09/exercise-is-for-motivated.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/7824007897367161258?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3571039901744507724/posts/default/7824007897367161258?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/InsideBipolarMind/~3/qQ-wHN44FSY/exercise-is-for-motivated.html" title="Exercise is for the motivated" /><author><name>Melissa</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0n4rbHhj6MM/SsGFV0CfHXI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bsrtbAJFD6g/S220/girl.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://insidebipolarmind.blogspot.com/2009/09/exercise-is-for-motivated.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

