<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393</id><updated>2024-10-24T14:15:10.187-07:00</updated><category term="college blow job text"/><title type='text'>Life With Nello</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-633703905990635352</id><published>2011-03-26T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T09:49:17.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SCHOOL&#39;S BEEN SHIT</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I&#39;m sorry I haven&#39;t brought you a new Nello story recently, BUT blame that on my college, well, community college, LOL.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; I&#39;ve had several projects and other things going on, but within the next couple days I will update everyone, and throw in a story about how my girlfriend and I got a surprise visitor while staying in Nello&#39;s house at 2a.m.&lt;br /&gt;
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See you soon!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/633703905990635352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/03/schools-been-shit.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/633703905990635352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/633703905990635352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/03/schools-been-shit.html' title='SCHOOL&#39;S BEEN SHIT'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-7388606537225095222</id><published>2011-02-28T10:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T10:59:09.727-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Infiltration Of My Own /// 100+ Followers! /// WHHAAAAAAA?!?!!</title><content type='html'>Back on the 17th of this month I did some reconnaissance work as a little treat for you viewers, just so you could get an exclusive look into my &lt;span style=&quot;background-color: black; color: red;&quot;&gt;GRANDPA&#39;S LAIR!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC6dPVS8dJaSuQNiXWWI-S85blWTvohBODGJ3x6T18TdtPMsSeXLQe1InXe7jOWqnWnRWX9oKxSZKDCZwTUi98P1RYuxygfAjJvZPFTWYZiFjZxiOy6CFJ0i-gpyGGSHS3cKm9g6tZSx4/s1600/IMG_0758.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC6dPVS8dJaSuQNiXWWI-S85blWTvohBODGJ3x6T18TdtPMsSeXLQe1InXe7jOWqnWnRWX9oKxSZKDCZwTUi98P1RYuxygfAjJvZPFTWYZiFjZxiOy6CFJ0i-gpyGGSHS3cKm9g6tZSx4/s320/IMG_0758.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; My old room.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hrSboHk5Mt47d3kXCOLjBHie9-enJXSPTy7eCc4VqYOX7jgdIxDlq4jvCCMFgYWh_M4PpdzmHjSUWx_ENl6-oCtFPp-X4lZZWzDEKuS1v7rEZEJNTQlZ2ooYJLlOv-v0sKySaVea-UM/s1600/IMG_0759.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hrSboHk5Mt47d3kXCOLjBHie9-enJXSPTy7eCc4VqYOX7jgdIxDlq4jvCCMFgYWh_M4PpdzmHjSUWx_ENl6-oCtFPp-X4lZZWzDEKuS1v7rEZEJNTQlZ2ooYJLlOv-v0sKySaVea-UM/s320/IMG_0759.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;He NEVER sleeps under the warm comforter, just under that really thin blanket. After he got his toes amputated (when looking at his left foot it looks like this big toe --&amp;gt; U&#39;&#39;uu &amp;lt;-- pinky toe) there was a space between his big toe and his remaining two smaller toes where the sheets supposedly would get caught during the night, and that would irritate his foot. It&#39;s been a long time since the amputation, he sometimes puts something between the three toes to make his foot more comfortable and he complains about being cold, I SWEAR that comforter is warm, you just have to lay under it, not on top of it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34ifKwLZAeF3drbkenH3aRga6AgXfsEMW3bNkDhPhJGGyb4X4kjbVP65FkvfZ2Q-Sx2vMGMbfpPBPa7gOwCidPIFxLQgU4o9CEkh8jkUWfpRPmLRJZku60hhE48X6LboWO8Fsz6WFbks/s1600/IMG_0760.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34ifKwLZAeF3drbkenH3aRga6AgXfsEMW3bNkDhPhJGGyb4X4kjbVP65FkvfZ2Q-Sx2vMGMbfpPBPa7gOwCidPIFxLQgU4o9CEkh8jkUWfpRPmLRJZku60hhE48X6LboWO8Fsz6WFbks/s320/IMG_0760.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;He&#39;s got a television in there AND a computer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrxd4RVXaMtVMSSb6Dw8PlAXh-h9Hf_jZVqrCVLFIO_xDb6ogDp23j3G9Nmneq6pc2VyavsF8jK5jSbFjP3aNKXgSegpU4CFFSyXydKkc2N3yxKhPIl0r2yMJCeb6w-ducUkuHjSK-GU/s1600/IMG_0761.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrxd4RVXaMtVMSSb6Dw8PlAXh-h9Hf_jZVqrCVLFIO_xDb6ogDp23j3G9Nmneq6pc2VyavsF8jK5jSbFjP3aNKXgSegpU4CFFSyXydKkc2N3yxKhPIl0r2yMJCeb6w-ducUkuHjSK-GU/s320/IMG_0761.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;A full bath and walk in closet, not to mention the king sized bed. I guess old people are just grumpy sometimes, lol.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VhDMQt6wkP_u0MLlqaNCnwCS1I0LMN2DHOecv5PTogV9Hjm4XTz5sjgoezjzeCGv_D_giB7Fpdj4kKAtbAQGvVemBjIIfPb9GpjqFAkdRQCtetQfVCKhckKOCI3w9J8vu001HHaIcYU/s1600/IMG_0762.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VhDMQt6wkP_u0MLlqaNCnwCS1I0LMN2DHOecv5PTogV9Hjm4XTz5sjgoezjzeCGv_D_giB7Fpdj4kKAtbAQGvVemBjIIfPb9GpjqFAkdRQCtetQfVCKhckKOCI3w9J8vu001HHaIcYU/s320/IMG_0762.JPG&quot; width=&quot;213&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Right where that carpet is is where the &#39;Nello&#39;s Yelling Woke Me Up In A Fright...&#39; blog took place.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KynlQLtJSONJG2ASqqgAXq-PTm2L8bZZyCTrPREnbhnunSC_0zgngs_UCwjM_U_4jBlQPBidfA89A_4GEX7tp_AajYNXZX9q_9xnB5RNLj3FJP73jlpe5_z7kQPbU5PkLAV_dJpbY14/s1600/IMG_0763.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KynlQLtJSONJG2ASqqgAXq-PTm2L8bZZyCTrPREnbhnunSC_0zgngs_UCwjM_U_4jBlQPBidfA89A_4GEX7tp_AajYNXZX9q_9xnB5RNLj3FJP73jlpe5_z7kQPbU5PkLAV_dJpbY14/s320/IMG_0763.JPG&quot; width=&quot;213&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Shower has a built in seat, great for old people!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPxV1BCr70-F7Ffo4cqtj5o5-aajoUXLnUyP96qxpvNdnNN-sAxVVWNEm98F0qlhT54DkX53DzRcjcT8NJdByywIt5A6ZQoM5y8LTPUfvNK3PNElw5uC87VOB44FdNPByzlCbEDQXG4c/s1600/IMG_0764.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPxV1BCr70-F7Ffo4cqtj5o5-aajoUXLnUyP96qxpvNdnNN-sAxVVWNEm98F0qlhT54DkX53DzRcjcT8NJdByywIt5A6ZQoM5y8LTPUfvNK3PNElw5uC87VOB44FdNPByzlCbEDQXG4c/s320/IMG_0764.JPG&quot; width=&quot;213&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;I still have some stuff in that closet...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hYmwxQZMbvidLjTcWmgxFw0aT7AYfx-7380pO9DRRGD-pydmwBFFkkcfGUo7wDR8K8MW4STh9ECuB00STEyaf3STRq4ZRKTrUPWWyis_0HoaqcWDVcNI7BQWSnz-mW8e55SX6tsgAFE/s1600/IMG_0766.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hYmwxQZMbvidLjTcWmgxFw0aT7AYfx-7380pO9DRRGD-pydmwBFFkkcfGUo7wDR8K8MW4STh9ECuB00STEyaf3STRq4ZRKTrUPWWyis_0HoaqcWDVcNI7BQWSnz-mW8e55SX6tsgAFE/s320/IMG_0766.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Let&#39;s get these taxes done...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2r2qzg9vlk9oFFz45XepB54y6q2A3CmFZztgqkCevU2Z2H9GUwNlT4SeG4jv-GgFcLwLpA8-Dn0I8Q0UKcF085jZ2x4ErZXXHPA2JR7I2Hl7xmm8Hd3Xh3gHZX2jQNy3bGqb4H__9Dmo/s1600/IMG_0768.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2r2qzg9vlk9oFFz45XepB54y6q2A3CmFZztgqkCevU2Z2H9GUwNlT4SeG4jv-GgFcLwLpA8-Dn0I8Q0UKcF085jZ2x4ErZXXHPA2JR7I2Hl7xmm8Hd3Xh3gHZX2jQNy3bGqb4H__9Dmo/s320/IMG_0768.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Taxes drawer, of course!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RqBlECgF-mEh35Ug8yBUmq4V7oqGA1_Cu3ui6sq7q0r-x1pVobdP1mCkM586R7jiJPetLxCZ42UAeQI9xfaULCN7itcdrQ6GqistVKnIIOgc2AJnGJJL0Kd3L8hoARCn9mkqma3NoyE/s1600/IMG_0769.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RqBlECgF-mEh35Ug8yBUmq4V7oqGA1_Cu3ui6sq7q0r-x1pVobdP1mCkM586R7jiJPetLxCZ42UAeQI9xfaULCN7itcdrQ6GqistVKnIIOgc2AJnGJJL0Kd3L8hoARCn9mkqma3NoyE/s320/IMG_0769.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Bank stuff...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUbcTpzXFLee8GvA08TqTD3hyrzqHDnM8yvbewHd551ruBrZUCc7UjVSH4mwQvahggXvVHC9mE8RoSlURkgdDLrz0tPkmg3fyksi2ReNVdtyruONwdwix8Ybn-yhpKzYV98QJTLTE-3M/s1600/IMG_0770.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUbcTpzXFLee8GvA08TqTD3hyrzqHDnM8yvbewHd551ruBrZUCc7UjVSH4mwQvahggXvVHC9mE8RoSlURkgdDLrz0tPkmg3fyksi2ReNVdtyruONwdwix8Ybn-yhpKzYV98QJTLTE-3M/s320/IMG_0770.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Hold on, what&#39;s this unmarked envelope?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVKePK8bNtKSsqhl2Dtg8C4AKr-t4y8I5hwwjUKJlgLnWk2giw5VzlFjP9PZtIMb5q6b0s0yDsnYjAu-ckQYF_AvQ8uWtLwP8iafM6n_Fo1gWxQYkOMarM5wr6BD1xMjNcEJqFkKMWxA/s1600/IMG_0771.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVKePK8bNtKSsqhl2Dtg8C4AKr-t4y8I5hwwjUKJlgLnWk2giw5VzlFjP9PZtIMb5q6b0s0yDsnYjAu-ckQYF_AvQ8uWtLwP8iafM6n_Fo1gWxQYkOMarM5wr6BD1xMjNcEJqFkKMWxA/s320/IMG_0771.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA????&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMMowI8-GlInFfdv6I3gxjz8-RkIEaKwPHhPD0GzIrZMKHiHWiE-uIGn3k6V0RPzs5yF74FrteW6928mkpHNhCiENWHDla0imix1jtHbP-Fr2jhFWIy5A79pBB9eeodC0hfVVp6UO05I/s1600/IMG_0774.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMMowI8-GlInFfdv6I3gxjz8-RkIEaKwPHhPD0GzIrZMKHiHWiE-uIGn3k6V0RPzs5yF74FrteW6928mkpHNhCiENWHDla0imix1jtHbP-Fr2jhFWIy5A79pBB9eeodC0hfVVp6UO05I/s320/IMG_0774.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;A WHOLE LOT MORE OF WHHAAAA????&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEXXJIGyJPbqiFuyARQZiuQAolm6Tj4Cy9QEB709DlLTDmom72ZunsNWddVzkk-g5xG-GEQtrpXPVxeDDKjmM-15hvfSO4xxs17wBoEm-uEFFqlDnTCts6R8AS63Ps8q3oYu_Zle4LSc/s1600/IMG_0772.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEXXJIGyJPbqiFuyARQZiuQAolm6Tj4Cy9QEB709DlLTDmom72ZunsNWddVzkk-g5xG-GEQtrpXPVxeDDKjmM-15hvfSO4xxs17wBoEm-uEFFqlDnTCts6R8AS63Ps8q3oYu_Zle4LSc/s320/IMG_0772.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;All the WHHAAAAAAAA???? fanned out.&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; About last time around tax season I was over my grandfather&#39;s house along with my Nello and my mom and step-dad, while Nello was in his old bedroom I was talking with my mom and step-dad, I walked into the other room to ask my grandpa something and I happened to see a boob as he was filing through his tax drawer. My face did one of these :O and I got out of there quick, he didn&#39;t even notice I had entered the room.&lt;br /&gt;
Later on it was more like this : |&amp;nbsp; . &lt;br /&gt;
I then did what anyone else with a horrible sense of humor would have done, brought all my friends over his house just to show them what I had stumbled upon! : D&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Many months after the adult taxes... my mom had mentioned to me that Nello had mentioned he wanted something from his house, when she was looking for whatever he requested she hadn&#39;t found it, but found condoms instead. After she told me about her find, I then proceeded to search for them the next time I was there only to find that they had been moved... Does anybody else think that my grandpa may be sneaking old women into my old bedroom to do &#39;old&#39; stuff with? Where the hell did he take the condoms to, and why does he need them? A year later and I still have NO IDEA where they went...&lt;br /&gt;
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OVER 100 FOLLOWERS! THANK YOU EVERYBODY! If anybody has any requests for more &#39;infiltration&#39; type pictures OR has any questions just ask via message or comment!&lt;br /&gt;
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WHHAAAAAAA?!?!!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/7388606537225095222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/little-infiltration-of-my-own-100.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/7388606537225095222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/7388606537225095222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/little-infiltration-of-my-own-100.html' title='A Little Infiltration Of My Own /// 100+ Followers! /// WHHAAAAAAA?!?!!'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC6dPVS8dJaSuQNiXWWI-S85blWTvohBODGJ3x6T18TdtPMsSeXLQe1InXe7jOWqnWnRWX9oKxSZKDCZwTUi98P1RYuxygfAjJvZPFTWYZiFjZxiOy6CFJ0i-gpyGGSHS3cKm9g6tZSx4/s72-c/IMG_0758.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-8391006966227254964</id><published>2011-02-24T18:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T18:20:15.238-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nello. The Hole Throwing Up Thing. /// From Febuary 26th, 2010</title><content type='html'>Yesterday Nello threw up, yes, it WAS into his dinner plate. My mother had reported that he continued to eat what was on his plate. I  too would like to think that he ate his own regurgitations, but I&#39;m sure  that was taken off his plate. I know my mom would have tried to take his  plate away and give him new, non-vomit tainted food but knowing Nello  I&#39;m sure he stubbornly insisted on keeping his plate.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I woke up  to what sounded almost like yelling, but was more of a very stern  talking. My mom was saying something to Nello, all I remember was hearing  &quot;You should be saying thank you...&quot; and something about how she  suspects his &quot;amish built heater&quot; (THAT ONLY COSTS TWO CENTS AN HOUR!  sure it does) is costing A LOT more than it should be. (My mother isn&#39;t a&amp;nbsp; thank you nazi, she just said that because he was complaining and being  extremely rude) Today I had school from 9:00-11:30 a.m. and had an  orthodontic appointment at 2:00 p.m. When I got home I wanted to eat  lunch, shit (because I had to shit), and shower. After wards I had to  drop off work clothes to my mom then leave and go right to the  orthodontist. Nello had given me a couple of dollars to buy him  chocolate and Efferdent, which are tablets you drop into a cup of water  with dentures in order to clean them. Angelo wanted me to get S.O.S.  pads as well. I was planning on going to Wal-Mart after I got back from  the orthodontist.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; After taking my shower I got dressed. I then  proceeded to walk from my room to the door that leads to the garage. While walking  through the living/family room Nello says &quot;You&#39;re back!&quot; I then informed  him that I never even left the house after coming back from school. I  was now gathering the items I need, by the door, and he shot a snappy  &quot;You didn&#39;t leave yet!?&quot; at me. I yelled &quot;No.&quot; and he hit back with a  very disappointed and disgusted &quot;Jeeze...&quot; I then angrily snapped back  at him saying &quot;I came home, had to eat, shit and shower. Now I have to  bring mom her shit for work and then I have to go to the orthodontist!&quot; I  guess he didn&#39;t even know what I was saying. He just heard noise, he  didn&#39;t know what I had sad. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Angelo then asked Nello what was  wrong and Nello told him &quot;If he would have left he would have been home  by now!&quot; (Well let&#39;s see Nello, you didn&#39;t specify a time. In essence I  could have left at any time, I wouldn&#39;t have necessarily made it to  Wal-Mart and back home if I would have left ten minutes prior to that  statement. By the way, when I go to Wal-Mart I like to take my time.)  Then Angelo came over by me and said &quot;Don&#39;t worry, it&#39;s okay...&quot; I  interrupted him with &quot;I&#39;m gonna fucking kill &#39;em...&quot; He didn&#39;t say  anything, perhaps he doesn&#39;t have any objections. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; After I dropped  my mother&#39;s things off at her work I headed to the orthodontist&#39;s  office. This summer will make it the big six! Six fun-filled years with  braces, my teeth weren&#39;t bad enough to deserve to be dressed in metal  for that long. I don&#39;t mind it, I&#39;m actually dreading the day I get them  off. I&#39;ll be naked, and I&#39;ll be vulnerable to the world. I hope it  doesn&#39;t look too strange. I was offered three bags of popcorn at that  office, I took them in hopes of delivering one to a few of my friends. I ended up eating one and as soon as I exited the freeway I  stopped at the Nick&#39;s house. So I then pawned off bags of popcorn on Courtney and Nick. I watched a few minutes of the motion picture  &#39;Sybil&#39;, briefly whispered about the car situation for getting to a club about 40 minutes away to see the Tough Shits (http://toughshits.muxtape.com, The Tough Shits are fucking great.) and then finally left. I headed to  Wal-Mart, located the S.O.S. pads and the Efferdent, then grabbed the  chocolate bar and went to check out. There was a nice looking woman at  the self check-out, she was anywhere from her thirties into her forties.  She eventually apologized to me for taking so long checking out, I  didn&#39;t mind, she was a total M.I.L.F. I was given a chance to not only check her out but also the stories and tips  Cosmo was offered.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I made way back home and Nello didn&#39;t even  know I was home for about five to ten minutes until Angelo informed him  that I was right in the kitchen. Nello didn&#39;t utter a single word to me  for hours. I ended up going straight into my room and taking a nap,  nothing else to do on a Friday without a car. I was awoken by a loud  thud, I knew it had to be Nello crashing to the ground. I jumped up from  grabbing shorts, while in the process of pulling them up I smacked  myself in the nose and gave my self a nose bleed.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I eventually  had some dinner after Nello was gone from the table. About two hours  later Nello was ready for me to &quot;do&quot; his foot. Since his second and  third toes, on his left foot, were amputated there is now a small hole  in place of them. Peroxide has to be applied to that area and then a  small piece of peroxide soaked gauze has to be rung out and &quot;gently  packed&quot; into this hole. Then a one inch by one inch piece of gauze has  to be placed against that whole hole area. As I was snipping a little  piece of gauze off the roll and soaking it in peroxide he started saying  &quot;What the hell...&quot; then trailed off. I then reminded him what the doctor had instructed. His scissors fell off the counter when I had  grabbed a package of gauze, he was getting very loud, to an almost  yelling extent. &quot;Those are good scissors! You&#39;re gunna bend them!&quot; he  shouted at me. Yes, they fell on a tile floor, but these scissors aren&#39;t  some cheap thin pair, these are very durable metal. I assured him  &quot;There&#39;s no way they&#39;re going to bend.&quot; I don&#39;t remember what he tried  to stick at me after that. Finally, the foot has to be wrapped by gauze.  After our little hangout session he laid down in bed, despite that he  still had to take his nightly vitamin and shoot himself with some  Lantus. Lantus is a form of insulin that Nello takes at night, though he  claimed he had taken it earlier that day. That, as my stepfather and I both  knew, was complete hogwash. He also said he had already taken his night  time vitamin, again hogwash. After we were done checking his sugar and  administering the insulin he wanted to talk to me. He started  instructing me how to talk to him. Informing me that he can&#39;t hear me  when I&#39;m not facing him, he can&#39;t hear me even when I am facing him, so what&#39;s the difference. He  continued to tell me that he didn&#39;t know what I had even said earlier  and that my step-dad had to inform him that I needed to drop things off to my mom.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;  I honestly would not want to live at the quality of live he&#39;s starting  to live. Nello&#39;s one of those people who can do everything for  themselves, someone who doesn&#39;t like accepting help from others. Now he  has no choice. I know he gets confused quite a bit, I&#39;m guessing there  may also be something going on in his head. There are times I do feel  bad, as if I should be more patient, but it&#39;s not like I&#39;m yelling at  him saying &quot;YOU&#39;RE OLD AND CONFUSED ALL THE TIME! YOU FALL AND CAN  BARELY WALK! YOU&#39;RE DIABETIC!&quot; I&#39;m sure Nello feels as bad as I do.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/8391006966227254964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nello-hole-throwing-up-thing-from.html#comment-form' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/8391006966227254964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/8391006966227254964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nello-hole-throwing-up-thing-from.html' title='Nello. The Hole Throwing Up Thing. /// From Febuary 26th, 2010'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-8180879237028125064</id><published>2011-02-22T10:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T10:50:51.265-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="college blow job text"/><title type='text'>&gt;A text from my friend</title><content type='html'>I received a text message from my friend, who&#39;s away at college right now, saying:&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;gt;have girl over to stay night &amp;gt;roommate will not leave &amp;gt;tell roommate to GET THE FUCK OUT &amp;gt;he storms out&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;gt;one half hour he&#39;s back &amp;gt;doesn&#39;t knock &amp;gt;interrupts blow job &amp;gt;freaks out yells and throws things&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;gt;LEAVES &amp;gt;tattles to ****** (name ommited, but it&#39;s this girl my friend&#39;s &#39;talking&#39; to)&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;gt;she knocks on door to cock block &amp;gt;tell her to GET THE FUCK OUT &amp;gt;finish getting blow job&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;gt;roommate slept in car &amp;gt;fuck yeah&lt;br /&gt;
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Things like this really make me love my friends.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/8180879237028125064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/text-from-my-friend.html#comment-form' title='34 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/8180879237028125064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/8180879237028125064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/text-from-my-friend.html' title='&gt;A text from my friend'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>34</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-5737163133426754696</id><published>2011-02-21T13:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T13:06:04.545-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nello&#39;s Yelling Woke Me Up In A Fright /// From Febuary 12, 2010 /// Domain Registration Yahoo</title><content type='html'>A couple minutes before 3:30 a.m. I&#39;m not sure what&#39;s going on, I was  previously in the state of sleep. I hear &quot;Anthony!&quot;, I figured my mother  and/or step-dad would have heard as well, and could have corrected what  ever the hell was the problem. It became evident that they weren&#39;t hearing what ever it was, I soon found out it was  Nello.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; When I eventually realized that Nello was yelling for me, I jumped out of  bed and into some sweat pants and made my way into his room. I found him  lying on the bathroom floor, telling me he&#39;s been there for an hour. I  really don&#39;t want to over analyze this almost 4:00 a.m. bullshit, but I  feel he may have been complaining, as if I should have woken up the  second he and his walker came crashing down. (Added 2/21/2011: He had an attitude about the whole situation, a sort of anger, that he felt necessary to aim towards me at that ungodly hour. Lying on the floor, realizing you can&#39;t even get up, thinking about how old you really are and what you can and can&#39;t do, I&#39;m sure most people in that situation would have had as much hostility as he did.)&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; His room still smells retched, not as terrible as  before, because the rotting flesh that were his toes are gone, but it&#39;s  still quite unbearable. (He had two toes removed last Tuesday, his  second and third starting from his big toe) I hated having to treat and  dress his foot, it was disgusting, I had to breathe out of my mouth  because it smelled that horrible. As soon as I was done with that  process I&#39;d get to go into the hall and take a nice, real deep breath of air  and then I scrubbed my hands. The napkins and needles he insists on &lt;b&gt;re&lt;/b&gt;-using,  are just as disgusting. Hey kids, if you have diabetes DON&#39;T reuse your needles, but I know none of you are that stubborn to do so.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My friend Courtney commented on this blog saying:&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;..i took the time to read it, but only after i heard a tumble down the  stairs... and walked over to find nick covered in water, ice all over  the carpet, and nick (her boyfriend, also my friend) sitting on the bottom of the steps. he also had suffered from a fall this fine morning.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
I really enjoyed reading her comment, it provided a needed laugh.&lt;br /&gt;
Courtney and Nick are now pregnant, well just Courtney&#39;s technically pregnant...&lt;br /&gt;
I just wanted to wish them a very happy congratulations on their soon to be newest addition to their union!&lt;br /&gt;
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I know there are several other &#39;look what this old person does or says!&#39; internet networking profiles, but I really enjoy telling people I don&#39;t know about a part of my life. Is something like this too generic to register for a free domain registration yahoo account? Just wondering what everyone thinks, right now I&#39;m leaning towards sticking with this and seeing if anybody would even care enough to want an actual site. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/5737163133426754696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nellos-yelling-woke-me-up-in-fright.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/5737163133426754696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/5737163133426754696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nellos-yelling-woke-me-up-in-fright.html' title='Nello&#39;s Yelling Woke Me Up In A Fright /// From Febuary 12, 2010 /// Domain Registration Yahoo'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-875073799461195654</id><published>2011-02-20T08:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T08:56:34.525-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nello Updates /// From January 26th 2010</title><content type='html'>I&#39;ve been neglecting the Nello blog, I have been in school so I have seen fewer and fewer traces of him lately. It begins again.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;  On Tuesday, January 12th, Nello insisted on going to Wal-Mart to pick  up some medication and also to grab a few essentials. In addition to the  medication he wanted two GIANT chocolate bars, bread, and stool  softener. Instead of letting me ask where the stool softener was he just  had to drive around on one of those to stupid electric carts aisle  after aisle. He kept circling around from orthopedic needs to make up  several times around each aisle, bumping into things and trying to push  his way through people while managing to knock over a bunch of vitamins  that his caring grandson kindly picked them all up and fixed the  display. Eventually resulting in the seizing of the stool softener. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;  On Friday, January 22nd, I asked Nello, &quot;Grandpa, can I take the car  tonight?&quot; he responded with &quot;What time will you be home?&quot; I asked him,  &quot;What time do you want me home?&quot; The previous week he would say  something to the effects of 12 or don&#39;t be home too late. But that  night, a Friday, he said &quot;Ten, ten-thirty.&quot; It was around 8:10p.m. and  he wanted me home at ten. Isn&#39;t that, &quot;some bullshit?&quot; Right after he  said that I said, &quot;Oh, never mind, Walty&#39;s going to pick me up, bye.&quot; So  I just walked up to Waffle House (which took 30-40 minutes.)&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The next day, Saturday the  23rd I walked to Tim King&#39;s apartment because I didn&#39;t want to make anyone come pick me up and there was no way I was going to ask Nello. So  I was just sitting in my friend&#39;s apartment waiting for him, and a few other friends to get there. Tim&#39;s sister and her boyfriend ended up coming home before Tim and everyone  else, and I was just sitting there when they walked in, so that was  weird.*&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*Lol</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/875073799461195654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nello-updates-from-january-26th-2010.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/875073799461195654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/875073799461195654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nello-updates-from-january-26th-2010.html' title='Nello Updates /// From January 26th 2010'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-9206902041005358514</id><published>2011-02-16T08:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T08:22:26.086-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Class of 1948 /// From January 19th, 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;h4&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;Yesterday (Jan. 18th, 2010) I had to wake up at 7:00 a.m. in order to get ready, make sure Nello was ready and get him to a deli about 25 minutes away.My mom was kind enough to dress his foo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;h4&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt; Of course Nello has to be everywhere an hour early, it was about 20-30 minutes before any other youngsters showed up. We could have gotten there an hour later and still have had time to order. Finally everyone was ready to order, they all had their decaf and sweet &#39;n&#39; low. Nello ordered two sunny side up eggs, with toast and two pieces of bacon. I just had a ham, egg, and cheese bagel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I was in between Nello and his cousin, Mario(***). There were a couple of wise guys sitting around them. Some of the subjects these senior citizens covered were as follows: cargo ships, gambling, golf, grandchildren, news (national and international), war time, weather, &#39;young guys&#39;, and zoot suits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;Too bad my bagel sandwich didn&#39;t last longer, it should have been bigger. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; After we left Manhattan Deli we went straight to BJ&#39;s to pick up some prosciutto and milk. Nello also had to buy a 12 pack of paper towels, the double ones that are almost the size of 2 paper towel rolls put togther. While he was waiting for his meat this old lady picked up a very large bag of rolls, and was rudely trying to contact a deli associate in order to inquire about the contents. &quot;Are there twelve rolls in here?&quot; Clearly, ANYONE, besides her, would realize there were more than just a dozen. &quot;No, there are twenty rolls in there.&quot; The lady replied, &quot;Oh, wow!&quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I really fucking hate old people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;***My grandpa&#39;s cousin, Mario, is now deceased as of a few months ago, but before he died he was over my house, talking to my grandpa, and they were on the subject of costs of women and in reference to thousands of dollars Mario said &quot;No pussy&#39;s worth that much.&quot; This is by far one of thee greatest things I&#39;ve ever heard an 80 year old man say. ALSO, I don&#39;t know what I did to the spacing up top, and the small letter size down here, sorry...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/9206902041005358514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/class-of-1948-from-january-19th-2010.html#comment-form' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/9206902041005358514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/9206902041005358514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/class-of-1948-from-january-19th-2010.html' title='Class of 1948 /// From January 19th, 2010'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-1706842551296189871</id><published>2011-02-15T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T10:45:01.131-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nello&#39;s Car Mirror (Something I Failed To Mention) /// From January 17th, 2010</title><content type='html'>On Tuesday, the 12th (January 2010) I was listening to Lady Gaga&#39;s &quot;Poker Face&quot; and I  pulled into my driveway, proceeded to pull into my garage and took  Nello&#39;s car mirror off. Coincidentally the next time I went to drive his  car Lady Gaga was on, again, I believe it was &quot;Bad Romance.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nOC5pbWFnZXNoYWNrLnVzL2kvMTAwMTc4NWEuanBnLw==&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img8.imageshack.us/img8/1967/1001785a.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nOC5pbWFnZXNoYWNrLnVzL2kvMTAwMTc4NmQuanBnLw==&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img8.imageshack.us/img8/2894/1001786d.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nOC5pbWFnZXNoYWNrLnVzL2kvMTAwMTc4N2UuanBnLw==&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img8.imageshack.us/img8/5575/1001787e.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I really don&#39;t know how I even did this, I must be some kind of retarded.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*Nello ended up paying for this, which was really nice of him not to make me pay all $350 dollars...* &lt;br /&gt;
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////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just wanted to shout out a little thank you to all of my new followers!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
♥&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That heart&#39;s a day later, but oh well, just take it!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/1706842551296189871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nellos-car-mirror-something-i-failed-to.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/1706842551296189871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/1706842551296189871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nellos-car-mirror-something-i-failed-to.html' title='Nello&#39;s Car Mirror (Something I Failed To Mention) /// From January 17th, 2010'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-1225123761945216724</id><published>2011-02-09T22:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T22:04:06.925-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Braces &amp; Hepatitis C</title><content type='html'>I have no braces, nor do I have Hepatitis C, today&#39;s a good day. I had braces for 6 and half years, yes, I said 6. Recently I received a letter from The American Red Cross saying that I could have the Hep but that I most likely did not, and after some blood results from my doctor&#39;s office I&#39;m pleased to say that I do not have Hepatitis C, although I&#39;m extremely upset about never being able to give blood, EVER again.&lt;br /&gt;
As soon as school and work cool down I&#39;ll post more about where/who I thought I could have caught Hepatitis from, and maybe I&#39;ll even throw in a couple pictures of the letter.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/1225123761945216724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/braces-hepatitis-c.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/1225123761945216724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/1225123761945216724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/braces-hepatitis-c.html' title='Braces &amp; Hepatitis C'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-384324556200857688</id><published>2011-02-08T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T10:35:37.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>&quot;The Nello Blog Begins&quot; /// From January 17th, 2010</title><content type='html'>Before I start with current stories, I&#39;ll be taking old blogs from my MySpace and posting them here, trust me, there&#39;s more to come. This is was the first blog out of a few from when my grandfather first moved in, enjoy! Some even have pictures!*&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*The pictures in these blogs from my old MySpace were uploaded to picture uploading site, I know they&#39;re not very good quality wise, but I have long since deleted the originals.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is it, I&#39;ve had enough. The Nello Blog begins.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For those of you who do not know... IF YOU KNOW WHO NELLO IS, PROCEED TO NEXT SERIES OF PARAGRAPHS&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometime  in June 2009 Nello, my grandfather, was taken to the hospital  for...I can&#39;t even remember, maybe his blood sugar was too low. My stepfather had to break down Nello&#39;s  door after a panicked period of no response from him. This happened the  same day of prom but I just brushed it off. He&#39;s had to have numerous  multiple bypass heart surgeries, so this was nothing. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; From that  point on, for many months, he was getting weaker by the day. I can&#39;t  completely recall, but either in September or October my mother asked to  see his leg, then soon after she asked to take his sock off. That  moment is when the black was first discovered. His second and third toe,  the big toe being the first, were stuck together and there was some  sort of black in between them, binding them together. As his leg grew  colder and more painful the black grew as well. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The doctor recommended pouring betadine in between his toes to dry out  the black substance. Also, he instructed placing gauze pads in between  each one of the toes, keeping them separated. Never mentioning anything  about how the black could very well be gangrene, we knew. Now if Nello  ever knew is beyond me, I don&#39;t think he thought about it, but I really  wouldn&#39;t know. &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; After many days of treating and dressing his  foot his surgery date was at hand. My mother had spent hours waiting at the hospital after taking him  there at 6:00 a.m., it was either a Tuesday or a Thursday, I  know that because I had English class that day and I arrived about 10-15  minutes late and the class was already gone, they were let out early. My step dad and I arrived at 12:00 p.m., we didn&#39;t get to see him until 6:00  p.m., those six hours were some of the most boring hours I had to sit  through in quite some time.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; For the entire month of December  Nello stayed in an extended care facility, while he wasn&#39;t in a  hospital. They felt he was ready to be released back into the wild, but  he still needed assistance. Bringing him to my room, his domain is where  I used to call home, where I used to lay my head. I don&#39;t ever want to  lay my head back down there due to his head leaving a cheese sent where  he rests. (This information is from a disclosed source and will not be  revealed.)&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Now from 3-5 days a week I have to treat and dress  his foot, supervise the process of checking his blood sugar. and I have  to feed him 1 or 2 times a day. I also have to make sure he&#39;s taken all  his pills throughout the day. I don&#39;t ever want kids...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;  Today for dinner I made Nello a piece of flounder finished with a nice  cheese and bread crumb topping, along with a few herbs and spices. I  also made him sun dried tomato mashed potatoes, they were instant. At  the end of our candle lit meal he claims that there are raisins in his  potatoes. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt; &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nMTIxLmltYWdlc2hhY2sudXMvaS9tYXNoYm94eC5qcGcv&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img121.imageshack.us/img121/8315/mashboxx.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Why  the fuck would there be raisins in mashed mother fucking potatoes?  Anybody have a valid excuse for raisins in potatoes? I sure as hell  don&#39;t. He kept insisting that there were two raisins in his potatoes.  After looking at the ingredients list I inform him that there are no  raisins present in the product that I cooked him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nNjk2LmltYWdlc2hhY2sudXMvaS8xMDAxODEwZy5qcGcv&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img696.imageshack.us/img696/1255/1001810g.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nNTkuaW1hZ2VzaGFjay51cy9pLzEwMDE4MTFqLmpwZy8=&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img59.imageshack.us/img59/4968/1001811j.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;He proceeds to say &quot;I could taste &#39;em, I know these are raisins...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; How can people insist they&#39;re right when you show them the facts and completely fact fuck them?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nMTkyLmltYWdlc2hhY2sudXMvaS8xMDAxODE0dy5qcGcv&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img192.imageshack.us/img192/9699/1001814w.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nMTkyLmltYWdlc2hhY2sudXMvaS8xMDAxODE2dy5qcGcv&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img192.imageshack.us/img192/963/1001816w.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vaW1nMjAwLmltYWdlc2hhY2sudXMvaS8xMDAxODE4aC5qcGcv&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://img200.imageshack.us/img200/793/1001818h.th.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
^Look for yourself, these are no fucking raisins.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/384324556200857688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nello-blog-begins-from-january-17th.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/384324556200857688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/384324556200857688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/nello-blog-begins-from-january-17th.html' title='&quot;The Nello Blog Begins&quot; /// From January 17th, 2010'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6725640029372244393.post-9021785886697973573</id><published>2011-02-07T20:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T20:03:58.332-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 1st, 2010-The infiltration</title><content type='html'>January 1st, 2010, is the day that Nello, my mother&#39;s father, moved into my household. At the time I was 19 years old, I didn&#39;t have a car, my &#39;relationship&#39; was in shambles, and I was moving into the &#39;pink room&#39;, as the spare bedroom of my house is usually referred to as. Exactly! Fecal matter! &#39;Shit&#39; was the only thing that came to my mind, and it stunk, oh it stunk. The infiltration began, I had began to blog via MySpace, although I only posted a few stories I have countless &#39;Oh that Nello...&#39; stories, and they&#39;ll be right here, very soon.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/feeds/9021785886697973573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/january-1st-2010-infiltration.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/9021785886697973573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6725640029372244393/posts/default/9021785886697973573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithnello.blogspot.com/2011/02/january-1st-2010-infiltration.html' title='January 1st, 2010-The infiltration'/><author><name>Life With Grandpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04732762157262562085</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjnzTswKDSj4mYWdptA57wEQ_SgMWZlyMrmyYuVxQXx7b1gUEAbkPlutrIIEszYfcPvRkV6c8qcZsyEfWwU7Ttho1oUdFS2nLN-VCUXl6INv5eTy0IdMOZArvMeJPNg/s220/IMG_0756.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>