<?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-5638853472671639857</id><updated>2024-08-30T06:31:43.888-05:00</updated><category term="fight"/><category term="Marla"/><category term="PawPaw"/><category term="Teddy"/><category term="Tiffany"/><category term="anger"/><category term="death"/><category term="family"/><category term="restroom"/><category term="road trip"/><category term="shooting"/><category term="work"/><category term="Darby"/><category term="Gappy"/><category term="KU"/><category term="LaMar"/><category term="Marvin Gaye"/><category term="NCAA"/><category term="Roc"/><category term="Roger"/><category term="baby"/><category term="basketball"/><category term="bowling"/><category term="car"/><category term="championship"/><category term="dancing"/><category term="dying"/><category term="family-reunion"/><category term="friends"/><category term="goodbye"/><category term="gun"/><category term="house"/><category term="illness"/><category term="kill"/><category term="life"/><category term="lunch"/><category term="moving"/><category term="naked woman"/><category term="name"/><category term="neighbor"/><category term="old-lady-dj"/><category term="party"/><category term="penguins"/><category term="praying"/><category term="racial"/><category term="reggie bush"/><category term="robbery"/><category term="school"/><category term="shirt"/><category term="siblings"/><category term="singing"/><category term="slap"/><category term="smoking"/><category term="tiger"/><category term="time"/><category term="year"/><category term="yelling"/><title type='text'>The Dream Sector</title><subtitle type='html'>Welcome to my dream blog...&#xa;&#xa;These dreams of mine are good and bad, happy and sad, sweet and angry, simple and complex. They may not make sense to you, but then again, whose dreams do make sense?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-7935576982054007279</id><published>2013-10-27T01:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2013-10-27T01:24:50.659-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fight"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="LaMar"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="restroom"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="road trip"/><title type='text'>My Man, My Hero</title><content type='html'>I was on a road trip with an unknown female companion. Everything was going pretty good until we stopped at a convenience store. My friend needed to buy gas and I &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; needed to use the restroom.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The store was pretty crowded. While on my way to the restroom, some big man was trying to talk to/flirt with me. I barely acknowledged him as I made my way to the restroom. It was pretty big, but had no doors or barriers for stalls. I was the only person in there and since I had to use it so badly, I did my business as quick as I could before anybody else came in. As soon as I finished, I heard the voice of the big man outside the restroom. He made his way inside the women&#39;s restroom talkin &lt;i&gt;ish&lt;/i&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;What the f*** are you doing in here?!&quot; I asked, looking to see if anybody was going to come in and make him leave.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Ain&#39;t nobody out there. They can&#39;t hear you. It&#39;s just me and you, baby,&quot; he said, chuckling as he walked towards me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;You&#39;d better not touch me!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;What you go&#39;n do, huh?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then for some reason, I decided to yell for LaMar (who wasn&#39;t even supposed to be in this dream because I&#39;m miles away from him on this road trip) because I knew he of all people would&#39;ve been able to protect and defend me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I yelled as loud as I could, &quot;LaMar!! LAMAR!!!!!&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lo and behold, LaMar appeared at the entrance of the restroom ready to kick this man&#39;s ass!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;What&#39;s up, p***y?!&quot; he asked the big man, sizing him up.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately, I woke up before the fight happened 😞&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/7935576982054007279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/7935576982054007279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/7935576982054007279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/7935576982054007279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2013/10/my-man-my-hero.html' title='My Man, My Hero'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-5869457318671833600</id><published>2013-10-27T00:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2013-10-27T00:55:49.810-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Darby"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="house"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Marvin Gaye"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="robbery"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Tiffany"/><title type='text'>Back on the Block</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjooMwNskwgn0YYvGknzu5FzThYn_Sd-E-X8lw5JfRxp8QSR8JnlXvvVmOFimML-WfUVmAAQ_kJlyAaWQnJzrMkatLppMdfcEMT76uoDYfgl70iJ5kSD3FA8T3m8mi9sFkwxawfrq1UEIy/s640/blogger-image-765063613.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjooMwNskwgn0YYvGknzu5FzThYn_Sd-E-X8lw5JfRxp8QSR8JnlXvvVmOFimML-WfUVmAAQ_kJlyAaWQnJzrMkatLppMdfcEMT76uoDYfgl70iJ5kSD3FA8T3m8mi9sFkwxawfrq1UEIy/s640/blogger-image-765063613.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue Light&#39;, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue Light&#39;, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;My family and I were back at the house on Darby. I guess we were living there again. The house was in hoarder condition. One night, I woke up and saw this little boy climb in the house from the master bedroom window.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Young man, what do you think you&#39;re doing?&quot; I asked. He was so startled, he couldn&#39;t respond.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;I&#39;m gonna do you a favor this time and not call the police. We work too hard to get what we have only to have somebody come and take it from us. So go tell your friends what I said. And if I catch you or any of them trying to break in here again, I&#39;ll make it so that it&#39;ll be the last time you try to rob somebody again. Understand?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He nodded his head, then I helped him climb back down from the window.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next morning I told the family what happened overnight. Nobody was really trippin&#39; over it. Tiffany was excited about going to a Marvin Gaye concert and was holding an old CD of his. &lt;i&gt;(I guess he was alive in this dream!)&lt;/i&gt; Not sure where everybody else was doing. Kim was her usual moody self and arguing with Momma.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/5869457318671833600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/5869457318671833600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5869457318671833600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5869457318671833600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2013/10/back-on-block.html' title='Back on the Block'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjooMwNskwgn0YYvGknzu5FzThYn_Sd-E-X8lw5JfRxp8QSR8JnlXvvVmOFimML-WfUVmAAQ_kJlyAaWQnJzrMkatLppMdfcEMT76uoDYfgl70iJ5kSD3FA8T3m8mi9sFkwxawfrq1UEIy/s72-c/blogger-image-765063613.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-5379816685702425674</id><published>2013-10-27T00:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2013-10-27T00:35:04.887-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bowling"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="PawPaw"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="siblings"/><title type='text'>I Keep Forgettin&amp;#39;...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVhcn03CMLnF6KtZqXQCjuaK9kpL-TiV2aexeAcnXU3Q1KwkQUl2u8ExUmtdLl261PeJrJ25zEZy2BBuj8cBBaLL_e0YJ6P4IQvg-jfm1tVTIvcHqRASuKP6U9h4G44rmCox7nPRuGXLy/s640/blogger-image--1238486066.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVhcn03CMLnF6KtZqXQCjuaK9kpL-TiV2aexeAcnXU3Q1KwkQUl2u8ExUmtdLl261PeJrJ25zEZy2BBuj8cBBaLL_e0YJ6P4IQvg-jfm1tVTIvcHqRASuKP6U9h4G44rmCox7nPRuGXLy/s640/blogger-image--1238486066.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both;&quot;&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both;&quot;&gt;I was at the bowling alley with Teddy, Marla &amp;amp; Kimberly. Warren was there. He just bowled a strike. I was about to ask what lane PawPaw was on, but remembered he had passed away months ago. I told my sibs what I had almost asked them. They just shook their heads, then ignored me. Then a few bowling monitors merged together and formed one huge screen. An announcement was gonna be made. Everybody gathered to watch, but I woke up before anything was said.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/5379816685702425674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/5379816685702425674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5379816685702425674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5379816685702425674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2013/10/i-keep-forgettin.html' title='I Keep Forgettin&amp;#39;...'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVhcn03CMLnF6KtZqXQCjuaK9kpL-TiV2aexeAcnXU3Q1KwkQUl2u8ExUmtdLl261PeJrJ25zEZy2BBuj8cBBaLL_e0YJ6P4IQvg-jfm1tVTIvcHqRASuKP6U9h4G44rmCox7nPRuGXLy/s72-c/blogger-image--1238486066.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-4945835186143129122</id><published>2013-10-27T00:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2013-10-27T00:27:45.237-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="neighbor"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="PawPaw"/><title type='text'>Death in the Hood</title><content type='html'>I was with LaMar at his house. A man a couple of streets over from him just died. He was about PawPaw&#39;s age and was a drug dealer.&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue Light&#39;, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I went to the house to offer my condolences and&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;his daughter (or maybe she was his granddaughter) wanted to know if I would be interested in taking over his business or doing business with them. I told them I wasn&#39;t interested and couldn&#39;t understand why they asked me that. &amp;nbsp;As I got ready to leave their home, I was about to cry thinking about how much I missed PawPaw. Then I saw my cousin Olivia.&amp;nbsp;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/4945835186143129122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/4945835186143129122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/4945835186143129122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/4945835186143129122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2013/10/death-in-hood.html' title='Death in the Hood'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-5652119948804288631</id><published>2012-07-01T11:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2013-10-27T00:13:38.781-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="work"/><title type='text'>Morning Rush</title><content type='html'>I overslept, waking up at 11am... on a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;workday!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I jumped out of bed and grabbed my phone so that I could call my manager. Before dialing the number, LaMar called and asked me to stop by his house. I told him I couldn&#39;t because I was already late for work. &lt;br&gt;
&lt;br&gt;
&quot;So that must&#39;ve been who was calling for you this morning,&quot; he said. &lt;br&gt;
&lt;br&gt;
&quot;Brooke called your house looking for me?&quot;&lt;br&gt;
&lt;br&gt;
&quot;Yeah, she said she wants to stop by so we can see the baby. Why don&#39;t you just come over here, then go to work afterwards.&quot;&lt;br&gt;
&lt;br&gt;
&quot;Huh? What baby? No, that would be too much driving -- going to Wyandotte County, then head back to Johnson County. I&#39;m late enough as it is. I&#39;ll call you back after I call my job.&quot;&lt;br&gt;
&lt;br&gt;
By this time, Teresa and about 4 men were in me and Marla&#39;s apartment. Why? I don&#39;t know. But they were really loud. I went to the bathroom so Brooke wouldn&#39;t hear all the noise. Before I could reach her, everybody decided to carry their conversations into the bathroom!&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/AVvXsEgorat4hijlcAjE_lCawBYpXzfuDWp4kLdhGG96JwahdgUBSSAaj2e_Gr2jAWXoy3fUhOM0YZb4Ocft73LRsCe47PoIbNF-PAFQ0GB7hAVO3VUjyTj1dN7lkkfSRWRilHnDJiy3d2GmMdrK/s640/blogger-image--65546628.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorat4hijlcAjE_lCawBYpXzfuDWp4kLdhGG96JwahdgUBSSAaj2e_Gr2jAWXoy3fUhOM0YZb4Ocft73LRsCe47PoIbNF-PAFQ0GB7hAVO3VUjyTj1dN7lkkfSRWRilHnDJiy3d2GmMdrK/s640/blogger-image--65546628.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/5652119948804288631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/5652119948804288631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5652119948804288631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5652119948804288631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2012/07/morning-rush.html' title='Morning Rush'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorat4hijlcAjE_lCawBYpXzfuDWp4kLdhGG96JwahdgUBSSAaj2e_Gr2jAWXoy3fUhOM0YZb4Ocft73LRsCe47PoIbNF-PAFQ0GB7hAVO3VUjyTj1dN7lkkfSRWRilHnDJiy3d2GmMdrK/s72-c/blogger-image--65546628.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-6219425297954823701</id><published>2012-03-03T21:27:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T13:19:52.656-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dancing"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family-reunion"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="old-lady-dj"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Roc"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Roger"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="singing"/><title type='text'>Family Reunion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: normal; &quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYZoXueGaiutWKZdHGNhNrAeZxXxSZl-BKYbPKHZ0T1ugyl7ogkHCYmrax_-l_QqPPROAWY5Txm1TDeoAPP-hUgvinnMhHNEIEPV3WGac_5tqEcn3MRO0C5KVvUjwUU3fXt6l_jVfzeo8/s1600/SuperStock_1439R-1094009.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYZoXueGaiutWKZdHGNhNrAeZxXxSZl-BKYbPKHZ0T1ugyl7ogkHCYmrax_-l_QqPPROAWY5Txm1TDeoAPP-hUgvinnMhHNEIEPV3WGac_5tqEcn3MRO0C5KVvUjwUU3fXt6l_jVfzeo8/s320/SuperStock_1439R-1094009.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715879425667342738&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was at my family reunion (the M-B side).  We were having a banquet and everybody was getting ready to hit the floor.  At first, no one was dancing.  The DJ was playing some pretty good songs, too.  My nephew, Roger, was sitting in my lap.  Since he loves to dance and show off, I was trying to encourage him to get up and dance, but he didn&#39;t want to.  Finally, some of my cousins made their way to the dance floor, then my sisters joined them.  After a few songs, the DJ took a minute to address the crowd.  Why was the DJ an elderly lady?  In a wheelchair?!  She looked like she was in her late 80&#39;s!!  She was doing a damn good job, though!  Anyway, she wanted to let everybody know what when they make requests to her that they need to speak a little louder because she&#39;s hard of hearing.  Then out of nowhere, Roger (who was no longer sitting in my lap) and Deuce started singing, &quot;Whoa-oo-whoa-oo-whoaaa-oo-oo-whoooaaaa!&quot; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;(The interlude to the TV series, &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0101184/&quot;&gt;&quot;Roc&quot;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/i&gt; and started laughing.  Everybody turned and looked at them, thinking they were making fun of the old lady DJ, but they were sharing headphones while looking at a video or something on an iPod.  They obviously weren&#39;t paying attention to the old lady DJ or anyone else.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/6219425297954823701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/6219425297954823701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/6219425297954823701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/6219425297954823701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-was-at-my-family-reunion-m-b-side.html' title='Family Reunion'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYZoXueGaiutWKZdHGNhNrAeZxXxSZl-BKYbPKHZ0T1ugyl7ogkHCYmrax_-l_QqPPROAWY5Txm1TDeoAPP-hUgvinnMhHNEIEPV3WGac_5tqEcn3MRO0C5KVvUjwUU3fXt6l_jVfzeo8/s72-c/SuperStock_1439R-1094009.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-5925251450788266934</id><published>2012-02-22T12:42:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T13:41:53.928-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="praying"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="restroom"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="work"/><title type='text'>To Catch a Dealer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;http://thesalespipeline.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/chasing-money.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;&quot; src=&quot;http://thesalespipeline.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/chasing-money.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My job sent me out of town to sign up two new dealers for the company.   In real life, this isn&#39;t my area at all, but in this dream they sent me  because no one else could make the trip.  They had already made verbal  agreements to work with the company, so there was no need to discuss  business any further -- just give them the contracts to sign.  My two  sisters joined me on the trip.  I met both dealers at a mall.  The first  dealer signed his contract and went about his way.  The second dealer  asked me to pray with her before she signs the contract.  I obliged and  we held hands and bowed our heads in prayer.  Before we started the  prayer, another lady came by asking for directions to a store within the  mall.  As I helped her out, the dealer just took off without a word!  I  turned around and saw her go into a doorway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking, &quot;I  know she&#39;s not backing out of this deal!  I can&#39;t go back to work and  tell them I lost her!&quot;  I started to run after her, but my sister, Kim,  grabbed a hold of my hand and wouldn&#39;t let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Girl, what the f*** are you doing?!  You play too much!  Let go of my hand -- I gotta find this b****!&quot; I yelled at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  went to the doorway where I last saw her and saw another lady standing there.   The doorway actually looked like an elevator door.  The lady pushed the  button and we waited a few seconds for the door to open.  Lo and behold,  the area where the dealer &quot;escaped&quot; to was in fact, the ladies  restroom.  As soon as I realized that, I saw the dealer getting ready to  walk out.  So I tried to run back to where we were before, hoping she  didn&#39;t think I was running after her.  I was so embarrassed at myself,  yet I woke up laughing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;Can&#39;t help but wonder... if she had to use the restroom, why didn&#39;t she just tell me in the first place?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/5925251450788266934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/5925251450788266934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5925251450788266934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5925251450788266934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2012/02/to-catch-dealer.html' title='To Catch a Dealer'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-7073628625598548983</id><published>2010-05-23T23:23:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T14:13:07.540-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Marla"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="penguins"/><title type='text'>The Muthaf***ing Penguins!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPQME9shMwHWn_OD6Yyo0PxQFp0kF1tQyoYsIZplKn-ddPDbHJ6L_Xw1UGrw-7aiUqG3750w5iQLagUbWWQ-r2uY47yaZIa5R9wJj10lgYjp6tsUSB1fTe7G8C-nTrMs7Jp5paj-AYTeq/s1600/bw-penguins.jpg&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; &quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 320px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPQME9shMwHWn_OD6Yyo0PxQFp0kF1tQyoYsIZplKn-ddPDbHJ6L_Xw1UGrw-7aiUqG3750w5iQLagUbWWQ-r2uY47yaZIa5R9wJj10lgYjp6tsUSB1fTe7G8C-nTrMs7Jp5paj-AYTeq/s320/bw-penguins.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716125811638858178&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;i&gt;This particular dream seemed quite long, but I can only recall bits and pieces of the beginning. However, the last part of this dream I will never forget...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;My sister (Marla) and I were in a room at The Kansas City Star, waiting to see someone. I have no idea who we needed to see and what we were meeting about, but anyway... An elderly couple and two penguins were also in the room. These were the weirdest penguins I have EVER seen! Come to think of it, they sort of looked like the penguins on that kids science show, &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0106367/&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Beakman&#39;s World&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. Marla and I tried to keep our distance from the penguins -- not because we felt threatened by them, it was the fact that they could talk! After a while, Marla left to use the restroom. She returned shortly, walking with the penguins and looking very upset. I asked her what was wrong. She says, &quot;The muthaf***ing penguins followed me in the restroom and tried to get into my stall!! I can&#39;t take this anymore. I&#39;m dropping them off with somebody.&quot; Then she left the room with them, grabbing them as if they were children in need of discipline.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;  font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:100%;&quot;  &gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/7073628625598548983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/7073628625598548983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/7073628625598548983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/7073628625598548983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2010/05/muthafing-penguins.html' title='The Muthaf***ing Penguins!'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPQME9shMwHWn_OD6Yyo0PxQFp0kF1tQyoYsIZplKn-ddPDbHJ6L_Xw1UGrw-7aiUqG3750w5iQLagUbWWQ-r2uY47yaZIa5R9wJj10lgYjp6tsUSB1fTe7G8C-nTrMs7Jp5paj-AYTeq/s72-c/bw-penguins.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-5532796308295383127</id><published>2009-02-21T17:08:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T14:12:05.862-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="naked woman"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="road trip"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Teddy"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Tiffany"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tiger"/><title type='text'>The Audacity of a Nasty Ho</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQkGVDOJ8JbCMi0UXtLdO817xqbghh2-4K7oOZrxLxhpHXHlpNdxZeV5t5cXHgQDCFjRFAuoXAouYtEbsJbrvKmdRZapNMc8N4Qd0AHdIKBAfWUyDob38tVojSJGbDiz_fvehH5WC5a8o/s1600/lady.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQkGVDOJ8JbCMi0UXtLdO817xqbghh2-4K7oOZrxLxhpHXHlpNdxZeV5t5cXHgQDCFjRFAuoXAouYtEbsJbrvKmdRZapNMc8N4Qd0AHdIKBAfWUyDob38tVojSJGbDiz_fvehH5WC5a8o/s320/lady.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716135822372945762&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My family and I were on a road trip to somewhere.  A few of my cousins  and my boyfriend, Tiger, came with us.  We&#39;d been driving for a while  and finally stopped at the home of a couple that were friends of Momma.   They let us sleep at their home overnight.  Although they had no  extra beds or bedrooms, they had enough sofas and chairs in the living  room for us to sleep on and plenty of blankets and pillows.  Tiger and I  slept on one of the sofas together.  When I woke up the next morning, I  saw that Tiger was awake and sitting up next to me.  Then I looked over  on the left side of the room and saw the woman of the house was sitting  in a chair, nearly naked... and staring at Tiger!!  She even took off  her panties and pulled her legs up in the chair so that he could get a  view of her you-know-what!  Tiger looked embarrassed and was speechless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;What the f*** are you doin&#39;?&quot;  I asked her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;You know you want this,&quot; she grinned to Tiger, completely ignoring me. &quot;I don&#39;t even know why you brought that b**** with you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My  mouth just fell open.  I couldn&#39;t believe she had the nerve to  try to f*** my man right in front of me!  And my family!  And her  husband!  I looked at her with complete disgust and said, &quot;You nasty ho!   My man don&#39;t want your nasty ass!  Put your f****** panties back on!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Whatever, b****!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Ho, you wish your s*** was as good as mine!&quot; I yelled while sticking my butt out at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then  I yelled for everybody to wake up, grab their stuff and head to the car  before things got out of control.  I told Momma what happened and told  her that she should check her friend for trying to push up on Tiger.   She surprised the hell outta me, saying, &quot;I ain&#39;t got nothing to say.  I  didn&#39;t see anything.  That&#39;s between y&#39;all.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That pissed me off  even more!  Finally everybody got in the car, I jumped in the driver&#39;s  seat and took off.  Words cannot express how angry I was.  Even though  Tiger hadn&#39;t done anything with the woman, I still had questions for him.  How and why did this  woman attempt to seduce him?  Did he flirt with her and she took him  seriously?  After a while, we stopped to get some food.  I was standing  by the car waiting for Tiger to come out.  I thought he was taking his  time and peeked my head in the car, trying to see what the holdup was,  but it was Teddy that was still in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Teddy, what are you  still doing in here?  You&#39;re not hungry?&quot; I asked.  He turned his face  to me and I saw that he&#39;d been crying.  &quot;What&#39;s wrong?  Why are you  crying?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;It&#39;s Tiffany,&quot; he replied.  &quot;Stacey called me and said  that she&#39;s been sick.  She has a high fever and can&#39;t stop shaking.  The  doctors don&#39;t know if there&#39;s anything they can do to help her get  better.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/5532796308295383127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/5532796308295383127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5532796308295383127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5532796308295383127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2009/02/audacity-of-nasty-ho.html' title='The Audacity of a Nasty Ho'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQkGVDOJ8JbCMi0UXtLdO817xqbghh2-4K7oOZrxLxhpHXHlpNdxZeV5t5cXHgQDCFjRFAuoXAouYtEbsJbrvKmdRZapNMc8N4Qd0AHdIKBAfWUyDob38tVojSJGbDiz_fvehH5WC5a8o/s72-c/lady.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-6005354713985305817</id><published>2008-09-26T00:21:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T14:16:53.769-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Marla"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="party"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reggie bush"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shirt"/><title type='text'>Me &amp; Reggie, Interrupted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaLOYTF2YbtqGf4SO31O16IakOGBt-iPC0_70lWFcDy0aBCOeIvkQ7eW-VEEEcZxKNu6NmflzeGcZidDIjv7C3zSi9_nprNEFGcfifppdQNWj-RunptovBfYYo1xvVJlL0JVPiJELZSKp/s1600/reggieb.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 300px;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaLOYTF2YbtqGf4SO31O16IakOGBt-iPC0_70lWFcDy0aBCOeIvkQ7eW-VEEEcZxKNu6NmflzeGcZidDIjv7C3zSi9_nprNEFGcfifppdQNWj-RunptovBfYYo1xvVJlL0JVPiJELZSKp/s320/reggieb.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716138295867015298&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My favorite eye-candy, &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.nfl.com/players/reggiebush/profile?id=BUS294963&quot;&gt;Reggie Bush&lt;/a&gt;, was having a get-together at his house. It wasn&#39;t a big  party. Just a small number of people socializing, eating, drinking,  watching tv, playing cards and stuff. Somehow, my sisters and I were  invited and of course we were having a good time. But I just could not  get close to Reggie like I wanted. Well, it was getting late and most of  us were too tired to drive home, so Reggie said it was fine with him if  we stayed overnight since he had plenty of bedrooms. Later on, he  walked into a room that Marla and I were in, checking to see if we were  comfortable and everything. Marla said to him, &quot;I didn&#39;t bring any  sleeping clothes with me.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He responds, &quot;I may have a shirt you can sleep in. Would you like that?&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Sure!&quot; she exclaimed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now  I&#39;m jealous as hell because Marla got his attention before I could.  Hell, I wanted a shirt of his, too! So what did I do? As if I was in  school, I eagerly raised my hand and said, &quot;Ooo, ooo -- I need a shirt  too, Reggie!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then he left to get our shirts. Marla gave me a grin as I shot her an evil glare.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/6005354713985305817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/6005354713985305817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/6005354713985305817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/6005354713985305817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/09/me-reggie-interrupted.html' title='Me &amp; Reggie, Interrupted'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaLOYTF2YbtqGf4SO31O16IakOGBt-iPC0_70lWFcDy0aBCOeIvkQ7eW-VEEEcZxKNu6NmflzeGcZidDIjv7C3zSi9_nprNEFGcfifppdQNWj-RunptovBfYYo1xvVJlL0JVPiJELZSKp/s72-c/reggieb.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-727333714114799601</id><published>2008-04-08T16:15:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:39:39.883-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="basketball"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="championship"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="KU"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="NCAA"/><title type='text'>Crimson Blue Streak</title><content type='html'>After &lt;a href=&quot;http://kuathletics.cstv.com/sports/m-baskbl/recaps/040808aaa.html&quot;&gt;Kansas&#39; NCAA Championship win&lt;/a&gt;, I could barely get to sleep.  When I finally got to sleep, I had a dream that Mario Chalmers and Derrick Rose had this dialogue when Chalmers scored that tie breaker.  (In case you don&#39;t know, it&#39;s from the scene in &quot;Blue Streak&quot; -- right before Martin Lawrence subdued Dave Chappelle in the alley.  )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDT4m1qfMsdb6OSXTJD1Hs78ThSXnLWotM9n22si9hZ0UpwYk_8ejvQUsNVgTcjn6-28MzrSfmLmHynSJZ3j-bpK3q8tteatEIphzZRi_g96SgTjZxwtNrOW7gRU7BeP7LoWHcsBi9ebB/s1600-h/Chalmers_moment.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDT4m1qfMsdb6OSXTJD1Hs78ThSXnLWotM9n22si9hZ0UpwYk_8ejvQUsNVgTcjn6-28MzrSfmLmHynSJZ3j-bpK3q8tteatEIphzZRi_g96SgTjZxwtNrOW7gRU7BeP7LoWHcsBi9ebB/s400/Chalmers_moment.jpg&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186987191520100498&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/727333714114799601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/727333714114799601' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/727333714114799601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/727333714114799601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/04/crimson-blue-streak.html' title='Crimson Blue Streak'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDT4m1qfMsdb6OSXTJD1Hs78ThSXnLWotM9n22si9hZ0UpwYk_8ejvQUsNVgTcjn6-28MzrSfmLmHynSJZ3j-bpK3q8tteatEIphzZRi_g96SgTjZxwtNrOW7gRU7BeP7LoWHcsBi9ebB/s72-c/Chalmers_moment.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-2585950250707119564</id><published>2008-03-16T18:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T14:45:57.129-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="car"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fight"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="smoking"/><title type='text'>Oh, No, She Didn&#39;t!</title><content type='html'>I was driving around with Teddy in the passenger seat and Marla, Kimberly and Tiger in the back seat.  Seated in between Teddy and me, was a lady who looked like Penelope Cruz.  Not sure how we knew her, but she was with us.  I was getting frustrated with driving because there were several car accidents and road construction going on and we kept missing the detours.  Everybody in the car kept telling me how to drive and I was getting more and more pissed off.  Finally, I pull to the side of the street and start cleaning out my car.  There were old cups, napkins and stuff everywhere, so I had this sudden urge to clean.  I looked at my dashboard and this Penelope Cruz look-a-like had a cigarette -- or Black &amp;amp; Mild -- burning in an ashtray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Um, I don&#39;t let nobody smoke in my car.  So could you put that out, please?&quot; I said to her with plenty of attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;What you mean you don&#39;t let nobody smoke in your car?&quot;  She asked, with an attitude that matched mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Just like I said -- nobody smokes in my car!  If you don&#39;t like it then get the &lt;strong&gt;F***&lt;/strong&gt; out!&quot;  (I sounded &lt;em&gt;just like&lt;/em&gt; my mother.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Well, maybe I &lt;strong&gt;WILL&lt;/strong&gt; get outta your f***ing car!&quot; Then she grabbed my arm and pinched me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said in disbelief, &quot;I know this b**** did not just pinch me.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to grab her and beat her ass, but couldn&#39;t get a hold of her.  So I told Marla and Kimberly to hold her down for me. We all started beating the hell outta her.  She was trying to escape, so I got out of the car and ran over to meet her on the passenger side to continue her ass-whuppin.  But I woke up before I got to throw another punch.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/2585950250707119564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/2585950250707119564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/2585950250707119564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/2585950250707119564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/03/oh-no-she-didnt.html' title='Oh, No, She Didn&#39;t!'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-8449655867504917377</id><published>2008-03-16T15:11:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T14:48:26.101-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kill"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="racial"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shooting"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="time"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="year"/><title type='text'>Turning Back the Hands of Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;This dream took place in two different centuries...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was sometime in the 1850s or 1860s. I was Abraham Lincoln&#39;s daughter. (To my knowledge, he never had any daughters in real life.) We were in a hotel or apartment building looking for a man who was wanted by the police. I had a nanny who also helped with the search. She looked like a Japanese anime cartoon character and never spoke. We searched for the man at night, checking all the rooms on every floor. My nanny searched by herself. Every time we went down a flight of stairs, she was going up -- passing us each time. Finally, some man told us where he saw the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the year was sometime in the mid to late 1990s. I was at home with my mother and a little boy who I guess was my brother. We kept hearing about white and Asian men in the city that were going to every neighborhood, looking for black people to kill. I asked Momma what we should do and she said she didn&#39;t believe that they&#39;ll do anything to us. We started to go outside. Momma was running for safety with my little brother, but I couldn&#39;t keep up with them. They tried hiding behind some bushes as we saw a white man on a horse, headed for our house. Before I got to hide or protect them, he started shooting at them...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/8449655867504917377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/8449655867504917377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/8449655867504917377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/8449655867504917377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/03/turning-back-hands-of-time.html' title='Turning Back the Hands of Time'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-4298671706303714313</id><published>2008-03-16T14:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T14:50:28.280-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dying"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="illness"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Teddy"/><title type='text'>Can A Brother Die With Dignity?</title><content type='html'>I was at my apartment in Waterloo, Iowa when I got a phone call from Momma saying that Teddy was dying from a terminal illness. I rushed home to see him and was outraged when I saw that they had Teddy lying on top of the deep freezer we kept at the end of the hallway. He was dirty and pale, had on raggedy clothes and no shoes and his hair hadn&#39;t been groomed for days, maybe weeks. He also looked like he was going to pass out at any minute. He was shivering like crazy, but they only put a small, thin blanket over him! I started yelling at Momma, Marla and Kimberly for not taking good care of him, but they all ignored me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours later, Momma came in the living room crying and said Teddy just died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;What? What do you mean he&#39;s dead?&quot; I asked. &quot;How can he be dead? What kind of illness did he have?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Momma yelled, &quot;I don&#39;t know, Reena, okay?! He&#39;s dead! He was &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;sick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! I&#39;ve already called the people to pick up his body.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran in the hallway where Teddy was still lying on top of the deep freezer. He wasn&#39;t even dead! His eyes were still moving! I yelled at Momma again for treating him so badly, but she felt like she was doing the right thing. There was nothing else I could say. I looked over at Teddy and began to cry. He looked at me, then at Momma and said, &quot;Man, forget it!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got off the deep freezer and just walked away...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/4298671706303714313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/4298671706303714313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/4298671706303714313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/4298671706303714313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/03/can-brother-die-with-dignity.html' title='Can A Brother Die With Dignity?'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-5891386610798925531</id><published>2008-03-15T15:19:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-04T14:52:02.332-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gappy"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="goodbye"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><title type='text'>Leaving Gappy</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Ethel May Tillman a.k.a. &quot;&lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot;&gt;Gappy&lt;/span&gt;&quot; passed away in May &#39;98, while I was on a class trip in Italy. Although I visited her before I left the country, I never said a proper goodbye to her. Just as I was about to hug and kiss her goodbye, I saw that she was sleeping peacefully in her bed. I didn&#39;t want to disturb her. I left her home that day feeling very sure that she&#39;d be around when I returned. I missed her funeral and everything.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to visit &lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot;&gt;Gappy&lt;/span&gt; for awhile and Teresa came with me. When we got there, &lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot;&gt;PawPaw&lt;/span&gt; was cleaning up and doing other chores for her. &lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot;&gt;Gappy&lt;/span&gt; was her normal self in this dream, except she was blind. She and Teresa got well-acquainted and started making friendly jokes about me. I laughed with them and walked over to &lt;span class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot; id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot;&gt;Gappy&lt;/span&gt;, gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. At first, she thought it was someone else and I told her it was me. We both chuckled as I turned to leave. When I turned back around to face her, her smile faded and she said, &quot;You left me.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/5891386610798925531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/5891386610798925531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5891386610798925531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/5891386610798925531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/03/you-have-new-picture-mail.html' title='Leaving Gappy'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-2297549025596473257</id><published>2008-03-15T15:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T14:55:04.080-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anger"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fight"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="moving"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="yelling"/><title type='text'>I Lose My Cool</title><content type='html'>Teresa and I were moving some things out of Rob&#39;s house. Whatever we were moving out needed to be pulled by a tow truck. While Rob was trying to turn the tow truck around in the driveway, I got into his other truck and tried to park it in front of the house, but I couldn&#39;t brake. Since I couldn&#39;t stop, I had to keep driving until I could brake, hit something, run out of gas -- whatever. Luckily, the brakes kicked in and I was able to stop a few blocks from Rob&#39;s house. Somehow, Teresa was now in the car with me. We got out of the truck and walked to our new house. When we were halfway there I realized we&#39;d left Rob&#39;s truck, but decided to get it back to him later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime after we got home, Curtis, Maurice and some dude we didn&#39;t know stopped by to see our place. While Teresa was in her bedroom, I was in the kitchen talking with the guys when Maurice said something that pissed me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&quot;Oh, was that supposed to be funny?&quot;&lt;/strong&gt; I asked angrily.&lt;strong&gt; &quot;What&#39;s that supposed to mean? What the fuck is so funny? You know what -- you need to shut the fuck up sometimes!&quot;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran over to where he was sitting and put him in a headlock. Then I pushed him to the floor and started choking him and screaming at him. Curtis and the other guy sat there speechless. Teresa finally came out and we went outside and I began to tell her the drama she just missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;What happened?&quot; she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied with frustration, &quot;Ugh, Maurice -- he just -- UGH!!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I broke down crying...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/2297549025596473257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/2297549025596473257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/2297549025596473257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/2297549025596473257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-lose-my-cool.html' title='I Lose My Cool'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-3611321341509963302</id><published>2008-03-15T00:50:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-25T20:00:19.947-06:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="gun"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shooting"/><title type='text'>The Littleton Incident</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span&gt;This dream occurred several weeks after the shooting at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado in the spring of 1991.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was either in a high school or college classroom full of students when someone came in warning us that there were two dudes going around shooting people. All of a sudden, two boys walked in blasting their guns. Everyone hit the floor immediately. I was laid out on the floor on my stomach, trying to pretend like I was dead. I tried my best to hold my breath. One of the shooters stood right over me. I could feel him watching me. I couldn&#39;t hold my breath any longer, so I gasped and took a big breath. The boy standing over me said, &quot;Hey, this one&#39;s still alive. I&#39;m gonna have to finish her.&quot; I could feel him pointing the gun at my head and got so scared that I pretended I was choking on my own blood, hoping it would make them think I &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; dying! Right before he pulled the trigger, I woke up...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/3611321341509963302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/3611321341509963302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/3611321341509963302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/3611321341509963302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/03/littleton-incident.html' title='The Littleton Incident'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5638853472671639857.post-8454144815022377937</id><published>2008-03-14T17:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T23:59:05.996-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anger"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lunch"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="name"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="slap"/><title type='text'>I am Serious... and Don&#39;t Call Me Lucy!</title><content type='html'>I was meeting with the a group of women (including the four stars of &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.hbo.com/sex-and-the-city&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;Sex and the City&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;) for lunch in a snazzy restaurant. While waiting for a table, we were sitting in the lobby, chatting it up with one another. I mentioned how nice it was for women of all backgrounds and professions to get together to have lunch, talk, etc. Then this arrogant, middle-aged lady interrupted me and  agreed that it was nice that we could all make time for each other and ends her remark with &quot;like little Lucy here said&quot;, referring to me, with a dismissed wave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Who the fuck is Lucy?!&quot; I yelled. Then I slapped her -- hard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody got quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;My name ain&#39;t no damn Lucy!&quot; I slapped her again. &quot;My name is Precious.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady sat stunned, with her hand to her cheek, but everyone else laughed and giggled like it was some form of entertainment. Or as if they were used to that kind of behavior from me. (I&#39;m not like that in real life!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so pissed off that this lady called me Lucy, when she knew my name, I just walked away chuckling to myself. I didn&#39;t even stay for lunch.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/feeds/8454144815022377937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5638853472671639857/8454144815022377937' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/8454144815022377937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5638853472671639857/posts/default/8454144815022377937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsector.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-am-serious-and-dont-call-me-lucy.html' title='I am Serious... and Don&#39;t Call Me Lucy!'/><author><name>Precious Palette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13114984687310184024</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD8EWHPVvV2N8a6krrzazSe1z4488oVG--dAG3t7SKUxxnJhNJMPWUE9MwXVBy8fX9dAhzOID1NJPSOJ1nZnpjq-iYnBLbQl9iHs7UweBeSvRaJOtPS0KBX6EL2CXTQg/s220/insta-pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>