<?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-2437719593815948177</id><updated>2024-10-24T19:36:47.010-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The &quot;Meet Cute&quot; Collector</title><subtitle type='html'>I&amp;#39;m a pack rat, and some would even call me a &amp;quot;creeper&amp;quot;. My phone is chockful of observations of both simple &amp;amp; complex random events in life. My imagination has an eye for these types of meetings or moments that put a smile on my face, and this blog is to share those with you. Hope it brightens your day.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-4760833948912984191</id><published>2013-06-12T18:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2013-06-12T18:19:12.783-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Barnes &amp; Nobility</title><content type='html'>Hey everyone!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Things have been beyond hectic in this life of mine, including everything from millions of hours at work, old flames eroded and new flames ignited, and even crazy thoughts of returning to the modeling world just for the sake of getting some extra cash...But one thing is for certain, I have fallen asleep on this dream.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And as I type this out, it&#39;s my way of slapping myself in the face to SNAP OUT OF IT AND GET IT MOVING!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The point I&#39;m trying to get at is, no matter how little time you may feel you have in your personal life, a dream is something that always requires dedication and deserves your full focus... always. No excuses.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So here&#39;s a little treat for me and for you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 13pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 13pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 13pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;Barnes &amp;amp; Nobility&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 13pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;Fate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;is a concept that carries such trust and an uncanny amount of skepticism at the same time. This is true for&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;forces of nature&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;because humans don&#39;t dabble in it enough to reap what ugly and unfortunate consequences come with throwing something off its predetermined track.&amp;nbsp; Nevertheless, select few create their own fate and select few choose to disregard the magnetic instinct. For those who follow the latter, I applaud you, for the simple fact that… Who has time to sit around and wait?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 13pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;The eagerness of a young mind is a hunger that undoubtedly needs to be fed and when she&#39;s hungry, you better feed her right then and there. Impartial to any “x” or “y” chromosome, the human&#39;s brain is a muscle as any other with millions of nerve endings and beginnings but extremely tangible. The best way to work out this muscle is via absorbing knowledge and challenging its limitations. Of course, this isn&#39;t done by crunches or stretches but rather overloading it with useless Snapple facts and junk reality television. At least, that&#39;s my drug of choice. Others choose to expand by reading beautifully written novels which transport the imagination or just the cold hard facts of events in the past. But ah, such sweet music when 2 different minds ride the same brainwave...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 13pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial; font-size: 11pt;&quot;&gt;A scholarly gentleman, envy of his peers and professor&#39;s best or worst student, depending on the subject, chose to expand his mind with a quick visit to Barnes &amp;amp; Noble. This socially acceptable hangout of smarty pants alike, is probably one of the only places you can accept your intelligence and feel amongst your equals, or just stare at pictures of Justin Bieber in his newly released autobiography of all 12 years of his life. (Including a full chapter on his experience in the womb) Regardless, said gentleman of 24 years old was just waiting for his friends to pick him up from the store. He perused the American History section, waltzed past Mystery and ended up sampling a book written by Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez , “Love in the Time of Cholera.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 13pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px;&quot;&gt;He couldn&#39;t help but get lost in the beautiful writing and loose track of time. Interrupted by his phone, he quickly put the book back and ran towards the exit where his friends awaited on the street. He pushed through the revolving doors, only to see a gorgeous woman entering the opposite side of him. He proceeded to make a full 360 in the doors to follow this creature. Creepy as it seems in retrospect, it was quite admirable for him to pursue this model-esque female. She looked around the store wondering where to start first, and she headed past the American History section, quickly glanced at the mystery area and ended up in the Latin American Authors, in front of a simple book called, &quot;Love in the Time of Cholera.&quot; Of the thousands of books in this store, she happened to pick up the same...book...as ...him. He tried to play it off like he wasn&#39;t following her, but was so amazed at this fate that he had to speak to her. The handsome gentleman, proceeded, &quot;Excuse me Miss, I can&#39;t help but notice the book you&#39;re reading.&quot; She shook him off with an evident fake smile, and pulled a Belle and dug back into her book. &quot;It&#39;s a fascinating storyline, I just started reading it myself. &quot; He says, as she looked up at him and flashed a fake smile again and said. &quot;Oh really...&quot; completely uninterested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 13pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px;&quot;&gt;She put the book down and by force started a conversation with him, knowing that he wasn&#39;t going to give up and eventually she was saved by her friend who was meeting her there. Little did she know, that the friend would end up having an even deeper conversation with her glorified stalker, prolonging her awkward moment, just a bit longer.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px; line-height: 13pt;&quot;&gt;At the end of their conversation, the two men exchanged contact info as they hit a nerve of fascination for both of them. And relieved as she was, the two left their &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px; line-height: 17.328125px;&quot;&gt;separate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px; line-height: 13pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;ways.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px; line-height: 13pt;&quot;&gt;Days later, the young man from the bookstore, reached out to the woman&#39;s friend and asked her name and how to contact her.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px; line-height: 13pt;&quot;&gt;---------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 15px; line-height: 13pt;&quot;&gt;And they had, chosen a chance at love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/4760833948912984191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/06/barnes-nobility.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/4760833948912984191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/4760833948912984191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/06/barnes-nobility.html' title='Barnes &amp; Nobility'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-2484052785787021070</id><published>2013-03-25T16:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2013-03-25T16:49:05.301-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need Your Help!</title><content type='html'>So every now and then, writers encounter a fun little moment called &quot;Writer&#39;s Block.&quot; And friends, although life is always evolving and life&#39;s adventures are abundant, I realized that I can only write so much until I run out of my own fun little stories.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Being that the idea behind this blog is a compilation, what better way to add to this than ask for your stories!? I would be honored if you would share your funny encounters with me. Everything is&amp;nbsp;anonymous&amp;nbsp;and when I become rich and famous (haha) I will be sure to include you in my &quot;Thank You&quot; section.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Email me jsmjackson09@gmail.com and put in the subject line &quot;My Meet Cute.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I appreciate it!!&lt;br /&gt;
More posts coming soon&lt;br /&gt;
:)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Jess</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/2484052785787021070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/03/i-need-your-help.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/2484052785787021070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/2484052785787021070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/03/i-need-your-help.html' title='I Need Your Help!'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-4238780545202244907</id><published>2013-02-20T11:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2013-02-20T11:11:02.872-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bonnie &amp; Clyde</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Rushing to get on the train,
they plowed over everyone in their path, modern day Bonnie and Clyde, taking as
many prisoners as necessary in the way. They were an unstoppable force of two
strangers who have never met or seen each other before. She stood by his side,
ready to ride or die. They entered one side of the train and continued to push
their way through to the other end. Until he decided to quit the game and give
up. He quickly came to a halt, ready to turn around, possibly give up on the mission of train domination. Bonnie was steadfast behind
him, encouraging his ruthlessness, giving a slight smile and nod to keep moving forward. But he gave up, tried to step backwards and
turn away from the scene of the crime. He stepped on his unknown Bonnie&#39;s toe,
crushing it accidentally. She carefully pressed his back with her palm to warn
him of her presence immediately behind him. She muttered &quot;shit&quot; under
her breath the millisecond after. He turned around with no apology, just
searching for a way out and instantly, Bonnie and Clyde officially met.
Although she was in pain, she managed to smile at the surprise of his good
looks. He said sorry, grabbed her shoulders and stepped around her &amp;nbsp;to exit the train. She
felt like she was stood up and left alone. She turned to watch where he headed
to but this time, but didn’t follow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Had they chosen, that was a chance at love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/4238780545202244907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/02/bonnie-clyde.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/4238780545202244907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/4238780545202244907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/02/bonnie-clyde.html' title='Bonnie &amp; Clyde'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-2521104425952124331</id><published>2013-01-22T16:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2013-01-22T16:25:34.537-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Witches&#39; Lover Poem</title><content type='html'>Not only do I do posts on meet-cutes, but I thought I&#39;d give you a poem, my first and deepest passion. Hope you enjoy! :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&quot;The Witches&#39; Lover&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Beating heart subsides&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
shrinks down in size&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Returns to shrewd coward&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
With hate-filled burning eyes&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Settle yet for another&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Just to fill the hole&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Regardless of opposition&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Searching for the mole&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
The one who lead resistance&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
And scorched down another village&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Cried “Witch” when but a lover&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
And curdled blood with heartless pillage &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Lead them straight to land’s end&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
And vowed to push her in&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
But when looking in her eyes&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Realized the demon &lt;i&gt;did &lt;/i&gt;win&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
All along he was looking&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
To better oneself in turn&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
By killing off the loved ones&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Who caused his heart to burn&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Silently she smiled&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
As the flames danced before her&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
For the devil he thought she worshipped &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Would seek revenge, an unkind Sir.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/2521104425952124331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-witches-lover-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/2521104425952124331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/2521104425952124331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-witches-lover-poem.html' title='The Witches&#39; Lover Poem'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-4450229243115733240</id><published>2013-01-18T15:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2013-01-18T15:52:22.144-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Ride</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;He paid for her bus fare and as she looked in complete confusion about the random stranger’s act of
kindness, she thought to herself, &#39;Maybe there is a God. Or at least a man in
the world willing to be genuine with women.&#39; Her smile matched his sly,
confident filled smirk. The two made eye contact and she mouthed the words,
“Thank you.&quot; And the handsome 6 foot tall man, replied,
&quot;Anytime.&quot; And they went their separate ways, hoping to bump into
each other in another lifetime.&amp;nbsp;She couldn&#39;t stop thinking about this dark and mysterious creature. His
smile was imprinted on her brain and his voice played like a record on repeat
in her ears. She prayed he would grace her with his&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;presence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;again on their way to work or home. By then, she would be able to say more than &quot;Thank you.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;
Had they chosen, that was a chance at love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/4450229243115733240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/01/free-ride.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/4450229243115733240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/4450229243115733240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2013/01/free-ride.html' title='Free Ride'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-9153128227588358199</id><published>2012-12-30T19:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-12-30T19:32:50.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vendor of Courage</title><content type='html'>It had been about 3 months that she started an entirely new job in an entirely new atmosphere. Lucky for this young lady, her charm and social skills are what made her the perfect candidate for the position. Only downfall is that it was a desk job and she grew very tired of monotony quickly. Every morning, swipe in the building, make very small talk with the security guard, wait a grueling 5 minutes to get to her floor because she always got stuck on the local elevator, pretend she was on her phone, and finally plop her many bags on her desk and start her day of work with a sigh.&lt;br /&gt;
She tried to make it a new habit to speak to different people everyday and try to get her morning coffee and snack at different times to avoid the routine. Her first days there however, she was completely caught for a loop. The most gorgeous man she had seen stepped off the elevator on her floor and walked into the office next to hers. This social butterfly making conversations with the coffee cup in her hand and the elevator doors as they closed, was speechless. &lt;br /&gt;
It had been a trend added to her routine; bump into him on the elevator, smile and go into her office talking to her coworker about their latest interaction. This had eventually become a part of her daily schedule that she looked forward to instead of fearing. &lt;br /&gt;
As time passed they would get in a &quot;Hello&quot; beyond the casual smile. One day, however, she was caught off guard.&lt;br /&gt;
She grabbed some change for the snack machine in the employee break room. She pondered which beverage to get, the all to stylish Diet Coke or the ever so sweet Snapple Fruit Punch. She opted for the latter and deposited her dollar into the machine. But to her surprise the machine ate her dollar but kept her 50 cents. &quot; Shit!&quot; She said as she pounded at the machine and ran to her office to grab another dollar. She grabbed her wallet and ran back to the vending machine to find the mystery guy about to put a dollar into the same machine and get a drink. &quot;Hey, wait!&quot; She yelled,startling him. &quot;That&#39;s my money in there!&quot; He put his hands up and stepped back and smiled and said &quot;Sorry.&quot; &quot;It&#39;s okay. The fricking machine ate my dollar so don&#39;t put any in. &quot; He pushed the change button and all of her coins came to the bottom of the machine. He picked them up and gave them to her as they locked eyes bash fully. &quot; I almost got a free drink.&quot; He coyly replied as she grabbed the change and tried again to crave her thirst. She retrieved her Snapple, and said &quot;Almost!&quot; As she shook the bottle at him and went back to her office. Completely sweaty and red and short of breath, she plopped in her chair and stared at the ceiling. &quot;What happened to you?&quot; Her coworker asked with concern. &quot; I talked to him... And now I can&#39;t breathe.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Oh wow, you&#39;re nuts.&quot; Her coworker replied as she swung her chair to continue working. The young lady completely excited and exhausted from her encounter had to share her news with someone enthusiastic and instantly called her best friend. &quot;You&#39;ll never believe what happened to me. I&#39;m gonna die.&quot; She started as she headed out the office to the elevator.&lt;br /&gt;
Had she chosen that was the beginning of a chance at love.&lt;br /&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/9153128227588358199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/12/vendor-of-courage.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/9153128227588358199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/9153128227588358199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/12/vendor-of-courage.html' title='Vendor of Courage'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-947320962671844198</id><published>2012-12-12T19:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-12-12T19:16:18.569-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fouled Out</title><content type='html'>She had been attending her son&#39;s soccer practices for about a year; no doubt the apple of any single fathers eye. She was tall, exotic and beautiful, but best of all...single.&amp;nbsp;Every Saturday she would cheer her son on at practice and never missed a game. To any 11 year old on the brink of puberty, it was probably a bit annoying, but nevertheless an event &lt;i&gt;she &lt;/i&gt;looked forward to all week.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It hadn&#39;t dawned on her until one day that her son had a new coach. Maybe it was because she was distracted by the admiration of her son&#39;s soccer skills or maybe it was because he blended right in with his students. A young man, by all senses of the word, but an old soul living within it. This young man made it a goal of his to speak to the beautiful mother only to throw his heart on the line. She was 40 years old and he was at the mere age of 17.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The thought never crossed her mind and probably to this day has never surfaced, but she admired the teen&#39;s ambition and courage. He got her phone number from the parent&#39;s contact list of his students and out of the blue texted her, with enthusiasm behind his words. With much surprise and haste she quickly tried to remind the boy of their age difference and that it was inappropriate. He understood but didn&#39;t let that be the end. He texted her from time to time, complimenting the way she looked at practice or the one time she made her laugh by writing, &quot;I&#39;m almost 18...&quot; as if to re-spark any hope he had for them as a couple.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sure to lots of outsiders looking in, this was completely disrespectful and morally wrong, but to others who understand the feeling of a first love that couldn&#39;t happen, this story is but the beginning of a tough rough ahead for the young coach. She never pursued, kept conversations to a short &quot;hello&quot; and &quot;goodbye&quot; on the field and every now and then replied to his texts with a smiley face, just to show her appreciation.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But maybe in the future, this could be a chance at love.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/947320962671844198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/12/fouled-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/947320962671844198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/947320962671844198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/12/fouled-out.html' title='Fouled Out'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-4332415096960728622</id><published>2012-11-05T16:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-11-05T16:36:06.145-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Which Way is Up?</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;A short man in a leather
bikers jacket with the words &quot;Live to Ride&quot; on the back, limped around
the subway platform, &quot;Excuse me,&quot; he would say in an ever so gentle
voice, but everyone ignored him. His disfigured face filled with burn spots and Vitiligo patches made people think it was a joke. How could someone be so
hideous, I&#39;m sure were the thoughts going through their heads. &quot;Excuse me
miss,&quot; he whispered as he made his way through the sweaty lines for the
trains. The passengers would say hurtful things under their breaths, because
apparently, American&#39;s have a notion that all homeless people do it to themselves. But no one ever stops to
think of the cause of this unfortunate outcome. A fire, a freak accident that
killed the entire family, bankruptcies, intense drug abuse, all possibilities that this individual has to live with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&quot;Ew mommy! What&#39;s wrong with his face?&quot; A curious child asked his
mother as he tugged at her dress. And the mother hushed him and hugged him close to her body. The
disfigured man smiled &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;heavyhearted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;trying to show his strength but it seemed useless at this point. His day had been filled with ridicule, sucked up
tears and salty hellos. He tapped the shoulder of a rough looking woman and
greeted her with a smile. Her hair was in a messy bun and her style was...interesting to say the least. “Excuse me ma&#39;am can you tell me how to get
to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:street style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot; w:st=&quot;on&quot;&gt;Union Square?&lt;/st1:street&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&quot;
he asked with the&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;heaviest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;Southern accent. Without turning around she answered &quot;I&#39;m headed there too,
follow me.&quot; His spirit lifted and it seemed as though she felt the surge of energy go through
her body, because she shivered and quickly turned to meet her new acquaintance. She proceeded to stick her hand out and shook his aggressively. They both smiled at their new friend made. Her
soft eyes yet rough dry skin made her face a bit frightening as well. In a sense, her kindness beamed through, making her appear to transform into something&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;angelic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; “I’m Marie,&quot; she said. “I’m Teddy. Pleasure to meet u ma&#39;am. Thank you so
much for your help.&quot; He replied as he was still shaking her hand. Their
contact was unshaken and unspoken but completely genuine. And thus, the rest of
their story was history. As they boarded the train together, the two smitten
strangers found solace and kindness in the world once again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;And just maybe, they had chosen a chance at love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 10pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/4332415096960728622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/11/which-way-is-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/4332415096960728622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/4332415096960728622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/11/which-way-is-up.html' title='Which Way is Up?'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-3626792174688996226</id><published>2012-10-18T15:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-10-18T15:18:22.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>&quot;L&quot; is for Love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;His brand new &lt;/span&gt;light pistachio green&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;$800&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Hugo Boss&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;suit gleamed off the cars on the street. It was
enough to catch the eye of anyone with a remote sense of fashion. His cool suave hair was gelled back but just messy enough to have the &quot;superman&quot; piece fall onto his forehead as he tried to beat the light at the crosswalk. He maneuvered
between the cars just trying to get to the cafe. He dipped left, and swerved
right to avoid his suit getting dirty. From afar, it looked like a dance. He delved into his movements and even got a bit cocky when suddenly, his beautiful pant leg got
caught on the license plate of a car. He tried to wiggle his leg loose but lost the battle and ripped the pant in the shape of the
letter &quot;L.&quot; Embarrassed and frustrated, the young man covered his leg
proceeding to walk to the cafe with a forced limp. His leg wasn&#39;t hurt, but his
pride was certainly a bit damaged. Especially because beyond the doors of the
cafe, his group of friends were giggling uncontrollably at his mishap. Amongst
that group of supportive people, was his future wife to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;&quot;&gt;
---And he had, chosen a chance at love.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/3626792174688996226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/10/l-is-for-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/3626792174688996226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/3626792174688996226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/10/l-is-for-love.html' title='&quot;L&quot; is for Love?'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-6765501435254765890</id><published>2012-10-09T10:23:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-10-09T10:23:31.018-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Small Things #4</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cuddling on a cold morning.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Mmm....Toasty!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/6765501435254765890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/10/small-things-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/6765501435254765890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/6765501435254765890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/10/small-things-4.html' title='Small Things #4'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-2936737875088387057</id><published>2012-10-08T16:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-10-08T16:52:43.260-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lip Smacker</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Completely distracted by
the passengers racing around, and lost in her music, she was&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;pushed&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;into the center of the subway car.
Within a split second, the train&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;abruptly&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;stopped and she lost balance and grabbed for&amp;nbsp;the pole&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;. She felt something so gentle and soft and a bit sticky hit her
fingers and thought nothing of it. Until she turned to observe her hand
post-contact and saw a dark chocolate tower of a dapper man, touching his lips with eyes wide open (and
no he wasn&#39;t caressing his lips in a seductive way) but rather at the fact that
she just smacked him in the face. His eyes said &quot;What the hell?&quot; but
the slight smirk beneath his fingertips said otherwise. &quot;I&#39;m so
sorry!&quot; she said a little too loud&amp;nbsp;as she scrunched the corner of her
mouth and reached for his shoulder. She pushed her headphones off her ears and
realized that her apology was not as subtle as anticipated and was enough to catch the attention of other
passengers. The entire front half of the train was staring at her in confusion,
some chuckling, others cursing under their breath. The gentleman nodded out of
embarrassment and turned to face elsewhere. Her face flushed a rose pink.
Either she was thinking &quot;When is my stop?&quot; or &quot;At least he&#39;ll
remember me.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;&quot;&gt;
Had they chosen, that was a chance at love.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/2936737875088387057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/10/lip-smacker.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/2936737875088387057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/2936737875088387057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/10/lip-smacker.html' title='Lip Smacker'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-8699616504987565786</id><published>2012-10-02T16:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-10-02T16:58:19.339-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Small Things #3</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Tina Fey, in my&amp;nbsp;opinion, is one of the funniest female comedians out there. She has no qualms about making herself look ugly for the sake of a laugh - which is a rarity in itself. Heaven forbid we compromise perfection. Speaking of which, she said something completely&amp;nbsp;hilarious&amp;nbsp;yet completely true! Take a look...&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5dGVHwniMBrg93KtTj8tAjl8-u_lwBTXmnUMmaZv9frKIE9LJ0DnWjbNnm4CorgTK47ZIrvKJ1JaaYrAUz8YL5MJFfjGsKrVUnC5SgUg_m38aiGI5Kg7Q3QRYvOGlMNlCaTAdcW7_xI/s1600/Tina-Fey-cute-glasses.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;237&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5dGVHwniMBrg93KtTj8tAjl8-u_lwBTXmnUMmaZv9frKIE9LJ0DnWjbNnm4CorgTK47ZIrvKJ1JaaYrAUz8YL5MJFfjGsKrVUnC5SgUg_m38aiGI5Kg7Q3QRYvOGlMNlCaTAdcW7_xI/s320/Tina-Fey-cute-glasses.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #211922; font-family: helvetica neue, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.53333282470703px;&quot;&gt;&quot;Every girl is expected to have&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.516666412353516px;&quot;&gt;Caucasian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.53333282470703px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;blue eyes, full Spanish lips, a classic button nose, hairless Asian skin with a California tan, a Jamaican dance hall ass, long Swedish legs, small Japanese feet, the abs of a lesbian gym owner, the hips of a nine-year-old boy, the arms of Michelle Obama and doll tits. The person closest to actually achieving this look is Kim Kardashian, who, as we know, was made by Russian scientists to sabotage our athletes. Everyone else is struggling&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #211922; font-family: &#39;helvetica neue&#39;, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.53333282470703px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;- Tina Fey&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/8699616504987565786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/10/small-things-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/8699616504987565786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/8699616504987565786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/10/small-things-3.html' title='Small Things #3'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5dGVHwniMBrg93KtTj8tAjl8-u_lwBTXmnUMmaZv9frKIE9LJ0DnWjbNnm4CorgTK47ZIrvKJ1JaaYrAUz8YL5MJFfjGsKrVUnC5SgUg_m38aiGI5Kg7Q3QRYvOGlMNlCaTAdcW7_xI/s72-c/Tina-Fey-cute-glasses.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-9072542845746866497</id><published>2012-09-30T15:35:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-30T15:35:58.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty Dirty Subway</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;She went to sit down but before her butt could touch the seat she realized the abundance of crumbs that kindly covered the last seat available. She let out a loud sigh that caught the attention of the strangers around her. The gentleman sitting in the seat directly next to the crumb filled one smiled almost simulataneously laughing at her exaggeration. He pulled out a pocket tissue and proceeded to wipe the seat for her. Making sure to put in an adequate amount of elbow grease to prove it was clean.&quot;Thank you so much sir,&quot; she said as she gently laid her hand on his shoulder for a split second. She sat down, ipod in hand, and looked at her mother next to her and nodded her head in approval. The gentleman watched over his shoulder as the girl played a card game on her ipod. And his attention was on her just waiting for her to reciprocate. All for a handy kleenex and a kind gesture.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/9072542845746866497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/dirty-dirty-subway.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/9072542845746866497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/9072542845746866497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/dirty-dirty-subway.html' title='Dirty Dirty Subway'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-5796799693393049873</id><published>2012-09-26T14:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-26T14:52:11.004-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Small Things #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
That moment when you go into a public restroom and you&#39;re all alone...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ajdaVD8tTJqxKxQb7QDAe7_eRMiNZwU5e_myxuyOOpGg2hj4zP0a1VzEH-79DjCqUF7Hu4Wu02wK6THQ35jok6RfqxA_CUQ9iMSxy-AYsjZELg8QX20qYVO6qW18Z0e_0qs0LCaYYV0/s1600/there&#39;s+something+about+mary+zipper.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;175&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ajdaVD8tTJqxKxQb7QDAe7_eRMiNZwU5e_myxuyOOpGg2hj4zP0a1VzEH-79DjCqUF7Hu4Wu02wK6THQ35jok6RfqxA_CUQ9iMSxy-AYsjZELg8QX20qYVO6qW18Z0e_0qs0LCaYYV0/s320/there&#39;s+something+about+mary+zipper.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Ah, sweet sweet solitude.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/5796799693393049873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-small-things-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/5796799693393049873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/5796799693393049873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-small-things-2.html' title='The Small Things #2'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ajdaVD8tTJqxKxQb7QDAe7_eRMiNZwU5e_myxuyOOpGg2hj4zP0a1VzEH-79DjCqUF7Hu4Wu02wK6THQ35jok6RfqxA_CUQ9iMSxy-AYsjZELg8QX20qYVO6qW18Z0e_0qs0LCaYYV0/s72-c/there&#39;s+something+about+mary+zipper.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-3770115655014866647</id><published>2012-09-26T13:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-26T13:05:13.245-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow me on Facebook!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dc-kbVtAQEHj0nO7OB36lg4ArTJrhT78nQ7Gvsxlq2T1F6ZXH876ce4-B_YYKMAKzn4D6ggvTlGkavJ8bcktW4b-QdOqhHGFYBYcB_6TWvKYDE6zsmB5Y3eywC3IR72ZQ1rfwp6CjGw/s1600/facebook-icon.png&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;200&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dc-kbVtAQEHj0nO7OB36lg4ArTJrhT78nQ7Gvsxlq2T1F6ZXH876ce4-B_YYKMAKzn4D6ggvTlGkavJ8bcktW4b-QdOqhHGFYBYcB_6TWvKYDE6zsmB5Y3eywC3IR72ZQ1rfwp6CjGw/s200/facebook-icon.png&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.facebook.com/jessicas.jackson.90&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium; text-align: start;&quot;&gt;Friend Me!&lt;/a&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/3770115655014866647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/follow-me-on-facebook.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/3770115655014866647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/3770115655014866647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/follow-me-on-facebook.html' title='Follow me on Facebook!'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dc-kbVtAQEHj0nO7OB36lg4ArTJrhT78nQ7Gvsxlq2T1F6ZXH876ce4-B_YYKMAKzn4D6ggvTlGkavJ8bcktW4b-QdOqhHGFYBYcB_6TWvKYDE6zsmB5Y3eywC3IR72ZQ1rfwp6CjGw/s72-c/facebook-icon.png" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-6504992787097464863</id><published>2012-09-26T10:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-26T10:29:32.535-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time of the Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&quot;Uh, Miss you dropped something!&quot; The charming young man said as he tapped the shoulder of the apple of his eye.&quot;Oh.&quot; She said as she blushed the prettiest pink. He tried so hard to make eye contact but the blushing beauty was too embarrassed that a tampon fell out of her Gucci purse. Luckily it was tampax&#39;s effort of making women feel less embarrassed when this type of mishap happens. It was a tiny, yellow wrapper with pink and white flowers on it, easily could be mistaken for something else. She quickly scooped it up in her hand and threw it in her purse.&quot;Thanks.&quot; She finally said as she made eye contact with the what her eyes said was the most handsome man she had ever seen. His tanned skinned and piercing green eyes were the most exotic combination. He nodded once with a smile because the words couldn&#39;t surface from his core. The prolonged moment of their eyes meeting, was the beast of love at first sight.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;-----&lt;br&gt;
Had they chosen, that was a chance at love.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/6504992787097464863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/uh-miss-you-dropped-something-charming.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/6504992787097464863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/6504992787097464863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/uh-miss-you-dropped-something-charming.html' title='Time of the Month'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-796716278929808675</id><published>2012-09-24T09:32:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-24T09:32:35.528-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Small Things #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;There are some moments when my imagination creates a whole backdrop to a particular moment. Specifically today, I woke up to the most annoying upstairs neighbors any New Yorker could ask for. For those who are familiar with the loud music, the tv blasting and the never ending moving of furniture at all random times in the day...then you feel my pain. On this lovely morning, where I most definitely didn&#39;t get enough sleep, I was awakened by a twisted thought that is sure to set my day on a sweet note. I want to purchase a shotgun. Not to kill anyone, but to blow a hole through their dam floor to scare them shitless. That&#39;s all. Then maybe, just maybe, the times we have knocked on their door with a kind request of shutting the hell up, will be taken seriously. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ah, the simple things. And no one was hurt in the making of this thought. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/796716278929808675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-small-things-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/796716278929808675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/796716278929808675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-small-things-1.html' title='The Small Things #1'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-8274147143446721190</id><published>2012-09-21T17:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-21T17:41:09.250-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pass the Hookah</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;They shared the same
hookah, but each with their own plastic mouthpiece. They socialized with their
own group of friends, back facing one another yet completely unaware that they spied
on each other for quite some time. It was her turn to take a puff and she
inhaled as much as her little lungs could handle, simultaneously smiling at the
young man watching her. As she exhaled, the vibrant white smoke hit her fibers
so hard that she coughed uncontrollably. Completely embarrassed and still
smiling as she coughed her face red, she could do nothing but hide her face in
her hands. The young man, turned to face her, rubbed her back gently and asked
“Are you okay?” His smirk was sincere and you could tell he was trying his
hardest not to laugh. For the sake of appearing &quot;cool&quot; to those
around her, she acted like coughing was inevitable and replied, “Ya, I’m good.”
He took notice and chuckled to himself. “Hey! It’s not funny,” she said as she
shyly hit his arm. “Ouch, it is cute though.” He said aloud as her rubbed his
“wound.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;&quot;&gt;
“You
try it then tough guy!” She proclaimed as she passed the hose of the hookah to
him. Nonchalantly, he inhaled as much as he could, inflating his chest to show
his strength. And like predicted, he coughed just as hard. “Ha!” She said as
she pointed at him. “Well, this is a strong one,” he said trying to revive his
voice from the pre-pubescent tone it was stuck in. “Yah, sure.” She said.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;
Had they chosen, that was a chance at love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/8274147143446721190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/pass-hookah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/8274147143446721190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/8274147143446721190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/pass-hookah.html' title='Pass the Hookah'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-6874835486126448350</id><published>2012-09-21T13:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-21T13:46:43.516-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hunger Game </title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Their books touched eachothers causing their eyes to meet. A smiled cracked, instantly breaking the barrier. &quot;What are you reading?&quot; She asked first, as the gentleman lifted his book to show the pretty, Indian girl the cover. &quot;Oh, I heard that was great!&quot; She excitedly remarked, almost popping out of her shoes. &quot;And you? What are you reading?&quot; He casually asked her. &quot;Hunger Games&quot; she replied. &quot;I&#39;m trying to finish before I see the movie. &quot; she giggled bashfully. &quot;Oh, I see...&quot; He replied, holding out the &quot;oh&quot; in the sentence. &quot;You&#39;re one of those people!&quot; He said, smiling so hard it turned to a chuckle. &quot;What do you mean?&quot; She asked as she playfully hit his book with the back of her hand. &quot;I just want to make sure it&#39;s correct. That&#39;s all.&quot; She replied. &quot;Well, enjoy. &quot;This is me,&quot; The gentleman said as he pointed towards the train doors, &quot;It was nice to meet you..&quot; He paused as he waited for her to say her name. &quot;Natasha.&quot; She shook his hand and instantly, he fled for the door to be sure he didn&#39;t miss his stop. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;---&lt;br&gt;
Had they chosen, that was a chance at love.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/6874835486126448350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/hunger-game.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/6874835486126448350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/6874835486126448350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2012/09/hunger-game.html' title='Hunger Game '/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437719593815948177.post-3684321547566622009</id><published>2010-04-27T10:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-20T15:39:48.413-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is a Meet-Cute??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pUNKM9Q0x0Xzx-uo2riiGZrDWwjAtY0wss9qv7KUwGNXZzTCJF6A0r5PyMQXUWbMrkuTJdZjv-6yUj6qv_vKFihdtoCUKdshY9yi6lmxhlfJMA7dtXzfC7XUYzewlLe_t8p7nLGoUqs/s1600/amherstconference+055+copybw.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000; font-family: georgia;&quot;&gt;It&#39;s a term that stuck with me from the movie, &quot;The Holiday,&quot; one of my favorite rom-coms (romantic comedies)...ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000; font-family: georgia;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000; font-family: georgia;&quot;&gt;As my bestie, dictionary.com puts it,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;body&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; margin: 0em 0px 0em 0em; padding: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;sectionLabel&quot; style=&quot;display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;body&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px; margin: 0em 0px 0em 0em; padding: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;Idiom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;luna-Ent&quot; style=&quot;background-image: none; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;dnindex&quot; style=&quot;color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-weight: bold; text-align: left; width: 28px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;color: #333333; cursor: default;&quot;&gt;6.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;dndata&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana; font-size: small; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 37px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;secondary-bf&quot; style=&quot;display: inline; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;cursor: default;&quot;&gt;meet&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;cursor: default;&quot;&gt;cute,&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;labset&quot; style=&quot;display: inline;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;ital-inline&quot; style=&quot;display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;cursor: default;&quot;&gt;Informal&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;luna-Nested&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;dnindex&quot; style=&quot;color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-weight: bold; text-align: left; width: 28px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;a.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;dndata&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 30px; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;(of&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;romantic&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;couple)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;cursor: default;&quot;&gt;to&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;cursor: default;&quot;&gt;meet&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;cursor: default;&quot;&gt;for&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;cursor: default;&quot;&gt;the&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;first&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;time&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;charming&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;or&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;amusing&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;way:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;ital-inline&quot; style=&quot;display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;In&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;this&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;type&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;of&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;cursor: default;&quot;&gt;movie&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;the&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;boy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;girl&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;always&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;meet&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;cute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;luna-Nested&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;dnindex&quot; style=&quot;color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-weight: bold; text-align: left; width: 28px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;b.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;dndata&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 30px; text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;var&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;Also,&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;secondary-bf&quot; style=&quot;display: inline; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;meet-cute&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;situation&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;or&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;occasion&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;when&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;potential&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;romantic&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;partners&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;meet&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;for&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;the&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;first&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;time&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;charming&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;or&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;amusing&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;way:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;ital-inline&quot; style=&quot;display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;classic&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;Hollywood&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;meet&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;cute;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;his&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;meet-cute&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;with&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;Jane&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;the&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot;&gt;bookstore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;tail&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; margin: 0em 0px 0em 0em; padding: 10px 0px 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;ety&quot; style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: small; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;rom-inline&quot; style=&quot;display: inline;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;ety&quot; style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: small; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;ety&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0px; padding: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000; font-family: georgia;&quot;&gt;Thus, the creation of my observations of the cute, simple things in life that could turn into something more. As a hopeless romantic and fond believer of Prince Charming, lost shoes, kisses that bring about life and most definitely sparkly jewels, I can&#39;t help but get lost in my imagination and hope that the meeting of these two people led to a beautiful love story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;ety&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0px; padding: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000; font-family: georgia;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;ety&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0px; padding: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000; font-family: georgia;&quot;&gt;So here&#39;s to a &quot;Happily Ever After.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #330000; font-family: georgia;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/feeds/3684321547566622009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2010/04/welcome.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/3684321547566622009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2437719593815948177/posts/default/3684321547566622009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themeetcutecollector.blogspot.com/2010/04/welcome.html' title='What is a Meet-Cute??'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07374712979212051902</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>