<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="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" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 06 Nov 2024 02:46:57 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>The Kid</category><category>Mouth</category><category>Mother</category><category>Thinking</category><category>New job</category><category>Foto Friday</category><category>Teddy</category><category>Throwback Thursday</category><category>Bat Shit Crazy</category><category>Cooking</category><category>Hmmm</category><category>Texting</category><category>Birthday</category><category>Neighbors</category><category>Random Thoughts</category><category>Randomly 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Pinterest</category><category>Pet peeves</category><category>Pig</category><category>Pill popping</category><category>Pizza Box</category><category>Private Benjamin</category><category>Proud</category><category>Pussy Whipped</category><category>Raccoon</category><category>Rags</category><category>Rags Reads</category><category>Ragsville</category><category>Random Quote</category><category>Recess</category><category>Resume</category><category>Royals</category><category>Rude</category><category>Runners</category><category>Sassy</category><category>Secrets</category><category>Shameless</category><category>Shaving</category><category>Shithead Bosses</category><category>Single mom</category><category>Songs</category><category>Speedo</category><category>Spelling Bee</category><category>Spiders</category><category>St. Patrick&#39;s Day</category><category>Star Wars</category><category>Steak and Shake</category><category>Sugar Daddy</category><category>Tacky</category><category>Talking Dirty</category><category>Taxes</category><category>Teenagers</category><category>Terror</category><category>The Bird</category><category>Theories</category><category>Thought</category><category>Tight muscles</category><category>Top 20 Fave</category><category>Toph</category><category>Trivia</category><category>USF</category><category>Ugly</category><category>Ugly Trends</category><category>Vacation</category><category>Valentine&#39;s Day</category><category>Varmint poontang</category><category>Walmart</category><category>White Trash</category><category>Will Ferrell</category><category>Wings</category><category>Winter Olympics</category><category>Wow</category><category>Yoko Ono</category><category>bipolar</category><category>car dealership</category><category>goals</category><category>impressions</category><category>middle finger</category><category>potato chips</category><category>psycho cat</category><category>racism</category><category>sex</category><category>shitty job</category><category>smile and nod</category><title>Riches to Rags</title><description></description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>286</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-2410454486526162872</guid><pubDate>Sat, 29 Mar 2014 22:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-03-29T17:00:33.543-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Birthday</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Cake</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Mouth</category><title>Who Needs a CAKE Anyway?</title><description>Next weekend is Mouth&#39;s 14th birthday. We&#39;re trying to come up with a cake. Grocery store cakes creep me out. I mean, look at this cake: &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5PZTV9hzZ3cSI-74F7cbX4rCNmF2X_x9_ovlsaOCSSpJhLk8Ia57qtR1y3z_yf7XLXrmwXzt9PkvtsAXNJXcN-dgrnAIA86PLNqscjtRW11RUHo1Gtx2Vm6JN4wtBLfyBoPetF6YlA08/s1600/Kathy+cake.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/AVvXsEgW5PZTV9hzZ3cSI-74F7cbX4rCNmF2X_x9_ovlsaOCSSpJhLk8Ia57qtR1y3z_yf7XLXrmwXzt9PkvtsAXNJXcN-dgrnAIA86PLNqscjtRW11RUHo1Gtx2Vm6JN4wtBLfyBoPetF6YlA08/s1600/Kathy+cake.jpg&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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There are so many things&amp;nbsp;wrong with this cake. The serial killer handwriting, the off-center placement, the PIPING ALONG THE EDGE!!! I...I just...I can&#39;t even look at it.&lt;br /&gt;
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I made a Battlefield&amp;nbsp;3 cake a few years back that wasn&#39;t too bad, actually! But I about slit my wrists with the icing knife trying to get that damn cake done. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd5caw3axz_tEsYmt5K6tZ6exr8VFlq8giqh-qcSyIQMHXh1iftS5PnSF1uE22ZsIkTN0PO9Hd8xollDOnhLHAvbOQjrCrRnai6YC-Xqokv5hn-fR8hofxVaMsb7Hv8H9Yu1tqZbRlEmw9/s1600/Z12+Cake3.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/AVvXsEhd5caw3axz_tEsYmt5K6tZ6exr8VFlq8giqh-qcSyIQMHXh1iftS5PnSF1uE22ZsIkTN0PO9Hd8xollDOnhLHAvbOQjrCrRnai6YC-Xqokv5hn-fR8hofxVaMsb7Hv8H9Yu1tqZbRlEmw9/s1600/Z12+Cake3.jpg&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Not professional but not bad for someone on her fourth glass of Chardonnay at 2:00 in the morning. Mouth loved it because I made it for him. Awww!&lt;br /&gt;
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Yeah, I&#39;m not doing it again. So far, we have deduced that Mouth:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;
&lt;li&gt;doesn&#39;t like sports&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;loves gaming but doesn&#39;t have a fave game&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;loves music but not a particular band&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;plays games on a computer (Xbox and Play Stations are SOOOO 2012 MOM)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;doesn&#39;t have a fave color but is open to blue&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;doesn&#39;t care what the cake looks like but wants it to be &quot;cool&quot;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Awesome. So helpful.&amp;nbsp;Someone suggested putting a big ol&#39; pic of ME on it and be like, &quot;Well, you said you didn&#39;t care what your cake looked like...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Very tempting.&lt;br /&gt;
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What are some of the best cakes you&#39;ve ever seen? Some of the worst? And post pictures so we can all enjoy!</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/03/who-needs-cake-anyway.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5PZTV9hzZ3cSI-74F7cbX4rCNmF2X_x9_ovlsaOCSSpJhLk8Ia57qtR1y3z_yf7XLXrmwXzt9PkvtsAXNJXcN-dgrnAIA86PLNqscjtRW11RUHo1Gtx2Vm6JN4wtBLfyBoPetF6YlA08/s72-c/Kathy+cake.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-1925069835937127953</guid><pubDate>Thu, 20 Mar 2014 23:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-03-20T18:55:55.425-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Court</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Sassy</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Throwback Thursday</category><title>Throwback Thursday</title><description>Today&#39;s TBT&amp;nbsp;dates back to around 1979. My bestie Court was the sassiest girl I knew - and I wanted to be just like her. She moved out of state by high school but by the power of Facebook, we found each other and&amp;nbsp;picked up like&amp;nbsp;not a day had passed. She&#39;s still quite sassy -&amp;nbsp;but also a great mom and one hell of a lady. I still want to be just like her.&lt;br /&gt;
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Love ya, hooker!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
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(Bee tee dubs, I wasn&#39;t always a blond...)&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2j-CCmDICuwCi1ckS0osoqbHy3aRXPDgkZjwopbirEzLXyKlpP6q6t_D9WULuVhXicSC_wvuA78mng0ySiy7oHHU5xr48JbDKvq7H4rS3f7YkNFWAjmnv4LrpwSzoC8ODs9GW6QBOhqTY/s1600/superstars.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/AVvXsEi2j-CCmDICuwCi1ckS0osoqbHy3aRXPDgkZjwopbirEzLXyKlpP6q6t_D9WULuVhXicSC_wvuA78mng0ySiy7oHHU5xr48JbDKvq7H4rS3f7YkNFWAjmnv4LrpwSzoC8ODs9GW6QBOhqTY/s1600/superstars.jpg&quot; height=&quot;247&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/03/throwback-thursday.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2j-CCmDICuwCi1ckS0osoqbHy3aRXPDgkZjwopbirEzLXyKlpP6q6t_D9WULuVhXicSC_wvuA78mng0ySiy7oHHU5xr48JbDKvq7H4rS3f7YkNFWAjmnv4LrpwSzoC8ODs9GW6QBOhqTY/s72-c/superstars.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-5763073068021387644</guid><pubDate>Tue, 18 Mar 2014 00:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-03-17T19:44:16.433-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">car dealership</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">New job</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">shitty job</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Ted</category><title>Anyone there??? *chirp chirp*</title><description>I&#39;ll admit...it&#39;s been a little quiet here at Riches to Rags but we&#39;ve had some big changes. I moved on from my suck-ass-shitty-ass-well-paying-shitty-ass-long-commute-shitty-boss-shit-shit-shitty-cubicle job to a sweet little job with health insurance and vacation days and a good team of people. I&#39;m also close to home so I can&amp;nbsp;leave for lunch and go play with Ted! I took a (huge) pay cut for this sweet little job but they plan to grow it.&amp;nbsp;&quot;Growth = raises&quot; is my new mantra. *OHMMMM*&lt;br /&gt;
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If nothing else, I&#39;m saving around $70 a week in gas. Yeah...I own a tank so that&#39;s good. Plus, it&#39;s at a car dealership and Mama NEEDS A NEW CAR!!! &lt;br /&gt;
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Unfortunately, it&#39;s not a BMW dealership. Mama has champagne taste on that beer budget. &lt;br /&gt;
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*OHMMM*&lt;br /&gt;
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Bee tee dubs,&amp;nbsp;I&#39;m&amp;nbsp;not ballsy enough to sell&amp;nbsp;cars.&amp;nbsp;I&#39;m part receptionist/part social media expert/part superwoman.&amp;nbsp;I&#39;ve finished my first week at work and below are my observations:&lt;br /&gt;
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1. I love working in an environment filled&amp;nbsp;with mostly men. No bitchy female PMS drama.&lt;br /&gt;
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2. I&#39;ve twice asked my co-workers if I was being &quot;Punk&#39;d&quot;. Gotta get used to working with the general public again.&lt;br /&gt;
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3. Car salesman are like little girls when they don&#39;t get their way. But it&#39;s cool because all is good by the end of the day. No hair pulling, no name calling (well...maybe a few &quot;dickheads&quot; are thrown around but that&#39;s typical of ANY workplace) and all is forgiven&amp;nbsp;by the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;
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4. The customer comes first so we all work together to get that sale - even if I don&#39;t personally get a commission (ohmmmm....)&lt;br /&gt;
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5. Week 2 will include me INSISTING they pull the offending &quot;Women Shoppers&quot; link off their website. It includes recipes for bath salts and child rearing tips. (Okay...maybe I&#39;ll wait until week 3 to share how offended I was when I saw that page.)&lt;br /&gt;
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6. I&#39;m not innerested in car salesmen but Mama is looking out for a Sugar Daddy&amp;nbsp;shoppin&#39; for a Caddy!!! (Okay, that sorta negates my pro-women stance in number 4 but still...keeping my options open.)&lt;br /&gt;
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Strap in, folks. I have a feeling this is gonna be a fun ride!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/03/anyone-there-chirp-chirp.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-7402122353264806800</guid><pubDate>Fri, 28 Feb 2014 01:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-02-27T19:07:30.117-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bill Murray</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Carl Spackler</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">impressions</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Throwback Thursday</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Varmint poontang</category><title>Throwback Thursday</title><description>This is a rather messy Throwback Thursday. My scanner has PMS so I had to take a picture of a Polaroid. With my phone. Transmitted via email to my computer.&lt;br /&gt;
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Jesus. How did any of us finish college without the use of the internet???&lt;br /&gt;
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Age 1. My first impression. Bill Murray as Carl Spackler in &quot;Caddyshack&quot;. One of my top 10 films. I once read that Carl only had like five lines of dialogue until Bill got on set and started improvising...and magic was made.&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;I smell poontang. And the only good varmint poontang is dead varmint poontang, I think.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/02/throwback-thursday_5290.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBi2-QCSPGElnxegWKt_PDtcV4j33eITSVMGixkBSV0m5CcRMB5n4LBqTyyiKuPBVQo9Y8MD8beU9DqFBQGsZf-VGz3tJ91kw1mXmjGeji3Zvo5CAWffGU7OTyoZmP6Dv4IZf_oPh6Lhym/s72-c/Carl.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-7435264456203453470</guid><pubDate>Thu, 13 Feb 2014 00:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-02-12T18:48:42.762-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Alcohol</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Drink like a fish</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Exercise</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Runners</category><title>Why I Exercise</title><description>I exercise because it&#39;s good for my health.&lt;br /&gt;
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I exercise because it&#39;s helping me lose the weight I gained while unemployed the last few years.&lt;br /&gt;
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I exercise so I can have&amp;nbsp;a cookie and not feel guilty.&lt;br /&gt;
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I exercise because I like shopping for cute clothes. (Floral muumuus and black are the two clothing choices in the&amp;nbsp;fat girls&amp;nbsp;department. People think I&#39;m in constant mourning.)&lt;br /&gt;
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I exercise because it makes my son proud of me.&lt;br /&gt;
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I exercise because the endorphins released during my workout calm&amp;nbsp;the murderous thoughts that&amp;nbsp;swim around&amp;nbsp;in my head all day whilst at work.&lt;br /&gt;
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I exercise because my dog likes to roll around on the floor with me while I&#39;m stretching (I&#39;m finally at his little two-inch-leg level!)&lt;br /&gt;
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I exercise because I feel LIKE A BOSS afterward.&lt;br /&gt;
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Who am I kidding?&lt;br /&gt;
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I exercise so I can DRINK LIKE A FISH.&lt;br /&gt;
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There. I said it. I&amp;nbsp;know I&#39;m not the only one because there&#39;s NO WAY you marathoners run in circles for hours JUST FOR FUN.&lt;br /&gt;
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</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/02/why-i-exercise.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-154937632695488499</guid><pubDate>Sun, 09 Feb 2014 01:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-03-29T21:30:53.738-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Dr. D</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Eyes</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Liquor</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Tight muscles</category><title>I&#39;m a Size 20/20</title><description>My latest visit with Dr. D:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Wow. You haven&#39;t been back here in....4 years? I am shocked. Your muscles are fantastic! If I didn&#39;t know your age, I would think I&#39;m examining a 20-year-old!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, I&amp;nbsp;DO still get carded for alcohol at liquor stores that aren&#39;t on my Christmas card list.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I just want to soak up Dr. D&#39;s statement for a few minutes before sharing that....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Dr. D is my optometrist.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah well. At least SOMETHING on my body is like that of a 20 year old!</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/02/im-size-2020.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-5416589911492820803</guid><pubDate>Fri, 07 Feb 2014 00:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-02-06T18:26:37.977-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Happy birthday</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Pizza Box</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Ted</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Teddy</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Throwback Thursday</category><title>Throwback Thursday</title><description>In honor of my birthday boy who turned 2 years old yesterday, today&#39;s Throwback Thursday features Ted as a baby. I love him so much - I didn&#39;t realize how empty my life was with out him!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy birthday, Ted!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbfuHjqyfF5MCABXdUdOlqFDEzR1mOtIwebNq_jN_-W2rqqtDQmnVjTrowMMEaPKQY_Jlk3Sjhx2Z3KV_xjm08pltkMw3c2nzXmGz8QGQ0JLqGEMvWkckVk3t8nT6ini1rSVSrNNepBtnB/s1600/Ted+in+the+pizza+box.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/AVvXsEgbfuHjqyfF5MCABXdUdOlqFDEzR1mOtIwebNq_jN_-W2rqqtDQmnVjTrowMMEaPKQY_Jlk3Sjhx2Z3KV_xjm08pltkMw3c2nzXmGz8QGQ0JLqGEMvWkckVk3t8nT6ini1rSVSrNNepBtnB/s1600/Ted+in+the+pizza+box.JPG&quot; height=&quot;191&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/02/throwback-thursday.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbfuHjqyfF5MCABXdUdOlqFDEzR1mOtIwebNq_jN_-W2rqqtDQmnVjTrowMMEaPKQY_Jlk3Sjhx2Z3KV_xjm08pltkMw3c2nzXmGz8QGQ0JLqGEMvWkckVk3t8nT6ini1rSVSrNNepBtnB/s72-c/Ted+in+the+pizza+box.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-4106222604282240455</guid><pubDate>Fri, 31 Jan 2014 00:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-01-30T18:10:59.570-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Baby Rags</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Dad</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Mother</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Throwback Thursday</category><title>Throwback Thursday</title><description>My dad was laid back, funny as hell, intelligent, and just fun to be around. When I was young, he taught me how to be independent and made me feel like a grown up.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My mother is the complete opposite. She&#39;s uptight, controlling, naggy, and just an all-around pain in the ass. When I was young, she didn&#39;t want me out from under her thumb so she wouldn&#39;t let me do ANYTHING and made me feel like a baby.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My parents divorced when I was four years old but I spent every weekend with my dad until he became very ill and passed away. I&#39;m just like him&amp;nbsp;- which is probably why my mother and I never got along. Oil and water, man...to this day.&amp;nbsp;Dad was my weekend reprieve from the stifling&amp;nbsp;oppression that was known as &quot;Mother&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have a very vivid memory of me, at the ripe old age of around NINE, asking&amp;nbsp;my dad, &quot;Dad, you and Mom are soooo different. I can see why you two divorced. But how in the world did you ever end up together???&quot; He sighed, looked me straight in my young eyes and said,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well, kid......she was hot.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Classic Dad. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
God, I miss him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; pretty hot...especially in a bikini. But I couldn&#39;t find that pic so below is a family photo circa 1975. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjrPzrhblfutzf8OUZK1DaqaEboMmIaysx2ZVrHnAUBYiSrvElV86TBrkLe-YJDWzhc_ZUy-IINO723-EONQOki7CROQdzCHcrAURPfyCRo3zUyANqT01tXSIeB5NuVhk6nH97QNM7atI/s1600/Dan_Linda_Regan+in+EP+Apt.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/AVvXsEhIjrPzrhblfutzf8OUZK1DaqaEboMmIaysx2ZVrHnAUBYiSrvElV86TBrkLe-YJDWzhc_ZUy-IINO723-EONQOki7CROQdzCHcrAURPfyCRo3zUyANqT01tXSIeB5NuVhk6nH97QNM7atI/s1600/Dan_Linda_Regan+in+EP+Apt.JPG&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; width=&quot;310&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/01/throwback-thursday_30.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIjrPzrhblfutzf8OUZK1DaqaEboMmIaysx2ZVrHnAUBYiSrvElV86TBrkLe-YJDWzhc_ZUy-IINO723-EONQOki7CROQdzCHcrAURPfyCRo3zUyANqT01tXSIeB5NuVhk6nH97QNM7atI/s72-c/Dan_Linda_Regan+in+EP+Apt.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-1591190662100296309</guid><pubDate>Tue, 28 Jan 2014 23:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-01-28T17:41:22.253-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Citra sucker</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Hardships</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Mouth</category><title>My Hardships Trump Your Hardships</title><description>Mouth&#39;s a whiner. It&#39;s okay, I&#39;ll own it. He gets it from me.&amp;nbsp;And he&amp;nbsp;HATES IT when I pull the childhood trump card and am all, &quot;I had it so hard when I was growing up. I didn&#39;t have the internet. We had to go to the actual LIBRARY and look stuff up in books and stuff. Dude, I graduated college without the internet or a laptop. I&#39;m FRIKKIN AMAZEBALLS!!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last night, Mouth was whining that his internet connection was slow. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth: &quot;Mooooommmm, we need faster internetttttt. I&#39;m getting my butt kicked on my games because my game is soooooo laggy.......&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Because I don&#39;t pay Comcast nearly $200 a month for cable, phone and HIGH-SPEED INTERNET.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Psht. I had it so hard when I was growing up...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth: &quot;STOP, okay??? I know you had it harder. I don&#39;t wanna hear it right now!!!&quot; (as he angrily shoves his straw into a juice box)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Dude, you have no idea. You see that juicebox? You have it SO GOOD. I used to have to shove a SPIKED PLASTIC THING INTO A DAMN ORANGE AND SUCK A TENTH OF AN OUNCE OF JUICE AT A TIME!!!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth: &quot;.....seriously?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;YES!!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyone remember these?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGKjhuO8VYqVuxnjtwJ79dKcEXl7tazP6jb-02d-RgMmY0XY_NoL2jaXDClnauj32xwHOt3qDbXAPZefoZxAfI92F9DTMCkeVFw9Trp9VWjhKKsw32j-j7GOZ7bGxQ2nOgU4ZOUNKn83M/s1600/citra+sucker.png&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGKjhuO8VYqVuxnjtwJ79dKcEXl7tazP6jb-02d-RgMmY0XY_NoL2jaXDClnauj32xwHOt3qDbXAPZefoZxAfI92F9DTMCkeVFw9Trp9VWjhKKsw32j-j7GOZ7bGxQ2nOgU4ZOUNKn83M/s1600/citra+sucker.png&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth: &quot;....seriously?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Yup. You had to keep sticking it in different spots to get more little drips of juice.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth: &quot;You win.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/01/my-hardships-trump-your-hardships.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGKjhuO8VYqVuxnjtwJ79dKcEXl7tazP6jb-02d-RgMmY0XY_NoL2jaXDClnauj32xwHOt3qDbXAPZefoZxAfI92F9DTMCkeVFw9Trp9VWjhKKsw32j-j7GOZ7bGxQ2nOgU4ZOUNKn83M/s72-c/citra+sucker.png" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-544018553298948352</guid><pubDate>Fri, 24 Jan 2014 00:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-01-23T18:30:25.618-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">middle finger</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Mouth</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">The Bird</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Throwback Thursday</category><title>Throwback  Thursday</title><description>This Throwback Thursday doesn&#39;t go too far back but it was quite the omen for what was to come.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth had just turned nine years old, and I wanted to take a pic of him. He was sitting next to me watching&amp;nbsp;TV when I said, &quot;Hey, I wanna take your pic. Do something.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth: &quot;Noooo. I&#39;m watching Power Rangers.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Come on...it&#39;s at commercial. DO SOMETHINGGGG!!!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He slowly turned to me, smiled&amp;nbsp;that shit eatin&#39; grin,&amp;nbsp;and stuck his pudgy little finger in the air. I snapped the pic, laughed my ass off, then yelled at&amp;nbsp;him for giving me the bird. His response?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well...you told me to do something. So I DID something!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ve been laughing (then yelling) at his vulgar actions ever since. Man, he and my dad would have been best buds. I&#39;m beginning to wonder if Mouth isn&#39;t my father reincarnated.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Br6XhhfCiGQToPagQMA9cuHE1yIJBfVeqxWbjxuknb5i__QPPuiWjDnE6vTWZa5s-kg7eYXB4oBWlcsw-Gqoy3rvcLqHBUGw-6Y-nwCKZgbmzedpi_Ckubsy54sAne8LquSxzdbr1vIB/s1600/Z+Middle+Finger.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/AVvXsEg7Br6XhhfCiGQToPagQMA9cuHE1yIJBfVeqxWbjxuknb5i__QPPuiWjDnE6vTWZa5s-kg7eYXB4oBWlcsw-Gqoy3rvcLqHBUGw-6Y-nwCKZgbmzedpi_Ckubsy54sAne8LquSxzdbr1vIB/s1600/Z+Middle+Finger.jpg&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/01/throwback-thursday_23.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Br6XhhfCiGQToPagQMA9cuHE1yIJBfVeqxWbjxuknb5i__QPPuiWjDnE6vTWZa5s-kg7eYXB4oBWlcsw-Gqoy3rvcLqHBUGw-6Y-nwCKZgbmzedpi_Ckubsy54sAne8LquSxzdbr1vIB/s72-c/Z+Middle+Finger.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-5737138793070261974</guid><pubDate>Fri, 10 Jan 2014 00:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-01-09T18:59:09.106-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bangs</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Throwback Thursday</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">USF</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Wings</category><title>Throwback Thursday</title><description>&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/AVvXsEhU0rml9e1bDjZHK6tvkxK0TO951elVPvMyx4vr2xsr_0G-tFpNLOUN-VYHC-P99gF-0uHe4oUs_Sv6EAkAJptzY5WJRZLdua2iCHswlaJRJxi3Sg9HOpi_aW2himPf9RU1CV3xdQDCiypG/s1600/Michelle+and+I+Killing+Some+Wings.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/AVvXsEhU0rml9e1bDjZHK6tvkxK0TO951elVPvMyx4vr2xsr_0G-tFpNLOUN-VYHC-P99gF-0uHe4oUs_Sv6EAkAJptzY5WJRZLdua2iCHswlaJRJxi3Sg9HOpi_aW2himPf9RU1CV3xdQDCiypG/s1600/Michelle+and+I+Killing+Some+Wings.JPG&quot; height=&quot;231&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Year: 1995&lt;br /&gt;
Location: University of South Florida&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My suitemate Michelle and I KILLING some wings. I always ordered atomic-eat-your-stomach-lining wings. My friends said they could smell the heat down the hall. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As you can see, this was back when we had telephones that connected to the wall. And VCRs. And super ugly carpet. And BANGS.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/01/throwback-thursday.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0rml9e1bDjZHK6tvkxK0TO951elVPvMyx4vr2xsr_0G-tFpNLOUN-VYHC-P99gF-0uHe4oUs_Sv6EAkAJptzY5WJRZLdua2iCHswlaJRJxi3Sg9HOpi_aW2himPf9RU1CV3xdQDCiypG/s72-c/Michelle+and+I+Killing+Some+Wings.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-9150714466797051430</guid><pubDate>Sun, 05 Jan 2014 00:42:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-01-04T20:51:53.380-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Accident</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Poop</category><title>It Would Be Cheaper To Buy Diapers</title><description>Insurance Company Operator (ICO): &quot;Okay, let&#39;s get your claim started. You backed into someone, correct?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Yep.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;Was this in a parking lot?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Nope. It was at a stoplight.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;I&#39;m sorry?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;A stoplight. I was at a stoplight.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;You backed into someone...at a stoplight?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Yep. Hey, you think I could claim I&#39;m color blind or something and I thought red was green???&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;Um...you BACKED into her.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Oh. Good point.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;And both cars are drivable?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Oh yeah. She just has a cracked headlamp cover and a dented hood. My Jeep is a tank. Not even a scratch!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;All from&amp;nbsp;you backing into her...at a stoplight.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Yep!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;You&#39;re dying to ask me why I backed into someone at a stoplight, aren&#39;t you?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;Well....&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: &quot;Lady, I&#39;m a woman on the EDGE. Not only do you NOT want to know, you don&#39;t even want to ASK.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ICO: &quot;Oh! Right! No big deal. Trust me, it happens ALL the time! Now, to finish your claim.......&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think I played that well. It was bad enough I had to explain my actions to the other driver and to the police officer on scene. I wasn&#39;t going to replay events for a snippy insurance operator. Psht.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Because, really. How does one explain to someone who wasn&#39;t there how the traffic light was stuck and all the other cars got to have their turn SIX TIMES (I counted) while we sat&amp;nbsp;at a red light? And how the stupid first car in my lane should have just turned right so our lane could at least get through instead of holding up traffic until it was four blocks long? And how the guy next to me pulled a u-ey and left a big car-spaced opening on my left? And how I only needed ONE FOOT of clearance in the front, and I could&amp;nbsp;swing to the left and u-ey my way out of there? And how the chick behind me was all up on my ass in a tiny car and I didn&#39;t see her? And how the only reason I pulled any of these antics was because I had to POOP???&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2014/01/it-would-be-cheaper-to-buy-diapers.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-7576381011764099379</guid><pubDate>Thu, 26 Dec 2013 23:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-12-26T17:39:34.625-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Merry Christmas</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Wine</category><title>Merry Christmas, Ya DRUNK</title><description>Below is a pic of a few of my Christmas presents. I sense a theme here.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRYiXueRjwuQjJyeCXhFk95snOaxaNsSHqqDxHZvTY7xh1jV3dLLdOo0gS2EESaeThY2sSdL09H07IVMNh51gMlczTUbi5yMbQG-D4H35aV5QAXTgCWWwk3YNjIZBkYW83x3x8FTGdDmkA/s1600/Xmas+wines.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRYiXueRjwuQjJyeCXhFk95snOaxaNsSHqqDxHZvTY7xh1jV3dLLdOo0gS2EESaeThY2sSdL09H07IVMNh51gMlczTUbi5yMbQG-D4H35aV5QAXTgCWWwk3YNjIZBkYW83x3x8FTGdDmkA/s320/Xmas+wines.JPG&quot; width=&quot;239&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/12/merry-christmas-ya-drunk.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRYiXueRjwuQjJyeCXhFk95snOaxaNsSHqqDxHZvTY7xh1jV3dLLdOo0gS2EESaeThY2sSdL09H07IVMNh51gMlczTUbi5yMbQG-D4H35aV5QAXTgCWWwk3YNjIZBkYW83x3x8FTGdDmkA/s72-c/Xmas+wines.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-4305025492817601080</guid><pubDate>Tue, 24 Dec 2013 21:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-12-24T15:41:37.010-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Crab Legs</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Drunk</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Happy Holidays</category><title>Happy Holidays!</title><description>Christmas Eve has always been when we celebrate Christmas. Crab legs, champagne, opening presents, staying up late, watching Christmas movies...and sleeping in tomorrow morning. I&#39;m so happy the day is finally here. Time to stuff our faces and get drunk!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy holidays everyone!</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/12/happy-holidays.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-6562621611849691874</guid><pubDate>Sat, 14 Dec 2013 04:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-12-13T22:48:27.327-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bugs</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Spiders</category><title>Bugs vs. Spiders</title><description>I was just sitting here watching&amp;nbsp;TV when I felt a tickle on my finger. I brought my finger up and saw something black with legs. I was immediately like, &quot;OHMAHGAWD! OHMAHGAWD!!!!&quot; Then I realized it was a bug. I blew it off my finger, got a paper towel, picked the little guy up, and released him into the big wide world of my backyard. Good luck little guy!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*hugs*&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But if that was a spider? The scenario would be more like:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was just sitting here watching&amp;nbsp;TV when I felt a tickle on my finger. I brought my finger up and saw something black with legs. I was immediately like, &quot;OHMAHGAWD! OHMAHGAWD!!!!&quot; Then I realized it was a spider. I FREAKED MY SHIT OUT, shook my hand like it was on fire, ran around like a chicken with its head cut off until I could find where I threw said spider. I grabbed a paper towel and SMASHED ITS HEAD INTO ITS ASS and declared&amp;nbsp;VICTORY for all of &#39;Merica! Down the toilet you go, beyotch!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Why do I freak out with spiders and not bugs? They&#39;re both creepy and crawly and gross. But spiders are....bleh-bleh-peepy-chill-gross!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bless their little hearts.</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/12/bugs-vs-spiders.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-1974415612789855022</guid><pubDate>Fri, 13 Dec 2013 00:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-12-12T18:08:36.493-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Florida</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Speedo</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Terror</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Throwback Thursday</category><title>Throwback Thursday - Tiny Terror </title><description>I&#39;m freezing my naynays off here in the Midwest so I thought I&#39;d bring a little warmth to today&#39;s Throwback Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was four years old and running amok in Ft. Lauderdale. Between my clown sunglasses and my hot little Speedo, I RULED THAT POOL.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My mother tells me we had to return home early because I was such a monster on that trip. At least &lt;em&gt;I &lt;/em&gt;remember having a good time. I ALWAYS have a good time. Especially in my Speedo and clown shades. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m wearing them now, in fact....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheusSyu-by5Z-eNmCVwyNmEMUjmQLbPoQATZFi49ZYdLQFWDf6p4Tqw7hoj4WC1GQOGMdhr7wI8VePL2MDzkzsWTwUtQ6BwIhTSgOUwLoDONaqhfnpa-fCOjtvDswaqo2MG1d0ZplGKJ3q/s1600/Me+in+Ft.+Lauderdale.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;251&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheusSyu-by5Z-eNmCVwyNmEMUjmQLbPoQATZFi49ZYdLQFWDf6p4Tqw7hoj4WC1GQOGMdhr7wI8VePL2MDzkzsWTwUtQ6BwIhTSgOUwLoDONaqhfnpa-fCOjtvDswaqo2MG1d0ZplGKJ3q/s320/Me+in+Ft.+Lauderdale.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/12/throwback-thursday-tiny-terror.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheusSyu-by5Z-eNmCVwyNmEMUjmQLbPoQATZFi49ZYdLQFWDf6p4Tqw7hoj4WC1GQOGMdhr7wI8VePL2MDzkzsWTwUtQ6BwIhTSgOUwLoDONaqhfnpa-fCOjtvDswaqo2MG1d0ZplGKJ3q/s72-c/Me+in+Ft.+Lauderdale.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-7611547906554384402</guid><pubDate>Sat, 07 Dec 2013 01:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-12-06T19:05:25.455-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Cabana boy</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Mother</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Vacation</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Wine</category><title>Reason #145 Why I Need A Vacation</title><description>I just sat here for 10 minutes wondering WHO THE HELL drank some of my wine (and was ready to call up Mother and DEMAND she buy me a new bottle to replace what she drank without asking!!!) when I finally realized I had poured a glass for myself&amp;nbsp;10 minutes ago and forgot about it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think it&#39;s time for me to take a break. Someplace warm, where&amp;nbsp;a hot little cabana boy is&amp;nbsp;responsible for keeping track of my alcohol...</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/12/reason-45-why-i-need-vacation.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-4760563622519383640</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Dec 2013 03:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-11-30T21:08:16.025-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Christmas</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Perfect people. Pinterest</category><title>Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown</title><description>Probably around&amp;nbsp;14 years ago I spent part of my tax return on an artificial Christmas tree. I had moved back home with Mother because I was...well...KNOCKED UP and it was Christmas time so we needed a tree. Mother was always a fan of flocked trees and fancy shit of that sort but I found a great deal on a nice little artifical thing and decided we would exorcise her flocked tree demons. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&amp;nbsp;usually put up the Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving (gotta deal with my holidays in order, yes?) I was literally sitting here on the Saturday after Thanksgiving thinking, &quot;Well, hell. Gotta put the tree up this weekend. But you know what sucks? I see peeps posting effing glorious pics on Facebook of their trees. The lights are PHENOMENAL. I don&#39;t get it.&amp;nbsp; I have&amp;nbsp;TWO DAMN STRANDS of lights on my tree but it still looks like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. WTF???&quot; At that&amp;nbsp;very moment&amp;nbsp;I saw a commercial for Target. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;50% OFF TREES! PRE-LIT TREES FOR $99! TODAY ONLY!!!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, holy hell! Is THIS where I&#39;ve gone wrong? Is pre-lit the answer??? Let&#39;s go!!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So I drive myself (and Mouth, kicking and screaming) up to Targhay. We found the Christmas section and there were beautiful trees on display! Pre-lit trees! Un-lit trees! OH MY WORD, TREES!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
However, no trees to buy. Turns out Targhay only stocks like three trees for the lucky few who get there at 5 am. And this is no Black Friday, no way. This is SATURDAY. Bastards. I even tried to buy the display- no dice. Bless the Targhay workers&#39; hearts. They were very sweet and helpful and admitted their corporation&#39;s marketing tactics were janky. They agreed I should take my business elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So Mouth and I went to Walmart.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s okay...it wasn&#39;t so bad because it was no longer Black Friday. However, the guy who helped us get the tree box down from the shelf was wearing Depends. I know this because his pants were swinging low and no one who is over like FIFTY should have pants swinging that low. Uck. Gonna need therapy for that one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ANYHOO!!! We got a beautiful pre-lit tree. And...did I mention it was BEAUTIFUL??? I have&amp;nbsp;now realized that&amp;nbsp;my Facebook friends&#39; beautiful trees were actually PRE-LIT trees. I&#39;m&amp;nbsp;so happy to finally be in the loop so I can post beautiful tree pictures on my Facebook account. Go me!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But we have janky ornaments. Holy hell. WHERE DO I GET PERFECT ORNAMENTS SO MY TREE LOOKS AS PERFECT AS MY FACEBOOK FRIENDS&#39; TREES???&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Good thing I avoid Pinterest. That shit would likely put me over the EDGE.</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/11/merry-christmas-charlie-brown.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-547177630121577012</guid><pubDate>Wed, 27 Nov 2013 00:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-11-27T09:27:41.747-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Baby Moe</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">bipolar</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">cats</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Ear scratching</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">psycho cat</category><title>Cat Are Really Just Furry Hos</title><description>Owning a cat is like dating a psycho bitch with bipolar disorder. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just now I scratched my cat&#39;s ear and he leaaaaaned into my hand like his life depended on it! He was&amp;nbsp;like, &quot;Yes, yes, YES! Right there, right there, don&#39;t you stop. Don&#39;t you DARE stop!!! Right, right...there...YESSSS!!!!! Okay now get the f*ck away from me. I hate you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m so confused. I&#39;m glad I could make him feel good but I don&#39;t understand why he now wants nothing to do with me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I feel used. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/11/cat-are-really-just-furry-hos.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-6201614700602294174</guid><pubDate>Fri, 22 Nov 2013 01:37:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-11-21T19:38:03.099-06:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bullies</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Fighting</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Mouth</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Recess</category><title>Checking Mouth&#39;s Facebook</title><description>A major&amp;nbsp;sign of my child growing up was when he wanted to use my birthday to create a Facebook account. That should have been my first red flag.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I went along with it. He had some classmates on Facebook, I figured I could HEAVILY monitor...so I agreed. According to Facebook, he&#39;s now 39 years old. He wasn&#39;t really into girls so I didn&#39;t have to worry about that so I thought, What kind of trouble could he get into with his friends? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then he tried to friend me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh HELL NO.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I drew the line at that one. But from time to time I&#39;ll log into his account (oh yes, Mama has the login info AT ALL TIMES) and monitor his Facebook activity. He doesn&#39;t post a lot- again, he&#39;s not really into girls yet...more into gaming so he&#39;s not on Facebook much. Then tonight I realized it had been quite a while since I checked into Mouth&#39;s Facebook account. So I logged in.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There wasn&#39;t&amp;nbsp;much&amp;nbsp;posting on his part but other kids ARE MEAN! They&#39;re all posting about their classmates being fat and stupid and teachers being ASSHOLES (yes, they were typing ASSHOLES) and it brought me back to the mean kids I knew in school. It felt good that my darling child wasn&#39;t a part of this nonsense!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then I checked his private messages.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Apparently, he had been teasing a little girl at school who had a boyfriend. A 12-year-old with a BOYFRIEND is serious shit, ya know? So the boyfriend found out and apparently wasn&#39;t very happy with Mouth. The following&amp;nbsp;snapshot is an exchange&amp;nbsp;of their confrontation. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bad kid: &quot;Wanna fight?&#39;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth: &quot;Ya les go bro. Imma gonna PWN your ass!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bad kid: &quot;Omfg. OK. Monday.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mouth: &quot;Nah, I&#39;m busy on Monday. Gonna be doing something at recess then. I&#39;m open Tuesday.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hahahahaha!!!! Although I am APPALLED my child would agree to a fight, the reschedule due to recess activities CRACKS. ME. UP.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Granted, I called him down from his room to lecture him on the better ways of solving disagreements without fighting&amp;nbsp;but a small part of me was proud he stuck up for himself...AND postponed the fight due to prior&amp;nbsp;recess commitments.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Holy hell. I&#39;m still tearing up from laughing!</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/11/checking-mouths-facebook.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-6594007275977206680</guid><pubDate>Thu, 03 Oct 2013 04:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-10-02T23:30:26.822-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Joe Cocker</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Lemon Party</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Lorde</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Royals</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Songs</category><title>Reincarnation Before Death? </title><description>&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;The song &quot;Royals&quot; by Lorde. I like it. It&#39;s catchy. She&#39;s pretty, AMAZING voice, only 16 years old. But then I Googled her...and found a video of her singing live. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;It&#39;s like Joe Cocker reincarnated in Rebecca Gayheart&#39;s body. Wait, is he dead yet? Good Lord. Her people need to do something about that. It&#39;s kinda ruined the song for me a little. It&#39;s like Googling &quot;Lemon Party&quot;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;Just. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;Don&#39;t. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;Do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;t.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;In case you want to ruin it for yourself, I&#39;ve included the link below. But I am NOT including the Lemon Party link. That&#39;s all on you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;iframe allowfullscreen=&#39;allowfullscreen&#39; webkitallowfullscreen=&#39;webkitallowfullscreen&#39; mozallowfullscreen=&#39;mozallowfullscreen&#39; width=&#39;320&#39; height=&#39;266&#39; src=&#39;https://www.youtube.com/embed/u7T64Qo3bdU?feature=player_embedded&#39; frameborder=&#39;0&#39;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;userContent&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;tn&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;K&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/10/reincarnation-before-death.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-5140139712299937787</guid><pubDate>Wed, 25 Sep 2013 00:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-09-24T19:15:02.790-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Favorite things</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Lay&#39;s</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">potato chips</category><title>Ode to Lay&#39;s Potato Chips</title><description>You know when you open a bag of Lay&#39;s chips and the curled-over ones are on top? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I love those folded chips. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They&#39;re like miniature tacos. The way they curl over onto themselves is just delicious and...magical. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But they&#39;re only on top. Why are they only on top?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hmmmm.......&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/09/ode-to-lays-potato-chips.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-313684779805493565</guid><pubDate>Sat, 31 Aug 2013 02:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-08-30T21:19:55.105-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Babies</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Death</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Jace</category><title>On A Serious Note</title><description>I went to a funeral today for a little baby who&amp;nbsp;died two weeks&amp;nbsp;before his due date. Somehow his cord got knotted by his belly and cut off his life from his mother. It&#39;s apparently quite rare, which doesn&#39;t make his mom feel any less guilty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
His mother is on state aid. Thankfully, the state picked up the tab for the service and the plot and the tiny little white casket he was buried in. There should never be caskets that tiny. However, they didn&#39;t pay for the headstone. Apparently, they never do. As I stood behind his mom while the pastor blessed him and said the awful words of &quot;Ashes to ashes, dust to dust&quot; I looked out over the &quot;Public Aid Baby Cemetary&quot; and saw a handful of plastic spikes with namecards on them - those are the babies whose parents couldn&#39;t afford a headstone. &lt;br /&gt;
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I always wanted to win the lottery so I could buy a sweet house in Florida or a Mercedes Benz SUV like the Jenner/Kardashians. Now I just want to win it so I can start a savings account&amp;nbsp;to give those babies headstones.&lt;br /&gt;
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I&#39;d like to think I made a difference today by offering to buy baby Jace&#39;s headstone for my friend. It&#39;s a small offering but the other nametag garden spikes still haunt me...&lt;br /&gt;
</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/08/on-serious-note.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-5614136037085900022</guid><pubDate>Sun, 25 Aug 2013 02:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-08-24T21:39:52.275-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Dating</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Ted</category><title>Furry Little F*cker</title><description>Okay, I can admit when I&#39;m an asshole. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;
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In the past, whenever I would see or hear friends lamenting about their dogs - whether they were sick or they died - I&#39;d be all &quot;Awww...so sad!&quot; and then think, &quot;Dude. It&#39;s a dog. Get over it, have kids, and feel REAL life.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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And then I met Ted.&lt;br /&gt;
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Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I love this stupid dog so much. He reminds me of my son when he was one year old, which was a HORRIBLE TIME because Mouth couldn&#39;t tell me if his tummy was hurting or if he was tired or whatever he was feeling. I was so happy when he started&amp;nbsp;talking so I could help him feel better no matter what was bothering him.&lt;br /&gt;
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And now I&#39;m stuck in a perpetual time warp of loving a baby who can&#39;t tell me if his tummy hurts or if he&#39;s hungry (well, actually, he does a reallllly good job of telling me he&#39;s hungry!) I knew probably five years ago I wasn&#39;t going to have any more children, which I was cool with - and&amp;nbsp;then I got Ted. He&#39;s my baby. My buddy. He follows me everywhere (except the bathroom - he stops at the threshold because he ain&#39;t dumb...he knows that&#39;s where BATHS HAPPEN.) He&#39;s sleeping against my leg as I type this blog. &lt;br /&gt;
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I love him so much it breaks my heart because I don&#39;t ever want anything bad to happen to him...but I know I will likely outlive him. And I hate that I think about that, and I wish I could stop but he&#39;s my everything...you know?&lt;br /&gt;
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Shit. It&#39;s probably time I started dating again, yes???</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/08/furry-little-fcker.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1387182423498290371.post-7456692449355872299</guid><pubDate>Tue, 20 Aug 2013 23:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-08-20T18:50:47.920-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">New Home</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Random Quote</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Teeth</category><title>Random Quote of the Day</title><description>Nothing says &#39;Welcome to your new house!&#39; like finding a pair of teeth in the bottom of your new closet. &lt;br /&gt;
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ROOTS INTACT AND ALL.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;em&gt;Side note: Something this random finally didn&#39;t happen to me!&amp;nbsp;It happened&amp;nbsp;to a friend who&amp;nbsp;also has the most random shit happen to her. She posted her find (picture and all) on her Facebook page and everyone was very comforting (&quot;I&#39;m sure your house is fine/burn a little sage&quot;) and I&#39;m all, &quot;HOLY SHIT. THAT&#39;S AWESOME!!!!&quot; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;I&#39;m not sure her&amp;nbsp;other friends like me. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Or get my sense of humor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;F*ck &#39;em.&amp;nbsp;THAT WAS AWESOME!!!!!&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://reganshead.blogspot.com/2013/08/random-quote-of-day.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Rags)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>