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/><category term="beotch" /><category term="recalls" /><category term="dream home" /><category term="the 80's" /><category term="couples" /><category term="chicago" /><category term="courteous" /><category term="internet" /><category term="brothers" /><category term="quiet time" /><category term="bradley cooper" /><category term="20 something" /><category term="prayer" /><category term="Panty" /><category term="26" /><category term="meme" /><category term="women" /><category term="Grammy's" /><category term="calendars" /><category term="teachers" /><category term="birthday" /><category term="jeans" /><category term="flag patrol" /><category term="unmarried" /><category term="students" /><category term="girls night out" /><category term="no regrets" /><category term="communication" /><category term="i love you" /><category term="James Harrison" /><category term="blog" /><category term="elliptical" /><category term="television" /><category term="grand theft" /><category term="parents" /><category term="housekeeping" /><category term="miserable" /><category term="shovel" /><category term="food" /><category term="mall" /><category term="rabies" /><category term="f-bomb" /><category term="strangers" /><category term="fail" /><category term="men. women" /><category term="warning" /><category term="leftovers" /><category term="money" /><category term="cheap clothes" /><title>Life Requires More Chocolate</title><subtitle type="html">A Chocoholics rendition of being a single mother with too much time on her hands!!!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>390</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ" /><feedburner:info uri="liferequiresmorechocolates/zlbj" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUHR3o5eCp7ImA9WhRWGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-895395912758203010</id><published>2012-01-06T11:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T11:10:36.420-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-06T11:10:36.420-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="unknown" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="feelings" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fskw" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="unsure" /><title>FSKW</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1sZFfCcQOMc/Twcc4oX890I/AAAAAAAAAhE/o04z75u3tqs/s1600/ques.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1sZFfCcQOMc/Twcc4oX890I/AAAAAAAAAhE/o04z75u3tqs/s1600/ques.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I woke up this morning feeling some&amp;nbsp;kind of way.&amp;nbsp; Not sure was it the peach martini I had last night, the bashing I got from my sister or the conversation with him, telling me that there are no other chicks but me.&amp;nbsp; I can't make out my feelings though.&amp;nbsp; I don't know if it's nausea from the champagne float, being irritated or being really happy.&amp;nbsp; I can't stand when I can't pinpoint the way I am feeling.&amp;nbsp; Hmm, gas maybe?&amp;nbsp; No, horny?&amp;nbsp; These feelings are beyond me and I am not sure to do about it.&amp;nbsp; The only thing I am sure of today is that I need to be doing something and I can't even figure out what the hell that is.&amp;nbsp; Should I be writing, cleaning, calling, searching, reading, sleeping, doing or giving?&amp;nbsp; I think I am just going to be content with just BEING today and figuring out what is missing tomorrow, wearing &amp;nbsp;an oddball smile.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-895395912758203010?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/895395912758203010/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/fskw.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/895395912758203010?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/895395912758203010?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/0OC1DeouFHM/fskw.html" title="FSKW" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1sZFfCcQOMc/Twcc4oX890I/AAAAAAAAAhE/o04z75u3tqs/s72-c/ques.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/fskw.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YCQnkzeCp7ImA9WhRWF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-7724348719840709763</id><published>2012-01-05T07:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T07:06:03.780-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-05T07:06:03.780-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="&quot;boy&quot;friend" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="exes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendships" /><title>Get Off</title><content type="html">So the man that fathered a child while "dating"&amp;nbsp;sent me a message today.&amp;nbsp; I haven't talked to him a while, so I decided to go ahead and converse with him. I did let him know that I&amp;nbsp;am "dating" someone else.&amp;nbsp; He didn't like that very much.&amp;nbsp; Honestly did he think that I was going to sit around and&amp;nbsp;pine for him the rest of my life?&amp;nbsp; Apparently so.&amp;nbsp; He felt that I should have told him this information.&amp;nbsp; I wanted to say dude, I haven't seen you since May.&amp;nbsp; I don't owe you an explanation of any sort.&amp;nbsp; Then the whole good woman speech began.&amp;nbsp; I swear&amp;nbsp;if I have to endure hearing that again I am going to scream my head off.&amp;nbsp; At least this one has already broken my heart and isn't&amp;nbsp;allowed anywhere near it again.&amp;nbsp; I have started to think that maybe if I start acting crazy and acting like a bitch, men will jump all over the place to be with me, since they love a woman full of drama.&amp;nbsp; You hear the saying all the time that nice guys finish last.&amp;nbsp; Well where do good woman finish?&amp;nbsp; I am thinking no one even waits for her.&amp;nbsp; Grrrrr, I need to get off this relationship stuff.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyhoo, he made sure to remind me how much he loved me and that he only wants my happiness.&amp;nbsp; In my mind I could only think, I was happy with you at one time and you ruined it.&amp;nbsp; That just made me feel as if I am not over him, though I know I am.&amp;nbsp; I don't call, see or speak with him unless he contacts me.&amp;nbsp; And half the time I just ignore it.&amp;nbsp; Maybe I keep him along just to know that there is someone that actually wants me.&amp;nbsp; Hmm, this is getting kind creepy.&amp;nbsp; With that said I should stop talking to him all together.&amp;nbsp; And if I do that then that proves that we were not friends in the first place.&amp;nbsp; Hmm, lots to think about.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Anyone You Talk To And Know That You Shouldn't?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-7724348719840709763?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/7724348719840709763/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/get-off.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7724348719840709763?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7724348719840709763?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/CBsPyASluf8/get-off.html" title="Get Off" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/get-off.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIGRn4yeSp7ImA9WhRWFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-5667579259383414965</id><published>2012-01-03T14:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T14:55:27.091-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-03T14:55:27.091-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendships caffeine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="motivation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><title>Motivation</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CRMMd6elzY4/TwNcvQjD-dI/AAAAAAAAAg8/y3giM7wl2Ag/s1600/motivate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="160" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CRMMd6elzY4/TwNcvQjD-dI/AAAAAAAAAg8/y3giM7wl2Ag/s320/motivate.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have been trying to kick start my motivation this week and it seemed that I was making head way until I decided to go off the caffeine.&amp;nbsp; Only one cup of coffee in the morning and no Pepsi.&amp;nbsp; So far this is proving to drive me nuts because as I am typing this I am in some type of fog that is keeping everything cloudy.&amp;nbsp; Everyone is telling me to take a little hit of Pepsi just to help with the blur, but I don't want to fall backwards.&amp;nbsp; "He" thinks its cute but I don't.&amp;nbsp; Last night after talking to him last night for 2 hours, for a journey that normally takes him 45 minutes, I passed out onto the couch.&amp;nbsp; Yeah we got a lot of snow and he was trying to prove his manhood by driving and talking to me.&amp;nbsp; I kept telling him that he needed to get off the phone and put his attention on the road where it belonged.&amp;nbsp; When he finally got a block away from his house, he got stuck on a hill and had to turn around and find another way.&amp;nbsp; I could hear his voice getting higher and higher as he slipped and slided across the road.&amp;nbsp; When he got home we started usual banter of "you were trying to crash your car, so I would come to see you".&amp;nbsp; This morning he called and reminded me of some goals that I set and that he would help keep me focused, so at the noon hour he called and asked what my progress was for the day.&amp;nbsp; First I cussed him out, we laugh and I brought him up to speed with things that I have done today.&amp;nbsp; It's kind of nice having someone around to motivate you and remind you of your goals, without criticizing&amp;nbsp;everything that you are doing or are not doing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"How Do You Get Motivated?&amp;nbsp; Is Anyone Helping You?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-5667579259383414965?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/5667579259383414965/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/motivation.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5667579259383414965?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5667579259383414965?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/tlmkk1G-TuE/motivation.html" title="Motivation" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CRMMd6elzY4/TwNcvQjD-dI/AAAAAAAAAg8/y3giM7wl2Ag/s72-c/motivate.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/motivation.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEEQXwzeyp7ImA9WhRWFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-843322477685584546</id><published>2012-01-03T00:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T00:30:00.283-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-03T00:30:00.283-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sex" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="past relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="too much information" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><title>Waaay Too Much Information</title><content type="html">So he and I were chatting the other day and started discussing our pasts.&amp;nbsp; Yeah drinking and talking about your past can lead you down a road that you can not back up on.&amp;nbsp; He revealed to me the names of a few people I know that he has "mixed it up" with.&amp;nbsp; While part of me was okay with the fact that he wanted to share this information with me, another part said saying why, oh why are you sharing this information with me.&amp;nbsp; I was fine with hearing his number, but he took it a step further.&amp;nbsp; I knew of the one girl because he had already told me that he dated her.&amp;nbsp; The others kind of threw me off.&amp;nbsp; He asked my number and I obliged, then he asked the dreaded question, if he knew any of them.&amp;nbsp; The problem with he and I is that we are from the same city and have an overlapping circle of friends.&amp;nbsp; So therefore names mentioned raise eyebrows.&amp;nbsp; I asked him if he was really comfortable with me telling him who.&amp;nbsp; He paused&amp;nbsp;for a moment and then said he did not want to know.&amp;nbsp; I know that men can't get that stuff out of their head and no matter what you do or the circumstances around your past it seems as if it a current reality to them.&amp;nbsp; They manipulate a past time into something that is untrue or does not exist.&amp;nbsp; I told him that I do not want him to change the way he views me or the way he views his friend because&amp;nbsp;of something that happened before I ever knew him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Now it's been a long time since I have "mixed it up" with anyone that he knows but the idea that I have been touched by another that he knows would &amp;nbsp;drive him crazy.&amp;nbsp; I have gone through that before with my kids father.&amp;nbsp; He didn't even know my oldest sons father, but the idea of he and I being together ruined our relationship and drove him crazy.&amp;nbsp; It's been 6 years since we have been together and he says&amp;nbsp;that he still has jealousy issues about it.&amp;nbsp; Amazing that your past can&amp;nbsp;wreak such havoc.&amp;nbsp; I truthfully told him that I don't really see or talk to these fellas anymore, but I do consider them friends, just as he still considers&amp;nbsp;those girls a friends too.&amp;nbsp; Hell one of them is even my friend and she doesn't even know what is going on between he and I. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"When Is It Too Much Information?&amp;nbsp; How Much Information Can You Handle?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-843322477685584546?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/843322477685584546/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/waaay-too-much-information.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/843322477685584546?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/843322477685584546?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/s1wr3z8zOeI/waaay-too-much-information.html" title="Waaay Too Much Information" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/waaay-too-much-information.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYHSXo4fyp7ImA9WhRWFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-5699234981974533088</id><published>2012-01-02T11:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T11:02:18.437-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-02T11:02:18.437-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="confusion" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="contradictions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="attraction" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendships" /><title>Rewind to 2011 Momentarily</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KGQyIXu-6C0/TwHUTvLQbbI/AAAAAAAAAgw/7lGbGzhyWEU/s1600/rewind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KGQyIXu-6C0/TwHUTvLQbbI/AAAAAAAAAgw/7lGbGzhyWEU/s1600/rewind.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Okay I need to do a rewind to what "he" told me the other day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;Him&lt;/strong&gt;: WHY DO YOU LIKE ME ??&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: You make smile every freaking day when my phone rings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Him&lt;/strong&gt;: That's not why!! Lol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="UIImageBlock clearfix"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Hell one text message turns on my smile no matter how stupid the message is.  Been a long time since I smiled about someone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIImageBlock clearfix"&gt;You make fell (corny as it may be) like I can be myself and not tone it down.    You are good person that I enjoy being around.  I like the fact I am comfortable around you.  Therein I like you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIImageBlock clearfix"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Him&lt;/strong&gt;: I feel the same way, but I feel like we should be friends instead of mates......... and that makes me feel horrible, telling you that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIImageBlock clearfix"&gt;You deserve a ME, a good guy, silly, and got goals&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ul class="uiList"&gt;&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Oh I don't know what to say.  I guess the bottom fell out again. Sigh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Him&lt;/strong&gt;: Nothing fell out, it just doesn't seem right to me to be more then friends...... Part of me is not ready, part of me is thinking of my mom, part of me wants something else..... But you just popped up out of nowhere, and we have the best chemistry in the world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;part of it is too fast too&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIImageBlock clearfix"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Have you ever asked her why?  I just wanted your time, you said you aren't ready for a relationship which I understand.  If you want something else well then you want something else.  The chemistry is there, I was just hoping one day it could and would actually be more.  I told you this always happens and this time I didn't even get in the door.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="UIImageBlock clearfix"&gt;As for fast," Tiffany slow ya roll, I just want to get to know you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="UIImageBlock clearfix"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Him&lt;/strong&gt;: You are a Good woman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;I just don't know what to do with you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Yeah that's what I heard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Him&lt;/strong&gt;: I know I don't want to hurt your feelings, that's why I'm like, stay away from me, before we end up hating each other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;What we have now is perfect, I don't wanna throw a bunch of feelings in too early, and be pissed later&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: I don't hate you.  I can't say I'm not hurt, because I actually do really like you and wanted you around.  But the way you feel is the way you feel and I can't change that..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;div class="clearfix main"&gt;&lt;div class="messageCheck lfloat"&gt;I can't help liking you, it is what it is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="MessagingMessage uiListItem uiListLight uiListVerticalItemBorder"&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Then we spent Friday and Saturday night together.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I &lt;/em&gt;Must Be C&lt;em&gt;razy, Right?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-5699234981974533088?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/5699234981974533088/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/rewind-to-2011-momentarily.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5699234981974533088?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5699234981974533088?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/KiU_lg6nr5k/rewind-to-2011-momentarily.html" title="Rewind to 2011 Momentarily" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KGQyIXu-6C0/TwHUTvLQbbI/AAAAAAAAAgw/7lGbGzhyWEU/s72-c/rewind.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/rewind-to-2011-momentarily.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkACQnYycSp7ImA9WhRWFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-5381262841673545839</id><published>2012-01-02T10:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T10:39:23.899-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-02T10:39:23.899-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="2012" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="champagne" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="possibilities" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="new years eve" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendships" /><title>New Years Eve</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JkJ8Z35lojQ/TwHPGHytXoI/AAAAAAAAAgk/iW88GjiGP1o/s1600/happy-new-year-2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="207" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JkJ8Z35lojQ/TwHPGHytXoI/AAAAAAAAAgk/iW88GjiGP1o/s320/happy-new-year-2012.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy New Years folks.&amp;nbsp; I meant to post this yesterday but I got caught up with laying on my couch all day long.&amp;nbsp; Well I&amp;nbsp; New Years Eve I did my usual cleaning of the house.&amp;nbsp; You know, make sure the clothes are washed, every room spic and span, and no Christmas decorations up.&amp;nbsp; Around 10, I went over to his house.&amp;nbsp; We sat around laughing as we always do and enjoying a nice cocktail.&amp;nbsp; Soon the midnight hour was upon us and we grabbed the champagne bottle to open.&amp;nbsp; Now this was hilarious to behold.&amp;nbsp; He removed the wrapper and the cage but could not get that cork to pop.&amp;nbsp; I mean he twisted and pulled and twisted and pulled.&amp;nbsp; He even got a pair of gloves but that sucker was not moving.&amp;nbsp; Finally he grabbed a pair of pliers and standing outside in the cold in a pair of dress shoes he popped it.&amp;nbsp; And as corny as it may seem, we drank our champagne out of coffee mugs watching the NFL network.&amp;nbsp; We had a great time laughing and asking questions.&amp;nbsp; He even schooled me on some football.&amp;nbsp; Once we finished the second mug of champagne and another cocktail, we snuggled up on the couch.&amp;nbsp; I got up and took our mugs to the kitchen.&amp;nbsp; When I returned he was laying on the couch and motioned for me to come join him.&amp;nbsp; It was refreshing just to sleep with someone and not worried about them trying anything.&amp;nbsp; He just put his arms around me and we slept...until I sprang up at 630, because I had to leave (my body alarm is magnificent).&amp;nbsp; I kissed him on his forehead and closed the door behind me.&amp;nbsp; This was the first New Years Eve I have ever spent with a guy.&amp;nbsp; Now you have to think that I have been in relationships over the holiday but this would be my first with someone.&amp;nbsp; I was very nice, aside from the fact that this guy is not my man, boyfriend or significant other.&amp;nbsp; We shall see what the new year has in store for this awkward relationship.&amp;nbsp; In the meantime I will enjoy all the nothings that I look forward to on the daily. Oh the possibilities.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What Did You Do This New Years Eve?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-5381262841673545839?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/5381262841673545839/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/new-years-eve.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5381262841673545839?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5381262841673545839?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/x4PhMoHbnTo/new-years-eve.html" title="New Years Eve" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JkJ8Z35lojQ/TwHPGHytXoI/AAAAAAAAAgk/iW88GjiGP1o/s72-c/happy-new-year-2012.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2012/01/new-years-eve.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIBRn09cSp7ImA9WhRQGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-6457765744126387557</id><published>2011-12-15T09:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T09:49:17.369-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-15T09:49:17.369-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="feelings" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendships" /><title>What Are We Getting Ourselves Into</title><content type="html">So Saturday comes.&amp;nbsp; I get those bubble gut butterflies and just pray I can make it through the evening without being too nervous.&amp;nbsp; The only person at this dinner I am going to know is him.&amp;nbsp; I get dressed and wait for him to arrive.&amp;nbsp; Upon getting into his car (I didn't let him come to the door because my kids were around and I am not into people meeting my boys) he looked at me (eyes wide) and said "that's what I'm talking about.&amp;nbsp; I had on a black lace front dress and a pair of black peep toe heels.&amp;nbsp; Not to mention the red flower in my side bun.&amp;nbsp; At the restaurant he decided to valet park so that he could walk in with me instead of me standing at the door waiting.&amp;nbsp; We walked into the&amp;nbsp;room and people started looking up and making their way over to see him.&amp;nbsp; He whispered in my ear that he didn't even know most of these people, they were just curious of who he was bringing to the party.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; There I stood in my winter white coat meeting a greeting and trying to laugh because these folks were seriously thirsty to know who I was.&amp;nbsp; We found an empty table&amp;nbsp;and sat down.&amp;nbsp; He removed my coat and said, "I knew you would be perfect".&amp;nbsp; Now by this point he kept staring and I kept smiling so we looked the part of a couple.&amp;nbsp; after chit chatting&amp;nbsp;some of the employees that he actually knew showed up and sat at our table.&amp;nbsp; These were some of the strangest people that I had ever met&amp;nbsp;before.&amp;nbsp; They were making up corny jokes about Roseanne Barr,&amp;nbsp;Dinosaurs, and the philosophy&amp;nbsp;of not winning to win.&amp;nbsp; I wanted to stand him with a fork and then kill myself if I had to listen to these under dressed people try to make me laugh.&amp;nbsp; In fact every time he and I would converse and laugh, they would think we were laughing at their jokes.&amp;nbsp; It was quite sad.&amp;nbsp; Thankfully another group of people we knew came in and we&amp;nbsp;moved to their table.&amp;nbsp; Again we sat, chit chatted and laughed.&amp;nbsp; At least this couple was actually funny.&amp;nbsp; A photographer came by and took our picture (which I am pissed because I forgot to get it).&amp;nbsp; It was a really really good picture, so the couple took one of us.&amp;nbsp; I have emailed her like 3 times and she hasn't sent it yet.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyhoo, soon it was time for casino night.&amp;nbsp; We decided to play Texas Hold'Em...well at I decided to play Texas Hold'Em with&amp;nbsp;half of his chips.&amp;nbsp; Again he sat there staring at me before whispering, "there is something truly sexy about you doing this".&amp;nbsp; Again I was smiling, which made me lose concentration and all my chips.&amp;nbsp; By the time they did the raffles most of the guests were heading out so we decided to do the same.&amp;nbsp; I waited out front&amp;nbsp;with the girl I was sitting with at the table.&amp;nbsp; She told me, "I don't know why you two are playing.&amp;nbsp; You should really date.&amp;nbsp; You guys are a cute couple and look really happy together."&amp;nbsp; I explained to her that who knows where this might go but right now all I could see this as being is a joke.&amp;nbsp; We left and went to the place we went to the week before for drinks.&amp;nbsp;I slammed down 10-12 shots of Vodka and he 10-12 of Royal Crown.&amp;nbsp; Now I was mostly sober because I had taken in a lot of potassium before we went out (trust me it works).&amp;nbsp; All smiles we he took me home.&amp;nbsp; We sat in my driveway for about 20 minutes.&amp;nbsp; Of course he was stroking my hair again and staring at me.&amp;nbsp; "You have to get out know or I'm taking you home.&amp;nbsp; *pause Forget it I'm taking you home", is what he said and we were on our way back to house.&amp;nbsp; He took off my heels and grabbed a blanket and we snuggled on the couch, falling asleep.&amp;nbsp; When&amp;nbsp;I woke up it was 730am and his arms were still around me.&amp;nbsp; Now I felt great because the potassium helps curb a hangover, but he was miserable, not to mention he had to go to work in a few hours.&amp;nbsp; He asked what were we getting into and all I could do was shake my head before getting out of the car.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-6457765744126387557?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/6457765744126387557/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/12/so-saturday-comes.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/6457765744126387557?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/6457765744126387557?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/HftqONUldzA/so-saturday-comes.html" title="What Are We Getting Ourselves Into" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/12/so-saturday-comes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8CRX86cCp7ImA9WhRQGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-7285337386567029031</id><published>2011-12-14T00:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T00:01:04.118-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-14T00:01:04.118-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relaionships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="feelings" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="undateable" /><title>Bittersweet</title><content type="html">So he and I were talking about our uncoming date when he let me know that he had asked someone else first.&amp;nbsp; For a moment I was like DAMN, but I figured whatever.&amp;nbsp; He said that he asked his high school sweetheart and at first she said yes then she gave him the run around about not being able to get to the party till 8 because she had another party to attend.&amp;nbsp; He said he was fine with it but really wanted her to be there earlier.&amp;nbsp; Now this was before he went out with me.&amp;nbsp; After our date he said he texted her and said sorry you've been replaced...before he had even asked me.&amp;nbsp; He said he was hoping I would say yes and wante to to let her know ASAP.&amp;nbsp; After actually sitting and getting to know me, he was feeling some kind of way and didn't feel that it was right to be taking anyone else but me to the party.&amp;nbsp; So the next morning when she saw the relationship change she texted and said hell naw, you replacing me with blah, blah, blahs baby mama.&amp;nbsp; I was like WOW, really.&amp;nbsp; He said people were inboxing him right and left trying to find out who I was.&amp;nbsp; Now he and I talk allll the time, either through text or on the phone and had some lengthy conversatin upwards to 8 hours, so he's like I haven't had any time to seek anyone else.&amp;nbsp; Now saying all this he still says that he cannot date me.&amp;nbsp; Anyhoo we decided to go shopping to get him a tie to match the flower in my hair.&amp;nbsp; Seriously, what guy wants to do that with someone that he is not dating or attempting to date?&amp;nbsp; As the party night approached we both were feeling a little strange and started thinking that the joke was becoming real.&amp;nbsp; He was worried that he was going to hurt my feelings but I assured him that I understood from the beginning that it was a joke but I still was interested in him.&amp;nbsp; We then decided that we were going to have an ugly break up online.&amp;nbsp; I planned to say, "But my, my, my, my mama, my mama said..." from Water boy.&amp;nbsp; He planned to say we are really cousins.&amp;nbsp; Little did I know what Saturday would turn out to be.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-7285337386567029031?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/7285337386567029031/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/12/bittersweet.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7285337386567029031?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7285337386567029031?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/Kf_HuyEwjzs/bittersweet.html" title="Bittersweet" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/12/bittersweet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcEQnc7eyp7ImA9WhRQF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-7918471924743747361</id><published>2011-12-13T00:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T08:30:03.903-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-13T08:30:03.903-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="woman" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mamas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="undateable" /><title>Undateable Me</title><content type="html">So after he sends the text I am very curious as to what he meant.&amp;nbsp; Was he saying he is crazy to be asking me out again?&amp;nbsp; So I call and he spills his big idea.&amp;nbsp; His idea is for us to change our facebook statuses and say that we are in a relationship with one another.&amp;nbsp; I start cracking up because I think it's a great idea since everyone keeps calling us on everything we say and do.&amp;nbsp; When I accepted the request the firestorm ensued.&amp;nbsp; First no one believed but then after a few days they started thinking about it.&amp;nbsp; Some did believe and said congrats.&amp;nbsp; Now remember this is on my main page so ALL my family and friends could see this so I had some explaining to do to some people and tell them that it was a practical joke.&amp;nbsp; Now what I wasn't expecting was his mother's opinion.&amp;nbsp; Now let me briefly go back and tell you a back story.&amp;nbsp; This guy is my brother n laws cousin, so people love to say that we are family even though we clearly are not.&amp;nbsp; So when his mother saw it she immediately called him a vetoed me.&amp;nbsp; She said she remembered me...when I was 8 and she has seen me around at some holiday parties.&amp;nbsp; He didn't ask a reason why but I soon figured it out after talking to my sister.&amp;nbsp; Turns out my sister and she do not have the greatest of family relationships.&amp;nbsp; They both don't really say much to one another when they see one another, so therefore an opinion has been made.&amp;nbsp; My sis even said no, but I told her he and I have nothing to do with their issues, that is if we decided to actually date.&amp;nbsp; Therefore he made me undateable even though he keeps telling me how much he wants to.&amp;nbsp; As for the other message, he asked me to his office Christmas party.&amp;nbsp; Of course I accepted his invitation.&amp;nbsp; After doing so the women around him started to look at him a bit differently.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-7918471924743747361?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/7918471924743747361/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/12/undateable-me.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7918471924743747361?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7918471924743747361?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/VanVvBHxgT8/undateable-me.html" title="Undateable Me" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/12/undateable-me.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYDQn8_cSp7ImA9WhRQF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-2479403767781102511</id><published>2011-12-12T14:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T14:29:33.149-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-12T14:29:33.149-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="non-relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="meeting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendships" /><title>The Meeting</title><content type="html">So there is a guy that I know.&amp;nbsp; We are constantly harrassing one another.&amp;nbsp; Day in and day out to the point where our friends will start things just to have us going back and forth like a married couple.&amp;nbsp; So we decided to go out.&amp;nbsp; Now it was and wasn't a date.&amp;nbsp; He wanted to go to this restaurant because he wanted to know what food they hand before his Christmas party this past weekend.&amp;nbsp; So he picked me up and we had dinner.&amp;nbsp; Great conversation and our weird sense of humor made the evening fun.&amp;nbsp; After dinner we went to local bar which has $1 shots.&amp;nbsp; We tossed back a few, laughed at people and chit chatted.&amp;nbsp; When he brought me home we sat in his car and talked for another 2+ hours.&amp;nbsp; This dude even had the nerve to stroke my hair, almost making me fall asleep.&amp;nbsp; Then he admired my hand.&amp;nbsp; Actually is was a nice meeting.&amp;nbsp; The next day he woke me up witht he text, "I'm about to do something crazy", "Can I take you out this weekend?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-2479403767781102511?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/2479403767781102511/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/12/meeting.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/2479403767781102511?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/2479403767781102511?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/5kB5aVxbNFg/meeting.html" title="The Meeting" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/12/meeting.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AFRXk5eip7ImA9WhRSGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-4878684826936182618</id><published>2011-11-21T22:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T22:15:14.722-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-21T22:15:14.722-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="childish" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fakers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trivial" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="desperate for attention" /><title>Really...really?</title><content type="html">So I was having a convo with some counterparts when someone said living in my city was a death sentence.  I was floored as this person doesn't live here and I believe has never even visited before.  Now even if they had done so I would have still been annoyed at the comment.  My city is small and the increase in crime was widespread, but comparing it to other cities it's still fairing better.  I found the conversation hilarious but somehow the person making the statement was offended that the people who live here had a lot to say about their thoughts.  It amazes me how people come across one way and then totally act another.  You know the person who makes themselves into something they are not.  It boggles the mind that men or women will boast and toot about their lives and when face to face change everything.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Do You Someone That Fakes You Out To The Point Where You Only Gave "Really" As A Reply?&lt;div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fOJ4uPit5aE/TssTwoGHvFI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/ZRaNDFOlWos/s640/blogger-image-2105368355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fOJ4uPit5aE/TssTwoGHvFI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/ZRaNDFOlWos/s640/blogger-image-2105368355.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-4878684826936182618?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/4878684826936182618/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/11/so-i-was-having-convo-with-some.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/4878684826936182618?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/4878684826936182618?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/EieVPIj3qJ8/so-i-was-having-convo-with-some.html" title="Really...really?" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fOJ4uPit5aE/TssTwoGHvFI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/ZRaNDFOlWos/s72-c/blogger-image-2105368355.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/11/so-i-was-having-convo-with-some.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEBRH8zcSp7ImA9WhRSGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-4016690378373258890</id><published>2011-11-20T11:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T06:57:35.189-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-21T06:57:35.189-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="women" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="gamble" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dating" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="point of interest" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love" /><title>Point Of Interest</title><content type="html">So I am wondering at what point does a person admit their interest in a person?  For the last few months I have been spending endless hours of the phone (the most so far being 7, yes 7 hours) talking to this guy.  He gets a solid B- on the report card but the constantly laughter and never ending conversations about the whys of the world.  He believes he has me figured out.  All my quirks and my mindset but we have only met each other twice.  Our last meet and greet was a date at Walmart.  I know, I know, a date...at Walmart?  Yes.  I did not know how to get to the one by his house so we decided to take a trip grocery shopping.  It was actually kind of fun walking around the store doing a little shopping and acting silly.  People are always saying we look like siblings as well as recommending we actually go out on a real date.  We both know that there is an attraction but neither of us want to admit there is interest.  Instead we play coy, making fun of one another and making up names for one another that have been cemented into the minds of our friends.  At what point do you finally show all you cards and go all in?&lt;div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e1D7tCzr9hs/TsklHx7m4JI/AAAAAAAAAgI/GSiw4MXi-o8/s640/blogger-image-896401128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e1D7tCzr9hs/TsklHx7m4JI/AAAAAAAAAgI/GSiw4MXi-o8/s640/blogger-image-896401128.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-4016690378373258890?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/4016690378373258890/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/11/so-i-am-wondering-at-what-point-does.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/4016690378373258890?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/4016690378373258890?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/WDms-6FE9Wo/so-i-am-wondering-at-what-point-does.html" title="Point Of Interest" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e1D7tCzr9hs/TsklHx7m4JI/AAAAAAAAAgI/GSiw4MXi-o8/s72-c/blogger-image-896401128.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/11/so-i-am-wondering-at-what-point-does.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQDQHs_eCp7ImA9WhRTGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-7374404423226671062</id><published>2011-11-09T19:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T19:19:31.540-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-09T19:19:31.540-05:00</app:edited><title>Hello</title><content type="html">Hey guys it's been a month.  I long busy month.  Had to do some me time.  And it didn't happen.  Oh well I will try again after the holidays.  Love y'all!  Now where is my chocolate?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-7374404423226671062?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/7374404423226671062/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/11/hello.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7374404423226671062?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7374404423226671062?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/65DrINYkBeg/hello.html" title="Hello" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/11/hello.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YGQH05fSp7ImA9WhdbGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-369623001314251492</id><published>2011-10-18T19:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T19:05:21.325-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-18T19:05:21.325-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pick up" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="soccer mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="drive" /><title>YOU CAN'T DRIVE</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fairfaxunderground.com/forum/file.php?2,file=22047,filename=soccer-mom-suv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.fairfaxunderground.com/forum/file.php?2,file=22047,filename=soccer-mom-suv.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am beyond sick of mini vans and SUV's.&amp;nbsp; It seems as if everytime I park someome pulls up next to me and leaves their end stickign out so that I can not see when I am backing out.&amp;nbsp; Or they wedge their "U-haul children" in places they do not belong, like parking spaces that are already reeeaaaally tiny.&amp;nbsp; Or they try to parallel park making you think they are going to back up over you, then get out of the car waving and smiling about it.&amp;nbsp; Then there is today at my kids schools when the SUV decided to wedge herself in between me and another parked car which caused her to back up traffic to a major street.&amp;nbsp; This lady got out of the car mad at me because she couldn't fit and wanted me to move my car out of the way.&amp;nbsp; Now my car was pretty much up against a way, with barely enough room for my kids to open the door when they got to the car.&amp;nbsp; There was no where for me to go, so I puled up as much as I could but that didn't really help.&amp;nbsp; Thinking she was going to back up I went and got&amp;nbsp;one of my kids&amp;nbsp;from the school.&amp;nbsp; When I came back she was still there as well as all the traffic behind her.&amp;nbsp; I pulled off and found another space so that all the cars could pass again freely.&amp;nbsp; As I sat waiting for my other son I could see her talking to other parents complaining about my parking.&amp;nbsp; I leaned out the window and listened.&amp;nbsp; This heffa was saying I blocked the drive so that no one else could go.&amp;nbsp; Untrue. A little yellow car caused all the problems.&amp;nbsp; It was on the other side of her SUV, illegally parked in the wrong direction.&amp;nbsp; I just sat there shaking my head.&amp;nbsp; When I did get out of the car another parent whispered to me, "don't worry I keyed her car when she fussed at me about my parking."&amp;nbsp; I started cracking up.&amp;nbsp; I just don't get some people driving in these big ass hookin vehicles especially when they don't know how to drive them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-369623001314251492?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/369623001314251492/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/10/you-cant-drive.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/369623001314251492?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/369623001314251492?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/XSDPg9HC8HQ/you-cant-drive.html" title="YOU CAN'T DRIVE" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/10/you-cant-drive.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AGQ3kzfSp7ImA9WhdUF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-1921482016415460589</id><published>2011-10-04T08:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T08:35:22.785-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-04T08:35:22.785-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="NFL" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Obama" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hank Williams Jr" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Monday night football" /><title>Are You Ready For An Idiot</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q12ANKLWoBM/Tor2n6_zDjI/AAAAAAAAAfo/u4CvASWStOg/s1600/espn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q12ANKLWoBM/Tor2n6_zDjI/AAAAAAAAAfo/u4CvASWStOg/s1600/espn.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;Really Hank?&amp;nbsp; Hitler?&amp;nbsp; Maybe behind those sunglasses Mr. Williams was drunk and had no idea what he was saying.&amp;nbsp; It amazes me that people use this kind of terminology against the President.&amp;nbsp; He's the enemy, really?&amp;nbsp; I can understand not agreeing with the politics of someone but to compare him (any kind of analogy) to a crazy little man that murdered countless numbers of people to stroke his own ego is a bit far fetched.&amp;nbsp; Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but there are times that you look at a person and shake your head.&amp;nbsp; I wish I could email ol' Hank and ask him where does his opinion come from and why.&amp;nbsp; I honestly believe he'd dance around the question (like most Republicans do) and never give me a clear answer.&amp;nbsp; President Obama and Boehner, are political foes not arch enemies hoping to destroy the other.&amp;nbsp; Hell if a game of golf can bring two men together to speak about what is going on in our country, I am all for it.&amp;nbsp; I am so sick and tired of everyone (yes everyone)&amp;nbsp;acting like 5 year olds on a playground.&amp;nbsp; "I don't like you poopie-head."&amp;nbsp; "I don't like you ugly-face."&amp;nbsp; We all know that both sides have things that they can concede on to make a plan to work but they are all so stubborn and want to plat, who has the biggest tool in &lt;state w:st="on"&gt;&lt;place w:st="on"&gt;Washington&lt;/place&gt;&lt;/state&gt;.&amp;nbsp; Therefore nothing is getting done.&amp;nbsp; Ah, nothing like the when politics and football collide, what a great time it can be.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;That is until someone starts comparing people to Nazis’.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"What Do You Think Of His comments?&amp;nbsp; No Big Deal Or Another Idiot?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-1921482016415460589?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/1921482016415460589/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/10/are-you-ready-for-idiot.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/1921482016415460589?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/1921482016415460589?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/D10azrDmKps/are-you-ready-for-idiot.html" title="Are You Ready For An Idiot" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q12ANKLWoBM/Tor2n6_zDjI/AAAAAAAAAfo/u4CvASWStOg/s72-c/espn.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/10/are-you-ready-for-idiot.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQFRX05eip7ImA9WhdUE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-4138719144015286486</id><published>2011-09-29T11:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T11:31:54.322-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-29T11:31:54.322-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ass" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="leggings" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="butts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rumps" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jeggings" /><title>When Leggings Go Worng</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ItP74k8Oi4E/ToSOXW_uHiI/AAAAAAAAAfc/CnaUkRnNNI8/s1600/goldie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ItP74k8Oi4E/ToSOXW_uHiI/AAAAAAAAAfc/CnaUkRnNNI8/s1600/goldie.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hk4ZI1xvI78/ToSIRDXxzjI/AAAAAAAAAfY/Synzv_9SJUY/s1600/elephant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hk4ZI1xvI78/ToSIRDXxzjI/AAAAAAAAAfY/Synzv_9SJUY/s1600/elephant.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mAC_rfT3P1g/ToSOaPPRxtI/AAAAAAAAAfg/4wPQQc7Imv0/s1600/leg.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mAC_rfT3P1g/ToSOaPPRxtI/AAAAAAAAAfg/4wPQQc7Imv0/s1600/leg.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"&gt;In the beginning they were great.&amp;nbsp; There were only a few colors and one style.&amp;nbsp; I loved them while being pregnant because of the simplicity.&amp;nbsp; Somewhere they have gotten out of control.&amp;nbsp; People quit wearing underwear.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;People buying leggings 3 sizes too small.&amp;nbsp; People buying cheap ones (cheap is not quality).&amp;nbsp; Now the lady above has a lot of things working against her.&amp;nbsp; Her physique (two unruly cheeks) and a pair of horrifying leggings are a lethal combination.&amp;nbsp; Leggings should pull everything in and smooth it out, not clump it, making your tush look like cottage cheese.&amp;nbsp; And when you where them, you should still cover your butt.&amp;nbsp; Panty lines are a major no, no.&amp;nbsp; However you should be wearing some because you can clearly see that too.&amp;nbsp; When I first saw the above picture I thought it was a photo of an elephant until I looked closer.&amp;nbsp; This poor, poor woman is in need.&amp;nbsp; I need for her to start doing some squats and lunges till she pulls those suckers up where they should be.&amp;nbsp; A sagging ass is an unhappy, untouched ass.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;So ladies when you are buying them make sure that you try them on and look at that butt.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Look at it like your life depends on it.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Think about it as if it was a strangers butt.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Would you give it side-eyes if you saw it on the street?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Just beware of the leggings, they can be evil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-4138719144015286486?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/4138719144015286486/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/when-leggings-go-worng.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/4138719144015286486?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/4138719144015286486?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/Ge0l7ZtXodY/when-leggings-go-worng.html" title="When Leggings Go Worng" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ItP74k8Oi4E/ToSOXW_uHiI/AAAAAAAAAfc/CnaUkRnNNI8/s72-c/goldie.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/when-leggings-go-worng.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkADRHkzcSp7ImA9WhdUEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-5673473774448628779</id><published>2011-09-27T09:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T20:46:15.789-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-27T20:46:15.789-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birthday" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="32" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="26" /><title>It's My Uh 26th Birthday!!!!</title><content type="html">It's my born day so I shall eat and be merry. No cooking, no housework, it's all about me, me, me, me, me. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate,&lt;br /&gt;
Tiffany&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wwqIIbA2AlQ/ToHdRPxG3fI/AAAAAAAAAfU/c7o7qNacb94/s640/blogger-image-1108879608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wwqIIbA2AlQ/ToHdRPxG3fI/AAAAAAAAAfU/c7o7qNacb94/s640/blogger-image-1108879608.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-5673473774448628779?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/5673473774448628779/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/it-my-uh-26th-birthday.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5673473774448628779?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5673473774448628779?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/Wy3zGOM0pfE/it-my-uh-26th-birthday.html" title="It's My Uh 26th Birthday!!!!" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-wwqIIbA2AlQ/ToHdRPxG3fI/AAAAAAAAAfU/c7o7qNacb94/s72-c/blogger-image-1108879608.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/it-my-uh-26th-birthday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkACR3Yzfip7ImA9WhdUEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-5520153535001940237</id><published>2011-09-26T14:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T14:12:46.886-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-26T14:12:46.886-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="USA" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ABC" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="2011" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="TNT" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fall tv" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="CBS" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="NBC" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fall" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="FOX" /><title>Fall Television:  Miss or Bliss</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SE2tJAh0JjQ/ToDAUyp5tKI/AAAAAAAAAfM/KwZMG5GHHC8/s1600/tv.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SE2tJAh0JjQ/ToDAUyp5tKI/AAAAAAAAAfM/KwZMG5GHHC8/s1600/tv.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
So it is officially fall and there will be a many nights spent sitting in front of the tv with tea, a blanket and a remote control.&amp;nbsp; So let's begin with my line- up:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sunday - I can't watch anything till 9 pm and then&amp;nbsp;I am torn between CBS The Good Wife and ABC Desperate Housewives.&amp;nbsp; And since this is the series finale I think Sunday night television will be soon ending for me.&amp;nbsp; Then there is Pan Am, also on ABC, it was ok but I doubt I will be breaking my neck to watch it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Monday - While everyone else is watching Dancing With the Stars on ABC, I will be on NBC watching The Sing-Off.&amp;nbsp; Love this show the talent in incredible unlike what's over there.&amp;nbsp; And if I am feeling like it I can always see how Ashton is hanging over on CBS with Two and a Half Men.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tuesday - I am on CBS watching my fav show NCIS, love, love, love it.&amp;nbsp; Sorry to hurt you Glee and Biggest Loser lovers but I just can't.&amp;nbsp; Well maybe Glee depending on whose music they are doing.&amp;nbsp; At 9 I leave it on CBS so I can watch LL.&amp;nbsp; Lick those lips baby.&amp;nbsp; Followed by Parenthood on NBC at 10, cute.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Wednesday - It seems as if Wednesday is a going to be my reality night.&amp;nbsp; I will be flipping back and forth between the X Factor in FOX and Up All Night on NBC.&amp;nbsp; Christina Applegate and Mya Rudolph&amp;nbsp;are hilarious on that show.&amp;nbsp; Then Modern Family comes on ABC at 9.&amp;nbsp; If you aren't already watching, get with the program.&amp;nbsp; At 10, I know where I am at, watching Law &amp;amp; Order: SVU on NBC.&amp;nbsp; Who can complain about that show.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thursday - I gotta tune back into the X Factor (that is if it isn't getting on my nerves) at 8.&amp;nbsp; At 9 I flip back and forth between The Office on NBC and Grey's Anatomy on ABC, I absolute will beta someone if I miss either.&amp;nbsp; Followed up at 10 with Private Practice, so I can see Mr. Diggs smile.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Friday - Well until 9 there are re-runs and after those I watch Dateline NBC and 20/20 on ABC.&amp;nbsp; Aren't I a go getta.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Saturday there is no such thing as tv.&amp;nbsp; Now I have to wait for all of my TNT and USA shows to come back and then they get priority.&amp;nbsp; Leverage, Psych, Burn Notice, Royal Pains, White Collar, Southland, Covert Affairs and Falling Skies.&amp;nbsp; YEAH!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-5520153535001940237?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/5520153535001940237/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/fall-television-miss-or-bliss.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5520153535001940237?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/5520153535001940237?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/03BMnGAhpGQ/fall-television-miss-or-bliss.html" title="Fall Television:  Miss or Bliss" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SE2tJAh0JjQ/ToDAUyp5tKI/AAAAAAAAAfM/KwZMG5GHHC8/s72-c/tv.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/fall-television-miss-or-bliss.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcCQ3c4cCp7ImA9WhdVFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-8037078144602183595</id><published>2011-09-22T00:01:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T00:01:02.938-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-22T00:01:02.938-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="prince" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fall tv" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="x factor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="talent" /><title>X Factor Is Going To Work My Ever Loving Nerve</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H8vru_SF3R0/TnqHqjfaslI/AAAAAAAAAe8/pm3efW0dH7k/s1600/xfactor.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H8vru_SF3R0/TnqHqjfaslI/AAAAAAAAAe8/pm3efW0dH7k/s1600/xfactor.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I can tell I will not be watching this show very long.&amp;nbsp; I liked it when there was equal hate instead of all of this sugar coated stuff they are shoveling down our throats.&amp;nbsp; I missed Simon, but this is not Simon.&amp;nbsp; I don't like the age range and I don't like the judging.&amp;nbsp; Maybe once the actual voting part of the show begins it will get real.&amp;nbsp; No more tone deaf seniors, screaming teenagers, adorable youngsters that just can not sing&amp;nbsp;or folks getting naked to show how stupid they are.&amp;nbsp; I will finish watching tonight but if another person starts humping the stage, acting like Prince or Rick James I am going to throw the remote through the tv.&amp;nbsp; I need to be a judge because I would be absolutely brutal.&amp;nbsp; I would have no expression and just say yes or no, crushing dreams right and left.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The power I would wield.&amp;nbsp; I may even invent a trap door that would make people&amp;nbsp;disappear if they&amp;nbsp;were that horrible.&amp;nbsp; We shall see.&amp;nbsp; And by the way when did Mariah Carey do a Pepsi commerical?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What Did You Think About The Show?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-8037078144602183595?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/8037078144602183595/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/x-factor-is-going-to-work-my-ever.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/8037078144602183595?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/8037078144602183595?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/NotVRgPSCmU/x-factor-is-going-to-work-my-ever.html" title="X Factor Is Going To Work My Ever Loving Nerve" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H8vru_SF3R0/TnqHqjfaslI/AAAAAAAAAe8/pm3efW0dH7k/s72-c/xfactor.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/x-factor-is-going-to-work-my-ever.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcCRHkzcSp7ImA9WhdVFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-1066529565026561969</id><published>2011-09-20T20:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T20:47:45.789-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-20T20:47:45.789-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="naughty" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="drunk texting" /><title>Texting And Booze, A Naughty Combo</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LoLiTo0dqd4/TnkwGJa1osI/AAAAAAAAAeg/UWvtMiJgaHk/s1600/drunk.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LoLiTo0dqd4/TnkwGJa1osI/AAAAAAAAAeg/UWvtMiJgaHk/s1600/drunk.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
As summer comes to an end all the fun drunken late nights will slow.&amp;nbsp; Who am I kidding, no they won't.&amp;nbsp; I wish they would because I am getting mighty tired of my male friends drunk texting me their naughty thoughts.&amp;nbsp; I have hit the floor several times this summer (I have a bruise to prove it) from unsuspecting pictures and not very well thought out messages.&amp;nbsp; The messages are pretty much straight to the point and made a girl that is yellow turn red.&amp;nbsp; I always wait until they sober up and let them know exactly what they said.&amp;nbsp; Most laugh it off and say please ignore me even though they always ask would I consider their request.&amp;nbsp; Being propositioned by a drunk man by text is in no way what I call romantic.&amp;nbsp; "Next time I see you I want to...", really dude, it's 1am and I have a cold and for some reason your thumbs have decided to target me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Do guys really think that this is a form of foreplay?&amp;nbsp; Misspelled words and incoherent sentences in the middle of the night.&amp;nbsp; Let me swoon.&amp;nbsp; yes let me run towards the guy who no doubt is slumped over in a corner trying to remain awake.&amp;nbsp; One of these guys was at a party with a mutual friend.&amp;nbsp; I was texting her as well and I was dying laughing wanting to tell her what was being said as she saw him texting me.&amp;nbsp; Another night I swear I was being tag teamed because these fools&amp;nbsp;seemed&amp;nbsp;to text me in tandem.&amp;nbsp; I had to pull out my Cher from Clueless and say "as if"!&amp;nbsp; Now I am a lady I sending naughty texts during the light of day while I am sober.&amp;nbsp; I don't even call it foreplay.&amp;nbsp; I like to call it a friendly reminder.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Have You Ever Drank and Text?&amp;nbsp; Did You Regret What You Sent The Next Day?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-1066529565026561969?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/1066529565026561969/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/texting-and-booze-naughty-combo.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/1066529565026561969?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/1066529565026561969?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/62u8MnZZoTI/texting-and-booze-naughty-combo.html" title="Texting And Booze, A Naughty Combo" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LoLiTo0dqd4/TnkwGJa1osI/AAAAAAAAAeg/UWvtMiJgaHk/s72-c/drunk.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/texting-and-booze-naughty-combo.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8CQX86eCp7ImA9WhdVFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-7591820033199254733</id><published>2011-09-19T00:01:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T00:01:00.110-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-19T00:01:00.110-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="boys" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="teenagers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="braids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="t-shirts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sons" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="clothing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wardrobe" /><title>He's Come Into His Wardrobe</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTXzEqri9R9AQ5hEngyM7i0EXT5i_kQ1yl9Hl-kt1oazLtzKJHE" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTXzEqri9R9AQ5hEngyM7i0EXT5i_kQ1yl9Hl-kt1oazLtzKJHE" xaa="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Oh to live in the days of old when my son didn't care what he wore to school or anywhere for that matter.&amp;nbsp; Now that he is in school it is all about where his shirt came from, what shoes he is wearing, and how his hair is braided.&amp;nbsp; He has already told me that he wants to get them re-braided in a month.&amp;nbsp; I laughed, but I know what is in his mind.&amp;nbsp; As a kid you don't really have to work hard at what you look like.&amp;nbsp; You could blame it all on your parents, but as a teenager people pay more attention to how you present yourself.&amp;nbsp; So I guess it's my son's turn to fit in.&amp;nbsp; I remember those days.&amp;nbsp; I was lucky because I had 2 sisters that loved to take me school shopping before school and made sure that I always had a few new outfits and had my hair relaxed.&amp;nbsp; Then there was the fact that my best friend and I were the best at shopping in the clearance section.&amp;nbsp; She and I would clean up&amp;nbsp;for less than&amp;nbsp;$20 all the time at the mall.&amp;nbsp; Mixing and matching with what we had at home we'd make all sorts of outfits.&amp;nbsp; I have always been a t-shirt and jeans gal, so as long as I had a bunch of shirts I was always happy.&amp;nbsp; I guess it's the same with my&amp;nbsp;son.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Unfortunately $20 gets you maybe 2 shirts now, even from the clearance section.&amp;nbsp; I think I have bought him about&amp;nbsp;12 (all $10 or less)&amp;nbsp;new shirts for the school year and this kid wants more.&amp;nbsp;I had to tell him to pace himself because t-shirts are ever changing and he is growing.&amp;nbsp; Last thing I want to do is waste my money and get met with a growth spurt.&amp;nbsp; He also needs shorts, pants and another pair of tennis shoes.&amp;nbsp; This kid has a taste for clothing.&amp;nbsp; Money, money, money, money, mooooney!!!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Thank goodness I love shopping at the thrift store, he better start.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What Do You Do To Cut The Costs Of School Clothes?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-7591820033199254733?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/7591820033199254733/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/hes-come-into-his-wardrobe.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7591820033199254733?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7591820033199254733?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/6qwOGuZwTw4/hes-come-into-his-wardrobe.html" title="He's Come Into His Wardrobe" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/hes-come-into-his-wardrobe.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIFSXY-fyp7ImA9WhdVEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-8557897716293004854</id><published>2011-09-16T13:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T13:18:38.857-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-16T13:18:38.857-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="weekend" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love" /><title>Have A Sniffy Weekend</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D0Y0el6gzZQ/TnOEceCyd4I/AAAAAAAAAeY/ib8AjmfpQI8/s1600/sniffsniff.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rba="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D0Y0el6gzZQ/TnOEceCyd4I/AAAAAAAAAeY/ib8AjmfpQI8/s1600/sniffsniff.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-8557897716293004854?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/8557897716293004854/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/have-sniffy-weekend.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/8557897716293004854?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/8557897716293004854?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/W-7xVcDESSI/have-sniffy-weekend.html" title="Have A Sniffy Weekend" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D0Y0el6gzZQ/TnOEceCyd4I/AAAAAAAAAeY/ib8AjmfpQI8/s72-c/sniffsniff.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/have-sniffy-weekend.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYASHwzcCp7ImA9WhdVEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-9131953785674655028</id><published>2011-09-15T07:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T07:29:09.288-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-15T07:29:09.288-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="f-bomb" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="curse" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="words" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Laura Bush" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nasty" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cuss" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="swear" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="azz" /><title>Nasty vs. Curse Words And My Mother</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XK0UkuKoFww/TnDxlI4JqqI/AAAAAAAAAeU/AqPATTkG3x8/s1600/curse.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XK0UkuKoFww/TnDxlI4JqqI/AAAAAAAAAeU/AqPATTkG3x8/s1600/curse.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I had a truly annoying conversation with my mother the other day.&amp;nbsp; It started out with me talking about how I would pay to hear Laura Bush drop the f-bomb.&amp;nbsp; From there my mother started talking about the women at her workplace, saying that she curses.&amp;nbsp; My mother said that &lt;a href="mailto:s*@t"&gt;s*@t&lt;/a&gt; was not a curse word, that it was just a nasty word.&amp;nbsp; Nasty word?&amp;nbsp; So I said to her, "you wouldn't have a problem with the boys saying it"?&amp;nbsp; Of course she said yes because it is a nasty word.&amp;nbsp; I asked what the difference between a nasty and curse word.&amp;nbsp; She couldn't come up with one clear statement.&amp;nbsp; She has always believed that the words, &lt;a href="mailto:s*@t"&gt;s*@t&lt;/a&gt;, hell, azz&amp;nbsp;and damn are not&amp;nbsp;curse words.&amp;nbsp; The f-bomb and using&amp;nbsp;God's name in vain are the only ones my mother finds taboo.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hear these words on the daily from my mother's mouth and I still can't bring myself to say them in front of her and I am a grown ass woman.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I'll just continue saying s-word, a-word and d-word, till she starts to lose her hearing,&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Is There Any Difference Between Nasty Vs. Curse Words For You?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-9131953785674655028?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/9131953785674655028/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/nasty-vs-curse-words-and-my-mother.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/9131953785674655028?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/9131953785674655028?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/Nl2zG7D4AVE/nasty-vs-curse-words-and-my-mother.html" title="Nasty vs. Curse Words And My Mother" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XK0UkuKoFww/TnDxlI4JqqI/AAAAAAAAAeU/AqPATTkG3x8/s72-c/curse.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/nasty-vs-curse-words-and-my-mother.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUENSHc6eCp7ImA9WhdVEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-8049749149761979180</id><published>2011-09-14T14:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T14:08:19.910-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-14T14:08:19.910-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="grandfather" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="flirting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="old men" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="father" /><title>Hey Pretty Girl</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4rnRHEgBtpI/TnDseMDoD2I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/hp3OkJYwsuc/s1600/old+men.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rba="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4rnRHEgBtpI/TnDseMDoD2I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/hp3OkJYwsuc/s1600/old+men.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
While I can appreciate any compliment received, I get annoyed with men that are old enough to be my grandfather chase tail.&amp;nbsp; Really come on, are you really getting upset that I am not acknowedging your advances?&amp;nbsp; I suppose that there are some ladies that enjoy this but I'z not one of them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can't imagine smiling or grinning at someone that could be mistakened for my father or grandfather.&amp;nbsp; So today when&amp;nbsp;I was at the grocery store being called out, I ignored it.&amp;nbsp; I kept shopping pretending that I didn't hear them and that I was looking for something.&amp;nbsp; Finally the guy said, "I guess it's like that".&amp;nbsp; When I turned around there were two 60+ year old gentlemen smiling.&amp;nbsp; One smiled and said hello.&amp;nbsp; I said hello and kept it moving.&amp;nbsp; I don't need any frisky loder men in my life.&amp;nbsp; Ehhh, all I can think of is wrinkles.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"How Do You Feel About Older People Dating Much Younger People?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-8049749149761979180?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/8049749149761979180/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/hey-pretty-girl.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/8049749149761979180?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/8049749149761979180?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/Lk-SQ76wU1E/hey-pretty-girl.html" title="Hey Pretty Girl" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4rnRHEgBtpI/TnDseMDoD2I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/hp3OkJYwsuc/s72-c/old+men.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/hey-pretty-girl.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcFSX4_eyp7ImA9WhdWGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4266728268287222588.post-7736041511046347932</id><published>2011-09-13T21:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T21:33:38.043-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-13T21:33:38.043-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="crazy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="power" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="supernatural" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="superstition" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="geechee" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="devil" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="talking" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gullah" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="evil" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="witchcraft" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mother" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dark chocolate" /><title>Mom And The Ouija Board</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NLRniRH_2X0/TnADkK3Z5BI/AAAAAAAAAeM/P3dKV2NWqYc/s1600/ouija.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NLRniRH_2X0/TnADkK3Z5BI/AAAAAAAAAeM/P3dKV2NWqYc/s1600/ouija.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Today was my mother's off day, so we spent the morning chit chatting over coffee as we normally do.&amp;nbsp; Somehow we got off topic and started talking about Geechee and Gullah (it's a South Caroline thing).&amp;nbsp; Then that convo moved into witchcraft, superstitions and voodoo.&amp;nbsp; My mother a firm believer in superstitions kept saying that voodoo and witchcraft are in no way similar to it.&amp;nbsp; I had to pull out the dictionary and start reading her definitions, which of course she said were incorrect.&amp;nbsp; I told her that how could she say this.&amp;nbsp; This woman&amp;nbsp;won't get into a car with peanuts because she believes the wield some type of power over the car.&amp;nbsp; I mean if I step on a crack do I really run the rick of breaking my mother's back?&amp;nbsp; Why can't I split the pole?&amp;nbsp; She believes in all of these silly notions.&amp;nbsp; Throw in a voodoo dolls or curse an apple, then she is non believing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Then I reminded her that we once owned a Ouija Board and that my nephew and I played with.&amp;nbsp; Now we were kids, unknowing of the evil perils we were toying with.&amp;nbsp; That is until the moment my mother snatched from us and quickly put it into the garbage.&amp;nbsp; I remember her telling me it was evil.&amp;nbsp; Since that day I have only played with the board once, at a birthday party.&amp;nbsp; My friend pushed it around trying to scare everyone, since I didn't believe in it, it had no power over me.&amp;nbsp; Hmm does that mean my mother gave it power when she took it away telling us that it was evil?&amp;nbsp; I mean if she doesn't believe in it, what harm could have come to 2 kids acting silly with it?&amp;nbsp; I better watch out before my mother decides to try to burn me at the stake.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Peace, Love and Chocolate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/159/5EC1831904220E234EA3E88AD6F7F58A.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4266728268287222588-7736041511046347932?l=www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/feeds/7736041511046347932/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/mom-and-ouija-board.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7736041511046347932?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4266728268287222588/posts/default/7736041511046347932?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/liferequiresmorechocolates/zLbJ/~3/bpvTnoQyqKo/mom-and-ouija-board.html" title="Mom And The Ouija Board" /><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00095653554788017373</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-n7mzq3Xbbo/TU4BkwMMnNI/AAAAAAAAAYY/tAod2SPqkhU/s220/hair.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NLRniRH_2X0/TnADkK3Z5BI/AAAAAAAAAeM/P3dKV2NWqYc/s72-c/ouija.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.liferequiresmorechocolates.com/2011/09/mom-and-ouija-board.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

