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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Fri, 13 Nov 2009 06:36:57 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Secret Society of List Addicts</title><description /><link>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Bridey)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>197</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/listaddicts" type="application/rss+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-4894021908854151719</guid><pubDate>Thu, 12 Nov 2009 08:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-12T05:28:05.463-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">childhood</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">secrets</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">people</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">family</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">animals</category><title>Completely Ridiculous Reasons I'll Bawl Like a Baby</title><description>Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com/"&gt;The Naked Redhead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SvuGyunPJgI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/cMHHC_7aU5A/s1600-h/crying+boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SvuGyunPJgI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/cMHHC_7aU5A/s320/crying+boy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/ba22835e46f329275d6ae43bf8607086/"&gt;photo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I'm not a crier.&amp;nbsp; Period.&amp;nbsp; I've actually had friends look shocked when I've cried, and have even had one friend go so far as to ask, "Um, can I hug you?"&amp;nbsp; But there are a few reasons that I will immediately cry...no BAWL...like a baby.&amp;nbsp; Here they are, in no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;1.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;Any animal related tragedy&lt;/b&gt;--My mom often tells the story of one Saturday morning when I was about ten and I came rushing downstairs SOBBING.&amp;nbsp; After her initial incorrect guess that one of my brothers had popped me one (not an unusual occurrence, really), she finally dragged out that I had just completed my first viewing of &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0072402/"&gt;Where the Red Fern Grows&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; To this day, I can't watch 3/4 of the shows on Animal Planet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;2.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;Any unexpected kindness or goodness in a person (real or fictional)&lt;/b&gt;--Usually if I'm watching a movie and a questionable character suddenly reveals pure motives (anyone catch &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/glee/"&gt;Glee&lt;/a&gt; last night?) I'm DONE.&amp;nbsp; Oh, and don't even get me started on if someone whom I don't really care for or know gives me a hug when I'm angry or upset.&amp;nbsp; DONE.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;3.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;Unsolicited kindness--&lt;/b&gt;A few years ago, I was going through an extremely difficult time in my life.&amp;nbsp; Without prodding, one of my friends looked at me for a moment and then out of nowhere said, "You're a good person, you know that?"&amp;nbsp; Sheesh!&amp;nbsp; I'm getting all teary even thinking about it.&amp;nbsp; (BTW, if you're thinking something nice about someone, SAY IT.&amp;nbsp; You never know how much your words can mean to someone in that moment.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;4.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;Any time one of my friends is broken and hurting&lt;/b&gt;--I'm usually the "strong" (read:&amp;nbsp; "practical", "levelheaded", or "bitchy")&amp;nbsp;one in my friendships, but I can't handle it when one of my favorite people bawls in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;5.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;Getting so angry I could break something&lt;/b&gt;--Every once in awhile, I'll get so mad, the tears flow like a river.&amp;nbsp; And then I get more mad because I'm crying.&amp;nbsp; Gah!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;What gets your waterworks going?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-4894021908854151719?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Uma2VTyDLd07eioqwbMoQEvtlQI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Uma2VTyDLd07eioqwbMoQEvtlQI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Uma2VTyDLd07eioqwbMoQEvtlQI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Uma2VTyDLd07eioqwbMoQEvtlQI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/13_6YRZlJH8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/13_6YRZlJH8/completely-ridiculous-reasons-ill-bawl.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SvuGyunPJgI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/cMHHC_7aU5A/s72-c/crying+boy.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/11/completely-ridiculous-reasons-ill-bawl.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-5268514187247575031</guid><pubDate>Tue, 10 Nov 2009 12:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-10T04:31:13.253-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>Weird Things Strangers Say To Me</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://hello-tiger.blogspot.com/2009/07/lampa-i-form-av-pratbubbla.html"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400027867854449458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/SvDAvDisqzI/AAAAAAAACK0/X4b_adV-8C4/s400/speech.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the fact that I'm nearly &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/2009/06/problem-with-pleasant.html"&gt;pathologically pleasant&lt;/a&gt;, I am very much one of those people who tries not to engage in conversation with strangers. I'm the girl on the bus, listening to her podcasts and avoiding eye contact with you. I'm the girl in the check out line, burying her head in the latest &lt;em&gt;Lucky&lt;/em&gt;. This neurosis is based largely on the fact that when I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; interact with strangers, I usually hear one of the following things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. "Is that your natural hair color?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it is. But wouldn't you be a bit embarrased if I told you it wasn't? And you best not be asking me if the carpet matches the drapes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. "Can I have some change for the bus?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I work in a dicey neighborhood, and the door to our building is literally four feet from the bus stop. Drunk dude, I am not giving you 80 cents. I didn't give you 80 cents yesterday, my answer remains the same today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. "What's your ethnic background?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I'm always a bit mystified by this as I'm pretty sure I look exactly like every other Scandinavian Minnesotan ever. Maybe it's the reddish hair? Or my compulsive scarf wearing? Or the fact that my ambient expression is that of &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/29253899@N00/3039596020/"&gt;a sulky Russian&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. "Girl, you got booooty!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Awesome. And here I'd forgotten. Thank you for bringing that to my attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. "Smile!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, ambient expression of a sulky Russian. Also? Strangers telling me to smile, shocking enough, makes me grouchy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What strange things do strangers say to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/"&gt;Sarah Von&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-5268514187247575031?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mROIMQ8S0T-iw2KgdGkdEAptu9M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mROIMQ8S0T-iw2KgdGkdEAptu9M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/nHS2lfZYC28" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/nHS2lfZYC28/weird-things-strangers-say-to-me.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah Von)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/SvDAvDisqzI/AAAAAAAACK0/X4b_adV-8C4/s72-c/speech.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">14</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/11/weird-things-strangers-say-to-me.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-8416618052401621856</guid><pubDate>Mon, 09 Nov 2009 14:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-09T07:35:27.962-08:00</atom:updated><title>5 Lists I Need to Write This Week</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/226201274/"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402058521006237106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/Svf3moBy5bI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ReKK1p1CyIQ/s320/226201274_6cd75d456b.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Lists are currently helping me run my life more than ever, as my new phone (Palm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pre&lt;/span&gt;) has a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;list making&lt;/span&gt; programme themed to look like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Moleskine&lt;/span&gt; and it's totally brilliant! As such, here are five lists I'm going to require this week:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Expenses for the next couple of months&lt;/strong&gt; - November and December are a pretty pricey time of year, and I need to make sure I set enough cash aside for the important things!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Things to pack&lt;/strong&gt; - I'm going to be away for a couple of nights from Friday, and I always forget something important if I don't have a checklist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A revised Xmas-buying list&lt;/strong&gt; - So I can check off who I've already bought presents for and ensure that I don't leave anyone out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Lun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ch supplies&lt;/strong&gt; - I've been taking my own food from home instead of buying lunch at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;work and&lt;/span&gt; it's saved me a lot of money, but I'm running low on supplies now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Blog posts to write -&lt;/strong&gt; I'm trying to schedule a few and get ahead of myself for once!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;What lists are you writing this week? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-8416618052401621856?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KJ_nEK00jqsIBJyoxewn5wr7XiM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KJ_nEK00jqsIBJyoxewn5wr7XiM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/GT0djBA7_e0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/GT0djBA7_e0/5-lists-i-need-to-write-this-week.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Vixel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/Svf3moBy5bI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ReKK1p1CyIQ/s72-c/226201274_6cd75d456b.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/11/5-lists-i-need-to-write-this-week.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-6871283031698775133</guid><pubDate>Thu, 05 Nov 2009 14:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-05T06:21:00.984-08:00</atom:updated><title>Things I Hated as a Kid that I Love Now</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com/"&gt;The Naked Redhead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SvLeXMfcNHI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Wda_f-0TNTs/s1600-h/pout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SvLeXMfcNHI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Wda_f-0TNTs/s320/pout.jpg" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/b6ad184e1a84177f15fd784954c787ac/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;photo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I think it's funny how passionate kids can be about their likes and dislikes.&amp;nbsp; If you had told me at five that one day I would grow up to love dresses, I might have punched you in the nose.&amp;nbsp; Here's a few things I would have bet my Binky I'd never grow to love:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Tights&lt;/strong&gt;--Ugh, as a kid, I hated how TIGHT tights were, or when I'd hit a growth spurt, and the crotch of the tights would stretch like a spring board at about mid thigh and make me feel like I needed to walk funny.&amp;nbsp; I hated that they were hot and made my feet sweaty.&amp;nbsp; Now, however, I'm kind of the "tights girl" at work.&amp;nbsp; Love 'em.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Vegetables&lt;/strong&gt;--Being a child born to parents who often would say things like, "If you don't eat it for dinner, you'll eat it for breakfast," you might understand my childhood aversion to vegetables.&amp;nbsp; Seriously, cold Brussels Sprouts at 7 am before school will scar a kid for life.&amp;nbsp; Now that I'm a little older and wiser, I've grown to love my greens...and love the healthy payoff.&amp;nbsp; I still do not, however, eat Brussels Sprouts.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
3.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Nap Time&lt;/strong&gt;--"But I'm not tiiirrreeed!" I'd say every day, secretly suspecting that my mother only wanted us to sleep so she could have some peace and quiet.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;BUT, do I even need to explain this hate-to-love transition?&amp;nbsp; Mmmmm...naps.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
4.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Having My Hair Washed&lt;/strong&gt;--Look, I have a LOT of hair.&amp;nbsp; So,&amp;nbsp;for a kid who often ran in the woods like a heathen, having my mane washed and brushed out was a pain...literally.&amp;nbsp; Since I've become an adult, though, I may or may not have developed a fantasy that involves having my hair washed by one man and another man doing...well, get your own fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
5.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Antique Shopping&lt;/strong&gt;--I used to hate--HATE--when my mom would drag me into antique stores with her.&amp;nbsp; It was SO BORING.&amp;nbsp; Though I don't go out of my way to visit antique shops now, there is something thrilling about walking into a place full of "one man's junk" and finding a treasure.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;What did you hate as a kid that you love now?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-6871283031698775133?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u1e6GcQMDZBcFDzFY5dLjt8Zyqk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u1e6GcQMDZBcFDzFY5dLjt8Zyqk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/ZFLviGPV5qs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/ZFLviGPV5qs/things-i-hated-as-kid-that-i-love-now.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SvLeXMfcNHI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Wda_f-0TNTs/s72-c/pout.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/11/things-i-hated-as-kid-that-i-love-now.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-1041150982890960971</guid><pubDate>Wed, 04 Nov 2009 22:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-04T14:46:29.836-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">favorites</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">food</category><title>My Current Food Obsessions</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x7-PMef3mnY/SvID-2LgGGI/AAAAAAAABSY/fstEEoQqeG0/s1600-h/Nom+Nom+Nom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x7-PMef3mnY/SvID-2LgGGI/AAAAAAAABSY/fstEEoQqeG0/s320/Nom+Nom+Nom.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/raceytay/3061995460/"&gt;Photo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
As long as I can remember I've always had passing obsessions with different types of food. Usually I end up eating my favourite food of the moment so frequently (and sometimes in such vast quantities) that I get sick of it, and vow never to eat it again. But these foods are all currently in the obsession stage:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pistachio nuts - I always manage to eat them all in one sitting, no matter how many I buy!&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Baby spinach &amp;amp; feta dip - tastes best with water crackers &amp;amp; a glass of white wine&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Cheese fondue - I just bought a fondue set the other day, which in hind sight may have been a bit dangerous...&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Onion dip - made with reduced cream and onion soup mix of course (it's a&amp;nbsp;New Zealand&amp;nbsp;thing)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Peas in the pod - every summer I eat my weight in fresh peas from the garden,&amp;nbsp;but by the next summer my craving always returns&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;What are your favourite foods at the minute? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.lifeofbridey.com/"&gt;Bridey&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-1041150982890960971?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IPC21Tht6jmsSkZPXmsnGy-1LwY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IPC21Tht6jmsSkZPXmsnGy-1LwY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IPC21Tht6jmsSkZPXmsnGy-1LwY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IPC21Tht6jmsSkZPXmsnGy-1LwY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/c2-UnRlVN9c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/c2-UnRlVN9c/my-current-food-obsessions.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bridey)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x7-PMef3mnY/SvID-2LgGGI/AAAAAAAABSY/fstEEoQqeG0/s72-c/Nom+Nom+Nom.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-current-food-obsessions.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-8018738280571369068</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Nov 2009 12:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-03T05:32:51.522-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>Aspects of Modern Life I Want No Part Of</title><description>&lt;a href="http://ibetyoulookgoodonthedancefloor.tumblr.com/page/23"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399594155443105762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/Su82Rq52L-I/AAAAAAAACJE/ZOsuKmxnk2k/s400/angry.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm not a total scrooge. Or a complete party-pooper or nay-sayer. I promise! But there are many aspects of modern life that illicit eye-rolls, dramatic sighs and lots of "I'm sorry, I have a previous commitment." A few?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wedding Parties&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Now, I don't mean to say I won't be &lt;em&gt;your&lt;/em&gt; bridesmaid. What I mean is that, should I ever walk down the aisle, I have little-to-no interest in forcing my best girlfriends into peach-colored dresses and those dyed-to-match shoes. I'm also nigh-on positive they have little interest in peach-colored dresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Baby/Bridal showers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I don't want to open boxes of lingerie in front of my aunts and act scandalized. I don't want to play games involving diapers and baby bottles. I have no interest in eating cookies baked into the shape of a tiny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bootie&lt;/span&gt;. Again, I will happily attend &lt;em&gt;your&lt;/em&gt; shower, but if you attempt to throw me one? You will quickly be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;friended&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lawn-mowing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I grew up in a house surrounded by an acre of uninterrupted grass, edged by pine trees that required bi-weekly edging. At the tender age of 14, I remember calculating the amount of time my parents spent maintaining this yard (something like 63 hours per week) and deciding that lawn care? Not for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Baking 15 different types of Christmas cookies&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a cheese girl. A salty and savory type. So it's not really a surprise that I don't go in for excessive cookie baking. One batch of rolled sugar cookies? Yes. A million different types of cookies? So I can get fat and spend all my free time mixing batter? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Secret Santa Gift Exchanges&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I love my colleagues. Really! But I don't particularly want to spend $5 a day giving them crappy, tiny trinkets that they probably don't want and will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;re-gift&lt;/span&gt; next year. How's about we just close the office early one day and all go out to eat somewhere nice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enrolling my (imaginary) children in a million different types of lessons&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;If I have kiddos and they are particularly bent on dance/French/table tennis lessons, then by all means! Yes! Let's do it! But I don't think I could ever be that mom who spends her afternoons shuttling her children from one practice to the next while the kids quietly hate me for keeping them from their tree fort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What parts of modern life receive a hearty "No Thanks!" from you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/"&gt;Sarah Von&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-8018738280571369068?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7vEhUWOoGq_e3-bwSZT0rJPnOac/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7vEhUWOoGq_e3-bwSZT0rJPnOac/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7vEhUWOoGq_e3-bwSZT0rJPnOac/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7vEhUWOoGq_e3-bwSZT0rJPnOac/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/rqe172-XjlU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/rqe172-XjlU/aspects-of-modern-life-i-want-no-part.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah Von)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/Su82Rq52L-I/AAAAAAAACJE/ZOsuKmxnk2k/s72-c/angry.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">13</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/11/aspects-of-modern-life-i-want-no-part.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-812038878640793299</guid><pubDate>Mon, 02 Nov 2009 14:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-02T06:00:19.830-08:00</atom:updated><title>Simple Pleasures</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/Su62m2qQSII/AAAAAAAAAFM/PWGemuVAB7Q/s1600-h/mosaic460c36843246739d71588ca8e88ee1393bf0add9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399453781887830146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/Su62m2qQSII/AAAAAAAAAFM/PWGemuVAB7Q/s320/mosaic460c36843246739d71588ca8e88ee1393bf0add9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jonk/43938899/"&gt;1&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/giuliag/3919867351/"&gt;2&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/kwerfeldein/3113560008/"&gt;3&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eclecticlibrarian/386743707/"&gt;4&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;This list is about the little things that make life wonderful!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That Clean Feeling&lt;/strong&gt; - Having clean, soft hair, getting into fresh clean sheets, the sense of calm that comes from a clean, tidy house, it's a wonderful thing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Healthy Eating&lt;/strong&gt; - In particular that sense of wellbeing that comes from eating something really good for you, yet delicious at the same time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sleep&lt;/strong&gt; - Getting more than usual. An afternoon nap before a big night out, or a luxurious weekend lie-in!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Books&lt;/strong&gt; - Especially trashy reads with very little intellectual value - the perfect Sunday afternoon entertainment!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Creating a Song and Dance&lt;/strong&gt; - If I'm on my own, I love to sing at the top of my lungs and dance around, it's such a boost!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;What are your favourite simple pleasures?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-812038878640793299?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kCM4uCmSxOWp1YaWxn9cfB1Utgw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kCM4uCmSxOWp1YaWxn9cfB1Utgw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kCM4uCmSxOWp1YaWxn9cfB1Utgw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kCM4uCmSxOWp1YaWxn9cfB1Utgw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/J85RjI6lmwY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/J85RjI6lmwY/simple-pleasures.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Vixel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/Su62m2qQSII/AAAAAAAAAFM/PWGemuVAB7Q/s72-c/mosaic460c36843246739d71588ca8e88ee1393bf0add9.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/11/simple-pleasures.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-3943661129636911447</guid><pubDate>Thu, 29 Oct 2009 07:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-29T00:01:01.208-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">work</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">animals</category><title>Reasons I Can't Write a List Post Tonight</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com/"&gt;The Naked Redhead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/Sujqg9mXUDI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Euu84V1waKU/s1600-h/procrastination.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/Sujqg9mXUDI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Euu84V1waKU/s320/procrastination.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/75f67090b5891004851626aad0c33191/"&gt;photo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
There's writer's block...and then there's just plain procrastination.&amp;nbsp; I think I might have a bit of both.&amp;nbsp; Here are all the reasons I've invented this evening to not write this post.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;America's Next Top Model for Short People&lt;/b&gt;--OK, sorry Tyra, the season is a little boring this round. I, however, still root for the little shorties to do just as well as their tall counterparts.&amp;nbsp; Also, it's just enough of a good excuse to not be responsible.&amp;nbsp; I mean, WHO WILL REALLY BE ON TOP!?!?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;Feeding my animals marshmallows&lt;/b&gt;--It's probably not the healthiest, but my Fur Kids have developed quite the hankering for mini-marshmallows.&amp;nbsp; I giggle every time they line up, on their best behavior, and wait for me to drop a tasty morsel.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
3.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;Reading other blogs&lt;/b&gt;--Why write when I can read?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
4.&amp;nbsp; &lt;b&gt;Thinking about Halloween costumes&lt;/b&gt;--I have a gig on Saturday with my friend's band.&amp;nbsp; We're all dressing as zombies, 60's style!&amp;nbsp; So, all the girls are wearing black bob wigs.&amp;nbsp; The problem is, I also have a few parties to attend on Friday, too.&amp;nbsp; SO WHAT TO DO WITH THE BLACK WIG ON FRIDAY!??!&amp;nbsp; I've come up with Silver Screen goddess, Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction and...whatever ideas you all have.&amp;nbsp; :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
5.&amp;nbsp; P&lt;b&gt;racticing my Toastmaster's speech&lt;/b&gt;...which I'm procrastinating on by writing this post.&amp;nbsp; It seems I have a problem...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;How do you procrastinate?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-3943661129636911447?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XB_I_pwT5HFahTVt5wJewJSjbR8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XB_I_pwT5HFahTVt5wJewJSjbR8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XB_I_pwT5HFahTVt5wJewJSjbR8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XB_I_pwT5HFahTVt5wJewJSjbR8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/ocxTelwKMTI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/ocxTelwKMTI/reasons-i-cant-write-list-post-tonight.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/Sujqg9mXUDI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Euu84V1waKU/s72-c/procrastination.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/reasons-i-cant-write-list-post-tonight.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-6267752874418527689</guid><pubDate>Tue, 27 Oct 2009 11:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-27T05:50:15.944-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">age</category><title>Things I Love That Are Not Age Appropriate</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://gallery.me.com/chrisrentze"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396999110076896194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/SuX-GJk7k8I/AAAAAAAACIQ/qEAGdZ0-qTY/s400/grandma.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have a few things we love that are a bit out of our age bracket, right? (I'm looking at you, My Little Ponies). But oddly, my weaknesses tend a bit more towards the octogenarian set. Examples?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53vhx6cPVfY&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=807C0B196C1CB19A&amp;amp;playnext=1&amp;amp;playnext_from=PL&amp;amp;index=45"&gt;The Lawrence Welk Show&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;What? Yes. I'm not even being an ironic hipster here. I genuinely love this slice of Americana. Those outfits! The dancing! The group singing! I love Welk's thick Midwestern accent. I love the bubbles at the beginning of the show. I love it when the cameras pan the audience who are dressed exclusively in polyester pants suits. It's all so sweet and wholesome and, I think, genuinely entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Beets&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And not just because they turn your pee pink! I love a nice &lt;a href="http://www.kcbs.com/pages/5214053.php?"&gt;beet pesto &lt;/a&gt;or a salad of beets and goat cheese. Root vegetables - not just for your grandma!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cabbage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I love to slice it up and saute it with a bit of olive oil and heaps of garlic. And yes, I'm sure my neighbors love it when I cook this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bingo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Again, totally not being a hipster here. I have been known to suggest the bingo halls of rural Minnesota as a first date locale and then force my date to mingle with the blue hairs while we search for B7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aprons&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I am quietly amassing quite the collection which I shamelessly attempt to match to the outfit I'm wearing. They're useful &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What are your age-inappropriate loves?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/"&gt;Sarah Von&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-6267752874418527689?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AgZOK5y6rQToeyfw4ghitlJePNY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AgZOK5y6rQToeyfw4ghitlJePNY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/eyR5LqN-yco" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/eyR5LqN-yco/things-i-love-that-are-not-age.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah Von)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/SuX-GJk7k8I/AAAAAAAACIQ/qEAGdZ0-qTY/s72-c/grandma.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">16</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/things-i-love-that-are-not-age.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-5375427699282083679</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 Oct 2009 13:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-26T11:38:08.730-07:00</atom:updated><title>Ways in Which I Fail as a Woman! *</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/david_han/1075395932/"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396837859803859026" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/SuVrcJf9CFI/AAAAAAAAAFE/HbVTsHzzXo4/s320/1075395932_f1809f1f3e.jpg" /&gt;Photo Credit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;* Disclaimer: Tongue firmly in cheek, I do not actually believe any of these things make me or anyone else a failure!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Nowadays, I consider myself as relatively "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;girly&lt;/span&gt;" (it wasn't always the case), however whenever anyone posts one of those lists starting with something like "things every woman should..." there are always plenty of things on the list that just don't seem to apply to me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I can't walk in heels - I'm 25 years old and I don't own a single non-chunky or over 3 inch pair of heeled shoes, and every time I so much as try some on I seem to manage to injure myself in some way!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I shred tights and stockings on the first wear - usually through having long, sharp toe-nails, which probably deserves a list entry in itself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;As a kid, I preferred Transformers to Barbie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I shamelessly go to work with wet hair all the time, because I'm totally lazy in the mornings! I also let my roots show for far too long.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I don't read fashion magazines very often, but I read &lt;em&gt;Wired&lt;/em&gt; every month!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I'm rather partial to a pint of real ale.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;... to name but a few!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;How about you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-5375427699282083679?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QMmSCNzZj0GSW5m-wzbXkL3swZc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QMmSCNzZj0GSW5m-wzbXkL3swZc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QMmSCNzZj0GSW5m-wzbXkL3swZc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QMmSCNzZj0GSW5m-wzbXkL3swZc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/AVRzmX-Mhzs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/AVRzmX-Mhzs/ways-in-which-i-fail-as-woman.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Vixel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/SuVrcJf9CFI/AAAAAAAAAFE/HbVTsHzzXo4/s72-c/1075395932_f1809f1f3e.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/ways-in-which-i-fail-as-woman.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-6455948090848873959</guid><pubDate>Fri, 23 Oct 2009 13:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-23T06:00:06.831-07:00</atom:updated><title>Rock Ballad Love Songs Best Listened to on Cassette Tape</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ii1wTFSqyX4/SuEGbS1mrgI/AAAAAAAAAjA/SxkqXPv7F-w/s1600-h/heaven.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ii1wTFSqyX4/SuEGbS1mrgI/AAAAAAAAAjA/SxkqXPv7F-w/s320/heaven.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395600894549470722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;* &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;So, we've all got a pile of songs in our brains that have become inexplicably associated to a very specific time and place, like &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p61Q_DOwtps"&gt;&lt;b&gt;that Firehouse song&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt; from 7&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade&lt;/b&gt; that transports you back to the cafeteria-cum-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dance floor&lt;/span&gt; and the adolescent love/hate dalliance that set your pants a blaze.  Hormones, Firehouse and 7&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade dances. Oh, my.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;* There's also &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujnH4yNqL8E"&gt;&lt;b&gt;that cheesy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Whitesnake&lt;/span&gt; song&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;,&lt;/b&gt; whenever I hear it, I'm 8 and riding the school bus. Ears are covered with those foamy headphones and that song is blaring on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;walkman&lt;/span&gt;. The cassette tape is one I took from my uncle who was 17 and lived with us at the time. I can smell the gravel road and the plastic bus seat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;* &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Guys, remember Warrant? Remember &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoibfSWyNMc"&gt;&lt;b&gt;the song "Heaven?"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;Whenever I hear this, I remember long summer days at the lake with the kids of my parent's friends, who are still my friends now. We got to  drink generic sodas, get a suntan and wear wet swimsuits all day. Now we drink cheap beer, but we wear sunscreen and remain dry. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* &lt;b&gt;What about &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65t2vbVgRI8"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Big's&lt;/span&gt; epic "To Be With You"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;...come on, you want to sing along! &lt;/b&gt;We didn't have cable or MTV, but my friend did, and I saw the video and almost died at a very young age. Just crank it. So silly, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;sooo&lt;/span&gt; good. It's okay if you watch the video twice, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;secret's&lt;/span&gt; safe here.  I've linked the karaoke version just for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*&lt;b&gt; Finally, &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMk-uDuWn6M"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;REO&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Speedwagon's&lt;/span&gt; "Keep on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Lovin&lt;/span&gt;' You"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt; is so out of control&lt;/b&gt;, you can't even stand it. The slow build, the pianos and guitar solo; dudes, the heartbreaking story of lost love. I'm pretty sure this song was on the radio the first time I drove my mom's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Thunderbird&lt;/span&gt; on the back roads into the sunset. A summer driving lesson. These days I'm really partial to a version by &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFVr5AYe0jo"&gt;Evan &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Dando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;So, those are some of my guilty cassette tape-era guilty pleasures. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;What're&lt;/span&gt; yours?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-6455948090848873959?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MKZAjZ2u_hbqo5wlE2A5Is2m05c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MKZAjZ2u_hbqo5wlE2A5Is2m05c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MKZAjZ2u_hbqo5wlE2A5Is2m05c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/MKZAjZ2u_hbqo5wlE2A5Is2m05c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/uffYGddkkOE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/uffYGddkkOE/rock-ballad-love-songs-best-listened-to.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Darcie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ii1wTFSqyX4/SuEGbS1mrgI/AAAAAAAAAjA/SxkqXPv7F-w/s72-c/heaven.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/rock-ballad-love-songs-best-listened-to.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-7798449314269023893</guid><pubDate>Thu, 22 Oct 2009 13:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-22T06:43:04.974-07:00</atom:updated><title>How to Clean Your Home...FAST</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com/"&gt;The Naked Redhead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SuBfDxRjaAI/AAAAAAAAAJA/LbqqN660j4w/s1600-h/cleaning+boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SuBfDxRjaAI/AAAAAAAAAJA/LbqqN660j4w/s320/cleaning+boat.jpg" vr="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/c41010aafa1a409442ef2563fe19984c/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;photo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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As you know, I love a clean home.&amp;nbsp; But like anyone else, there are times when cleanliness falls by the wayside.&amp;nbsp; Of course, right at that moment, I always&amp;nbsp;have a friend call and say, "Hey!&amp;nbsp; I'm just up the road and wanted to pop in and say hi!"&amp;nbsp; Excellent.&amp;nbsp; At this point, I begin running around like a crazy person, trying to throw things in order.&amp;nbsp; Here are some rules I live by to get a clean home, fast.&lt;br /&gt;
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1.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Touch it once&lt;/strong&gt;--I learned my cleaning skills from my very practical mother who had several mantras, one of which was, "touch it once!"&amp;nbsp; What she meant was, "be efficient."&amp;nbsp; Don't pick up a pair of shoes and get distracted by a dog toy.&amp;nbsp; Don't do half the dishes then move to that pile of&amp;nbsp;laundry.&amp;nbsp; Multi-tasking when you're cleaning just gives you a messier home.&amp;nbsp; If you touch something that needs putting away, put it away immediately.&lt;br /&gt;
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2.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Make a mental list of "musts"--&lt;/strong&gt;What&amp;nbsp;are absolutely the most important things that need to be done?&amp;nbsp; Do you need to scoop the litter pan?&amp;nbsp; Put shoes away?&amp;nbsp; Pick up dog toys?&amp;nbsp; These "musts" should be small, but should also be things that you know you'd be embarrassed to leave undone.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
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3.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Lipstick a pig (aka "Fake It")--&lt;/strong&gt;This tip is my favorite and it's one I use ALL the time.&amp;nbsp; A quick pick-up and wiping down&amp;nbsp;of fixtures in the kitchen (no water spots!) can make it look like you just cleaned yesterday, but that you simply haven't gotten to the dishes yet.&amp;nbsp; Or, a made bed can make any&amp;nbsp;messy bedroom look ten times more put together.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
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4.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;If all else fails, clean the bathroom--&lt;/strong&gt;If you only have a few minutes, forget everything else and hit this room.&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.clorox.com/products/overview.php?prod_id=cdw_decor"&gt;Clorox makes pretty boxes&lt;/a&gt; for their wipes now, so keep&amp;nbsp;them out on your counter&amp;nbsp;and quickly swipe down surfaces.&amp;nbsp; Throw wet towels and dirty clothes&amp;nbsp;in a hamper, close the shower curtain, do a fast sweep or vacuum of the floor, put out a fresh hand towel, light a candle, and voila, everyone will THINK you're clean, regardless of the state of the rest of your home.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
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5.&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt; Laugh it off--&lt;/strong&gt;Well, sometimes, cleaning is just a big FAIL.&amp;nbsp; Don't be too hard on yourself, just laugh it off.&amp;nbsp; Tell the friend who popped in, "Look what I did for you!", point to your messiness, then dismiss it with a wave.&amp;nbsp; If you're anxious about it,&amp;nbsp;your guests will be anxious about it, too.&amp;nbsp; EVERYONE has a messy place now and then...so don't sweat it, and enjoy&amp;nbsp;the company.&amp;nbsp; In fifty years, you won't remember that sock on the floor anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;How do you clean quickly?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-7798449314269023893?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/m_8zdYdIzkYZlJWE8tYZxFrPsHg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/m_8zdYdIzkYZlJWE8tYZxFrPsHg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/m_8zdYdIzkYZlJWE8tYZxFrPsHg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/m_8zdYdIzkYZlJWE8tYZxFrPsHg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/zYONGG4jgoM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/zYONGG4jgoM/how-to-clean-your-homefast.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SuBfDxRjaAI/AAAAAAAAAJA/LbqqN660j4w/s72-c/cleaning+boat.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/how-to-clean-your-homefast.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-4913615041496338800</guid><pubDate>Tue, 20 Oct 2009 13:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-20T06:00:04.366-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">family</category><title>Awesome Things About My Sister</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sarahhermans/3120004294/"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394476050265996338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/St0HYvV0_DI/AAAAAAAACGo/yiTI0WwdFHQ/s400/sisters.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tomorrow marks the birthday of my one and only little sister. We've been thousands of miles apart for the last ten years but she remains one of my favorite people. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. She's got guts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;When things weren't going her way, girlfriend packed her tiny car and drove herself to a gajillion miles south, away from Minnesota winters to a warm desert full of friends and new opportunities. I miss her heaps, but as a perpetual traveler and mover, I can't say I blame her for heading out into the world to seek her fortune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. She's got all that multi-faceted talent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I'm a bit of a one trick pony - one of those reader/writer types who can't subtract or catch a ball. But she can manage a store, organize the high school's first recycling program, play on the volleyball team and carry a tune. Stop! You're making the rest of us look bad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. She has the best.hair.ever&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thick. Shiny. Dark. Again with making the rest of us look bad?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. She's captain conscientious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;My sister is that family member who gives Christmas presents to everyone one in the extended family, who babysits the minister's kids and goes on trips to Haiti to volunteer at orphanages. (Let's be honest - I was probably just copying her when I went to Peru and volunteered with those cheeky orphans who &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/2009/05/in-which-i-pretend-i-dont-know-that.html"&gt;tried to trick me into talking about masturbation&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. She's super-humanly patient&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Whether she was allowing me to boss her into a family performance of &lt;em&gt;The Night Before&lt;/em&gt; Christmas or putting up with my compulsive computer use, she gave Mother Theresa a run for her money during our school years. She's a good egg, that one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What's awesome about your siblings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/"&gt;Sarah Von&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-4913615041496338800?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kDQP8uy6q0gcxRRRqEQxYdL349s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kDQP8uy6q0gcxRRRqEQxYdL349s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kDQP8uy6q0gcxRRRqEQxYdL349s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kDQP8uy6q0gcxRRRqEQxYdL349s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/GEcOKEw-01M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/GEcOKEw-01M/awesome-things-about-my-sister.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah Von)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/St0HYvV0_DI/AAAAAAAACGo/yiTI0WwdFHQ/s72-c/sisters.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/awesome-things-about-my-sister.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-1994573480221216077</guid><pubDate>Thu, 15 Oct 2009 13:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-15T06:43:51.161-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">inspiration</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">animals</category><title>Lessons My Cats Have Taught Me About Life</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com"&gt;The Naked Redhead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/StcmGA7HzkI/AAAAAAAAAI4/i4EEz8nkolE/s1600-h/bella+red.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/StcmGA7HzkI/AAAAAAAAAI4/i4EEz8nkolE/s320/bella+red.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392820963568504386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;One of my three  hellions&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah, I'm one of those crazy animal people who often refers to her pets as "Fur Kids".  I feel like since I don't plan on having "Skin Kids" any time soon, that this sort of craziness is justified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, they are SO CUTE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've learned a lot from raising my crazy shelter mutt, Pippin, but the addition of the cats to the family (a brother and sister Siamese-Lynx mix) has taught me an entirely different set of lessons.  Consider:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sleep has an important hand in cuteness&lt;/span&gt;--Like all cats, my guys LOVE to sleep.  They find a cozy chair (or my black sweater, because they have white fur, and that's what white-furred cats do) and snooze for hours.  And it's adorable.  I've upped my own sleep-intake, hoping for the same results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Life is curious, check it out&lt;/span&gt;--A new noise or object or movement is always reason for wide eyes and exploration.  As a not-so-adventurous person myself, I have taken cues from my little fearless ones that life is pretty cool, and even small things can be immensely entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playing is serious business&lt;/span&gt;--My cats sleep a lot, but when they're awake, they aren't simply watching TV...they are tearing around the apartment with abandon, playing their own games with each other, or with a toy, or even with a funny bit of fuzz they've found.  Making time for play is important for humans, too, and I am learning that even though I've left my twenties, I should still play with gusto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When it's cold, snuggle&lt;/span&gt;--The feline knows that when the weather turns cold, "two cats are better than one, and a human is better than two cats".  In other words, they can be incredibly independent, but they know when they need help from someone else.  Yeah...this is a hard one for me.  Let's not talk about how many times I've almost seriously injured myself because I'm convinced I can hoist a TV into the attic sans assistance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tolerance is sometimes a better alternative to anger&lt;/span&gt;--My dog loves to torture the larger of my two cats by pushing the big lug around with his nose.  The dog thinks this is super fun, the cat?  Well, probably not so much, but he tolerates it, probably because it's way more effort to squeeze himself under the couch.  In my life, there are people and situations that drive me nuts, but I can't just get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pissy&lt;/span&gt; anytime I'm confronted by these things.  I learned early on (and it's been reiterated by my cat) people have quirks, and if I wrote everyone off for his or her little annoyances, I wouldn't have any friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What have your animals taught you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-1994573480221216077?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/60XOJLJ09yqcwYjjWd6J98lXj_s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/60XOJLJ09yqcwYjjWd6J98lXj_s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/60XOJLJ09yqcwYjjWd6J98lXj_s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/60XOJLJ09yqcwYjjWd6J98lXj_s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/kXjBOvgxgQg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/kXjBOvgxgQg/lessons-my-cats-have-taught-me-about.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/StcmGA7HzkI/AAAAAAAAAI4/i4EEz8nkolE/s72-c/bella+red.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/lessons-my-cats-have-taught-me-about.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-4100541396025619489</guid><pubDate>Tue, 13 Oct 2009 11:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-13T05:42:35.231-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>Things Everybody Says Are Life Changing (But I've Never Tried)</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391736838758598306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 201px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/StNMFpSYBqI/AAAAAAAACCI/APIXN8lYNl4/s400/life.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know those things that your friends are always raving about? Grabbing your arm and insisting that "Really, no! You &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; to try it!"? Saying that their lives will now be divided into two halves, before ______ and after _______? Well, I haven't done lots of those things. Things like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Going to Therapy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I've never really felt the need. What would I talk about? My incredibly normal childhood? My incredibly average body? &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/2009/10/operation-get-shit-done.html"&gt;My vague fear of success&lt;/a&gt;? I'm pretty even-keeled. But what if I went to therapy and suddenly I didn't have any problems and my life was 100% amazing? Instead of the 90% amazing that it currently is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Going Raw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Yeah, yeah. You've got insane amounts of energy. Your skin looks amazing. You're spending $200 a week and all your time on produce. I'll keep my totally average amount of energy and skin clarity and all that money, thankyouverymuch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Getting a Bra Fitting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Didn't Oprah tell us that something like 125% of women are wearing the wrong size bra? And aren't we all sure that we're the one woman in America who's wearing the right size? I &lt;em&gt;feel&lt;/em&gt; like I'm wearing the right bra size - I don't have a lot of backfat bulging about and my cup does not runneth over. But okay, I might cave and try this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Skydiving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Allegedly, skydiving can trigger a bit of puking for those of us who are prone to motion sickness (and I am a competition level puker) but everybody I know who's done it says it's fantastic. Fantastic enough to make up for two days of barfing? I think I might actually want to find out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Finding Religion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ummm. I don't know about this one. I do know approximately two people who partake in organized religion and it really does seem to bring them a lot of peace. But I'm not sure it's my bag. The best I can do at this point is a bit of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unitarian_Universalism"&gt;Universal Unitarianism&lt;/a&gt;. Or as I like to call it - the non-church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What are your friends prattling on about that you should try? And how it's going to blow your mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/"&gt;Sarah Von&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-4100541396025619489?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SB9N91YCmejkPluR3cMDS5Ym8UY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SB9N91YCmejkPluR3cMDS5Ym8UY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SB9N91YCmejkPluR3cMDS5Ym8UY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SB9N91YCmejkPluR3cMDS5Ym8UY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/BC28iOR2MuY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/BC28iOR2MuY/things-everybody-says-are-life-changing.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah Von)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/StNMFpSYBqI/AAAAAAAACCI/APIXN8lYNl4/s72-c/life.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/things-everybody-says-are-life-changing.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-5227266550857063462</guid><pubDate>Mon, 12 Oct 2009 11:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-12T04:22:33.188-07:00</atom:updated><title>List of Lists!</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391670194885773282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/StMPedg6R-I/AAAAAAAAAE8/N6hfCaJxAXM/s320/1049055640_8bb60e19b0.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/yelahneb/1049055640/"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Aside from this truly marvellous blog, there are many other wonderful excuses online for us List Addicts to indulge our addictions! Here are five of my favourites:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dayzeroproject.com/"&gt;Day Zero&lt;/a&gt; - home of the 101 Things in 1001 Days project, a list project I hope to fully participate in myself this year. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.43things.com/"&gt;43 Things&lt;/a&gt; - If you can't think of 101 items or don't like the idea of a time limit, this site allows you to make lists of, you guessed it, 43 things and connect with other users to share your lists and ideas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://listverse.com/"&gt;Listverse&lt;/a&gt; - This site presents itself as "The Ultimate Top 10 Site" and has lots of entertaining trivia lists from the educational to the bizarre!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://tadalist.com/"&gt;Ta-Da Lists&lt;/a&gt; - A site that allows you to share your to-do lists with the world, or just keep them online for yourself so you can access them from anywhere!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mintprintables.com/stationary/#lists"&gt;Mint Printables&lt;/a&gt; - A free printable stationary site that offers printables made specifically for us listmakers!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;What are your favourite Online list-making tools?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-5227266550857063462?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cCamj6pFuXmQlMTFoR9athqrYNc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cCamj6pFuXmQlMTFoR9athqrYNc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cCamj6pFuXmQlMTFoR9athqrYNc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cCamj6pFuXmQlMTFoR9athqrYNc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/NxUnOdHrXAk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/NxUnOdHrXAk/list-of-lists.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Vixel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/StMPedg6R-I/AAAAAAAAAE8/N6hfCaJxAXM/s72-c/1049055640_8bb60e19b0.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/list-of-lists.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-703710206388261837</guid><pubDate>Thu, 08 Oct 2009 12:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-08T05:49:45.358-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">childhood</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">favorites</category><title>Things that Never Go Out of Style</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Posted by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Naked Redhead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/Ss1JpbhjQfI/AAAAAAAAAIo/415kD2Zzw8M/s1600-h/big+hair.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390210000289482594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/Ss3fb8wDR2I/AAAAAAAAAIw/vam6xN0rQdY/s320/big+hair.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/932effaf6f41ab5661ff669b9662403f/"&gt;photo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of my friends is adorably pregnant right now and hates her long hair. BUT, she's nervous to cut it into any style because she's afraid that, "When my kid sees that, he'll think I'm so out of style!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I chuckled at her logic, then fed her some pickles and ice cream so she'd stop talking. It got me thinking, though, are there things that never go out of style? The answer...yes! Here are five things that will never go out of style. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;Natural Make-up&lt;/strong&gt;--Blue eyeshadow, spidery lashes, frosty pink lipstick, 80's club make-up: these looks can make a normal girl look like a crazy person just a mere five years later. But natural make-up--complimented by great, dewy-looking skin--will always be in. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;The LBD&lt;/strong&gt;--Anyone who has read a fashion magazine in the last thirty years knows that every woman should have a great little black dress in her closet. And, as long as you don't buy one that has crazy accents or shoulder pads, you can work an LBD for years after you've bought it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;Your Great-Great-Grandma's Cookie Jar that Makes You Feel All Warm and Fuzzy Inside&lt;/strong&gt;--Yeah, yeah, the interior design blogs are saying that floral pigs are so "out", but you remember standing on your tip-toes in your grandma's kitchen, reaching high and tall to grab a warm oatmeal raisin cookie out of that jar, while she tells you when she was a girl, she used to do the same thing in her grandma's kitchen. So maybe you don't have a pig...but whatever that thing is that you keep on your table or wall that defies fashion but that you love? Keep it. It's awesome. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;The Bun&lt;/strong&gt;--Whether it's accompanied by a bouffant, big bangs, or slicked back hair, the bun is the best way to look "put together", no matter what decade you're in. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;A Smile&lt;/strong&gt;--The heroine chic models may have tried to convince us otherwise in the 90's, but a smile is always the best accessory. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What do you have that never goes out of style?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-703710206388261837?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FMHd-E_X8Zey0VPfw7mXkRl7N_E/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FMHd-E_X8Zey0VPfw7mXkRl7N_E/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FMHd-E_X8Zey0VPfw7mXkRl7N_E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FMHd-E_X8Zey0VPfw7mXkRl7N_E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/QITlby1czgk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/QITlby1czgk/things-that-never-go-out-of-style.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/Ss3fb8wDR2I/AAAAAAAAAIw/vam6xN0rQdY/s72-c/big+hair.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/things-that-never-go-out-of-style.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-9028539765668315124</guid><pubDate>Thu, 01 Oct 2009 07:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-01T00:01:00.746-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">childhood</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">money</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">work</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">life</category><title>Activities I Will Always Despise Doing (ALWAYS)</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com/"&gt;The Naked Redhead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SsPnWMS6oSI/AAAAAAAAAIg/TrOhtI0Mglg/s1600-h/angry+baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387403947708948770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SsPnWMS6oSI/AAAAAAAAAIg/TrOhtI0Mglg/s320/angry+baby.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/e8a5533f35064a6c604eb66dc2b60352/"&gt;Photo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so we already know that I like cleaning, but in reality, there are some other mundane activities that I just despise. DESPISE. And no matter how much I try to tweak my attitude about it all, well, it turns out that maybe I'M JUST NOT A NICE PERSON. (Kidding. I'm awesome.) Anyway, without further ado:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;Cleaning the catbox&lt;/strong&gt;--I love my little purr-buckets, I do, but I ONLY want to experience them as sweet and cuddly, not as purveyors of all that is disgusting and unholy. So when you have a cat that begs, BEGS, for broccoli (and how can you not give in!?) you often have a litter box that knocks. Your. Socks off. And all that bending and scooping? Blech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;Getting up early&lt;/strong&gt;--Maybe it's a part of my childhood I'm retaining, but I want my alarm clock to die a slow and painful death every time I hear it. I don't care if it's bright and sunny outside and if I have a day chock-full of unicorn riding and rainbow eating. NO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;Filing my billing statements&lt;/strong&gt;--Like any good technology-loving person, I pay most of my bills on-line, as well as sign up to receive on-line statements. But there are still those sneaky little companies that refuse to show a little charity to their fellow trees and send me statements each and every month, no matter how I pay. What I SHOULD do is scan them right away, save them as .pdfs, file them on my computer, then shred and recycle them...but what I ACTUALLY do is let them sit in a menacing little pile of dirty-whiteness until I can't handle it anymore. Then I spend an evening grumbling and sorting them into my old black plastic file holder. Meh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;Sticking my hand in dirty dish water&lt;/strong&gt;--Blech. It's all grey and has floaty bits and sometimes it's gotten cold because you've refused to put your hand in it so then you try to use a butter knife or spatula to loosen the little plug but all that is happening is that you're getting frustrated and water is flinging everywhere over your freshly cleaned counter tops...*breathes*. Gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;Trying on jeans/swimsuits/bras&lt;/strong&gt;--Need I say more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What do you despise doing? C'mon...get it out. It's therapeutic! :)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-9028539765668315124?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ErPMYMjIK4gltH-VuURVrW3nPu8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ErPMYMjIK4gltH-VuURVrW3nPu8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ErPMYMjIK4gltH-VuURVrW3nPu8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ErPMYMjIK4gltH-VuURVrW3nPu8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/EI0KfHF0MeY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/EI0KfHF0MeY/activities-i-will-always-despise-doing.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SsPnWMS6oSI/AAAAAAAAAIg/TrOhtI0Mglg/s72-c/angry+baby.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">13</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/10/activities-i-will-always-despise-doing.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-486758529393727063</guid><pubDate>Tue, 29 Sep 2009 12:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-29T08:05:26.299-07:00</atom:updated><title>Things I Will Pick Up Off The Ground</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/abduzeedo/~3/caEhyfIHh1Q....on-164"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380242991754820210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/Sqp2fsjUunI/AAAAAAAABww/kiA55iTbcwc/s320/feather.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Credit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;What? Yes. Apparently I never grew out of that childhood habit of picking things off the ground and hiding them away in my pockets for future endeavors. I walk to work every day so I pretty regularly find 'treasures' worth keeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;Coins larger than a nickel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;They add up, yo. Also - then I'll have something to give to all the people who hang out at the bus stop by my office, constantly hitting me up for change. "Here ya go! I picked up $1.35 in dimes and nickels on my way here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;Feathers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;And sometimes? I maaaay have been known to put them in my hair. Yes. Feel free to puke in your mouths and resist the urge to tell me I'm going to get fleas/hepatitis/gangrene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;Pretty Leaves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Again, for hair accessories or pressing between the pages of books. Or I forget about them and my cat chews on them and gets leaf bits all over the sofa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;Notes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I live a few blocks from a school, so occasionally I'll get lucky with a note all full of I's dotted with hearts or detailing exactly why "Ashley is a total biotch"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;Photos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;These are gold mines - the occasional rejects from a set of vacation photos are the best I've found, and a few awkward school photos. Set against that awful blue backdrop, brace-filled smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;strong&gt;Foreign Language Newspapers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I work in Chinatown so really, almost every newspaper is a foreign langauge newpaper. But I love to wrap presents in Chinese script and look at all the pictures of places that I haven't been (yet)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;strong&gt;Lottery Tickets&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any winning ones yet? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;strong&gt;Anything Shiny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Because, apparently, I'm a magpie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Am I totally insane? Do you pick up treasures off the ground?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/"&gt;Sarah Von&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-486758529393727063?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/x3p8t7SYzs4mRptPMOFEwBNNnS8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/x3p8t7SYzs4mRptPMOFEwBNNnS8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/x3p8t7SYzs4mRptPMOFEwBNNnS8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/x3p8t7SYzs4mRptPMOFEwBNNnS8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/TX06ZJ7LmlU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/TX06ZJ7LmlU/things-i-will-pick-up-off-ground.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah Von)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/Sqp2fsjUunI/AAAAAAAABww/kiA55iTbcwc/s72-c/feather.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/09/things-i-will-pick-up-off-ground.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-1063021155175728910</guid><pubDate>Fri, 25 Sep 2009 14:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-25T10:52:28.623-07:00</atom:updated><title>Sayings I Really Like.</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ii1wTFSqyX4/SruGJCWNlQI/AAAAAAAAAig/47mhJzfcI2A/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ii1wTFSqyX4/SruGJCWNlQI/AAAAAAAAAig/47mhJzfcI2A/s320/untitled.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385045269258540290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=31253855"&gt;photo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;1) To your own self be true.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;This could be the most trite of any saying ever, but once it was said to me and struck like a sock full of pennies to the side of my skull. With that realization, I lost 30 pounds. Now, if I could just do that again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;2) Could be worse.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My grampa always says this. It might be a Minnesotan thing, or an old Polish thing, but it's true true true. Things &lt;i&gt;could&lt;/i&gt; be worse. We are so fortunate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;3) Failure is always an option.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This saying came to me from the internet. It makes me giggle and when I feel like giving up or not even trying in the first place, I stop and think to myself that &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt;, the worst thing that could happen is failure. We've all failed before. Sure, it's bad. But refer to #2: &lt;i&gt;Could be worse!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;4) Everything is going to be okay.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In life, things come out in the wash. You know what I mean? We're strong enough. We'll bounce back. It's simply true, eventually, everything is going to be okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;5) Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess this quote is credited to Kurt Cobain, but it seems like a plagiarized interpretation of some zen philosophy.  Either way, I like it.  We should strive to be our best selves. Imagine all the potential you hold, why not do your personal best instead of someone else's?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-1063021155175728910?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4MYiiZDRIOTrtH9XF9e5ao9rEKw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4MYiiZDRIOTrtH9XF9e5ao9rEKw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4MYiiZDRIOTrtH9XF9e5ao9rEKw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4MYiiZDRIOTrtH9XF9e5ao9rEKw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/ZoFMf7B6mkk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/ZoFMf7B6mkk/sayings-i-really-like.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Darcie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ii1wTFSqyX4/SruGJCWNlQI/AAAAAAAAAig/47mhJzfcI2A/s72-c/untitled.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/09/sayings-i-really-like.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-2110449530564567049</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Sep 2009 12:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-24T06:33:15.509-07:00</atom:updated><title>Neurotic Party Planning:  a List</title><description>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by The Naked Redhead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385017126868496866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/Srtsi7xkMeI/AAAAAAAAAIY/P4h4JQ2_VVg/s320/party.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/f87b9476ece1b3794a864c1b936d0ca1/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;photo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in my final preparations for a party I'll be throwing in my own honor tomorrow (hey, if I don't do it, who will?). As a Virgo AND list maker, I have of course been freaking out over minutia for the last three weeks. Here's a small taste of the things I do in my party planning:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Clean, clean, clean--A party house is not clean until you have scoured all surfaces in your kitchen and bathroom. And by "all surfaces", I mean backsplash, microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator (inside AND out), stove, sink, cupboards, shelves, drawers, windowsills, toilet (inside AND out), shower, shower ledge, and mirror. After that's done, dust, vacuum and mop everywhere. Wash all linens, including washable rugs, bedspreads, sheets and slipcovers. Also bathe stinky, disgusting dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. List, list, list--When I'll be hosting a shindig, I make a list. The list is usually broken up by time frame and task. I.e., two weeks before--send Facebook invite. One week before--scour kitchen and bathroom. Three days before--pick up non-perishable items. One day before--mop. Three hours before--re-wipe bathroom. Get my drift?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Delegate, delegate, delegate--When I am hosting a party, I choose to ignore that sometimes when people say, "Let me know if I can help!" they don't really mean it. I WILL PUT YOU TO WORK IF YOU SAY THIS TO ME. Your task may be something small like bringing an appetizer, or it may be larger like going on a wine glass hunt at your local discount homegoods store. Either way, be prepared to be saddled with a task!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Obsess, obsess, obsess--Get the details down. List 'em once. List 'em again. Check them off. Did I forget...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Relax--Once the clock rolls around to thirty minutes before party-time, I light some candles and breathe. I've learned that at this point, if anything is not ready, it's not going to be ready, and I might as well enjoy the people, the food, and the wine. But this is also why I prep maybe a little more strenuously than others...no matter what happens, at least I can know that my bathroom is clean. And that, friends, is somethin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What do you do to get ready for a party? Is anyone quite as anal-retentive as I am?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-2110449530564567049?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_1trwmKZ436svdm3yAj8b20vHko/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_1trwmKZ436svdm3yAj8b20vHko/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_1trwmKZ436svdm3yAj8b20vHko/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_1trwmKZ436svdm3yAj8b20vHko/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/UPScBSYHqpk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/UPScBSYHqpk/neurotic-party-planning-list.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/Srtsi7xkMeI/AAAAAAAAAIY/P4h4JQ2_VVg/s72-c/party.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/09/neurotic-party-planning-list.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-7033174000512273414</guid><pubDate>Wed, 23 Sep 2009 18:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-23T11:54:34.900-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">guest post</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">entertainment</category><title>If The Internet Didn't Exist (My Riff On It)</title><description>Sara Rose started &lt;a href="http://chatterboxsara.blogspot.com/"&gt;Chatterbox&lt;/a&gt; to expel the stuff that runs through her brain at a thousand miles an  hour. She loves writing, cooking, reading, and of course lists! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x7-PMef3mnY/SrpuTwLO6nI/AAAAAAAABSQ/7kvTlc8FFf4/s1600-h/Internet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x7-PMef3mnY/SrpuTwLO6nI/AAAAAAAABSQ/7kvTlc8FFf4/s320/Internet.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/d_a_v_i_d_m_/118654762/"&gt;Photo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
If the internet didn't exist...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'd have sex.  Ok, a lot more of it anyways.  It would be awe inspiring, the amount of naughty bedroom antics that would occur here, nightly.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I'd go for daily walks.  Maybe I'd work out more.  I'd stop reading stuff about how important it is to get off my butt for at least 60 minutes a day and do so.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I would talk on the phone again.  Or maybe I'd hang out with people again.  Remember when NOBODY instant messaged or texted?  You'd call someone up or you'd go over and see them.  People stopped by each other's houses for coffee and a chat.  For real.  Isn't that amazing!&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I would stop pretending to work when really, I'm looking at funny stuff online.  In the days before internet, I was only on my computer to do things like write.  In my introduction to the internet, I never emailed or blogged or looked up random garbage, but rather I would research, check my bank account, and oh yeah, write.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I'd try two new recipes a week out of the gazillion cookbooks I already own instead of looking up new and bizarre recipes online.  &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I would read more.  Ok, so this is a bit of a stretch since I already try to read a book a week and I have subscriptions to more magazines than you can imagine.  But I do remember when my evenings used to center around making a wonderful dinner, cleaning up, going for a walk, and then settling in with a mug of tea, my journal, and my book.  I'd read and write until the wee hours of the am.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I wouldn't have so many headaches.  This I am sure of.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I would have to find my husband a new career.  Poor guy.  He's freelancing, building websites, designing software, and 99% of what he does, what he needs, etc., is on the internet.  It's his whole other universe.  What would he do instead?  &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I'm sure I wouldn't write every day.  Maybe I would.  Sometimes I wonder whether the internet really does help my creative process or if it just hinders it.  But there would be days where instead of writing, I'd be doing other stuff.  Going places, seeing things.  Maybe I would be writing fewer useless things?&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;I would eat less.  Obviously with the advent of things like cable, dvr, the internet, video games, etc., people sit on their bums a lot more.  We also sit on our bums doing these things while we eat.  We eat with total lack of conscience and pay no attention to whats going in our mouths, how much is going in, whether we really want it or not, and whether we're even hungry.  We basically eat for something to do.  Not appealing.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;Peace out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-7033174000512273414?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wV5K6dviKSNIFWOaXOd87KJMRzE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wV5K6dviKSNIFWOaXOd87KJMRzE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wV5K6dviKSNIFWOaXOd87KJMRzE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wV5K6dviKSNIFWOaXOd87KJMRzE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/9WUMNUHFHaA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/9WUMNUHFHaA/if-internet-didnt-exist-my-riff-on-it.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bridey)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x7-PMef3mnY/SrpuTwLO6nI/AAAAAAAABSQ/7kvTlc8FFf4/s72-c/Internet.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-internet-didnt-exist-my-riff-on-it.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-3065853856579925731</guid><pubDate>Tue, 22 Sep 2009 13:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-22T06:00:02.231-07:00</atom:updated><title>Reasons My Best Friend is Awesome</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/SqUfGte9B9I/AAAAAAAABv4/16qVJYwzvSM/s1600-h/sarahdarc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378739530113026002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/SqUfGte9B9I/AAAAAAAABv4/16qVJYwzvSM/s320/sarahdarc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sarah Von + Darcie = BFFs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September 23 is the thirtieth birthday of one of my favorite people in the whole wide world.  Darcie and I grew up in the same &lt;a href="http://www.aitkin.com/"&gt;tiny town &lt;/a&gt;in northern Minnesota and suffered through the fun that is Being A Smart Weird Kid in a Conservative Place.  But we emerged (mostly) unscathed and went out into the great wide world to seek our fortunes.  Twenty years, multiples boyfriends and many countries later, we are still BFFs who can happily spend an afternoon eating Cheese Nips and drinking bellinis, talking about cats and the internet and how we wish our third BFF would hurry up and move back from Oz.  &lt;strong&gt;Other reasons that my BFF is awesome?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  She will come visit you in a foreign country for your birthday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;The fact that I lived in Taiwan did not dissuade Darcie from flying halfway around the world to wish me a very merry 26th.  Sure, her luggage got lost, she inadvertently witnessed some creepy night market tomfoolery and we took The Longest Taxi Ride Ever, but I'm prreeeeety sure she had a good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.  She takes her duty as BFF seriously&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Darcie will tell you the things you need to hear but maybe don't want to.  The "Wellll, maybe you should go with the other outfit" or "If he's not returning your calls you need to stop calling him" or "You're better than that and you know it."  And most of these pronouncements are prefaced with the phrase "I would be remiss in my duties as your best friend if I didn't tell you ...."  Isn't that &lt;em&gt;great?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.&lt;/strong&gt;  &lt;strong&gt;She will pick you up at the airport/help paint your apartment/call you when you get your M.A.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;If she says she's going to do it, she is really, 100% going to do it.  She's there not just for the &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/2009/07/30-new-things-try-miracle-berries.html"&gt;Miracle Berry parties &lt;/a&gt;and the &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/2009/08/30-new-things-complete-26-things-photo.html"&gt;photo scavenger hunts&lt;/a&gt;, but also moving apartments and when you de-friend the ex-boyfriend and need to weep about it and when you come back from New Zealand at 5 am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.  She speaks my language&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;That is, the language of thrifting.  And LOLcats.  And general &lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=jackpine%20savage"&gt;jack pine savagery&lt;/a&gt;.  We share all sorts of ridiculous BFF vocabulary (Example: &lt;em&gt;To Dennis (verb) to flake out on an engagement you committed to &lt;/em&gt;or&lt;em&gt; Shus (noun) extraneous stuff on top of other stuff; excessive decor)&lt;/em&gt;  She also speaks the language of a life-long friend, who knows what you're talking about when you mention Miss Meckley's eighth grade social studies class and that weird roll-playing game about the Chinese empire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why is your best friend awesome?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://www.yesandyes.org/"&gt;Sarah Von&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-3065853856579925731?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UrUEqQFj55Puxl-dkjd8wohibFo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UrUEqQFj55Puxl-dkjd8wohibFo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/rA78Nq4qYxY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/rA78Nq4qYxY/reasons-my-best-friend-is-awesome.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah Von)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zECt-HA0fD4/SqUfGte9B9I/AAAAAAAABv4/16qVJYwzvSM/s72-c/sarahdarc.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/09/reasons-my-best-friend-is-awesome.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-9082814372939874583</guid><pubDate>Mon, 21 Sep 2009 13:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-21T06:46:32.268-07:00</atom:updated><title>Five Totally Random Things I'm Fascinated By</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/SreAYZyghcI/AAAAAAAAAE0/fDXqTqtzZmc/s1600-h/dice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/SreAYZyghcI/AAAAAAAAAE0/fDXqTqtzZmc/s320/dice.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383913036272666050" /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cdm/39449485/"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I regularly get told that my interests are "random", "eclectic" and that I "don't look like the type" to be interested in the subjects that I find fascinating. This may however, be the reason I have a long list of subjects I'd like to study academically at some point. Here are five of my so-called "random" interests:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;Hacking and hacker cultur&lt;/b&gt;e - I've no idea where this came from, it's just something I've found really interesting from quite a young age. I don't have the technical skills to be part of it, but reading about other peoples' technology exploits amazes me!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;Religio&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;n&lt;/b&gt; - I was brought up Catholic, but as I became more sceptical of the religion I also became more interested in it's history and similarities to other religions. Theology is definitely one of the subjects I'd like to study sometime.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Weird" illnesses&lt;/b&gt; - I guess because I have my own fair share of relatively rare medical quirks!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;Drugs&lt;/b&gt; - I'd never try them, but I find it really interesting how things like heroin were sold as cough remedies and given to kids! I love all the old advertising too!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;Space Travel&lt;/b&gt; - I'm just a big nerd!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you have any totally random fascinations that are completely contrary to what people perceive as your image? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-9082814372939874583?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Vf3r2H-9MzKLc1aeFCe2qtCT9nU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Vf3r2H-9MzKLc1aeFCe2qtCT9nU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/vbLNE1pQ5QE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/vbLNE1pQ5QE/five-totally-random-things-im.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Vixel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UFm0N3ZrmSg/SreAYZyghcI/AAAAAAAAAE0/fDXqTqtzZmc/s72-c/dice.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/09/five-totally-random-things-im.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7894787296999272739.post-3057972373364343838</guid><pubDate>Thu, 17 Sep 2009 15:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-17T08:40:40.918-07:00</atom:updated><title>Things I'll Never Quite "Grow Out Of"</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/ff3feabb6d8ddaaee7643924da43b13d/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thenakedredhead.com"&gt;Posted by The Naked Redhead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SrJWrMEJb0I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/V_cWnuutXBE/s320/happy+kids.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382459804634148674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ice cream cones&lt;/span&gt;--Sure, eating ice cream out of a dish is less messy, but getting my favorite ice cream (with sprinkles!) makes me feel carefree and happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Giggling at the word "duty"&lt;/span&gt;--...or other such nonsense.  I apologize, I know that immature humor or laughter at silly words is ridiculous, but boy, I sure don't want to grow out of it.  Harboring a little bit of the 7th grader in me has made many a boring meeting fly by gracefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playing in my bare feet&lt;/span&gt;--Just last week, my nephews and I played basketball in the driveway, sans foot wear.  I loved the sound of their little (and now not-so-little, with my oldest nephew turning fourteen today!) feet slapping on the asphalt.  And oh, how lovely the grass feels on naked toes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bugs Bunny&lt;/span&gt;--Just the other day, I heard &lt;a href="http://www.davechappelle.com/"&gt;Dave Chappelle&lt;/a&gt; credit Bugs Bunny as one of his comedic heroes.  The cartoons might be oldies, but yes, they are still goodies.  &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvXEElJFR6g"&gt;The Rabbit of Seville&lt;/a&gt;?  Classic.  AND, it still makes me belly laugh to this day.  (Haha, the link is in Spanish!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Feeling pretty in a dress&lt;/span&gt;--Ok, ok, I used to HATE dresses when I was a little girl, but now that I'm older, I'm finding my inner princess...and IT'S AWESOME.  On days when I'm feeling "blah", I simply have to throw on a dress to feel just a bit better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What won't you "grow out of"?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7894787296999272739-3057972373364343838?l=listaddicts.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nG954cVK2BfwL96xkZSo6PFNyjo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nG954cVK2BfwL96xkZSo6PFNyjo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/listaddicts/~4/2HJ8aSXXDA0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/listaddicts/~3/2HJ8aSXXDA0/things-ill-never-quite-grow-out-of.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (sarah j.)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dGLb7kyWhNU/SrJWrMEJb0I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/V_cWnuutXBE/s72-c/happy+kids.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://listaddicts.blogspot.com/2009/09/things-ill-never-quite-grow-out-of.html</feedburner:origLink></item></channel></rss>
