<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288</id><updated>2011-04-21T23:35:56.618-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oddly Enough</title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;b&gt;A middle aged woman with the heart of a kid, a mind like a trap, a memory like an elephant, a temper like a banshee, the vocabulary of a longshoreman, the grace of a three-legged gazelle, and oddly enough ... the luck of the Titanic&lt;/b&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-146368154792069697</id><published>2009-05-01T11:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T11:56:57.251-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Amelia Island - Ritz Carlton wasn't as fun as you'd think</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;The least fun place, at a place that was supposed to be fun ... ugh!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/map?sensor=false&amp;amp;markers=30.592054,-81.446107,red&amp;amp;zoom=16&amp;amp;center=30.5920538,-81.4461066&amp;amp;key=ABQIAAAAz4I5iDWfLKXRJqwY_lxrMRSDGNZDWabFcZHPH02nr_QeuITw5hT0k3Ux-ovu3Vn8nZoGpAsaKOTz7Q&amp;amp;maptype=map&amp;amp;size=400x300" width="400" height="300" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  I won an all expense paid trip for 2 from my company; 4 days, 3 nights.  It is a prestigious award to win, yada yada yada.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The weather sucked the whole time, and MW got completely shit-faced at the award banquet and totally embarrassed me.  I was mortified.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:11859"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/11859"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=11859" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-146368154792069697?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/146368154792069697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=146368154792069697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/146368154792069697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/146368154792069697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/05/amelia-island-ritz-carlton-wasn-as-fun.html' title='Amelia Island - Ritz Carlton wasn&amp;#39;t as fun as you&amp;#39;d think'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-4646415082807371757</id><published>2009-04-30T07:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T07:14:47.208-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I find Horrific Smelling Farts From Strangers offensive</title><content type='html'>  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Horrific Smelling Farts From Strangers&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I DJ at a bar on the weekends.  I don't know why, but apparently bars, and booze, and farts all go together.  It never fails; every single weekend, somebody in that place ate rotten armadillo, and has the heinous smelling gas to prove it.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Not having my order taken first at a restaurant.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  When I go out to eat with my boyfriend, I expect my order to be taken first.  It's just good manners.  Ladies first, and all.  However, more often than not, they ask him first.  To his credit, he always corrects the waitress by saying, "Take the lady's order first."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:11799"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/11799"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=11799" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-4646415082807371757?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/4646415082807371757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=4646415082807371757' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/4646415082807371757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/4646415082807371757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-find-horrific-smelling-farts-from.html' title='I find Horrific Smelling Farts From Strangers offensive'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-2055994183264699611</id><published>2009-04-27T09:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T09:05:39.514-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This money is just taking up space</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;  &lt;img style="border: 0;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/26/61056391_31343afdc6.jpg" /&gt;    &lt;small style="display:block"&gt;        &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/37108241@N00/61056391"&gt;Money!&lt;/a&gt;    &lt;/small&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  As I think about this and look around, I find there are many useless things in my home.  The most obvious is my checkbook.  It&amp;#39;s totally useless because there is no cash in the vault to back it up.  A few other things are, the vacuum cleaner (completely useless, unless plugged in and actually USED.) The lava lamp I got for my birthday - it makes retarded looking lava lumps.  Also, the majority of my clothes are useless ... they don&amp;#39;t fit!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:11585"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/11585"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=11585" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-2055994183264699611?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/2055994183264699611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=2055994183264699611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/2055994183264699611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/2055994183264699611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/04/this-money-is-just-taking-up-space.html' title='This money is just taking up space'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/26/61056391_31343afdc6_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-5486119985498900894</id><published>2009-04-23T15:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T15:14:35.171-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I can explain</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0; padding: 0 0 10px 0;"&gt;  Well, the sad truth is; while I certainly detest evasiveness, and indirect answers are quite unacceptable, I&amp;#39;m sure the explanation lies deep within the psyche of the deeply disturbed individual who is my alter ego.  Said another way, essentially I&amp;#39;m not responsible - I&amp;#39;m nuts! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="clear:both; margin: 0; padding: 0; margin-top:10px; font-size: 13px; font-family: Georgia; line-height: 24px;" class="plinky_badge_rid:11324"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.plinky.com/mini/reroute/11324"&gt;    &lt;img src="http://www.plinky.com/proxy/badge?id=11324" style="border: 0; padding-right: 4px; vertical-align: middle;" alt="" title="" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-5486119985498900894?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/5486119985498900894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=5486119985498900894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5486119985498900894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5486119985498900894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-can-explain.html' title='I can explain'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-8063246964779406612</id><published>2009-04-22T10:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T10:55:06.510-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is It Just Me ???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/Se8tgR9Sg3I/AAAAAAAAAGU/JlMCLaMtePE/s1600-h/adam-lambert.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/Se8tgR9Sg3I/AAAAAAAAAGU/JlMCLaMtePE/s320/adam-lambert.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327526916802118514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Or does anyone else feel the way I do about Adam Lambert?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my humble opinion, his voice actually hurts my head.  He screeches, and screams, and quite frankly, I find him insufferable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen, I know right now he's the patron saint of gay men everywhere (move over Liza Minelli !) but gay or not, he's simply not the next American Idol!  Furthermore, I find it to be just wrong for a professional to be a contestant on that show.  I mean, isn't the whole idea to "discover unknown talen?"  He's been performing professionally for some time - come on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people I talk to really want to see Danny Gokey win.  Yes, he has talent.  Yes, he has a sad story.  Yes, he looks to be a sincerely nice guy - BUT - I can't see him becoming a huge recording star either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand ... this kid Allison Iraheta... wow!  Amazing!  Only 16 years old, and singing like a seasoned pro.  Here's someone who can (and will) be a huge recording star.  Granted, I'm not a fan of her genre, but shit - talent is talent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gooooooo Allison!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what about poor Matt, and Lil?  My money says they're both going home tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, by the way; Chris' performance of "She Works Hard For The Money" was absolutely genius last night.  I was saying "Wow, I hear Carlos Santana," before Paula took the words right out of my mouth!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-8063246964779406612?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/8063246964779406612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=8063246964779406612' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/8063246964779406612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/8063246964779406612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/04/is-it-just-me.html' title='Is It Just Me ???'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/Se8tgR9Sg3I/AAAAAAAAAGU/JlMCLaMtePE/s72-c/adam-lambert.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-6828581137202014229</id><published>2009-03-19T21:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T21:28:59.063-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Quite Here, But Not Quite There</title><content type='html'>So they say that once a woman has a hysterectomy, weight gain is inevitable.  My doctor told me to prepare to gain some weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my surgery in July 07.  To date, I have gained 13 pounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13 pounds is not a lot you say?  Well I say, bullshit.  It's a lot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too fat for my skinny clothes, and too skinny for my fat clothes.  What am I supposed to do now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you any clue how expensive business suits are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm totally disgusted.  Nothing fits.  NOTHING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'm joining the gym again.  I refuse to accept this.  Period!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-6828581137202014229?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/6828581137202014229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=6828581137202014229' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/6828581137202014229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/6828581137202014229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-quite-here-but-not-quite-there.html' title='Not Quite Here, But Not Quite There'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-2898697008610660304</id><published>2009-03-09T01:15:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T01:28:21.623-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Times</title><content type='html'>Times are bad ... Everywhere.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My house is no exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every night, for the last 20 years, I make a point to watch the evening news.  Lately though, I just can't bear to.  I'm so tired of the "Economy Crisis," of hearing "The jobless rate is at the highest it's been since the great depression."  All I can think of are the people from the HBO program Carnivale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SbSncXllUYI/AAAAAAAAAFs/NuIxw9x5dSI/s1600-h/postcard_ep24_carnies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SbSncXllUYI/AAAAAAAAAFs/NuIxw9x5dSI/s320/postcard_ep24_carnies.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311053966386483586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The show took place during the depression, in the dustbowl.  People were just dead ass broke, and things were horrid.  That's what these times remind me of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I saw a woman who used to come to my karaoke show, and I asked her where she's been.  She said her husband's hours got cut down to 28 per week, and they just couldn't afford to go out anymore.  I can relate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things around here are stretched to the limit.  MW isn't earning a dime, and I've still got my brother to support.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how much money a person makes; when you're trying to maintain two households, it just doesn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shouldn't be so down.  At least I do have a job - and a very good one.  I know this thing with my brother isn't forever (but it feels like it), and MW isn't my problem.  Sooner or later, he's going to have to put up or get out.  Things will get better, but in the meantime, I'm the only person I know earning six figures who can't make ends meet.  It sucks out loud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-2898697008610660304?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/2898697008610660304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=2898697008610660304' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/2898697008610660304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/2898697008610660304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/03/bad-times.html' title='Bad Times'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SbSncXllUYI/AAAAAAAAAFs/NuIxw9x5dSI/s72-c/postcard_ep24_carnies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-3806482488658804096</id><published>2009-02-28T10:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T10:34:29.822-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gay Cabaret !!!</title><content type='html'>So I host a karaoke show every Friday &amp; Saturday night.  It's in a VFW ... where men are men, and so are the women!  LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss, the bar manager, is a Vietnam vet - combat hero - a real man's man.  Semper Fi and all that.  I really like the guy; he's very good to me.  Gives me nights off with pay sometimes.  A Good Guy, Really.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has this thing about gay guys.  I dunno; maybe he was a victim of homo molestation as a boy.  I'm not sayin' but, I'm just sayin' ya know?  Anyway, he just cringes whenever they're around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well - as of late, I have attracted a troup of gay singing cabaret performers.  They come from the local playhouse.  After their gig is over, they all come pirouetting through the door - big happy smiles on their young beautiful faces.  They're there to sing their lungs out - and that's just what they do.  And boy oh boy, can these boys sing!  They belong on Broadway, and I shit you not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, for some reason, they just lurv me.  I mean, they fawn all over me, and can't wait to come perform for me.  And I, of course, feed into their flamboyant girliness.  They're just so damn cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, while all this love is running rampant between us all, there's my boss sitting at the bar cringing.  LOL !  I love it.  He's so visibly uncomfortable, that the more he squirms, the more fuel I add to my boys' flamboyancy.  It's such fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what's funny is, these guys are talented, they're friendly &amp; respectful of everyone, they spend money at the bar like nobody's business - and quite frankly, it's refreshing to look at pretty people for a change, instead of the usual old crusty vets who are always at the bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I L.O.V.E. my gay cabaret!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-3806482488658804096?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/3806482488658804096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=3806482488658804096' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/3806482488658804096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/3806482488658804096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/02/gay-cabaret.html' title='The Gay Cabaret !!!'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-5273203953017843801</id><published>2009-02-25T13:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T13:44:48.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Intervention</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SaWMs82DcTI/AAAAAAAAAFk/i_rJfgrB4c4/s1600-h/Big+Win.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SaWMs82DcTI/AAAAAAAAAFk/i_rJfgrB4c4/s320/Big+Win.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306802439800975666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a picture of one of my recent wins on a slot machine.  Do the math - this is a 1 cent machine.  The total here is $1,756.55.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any idea what an adrenaline rush this is?  Have you ever experienced a feeling of exhuberation that your heart races, and your face gets flushed? (Not counting the physiologic response to an orgasm, that is...) This is the feeling I get when I have one of these big wins.  It's like nothing I can explain here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, these type of wins are not the norm.  In fact, they are few and far between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday night, on A&amp;E I watched Intervention.  A program about addict interventions.  Ususally the subjects are substance abusers - you know, alcohol, heroin, cocaine... whatever- the usual.  This week though, it was about gambling addicts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They showcased 3 gambling addicts - all 3 women - which that alone, I found quite interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I watched their stories unfold, I was decidedly uncomfortable.  Many of the things they said, and feelings they expressed, are things I could completely relate to.  The fact that; for instance, when you're gambling, money has no value - it's just paper you put in a machine.  The fact that when you're losing, you feel like you can't quit because you have to win back what you lost.  The feeling of "&lt;em&gt;what have done&lt;/em&gt;" when you're making that long drive home with no money in your pockets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the up side though, I did take comfort in the fact that, thankfully, I have not reached the depths these women have reached.  One spent 4 years in jail for embezzling almost a million dollars from the church where she worked to gamble, and lose.  Another almost lost her husband and new baby because she was never home with her infant, and instead stayed out all night every night playing poker.  And a third woman - who - saddest of all, was from West Virginia, worked full time for $22,000 a year, was raising a 6 year old daughter, and left her child home each &amp; every night with her live in boyfriend, so she could sit and play slot machines until every dollar, including the child support was gone.  This woman filed bankruptcy, and after she was able to get credit cards again, she immediately ran them right up to their limits too.  It was soberingly sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat there contemplating my own gambling issues, I realized a few things.  First, I don't think I have an addiction, in the truest sense of the word.  That is to say that my bills get paid first, then I gamble.  I don't borrow money to gamble, and I don't use credit cards to gamble.  But I also don't have any extra money at the end of the month, when I really should have plenty - because I gamble with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realize that if I don't curb my urge to gamble, I could see myself losing control.  It's that enticing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another realization is, MW is a total enabler.  He, I feel, has a more serious addiction to gambling than he realizes.  He, for instance, the moment he gets money in his hand, is at the casino, and even when he wins big, cannot leave with money in his pocket because he wants to win even bigger, so as a result loses everything, every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gambling has become our entertainment of choice.  We have come to the point where we don't find enjoyment in anything we once used to.  It's all about going to the casino.  And the funny part is, when we're at the casinos, (which is almost every day,) we are not together.  He goes his way, and I go mine.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therein lies the crux of the matter for me, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not happy with MW any longer, and as such, I can't stand being with him, and I enjoy the gambling - it's a win/win for me.  I get to do something I enjoy, and I get to not have to be around him.  See my dilemna?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to rid myself of my bad habits.  Some have a pulse, some don't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-5273203953017843801?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/5273203953017843801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=5273203953017843801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5273203953017843801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5273203953017843801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/02/intervention.html' title='Intervention'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SaWMs82DcTI/AAAAAAAAAFk/i_rJfgrB4c4/s72-c/Big+Win.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-1792932250569723631</id><published>2009-02-23T11:59:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T12:30:32.206-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Psychic Sensitivity</title><content type='html'>Would you be surprised to know that I'm a bit of a "sensitive?"  That is to say that for whatever reason, I &lt;em&gt;sense&lt;/em&gt; things.  Sometimes these things come in dreams, sometimes by Deja Vu.  Other times, I just know... like I'll sense a phone call from someone, then it happens.  Or sometimes, I feel a person's unknown illness.  It's a weird thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, anyway being that I have this sensitivity, I'm always interested in visiting alleged spiritual hotspots.  In general, I've had more disappointments than exciting moments; however, I have had some oddities happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Case in point:  Mercy Brown - Rhode Island's vampire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SaLZftrvUcI/AAAAAAAAAFc/BKPFMoImIQI/s1600-h/Mercy+Brown+Grave.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SaLZftrvUcI/AAAAAAAAAFc/BKPFMoImIQI/s320/Mercy+Brown+Grave.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306042449858089410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there have been enough documentaries on this subject so that anyone who has been interested, would have to believe that poor Mercy Brown was not a vampire, and died, sadly, of consumption - or, in today's vernacular - Tuberculosis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That isn't to say, however, that there isn't some sort of psychic phenomenon in the exact vicinity of her grave.  I believe there is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I took an excursion to visit her grave.  Although I had never been to it, and I really didn't know exactly where in the graveyard she lay; I somehow walked right to her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It so happened that on this particular day, there was not a cloud in the sky, and being that I was there at almost exactly 12 noon; the sun was directly overhead.  There should not have been any shadows in my photos.  As you can see here though, there were.  I should mention that, this was the only one of about 15 pictures which came out even remotely viewable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also interestingly, there was a family from Connecticut there, also in search of Mercy Brown's grave.  They made a special trip to come and visit her.  I watched the dad take umpteen photos with his brand new digital camera, all to no avail.  He was completely put out by the 30th attempt.  All of his tries yeilded only blurry, unusable photos.  By the time he gave up, he &amp; his wife were convinced that Mercy did not want photos taken of her final resting place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think because in their ignorance, the people of that time desecrated her body and her resting place so badly, that she does not rest in peace.  There is a feeling of sadness and unease surrounding her little grave.  Moreover, across the graveyard, there is a paupers chapel.  It was beside this chapel that Mercy's body, after being unceremoniously uninterred, was desecrated by the removal of her heart - a belief that the people of the time thought would stop the wanderings of a vampire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon nearing this area, I was overcome with cold chills, to the point of the hair on my arms and neck standing straight up.  An immensely sad feeling took over my entire being, and tears began to slowly fall from the corners of my eyes.  It was all entirely unexplainable.  Suffice to say that for my money, I believe that the spirit of this poor young girl lingers in a place which means only sadness to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough was enough.  I had found Mercy Brown, and I didn't at all like the feelings she was evoking.  I said a prayer that she may finally rest - I also said a prayer that she leave me.  She did.  Thankfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, some things are better left uninvestigated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-1792932250569723631?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/1792932250569723631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=1792932250569723631' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/1792932250569723631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/1792932250569723631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/02/psychic-sensitivity.html' title='Psychic Sensitivity'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SaLZftrvUcI/AAAAAAAAAFc/BKPFMoImIQI/s72-c/Mercy+Brown+Grave.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-6784962202253583235</id><published>2009-02-14T01:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T01:28:53.664-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Five</title><content type='html'>This past week, were you more predator or prey?&lt;br /&gt;Definately prey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which Beatles song title could best be the title of your week? &lt;br /&gt;Hard Day's Night... in so far as...&lt;br /&gt;It's been a hard day's night, and I been working like a dog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Roses are red / Violets are blue / ___________ / __________.” How would you complete this poem so that it described this past week? &lt;br /&gt;I'm dead on my feet, all because of you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many pieces of unopened mail are sitting wherever you put your unopened mail? &lt;br /&gt;About 12&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was the best meal of the past seven days? &lt;br /&gt;Uh... Veal Parm with angel hair from Federal Hill&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-6784962202253583235?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/6784962202253583235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=6784962202253583235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/6784962202253583235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/6784962202253583235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/02/friday-five.html' title='Friday Five'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-7279615205003311420</id><published>2009-02-10T05:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T05:48:44.998-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Um ... This Is Very Cool</title><content type='html'>I guess this video has become quite the internet rage.  And for good reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="420" height="339"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/x7hhny" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/x7hhny" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="420" height="339" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/x7hhny"&gt;Les 44 présidents des Etats Unis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;by &lt;a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/thony911"&gt;thony911&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-7279615205003311420?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/7279615205003311420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=7279615205003311420' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/7279615205003311420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/7279615205003311420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/02/um-this-is-very-cool.html' title='Um ... This Is Very Cool'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-5574949967420008725</id><published>2009-01-15T09:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T16:29:44.124-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever</title><content type='html'>I suppose if I had new news, I'd post more.  The truth is, every day is just like the one before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, being that I live in Massachusetts, I, (like everyone else here,) am feeling the effects of the Arctic blast passing through.  It's C.O.L.D.  Thank God I have heat in my house, which is not the case for 2 different people I know.  I feel horrible for them.  Times are hard; there's no money around - the gas company doesn't care that people are dead-ass broke.  They want their money, and if not... tough shit ... freeze to death for all they care!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things with MW are also status-quo, for better or worse, it is what it is.  We tend to get on each other's nerves, but yet nothing changes.  What can I say?  I have a tremendous breaking point.  I guess I haven't gotten to it yet.  (Funny how things change all the time, and time changes everything!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still work every flippin' weekend, DJ'g for all the karaoke hounds.  Once upon a time, that job was not a job - it was fun.  NOW...?  Not so much.  Now, it's a job.  A drudgery, an inconvenience, a long drive... it's not fun anymore.  Not fun because I have to drag MW with me, and he hates being there, and so he makes those 4 hours each Fri &amp; Sat seem like 10.  It's not fun anymore because I still have to give every penny of the money I earn there to my brother, who by the way, is still waiting for a court date to have his disability case heard.  TWO YEARS NOW PEOPLE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a meme over at Stacey's that I want to do, but it's soooo long.  I'll do it another time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas sucked, as usual.  My dear friend R gave me a beautiful diamond bracelet, other than that ... nada.  A big expense was all it was.  Depressing and expensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the best thing about this time of year is, it's tax time.  I always look forward to tax time because I always get a fat tax refund.  This year though, I have to use it to pay my property taxes and house insurance.  Bummer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well - I started this post at 9am, and it's now 4:30pm.  Does that give you some indication of my attention span when it come to blogging?  It's because I have nothing to say.  There's just nothing going on around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-5574949967420008725?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/5574949967420008725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=5574949967420008725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5574949967420008725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5574949967420008725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/01/whatever.html' title='Whatever'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-4704179985836987628</id><published>2009-01-15T09:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T09:42:16.979-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="380" height="450"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="gig_c=5013&amp;gig_lt=1232030415828&amp;gig_pt=1232030474938&amp;gig_g=1&amp;gig_n=blogger" /&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://azjeans.gigya.s3.amazonaws.com/StuckOnYou.swf?widgetKey=24db8427f1d6ab3aab2dbca73b15d006" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://azjeans.gigya.s3.amazonaws.com/StuckOnYou.swf?widgetKey=24db8427f1d6ab3aab2dbca73b15d006" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="380" height="450" flashvars="gig_c=5013&amp;gig_lt=1232030415828&amp;gig_pt=1232030474938&amp;gig_g=1&amp;gig_n=blogger" &gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTIzMjAzMDQxNTgyOCZwdD*xMjMyMDMwNDc*OTM4JnA9MTE5MzEmZD1zdGFuZGFyZCZuPWJsb2dnZXImYz*1MDEzJmc9MSZvPTI3Y2JlYzMyMjIxMTRhYzY4YmQ5MDU4N2EyY2QxZGY2.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-4704179985836987628?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/4704179985836987628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=4704179985836987628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/4704179985836987628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/4704179985836987628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2009/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-5293548349796891531</id><published>2008-11-17T08:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T08:14:57.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Trip To The Ladies's Room...</title><content type='html'>Ladies public restroom... not for the weak! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume 'The Stance.' In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold 'The Stance.' To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have known there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail . Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.' By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.' As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?' This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-5293548349796891531?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/5293548349796891531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=5293548349796891531' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5293548349796891531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5293548349796891531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/11/trip-to-ladiess-room.html' title='A Trip To The Ladies&apos;s Room...'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-6769573333104757486</id><published>2008-11-15T11:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T12:04:04.507-05:00</updated><title type='text'>God And Politics</title><content type='html'>I stumbled across a blog last week which I read quite a bit of.  Through that blog I wandered to others of like mind.  The theme of these blogs is Christianity/Conservatism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the recent presidential election, there are, as one would imagine, a multitude of opinionated posts out there on all subjects, and how they relate to the election.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I've said in an earlier post, I believe in "Live and let live."  And honestly, that's how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That isn't to say that I can't have my own opinions though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to think of myself as a person who believes in the central ideology of Christianity.  I also like to think of myself as neither far right, nor far left in my political views... I'm pretty middle of the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said all that, it is beyond me how people who claim to be Christians, can be so narrow sighted, so blind, so damn one-way in their views.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to link God to the presidential election here.  A million other people have already done that out in this chasm known as the world wide web.  I think it's wrong.  I think faith is faith, and politics is politics, and never the twain shall meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I happen to be disappointed that Obama was elected.  I think he was elected for all the wrong reasons.  I also think McCain was not the best candidate from the Republican party.  Be that as it may, it is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My idea of being a Christian is to be tolerant, and to be loving of all mankind; regardless of political persuasion.  Regardless of all differences, in fact.  My idea of being a Christian is to be responsible for the spirituality of the one and only person whose spirituality I can effect - mine.  I am not my brother's keeper.  It is not up to me to impose my beliefs upon another.  I am responsible for my own ideas, my own beliefs, my own behavior - not yours; and vice versa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God and politics do not belong in the same stratosphere.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could elaborate more about this, but I can't because I don't want to further what I think is a radical agenda.  I don't want to publicize what I consider to be a hateful and intolerant ideology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I will say though is, if you don't like a candidate's position on gun control, or abortion, or the national budget, or foreign affairs, or same sex marriage; that's fair game... as long as you don't blame God for the position you take.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-6769573333104757486?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/6769573333104757486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=6769573333104757486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/6769573333104757486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/6769573333104757486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/11/god-and-politics.html' title='God And Politics'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-5974852592208829006</id><published>2008-11-11T15:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T15:57:21.464-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Of What I Believe</title><content type='html'>I believe that Jesus taught tolerance.  He warned of false prophets, and unpure preaching.  He warned that the only way to his father was through him.  He taught his diciples to love and honor each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that God does not hate gay people.  To that point, I don't believe gay people have a choice regarding their sexual orientation; I believe it is genetically predetermined, and as Quasimodo said; "It is what it is."  I believe gay people shouled be allowed to legally marry, and enjoy all the legal, emotional, and spiritual benefits as any other human being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe people should kill one another in the name of their God.  I also don't believe that God and politics belong in the same teachings or discussions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe that my God is a vengeful God.  I believe he knows what's in my heart, and what matters is the personal relationship between him &amp; me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the Golden Rule, and I recognize that I am human, and as such, I sometimes falter.  I believe in the physicians creed; "First, Do No Harm."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in forgiveness.  I believe in generosity.  I believe in live and let live.  I believe that God created all creatures, great &amp; small, and I abhor cruelty to any and all of God's creatures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the Ten Commandments, and again; I realize that I human, and as such sometimes falter - but when I do, I do my best to return to the path of right, not stay on the path of wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that not one of us is perfect, and I honestly do believe in Jesus' words, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."  I do not judge.  It is not up to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that racism is the undoing of mankind.  Greed is another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that I will be welcomed into the kingdom of heaven, not based on my kind deeds, or my generosity, or my donations into the collection plate - but based on the fact that I believe that Jesus is the son of God, and he died on the cross so that my sins will be forgiven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I also believe that those who do not agree with me have that right, and I would never try to take that right away from them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that our nation was founded because a group of people were persecuted for their religous beliefs, and because they had the courage to leave their homeland in favor of unknown, and hostile lands, we all now have the right to worship however we see fit.  It is as it should be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-5974852592208829006?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/5974852592208829006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=5974852592208829006' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5974852592208829006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5974852592208829006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/11/some-of-what-i-believe.html' title='Some Of What I Believe'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-2859902804682884197</id><published>2008-11-04T17:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T18:00:47.981-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank Goodness...</title><content type='html'>I don't know about any of you, but I'm SO glad this election is just about over.  There's nothing left to do now but cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SRDSJv2DqXI/AAAAAAAAAD4/fAS4XKAei98/s1600-h/candidates.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SRDSJv2DqXI/AAAAAAAAAD4/fAS4XKAei98/s320/candidates.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264939029299964274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there were two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I voted.  And unlike my fellow Massachusettsites, I will tell you how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For president, I held my nose as I cast my vote because I really would have rather not chosen either...however, since I had only the two to choose from, I chose McCain/Palin.  For me, Obama is too extreme; too TOO far left; too fucking smug.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not at all concerned that Palin is unqualified to be president.  Should she find herself in that position, I'm quite sure she will do the same thing George W did; surround herself with capable &amp; smart people.  Let's face it, nobody can possibly be as inept as George W.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I voted for John Kerry.  I can't explain why.  I guess the devil you know is better than the devil you don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I voted "yes" on Question 1.  I pay TOO MUCH state income tax.  Something needs to be done about this state's spending.  Quite frankly, if the "Vote No On Question 1" people had taken the millions of dollars they spent with their mailers, and funneled it toward state programs, they wouldn't be worried about program cuts, now would they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I voted "yes" on Question 2, to decriminalize marijuana.  About freakin' time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I voted "yes" to ban dog racing for profit in Mass.  Those animals are treated miserably, and the industry stinks to high heaven.  No more dog racing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what about you?  Did you vote?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-2859902804682884197?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/2859902804682884197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=2859902804682884197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/2859902804682884197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/2859902804682884197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/11/thank-goodness.html' title='Thank Goodness...'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SRDSJv2DqXI/AAAAAAAAAD4/fAS4XKAei98/s72-c/candidates.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-6693730703573511122</id><published>2008-11-03T09:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T09:44:01.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Vote Tomorrow</title><content type='html'>Not going to get into who should be elected.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm only saying -------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GO VOTE TOMORROW !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-6693730703573511122?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/6693730703573511122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=6693730703573511122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/6693730703573511122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/6693730703573511122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/11/go-vote-tomorrow.html' title='Go Vote Tomorrow'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-2760767451562843294</id><published>2008-11-01T11:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T11:37:11.655-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Five</title><content type='html'>Got this over at Stacey's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't typically do memes, but like Stacey, this one was too good to ignore.  So, here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;strong&gt;Among people you know, who has the greenest thumb?&lt;/strong&gt; My mom - bar none.  She can grow roses out of stone, pansies in the winter, and food out of seeds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;strong&gt;Among people you know, who has the bluest blood?&lt;/strong&gt; Thinking about this, I realize that I know absolutely nobody with true blue blood.  However, that's not to say that I don't know people who &lt;em&gt;pretend&lt;/em&gt; to be blue-blooded.  I would have to say the bluest pretender would be MW's oldest spawn.  When it rains, she's in danger of drowning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;strong&gt;Among people you know, who has the yellowest belly?&lt;/strong&gt; Ah, good one.  MW is the yellowest bellied coward I know.  He only hits women, never stands up to a confrontation, and allows his eye-sore wife to pussy whip him even after 4+ years of living apart.  He's completely spineless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;Among people you know, who has the blackest heart?&lt;/strong&gt; Another good one.  The blackest heart - This is a toss up between MW and his sister.  Truly, I think they're equally black hearted.  Evil to the core, without a conscience, or morals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;strong&gt;Among people you know, who is the most silver-tongued?&lt;/strong&gt; This is also a toss up.  I am very silver tongued.  You have to be when you're in sales.  You know - you gotta convince the Eskimo he needs a refridgerator.  Then again, my oldest nephew is pretty silver tongued too.  He has a million dollar vocabulary; too bad he uses it to be hurtful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-2760767451562843294?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/2760767451562843294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=2760767451562843294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/2760767451562843294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/2760767451562843294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/11/friday-five.html' title='Friday Five'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-5475325306016493870</id><published>2008-09-12T16:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T17:05:49.795-04:00</updated><title type='text'>55 Things</title><content type='html'>Taken from &lt;a href="http://iammelting.blogspot.com"&gt;Stacey:&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The phone rings; whom do you want it to be? &lt;br /&gt;Somebody calling with good news for a change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. When shopping at the grocery store, do you return your cart?&lt;br /&gt;Always. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. If you had to kiss the last person you kissed, would you? &lt;br /&gt;Of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Do you take compliments well? &lt;br /&gt;Yes.  I learned that from Norman Vincent Peale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Do you play Sudoku? &lt;br /&gt;No.  I hate numbers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. If abandoned alone in the wilderness, would you survive? &lt;br /&gt;Absolutely not.  I hate the outdoors - bugs, creepy crawlies.  eeww - No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Do you like nipple rings? &lt;br /&gt;Nope.  I think they're unnecessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Did you ever go to camp as a kid? &lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. If a sexy person were pursuing you, but you knew he/she were married what would you do? &lt;br /&gt;I would totally ignore it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Could you date someone with different religious beliefs than you? &lt;br /&gt;Yeah, sure.  I would have a problem though, with someone who has absolutely NO spiritual beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Do you like to pursue or be pursued?&lt;br /&gt;I would rather be the pursuer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Use three words to describe yourself at the moment: &lt;br /&gt;Tired, headachey, annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Do any songs make you cry? &lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Are you continuing your education? &lt;br /&gt;No.  I've spent years and years, and tens of thousands of dollars on my education.  Enough is enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Do you know how to shoot a gun?&lt;br /&gt;Yes.  I'm licensed to carry too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. If your house were on fire, what would be the first thing you grabbed? &lt;br /&gt;Probably my cell phone, and my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Who was the last person you shared a bed with? &lt;br /&gt;Bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Whom do you text the most? &lt;br /&gt;June.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Favorite children’s books?&lt;br /&gt;The Places You'll Go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. What color are your eyes?&lt;br /&gt;Green&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. How tall are you? &lt;br /&gt;5'6"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. If you could do it over again, start from scratch, would you? &lt;br /&gt;No, but there are &lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt; things I'd like to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Any secret admirers?&lt;br /&gt;Gee, I dunno... they're secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Have you ever taken pictures in a photo booth? &lt;br /&gt;Yes, in middle school I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Where is the farthest place you have traveled? &lt;br /&gt;I've been to several continents, but the farthest place is Japan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Do you like mustard? &lt;br /&gt;Depends.  Only on certain things, like hot dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Do you prefer to sleep or eat? &lt;br /&gt;Sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Do you look like your mom or dad? &lt;br /&gt;I have features of both.  When I was younger, I resembled my mother - now that I'm older, I'm looking more like my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. How long does it take you in the shower?&lt;br /&gt;15 minutes &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Can you do splits?&lt;br /&gt;Hell No!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. What movies do you want to see right now? &lt;br /&gt;Waiting for the next Harry Potter movie, which has been delayed a year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. What did you do for New Year’s Eve? &lt;br /&gt;Gambled at the casino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Was your mom a cheerleader? &lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. What’s the last letter of your middle name? &lt;br /&gt;S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. How many hours of sleep do you get a night?&lt;br /&gt;Usually 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Do you like Care Bears? &lt;br /&gt;Care Who?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. What do you buy at the movies? &lt;br /&gt;Usually just something to drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Do you know how to play poker? &lt;br /&gt;Yeah, and I'm good at it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Do you wear your seat belt? &lt;br /&gt;Never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. What do you wear to sleep? &lt;br /&gt;Underwear and a T-shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Anything big ever happen in your town? &lt;br /&gt;Well, there was Big Dan's - that was big enough to have a movie made about it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Is your hair straight or curly? &lt;br /&gt;Curly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. Is your tongue pierced? &lt;br /&gt;No.  What's the point?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Do you like liver and onions? &lt;br /&gt;Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. Have you ever been in love? &lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Do you like funny or serious people better? &lt;br /&gt;I like people who ARE funny ... not people who &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; they're funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. Ever been to L.A.? &lt;br /&gt;Yes, and they don't call it La La Land for nothin'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Do you steal or pay for your music downloads? &lt;br /&gt;I don't download music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. Do you hate chocolate? &lt;br /&gt;No, I love chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. What do you and your parents fight about the most? &lt;br /&gt;I don't fight with my parents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. Are you a gullible person? &lt;br /&gt;No way.  In fact if jaded is the opposite of gullible, then call me Jaded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. If you could have any job, what would it be? &lt;br /&gt;I would be a multi-gazillionaire business owner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. Are you easy to get along with?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm extremely easy to get along with.  Just don't lie to me, or fuck with me; then you'll find that I'm no longer easy to get along with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. What is your favorite time of day? &lt;br /&gt;Right after supper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. Are you a generally happy person? &lt;br /&gt;Generally, yes.  Sometimes though; especially lately, I'm unhappy alot too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-5475325306016493870?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/5475325306016493870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=5475325306016493870' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5475325306016493870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/5475325306016493870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/09/55-things.html' title='55 Things'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-9009638631763733367</id><published>2008-09-10T21:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T21:36:14.052-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Jos !</title><content type='html'>Jos - &lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry I missed your birthday!  I've been away at a meeting since Sunday night and I didn't have access to the internet until I got home tonight.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you have a wonderful vacation, and ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you had a very &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends, go give &lt;a href="http://psychologically---impaired.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jos&lt;/a&gt; some birthday love!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-9009638631763733367?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/9009638631763733367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=9009638631763733367' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/9009638631763733367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/9009638631763733367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/09/happy-birthday-jos.html' title='Happy Birthday Jos !'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-7766323853840362011</id><published>2008-09-04T11:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T11:28:46.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Great!  Now What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SL_9ovFkbNI/AAAAAAAAADg/-1HaTrY7D6E/s1600-h/palin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SL_9ovFkbNI/AAAAAAAAADg/-1HaTrY7D6E/s320/palin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242187367558966482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Just when I was certain what to do when it comes time to cast my vote, Sarah goes and gives a speech last night at the RNC that blew me away, won me over, swayed my decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This woman is phenominal.  She's homey, and real, and plain-spoken.  She's no nonsense, and she's sincere.  If only she were running for president!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose, one could think on the bright side - McCain probably won't live 4 years, so she could ostensibly become president!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow !  If you didn't hear her last night, go to msnbc and watch her.  It will be 30 minutes well spent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-7766323853840362011?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/7766323853840362011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=7766323853840362011' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/7766323853840362011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/7766323853840362011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/09/great-now-what.html' title='Great!  Now What?'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SL_9ovFkbNI/AAAAAAAAADg/-1HaTrY7D6E/s72-c/palin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-8583217122783703114</id><published>2008-08-26T08:58:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T09:23:04.513-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Disturbing -</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PdJUCU1UH2w&amp;color1=11645361&amp;color2=13619151&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PdJUCU1UH2w&amp;color1=11645361&amp;color2=13619151&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Election year after election year, I have the same dilemna.  My candidate never wins the party nod; therefore, I'm forced to choose "the lesser evil."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to go on record here and say, I have never been an Obama supporter.  I am a registered independant.  I've been known to vote both parties.  This time around, I was (and am) a staunch Hillary Clinton supporter.  I think I was as crushed as she was when she conceded defeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all that said, lately I've been thinking that maybe... &lt;em&gt;just maybe&lt;/em&gt;, McCain is the lesser of the evils.  What other choice is there, afterall?  Write in Howdy Doody?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I started doing some research.  I did some reading, some listening, engaged in some conversations with people more politically in-tune than I.  What I learned was sobering.  No - it is bone chillingly frightening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;McCain cannot be elected president.  He simply cannot.&lt;br /&gt;I must cast my vote beside Obama's name, but rest assured it is not a vote FOR him, it is a vote AGAINST McCain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You watch the video for yourself, and tell me how you feel afterward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God help this nation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-8583217122783703114?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/8583217122783703114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=8583217122783703114' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/8583217122783703114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/8583217122783703114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/08/disturbing.html' title='-Disturbing -'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-3964694730143862592</id><published>2008-08-22T08:50:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T13:31:20.089-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Footprints</title><content type='html'>There are people who touch the lives of other people, and leave a footprint.  Sometimes it's a heel mark on your back, other times it's the shape a mold of the person you become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking about the people in my life who have left their footprint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First and foremost, and always #1, is my paternal grandmother.  She probably didn't realize it, but she molded me into the woman I grew to become.  She was the sanity in an otherwise insane world.  The anchor I held on to when circumstances beyond my control wreaked havoc and destruction in my life.  She was my role model, my savior, my hero.  I miss her dreadfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patricia Wampler - was my 6th grade Social Studies teacher.  She was the first person who ever told me that I had a special mind, and could achieve anything I could conceive.  I never forgot Miss Wampler's words; moreso, I believed Miss Wampler's words.  When times got hard (and they did,) I replayed her words in my mind, and found the motivation to succeed.  Thank you, Miss Wampler - wherever you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Father - he was not a Mr. Cleaver dad; very far from it.  In fact, in totality, he did more harm than good, however, he &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; teach me that whatever I would become, was entirely up to me.  There were no family vacations, no happy gatherings around the supper table.  There was no praise for good grades, no interest in school activities, no cheering section at the varsity games, no smiling face in the audience of the school play.  I was not encouraged to stretch my limits, get an education, or even asked 'How was your day?'  What I did receive though, was the ever present edict:  "If you get pregnant, don't bother coming home."  It's so sad to say but, I never ever heard that he was proud of me, until I heard his boss say so at his eulogy.  Thank you dad, for not raising me with an attitude of entitlement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MW - This one definately left footprints.  Both physically, and figuratively.  I am a believer that everything happens for a reason.  This man, while probably my biggest mistake, also taught me a very valuable life lesson.  Until him, I had never experienced a broken heart.  Not really.  High school drama doesn't count; and I really never even had that.  But if not for MW, I would never have known what it feels like to love so deeply, and have that love thrown back at you and shit upon.  Thank you MW for teaching me humility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carolyn Robinson - She was my high school guidance councilor.  She was the person who said that even though no one at home cared whether or not I attended school, I must.  She was the one who said I could go to any college or university in the country.  She was the one who sat with me for hours, filling out applications, proof reading essays, helping me with financial documents.  She was the one who said "You are going to leave your mark on the world, you'll see - trust me."  And I did trust her.  Thank you Mrs Robinson for guiding me in the right direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Sister - What can I say?  We don't speak.  Our lives have taken diametrically opposite paths.  But she has left her footprint too.  She taught me that blood isn't always thicker than water.  She taught me that the old adage "You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family" is not necessarily true.  Thank you Karen, for teaching me that it feels good to take the high road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Brother - My brother has turned out to be my cross to bear in life.  This is not necessarily a bad thing.  I firmly believe that if one is capable, one should help the less fortunate.  But my brother has taught me compassion.  My heart aches for him, and for his situation, and for his lot in life; albeit a lot he chose.  Thank you Steve for reminding me that it's good to give.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last but not least, My Mom -  Legally, she is my step-mother, but in my heart, she is blood.  This woman married a widower with 3 children, ages 14, 7, &amp; 2.  She left her home country and came to a strange place to raise another woman's kids - married to a virtual stranger, and one who was abusive, who cheated &amp; drank, who stayed out for nights on end.  There was a hot meal on our table 3 times a day, 7 days a week.  There were clean clothes, and a pristine home.  Happy times (when my father was out fishing.)  She never treated any of us as though we weren't hers.  I tell people to this very day that I cannot say my biological mother would have treated me any better.  I love her as if she gave birth to me, and I will do for her whatever she may need or want.  Thank you Mom for teaching me that yes, in fact you can pick your family, and that the presence of a good woman in the home can overcome just about any hardship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-3964694730143862592?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/3964694730143862592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=3964694730143862592' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/3964694730143862592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/3964694730143862592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/08/footprints.html' title='Footprints'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7530210679055359288.post-4725093533396636896</id><published>2008-08-20T11:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T11:48:03.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Home</title><content type='html'>After investigating them all - Livejournal, TBlog, Facebook, you name it; in the end I decided to stay right here with Blogger.  I like it here - I'm familiar with it, and it's limitations.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I'll stay.  If the snot finds me, so be it.  But, personally, I would never go looking for someone who told me to mind my own business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaaanyway,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won a trip.  Every year my company gives away a nice trip to the top 1% performers nationally.  This year I was one of the lucky few.  I'm going to &lt;a href="http://www.ritzcarlton.com/en/Properties/AmeliaIsland/Default.htm"&gt;Amelia Island &lt;/a&gt;at the end of September.  I hope the hurricanes find a different path that week.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So part of the registration for this trip is, I had to submit a headshot photo.  Some people go and have one professionally taken.  I'm not that full of myself.  I just sent one I had laying around on my hard drive.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SKw6bahR0bI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TDL43hdiWjU/s1600-h/Sybil+Head+Shot.Jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SKw6bahR0bI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TDL43hdiWjU/s320/Sybil+Head+Shot.Jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236624709374824882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take the worst photographs!  &lt;a href="http://www.iammelting.blogspot.com"&gt;Stacey&lt;/a&gt; is so photogenic!  I look at her pictures and I say, 'yep, that looks like her!'  I look at mine and I say, 'God! Do I really look that old?'  Well, I suppose it's not THAT bad considering I'm almost 50.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things at home continue to be unstable.  It's a roller coaster ride.  One day good, the next day horrid.  To be truthful though, I'm really running thin on patience for the whole thing.  I miss being alone, and not accountable to anyone.  My, how things have changed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, my mom is home from the hospital after 3 weeks.  She gave me a terrible scare.  In fact we almost lost her.  But she's home now, and on the mend - albeit a very slow mend.  Just goes to show you how fleeing life can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for now.  I really just wanted to establish the new digs.  Later on I'll come back and be profound.  For now, I need to get out in the sun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeya&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7530210679055359288-4725093533396636896?l=sybil5910.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/feeds/4725093533396636896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7530210679055359288&amp;postID=4725093533396636896' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/4725093533396636896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7530210679055359288/posts/default/4725093533396636896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sybil5910.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-new-home.html' title='My New Home'/><author><name>Sybil</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05028675532827524729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v137/sioux5910/Sybil_Doll.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSQOBgWwAf0/SKw6bahR0bI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TDL43hdiWjU/s72-c/Sybil+Head+Shot.Jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
