<?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-6863074096471612882</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:53:55.360-05:00</updated><category term='Videos'/><category term='Bitching'/><category term='Brother'/><category term='dad'/><category term='TV'/><category term='personality'/><category term='Music'/><category term='Paris'/><category term='house'/><category term='Friends'/><category term='Into'/><category term='Math'/><category term='Boys'/><category term='Nuns'/><category term='Photographs'/><title type='text'>Notes from a Mafia Princess</title><subtitle type='html'>Add wine, one part Italian, two parts shopping addict, Parisian Vogue, and four shots of espresso to a martini shaker and mix well. Serve chilled over ice. Tequila can also be used for an extra kick. Do this and you get me basically.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>45</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-4185321560156676478</id><published>2008-05-09T22:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T22:56:39.966-04:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCUOaikoWMI/AAAAAAAAALk/Lb7y-CwEUz8/s1600-h/image012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198577193988937922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCUOaikoWMI/AAAAAAAAALk/Lb7y-CwEUz8/s320/image012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;These are amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got the like from miss &lt;a href="http://prettyinthecity.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pretty in the City&lt;/a&gt; for these &lt;a href="http://www.jamphat.com/rap/"&gt;Rap Graphs&lt;/a&gt; and I absolutely love them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of my personal favorites&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198577224053709058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCUOcSkoWQI/AAAAAAAAAME/aS1RHkZH0mc/s320/image142.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198577211168807122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCUObikoWNI/AAAAAAAAALs/6JQmJhirGqk/s320/image026.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198577215463774434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCUObykoWOI/AAAAAAAAAL0/QOYSfwBKBMQ/s320/image049.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198577219758741746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCUOcCkoWPI/AAAAAAAAAL8/PTEt3FAzym8/s320/image065.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-4185321560156676478?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/4185321560156676478/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=4185321560156676478' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/4185321560156676478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/4185321560156676478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/05/omg.html' title='OMG'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCUOaikoWMI/AAAAAAAAALk/Lb7y-CwEUz8/s72-c/image012.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7911542516736572727</id><published>2008-05-09T21:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T22:03:00.135-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Power stance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCT8WykoWLI/AAAAAAAAALc/mu74Bx2w_NM/s1600-h/sb10067166a-003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198557338355128498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCT8WykoWLI/AAAAAAAAALc/mu74Bx2w_NM/s320/sb10067166a-003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Oh men and their power stances. What is it about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I'm talking about. The feet hip (or more) length apart, spread out, hands on the hip (fists closed of course), with just a slight lean with the pelvic area positioned forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very super hero like. Ok, so I have no room to talk because I have my own personal power stance, actually a few of them, that I enjoy using. They come in handy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Texter gave me the hard core power stance today, when we actually talked, face to face, in person. No texting no messages, no nothing. In person for the first time since our falling out. And I didn't even realize it was happening until he was right there in my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw him this morning when I walked into our lecture hall, but I went and sat down where I usually do, and I'm getting out my notebook, and I look up, and there he is standing full stance mode, in his gorgeous red button down shirt and black dress pants. Yum, damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wanted to brag about being at my old high school. He wanted to let me know that within his first two days there he broke up a fight and a kid took a swing at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go figure, he is at my old high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But besides the point, he was doing a very male very powerful very, "I am man hear me roar, woo over me". And I did some work via Stalkbook (so sue me, I stalk), and he's not in a relationship with the girl (Barbie) I thought he was. And there's no sign of a relationship on there anywhere. I'm wondering if he just has that up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope, my mind is not even going there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But God he looked good today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other boy news, I feel like I always have an update to give on these three different guys. Time for S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S and I are back to talking like normal, I think E was right and I just needed to make the first move. And since he was always the one to make the first move before, it's only fair that it's my turn. But he is out of town for the weekend. Bummer. But like he said to me last night, I'll be there in spirit. Ohh boys. I'm looking forward to my drunk dials/texts, his are always enjoyable. He's a great guy, I wish Will would get to know him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried just casually bring up my birthday, and Will thinks that no guys should be allowed (except for him of course), seeing as we have the whole Sex and the City theme going on. S will be there though, there's no way he won't be. They will all just have to deal, it's my day, and I can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now Boom Boom. Dear God. I feel like I should copy paste some of the messages he's sent me. He's in Canada for the weekend, and he can't text while he's there. So he's been sending me Facebook/Stalkbook messages. In fact, let me pull some up right quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of the first I got:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Either way, nice talking to you tonight dearie- now we MUST make arrangements for going out for drinks and the ensuing funny ex-stories, dancing, and mayhem that will ensue =) I get the distinct impression that it can and will be a fun time for us to drink together lol.I hope the remainder of your evening goes splendid; in the meantime- you better be curling up in that bed at a decent hour =) Sweet dreams tonight, and I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow =)"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And from the second&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"In the meantime- you &amp;amp; I must work on getting you some appropriate sunwear to enjoy ;) Side note- nice profile photo; yea though I walk in the valley in the shadow of breast.. I shall..umm.. yeahhhhh hehehe.. I suppose if you got the goods, you might as well display properly, I mean, isnt that considered artistic expression ;)"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just gonna throw a little side note in here. My boobs, not big. Seriously, almost non-existent. I just know how to buy really great bra's. I LOVE Victoria's Secret. So I think it's funny that he thinks I have great boobs. They're a nice hand full (not that he knows that, but I do), but I really just graduated to a 36-B 2 years ago. Before then I could wear the same bra I had in middle school. And even now I'm barely a B. Just throwing it out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And from the third, from the end of quite the book I might add&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Additionally- as for sunwear, that can include anything from a cute outfit (that's yours to deal with lol) to sunglasses (which I can handle). I know you asked about it and so you and C may get to be my "test pairs" for this summer to make some higher end product.. you interested dearie?? So Victoria Secret and a tiara.. hmm sounds like an outfit or a Halloween costume lol ;)"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, I got called &lt;em&gt;dearie&lt;/em&gt; again. God I hate that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I need help with this guy. I am doing my best not to flirt with him at all. I am giving off all the "just friends" vibe. Drastic times call for drastic measures. iGuy knows I have a boyfriend, or thinks I have a boyfriend, why can't he tell him?? I might have to. I can handle that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any suggestions? I'm open to just about everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all for the update tonight. It's sad not too much else is happening in my life besides work and boys. I'm sure you all don't want to hear about the exciting Physics lectures I've been sitting through.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7911542516736572727?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7911542516736572727/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7911542516736572727' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7911542516736572727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7911542516736572727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/05/power-stance.html' title='Power stance'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCT8WykoWLI/AAAAAAAAALc/mu74Bx2w_NM/s72-c/sb10067166a-003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-68922750033317793</id><published>2008-05-08T12:48:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T13:30:06.941-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Attachment fast?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCM4KtGyqaI/AAAAAAAAALU/dwhv3gxMYec/s1600-h/57445576.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198060151473613218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCM4KtGyqaI/AAAAAAAAALU/dwhv3gxMYec/s320/57445576.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So I knew that there was a reason why I went on a man fast. Life with men is just so complicated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is when most people chime in and say, no life is only complicated if you make it complicated. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well I call that bullshit, I can sit back and relax and my life would still be complicated. Whatever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Texter update time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I really can't make this mess up, I should have posted this yesterday when it happened.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Texter has always been in my science classes because he has minors in biology and chemistry (like me), and his major is Secondary Education, and he wants to teach high school science. Now he's not from around here, but I am (obviously, and unfortunately), and to top it all off, my mum is the science coordinator and head of the science department for the middle school and high schools in our local public school district.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You will never guess where Texter started his pre-internship yesterday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thats right, at my old high school, where my brother currently goes to school, and my mother is one of his bosses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shut up. I still can't believe it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We haven't spoken in 4 months and now he's back. And everywhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now, for Boom Boom. I was considering calling him Bartender, but I feel like Boom Boom is more fun. Boom Boom used to bartend in the Boom Boom Room in Windsor Canada, hence the name Boom Boom. He's in the a cappella group that the roomie and I joined, and he's one of iGuy's best friends. Lordy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198057587378137474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCM11dGyqYI/AAAAAAAAALE/ajmT-FiBsF0/s320/1000205023_l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I have absolutely no attraction towards him, he's just a nice, sweet, funny guy. And of course, he wants me. Sigh. Why? I have no feelings for him. Why is it so hard for me to find a guy that I want and who wants me back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So he got my number off of Stalkbook (aka Facebook), and he started texting me last night while I was out to dinner and on my way to the movies with E.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's my new theory that texting could be the downfall of relationships. What happened to good old fashioned calling and talking? Even though I do love me some texting. Hmmm...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So anywho, it continued when I got home from the movies, all the way to him calling me dearie and wishing me goodnight and sweet dreams.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think my IQ drops a few points every time he calls me dearie, I swear to goodness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then of course I got the text this morning at 10h30 while I was in lecture asking how I slept and how my day was going so far.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ugh. And yes, we are still texting right now. I really need to learn how to stop.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wherever this is going it should be interesting. To say the least.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And in yet another boy news, S and I still have yet to hang out since he's been back from Cali, and he's going out of town again this weekend. Bummer. We also haven't been talking as much as we did before he left, but that's really because of our schedules just not matching up at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;E and I talked about it and she said a lot of their friendship has to do with her making the first move or effort to talk or hang out. Which is odd when I thought about it because he and I never had that issue. But then again, he was always the one to initiate our conversations or us hanging out most of the time. So maybe it's just my turn. We'll see. That is if our schedules ever match up so that we're home or around at the same time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sigh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the roomie and I decided that instead of man fasting, we're just going to do an attachment fast. There is to be no emotional attachment to be had. I think that's the best plan. Texting, spooning, talking, and anything along those physical lines is allowed, just no emotional chow chow allowed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sounds like a game plan. Hopefully it'll work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We also decided that none of the guys in my life are allowed to meet each other. Check.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, if you have not seen Forgetting Sarah Marshal, go see it right now! It is constantly funny and I don't think I've laughed that hard in a movie in I don't know how long!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198058072709441938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCM2RtGyqZI/AAAAAAAAALM/OQaCYaR1EcQ/s200/forgetting_sarah_marshall_movie_poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I just got called "sweetie" in a text...not as bad as "dearie" but my IQ did drop a few. And right before lab. Sheesh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-68922750033317793?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/68922750033317793/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=68922750033317793' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/68922750033317793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/68922750033317793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/05/attachment-fast.html' title='Attachment fast?'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCM4KtGyqaI/AAAAAAAAALU/dwhv3gxMYec/s72-c/57445576.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-6845477602120814551</id><published>2008-05-06T13:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T14:02:47.387-04:00</updated><title type='text'>EEEE! Excitement!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCCauDf4N4I/AAAAAAAAAK8/lu4kgzG7NW0/s1600-h/Sex%2520and%2520the%2520City%2520main.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197324085989226370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCCauDf4N4I/AAAAAAAAAK8/lu4kgzG7NW0/s320/Sex%2520and%2520the%2520City%2520main.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; EEEEEEEEEE I'm so excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So apparently, according to Will, the Oprah episode on the Sex and the City movie got leaked and it's on Youtube right now! You know I already watched the whole thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never been more excited about a movie in my life! Not even when RENT came out and I made it back to the States from Paris two days before it was pulled out of theaters in my city!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know you want the links and to watch it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's divided into six parts, so you can watch the first one &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=XrKIzvH-KD0&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt; and then the links to the other parts are listed with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and in case you didn't know, the movie comes out on my birthday! It's perfect! And only 24 more days to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, you will never believe who is in my physics class this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Texter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shit you not. I couldn't make this up if I tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only that, but we haven't spoken in 4 months since all of the drama. And he texted me today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bloody hell. I'll find out on Thursday if he's in my lab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's strange, but I almost feel the desire to be friends with him again. I know I know, bad bad BAD idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, maybe not?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-6845477602120814551?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6845477602120814551/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=6845477602120814551' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6845477602120814551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6845477602120814551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/05/eeee-excitement.html' title='EEEE! Excitement!'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SCCauDf4N4I/AAAAAAAAAK8/lu4kgzG7NW0/s72-c/Sex%2520and%2520the%2520City%2520main.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-1386282232222704093</id><published>2008-05-04T16:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T17:17:36.093-04:00</updated><title type='text'>BEST FACE EVER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SB4lQTf4N3I/AAAAAAAAAK0/hE_acUKr014/s1600-h/sb10064665n-003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196631982074247026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SB4lQTf4N3I/AAAAAAAAAK0/hE_acUKr014/s320/sb10064665n-003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I so wish I had a camera on me when this moment happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I would even want to stop the moment, but God his face was priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this afternoon it was beautiful out so my roomie and I decided to walk to go get ice cream. Save on gas and burn calories while doing it. It's maybe a mile each way, tops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on our way back we stop on Will's campus since it's right there to eat, and it's beautiful and I know a fun spot that not too many people outside of his campus know about. So we eat, have fun. They were doing "spring fling" on the quad, we just kind of wandered and I looked around to see if I knew anyone. And of course I joke about running into Will's ex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I had often fantasized about running into my ex and his wife. But in those fantasies, I was running over them with a truck."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Sex and the City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is his ex, that put him through hell and back, multiple times, for two years. The guy who is gay, who won't come out, and is attached at the hip to his bitch best friend. May they both burn in hell for treating Will the way they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And well needless to say over the years I have managed to put the fear of God into this boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I ran into him on their campus today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh God was it fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were just walking on our way home up a street, and I look over and who is sitting there but the two of them. And you know how you do the double take and then stare for a bit with the confused look on your face when you're trying to place how you know someone. Well we both did that. And then it hit me. And then it hit him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And his jaw dropped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could have captured that moment of realization on film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just made my whole day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-1386282232222704093?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/1386282232222704093/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=1386282232222704093' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/1386282232222704093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/1386282232222704093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/05/best-face-ever.html' title='BEST FACE EVER'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SB4lQTf4N3I/AAAAAAAAAK0/hE_acUKr014/s72-c/sb10064665n-003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-9109471925170657533</id><published>2008-05-03T00:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T00:42:37.169-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh and how much did I love this scene?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBvsyjf4N2I/AAAAAAAAAKs/loGKfik7ixE/s1600-h/c450031f-0143-4613-886d-4112851c546a_hmedium.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196006948368562018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBvsyjf4N2I/AAAAAAAAAKs/loGKfik7ixE/s320/c450031f-0143-4613-886d-4112851c546a_hmedium.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Did anyone else love it on Grey's Anatomy last night when Callie asked Meredith and Christina if they have ever been mistaken for a couple?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Callie:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; Did anyone ever think you two were a couple?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Meredith:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; No because we screw boys like whores on tequila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cristina:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; And then we either try to marry them or drown ourselves.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;E could this be us? Or do I just relate way too much to this for my own good.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm so unbelievably happy that this show is back on with new episodes!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-9109471925170657533?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/9109471925170657533/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=9109471925170657533' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/9109471925170657533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/9109471925170657533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/05/oh-and-how-much-did-i-love-this-scene.html' title='Oh and how much did I love this scene?'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBvsyjf4N2I/AAAAAAAAAKs/loGKfik7ixE/s72-c/c450031f-0143-4613-886d-4112851c546a_hmedium.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-4640149023155754714</id><published>2008-05-02T18:35:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T18:58:29.164-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I won!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBuZZzf4NzI/AAAAAAAAAKU/9RaroNg9OAM/s1600-h/22412361_l_over_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195915263701694258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBuZZzf4NzI/AAAAAAAAAKU/9RaroNg9OAM/s200/22412361_l_over_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I have officially won my first court case!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Woo hoo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, thank you goodness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My former step-brother actually showed to! My face must have been priceless when he walked in the door. He had yet to show up to any of our previous 3 court dates. So the fact that he showed up to this last one is just baffling. He said that his mum and sister (my old step-mum and step-sister, we're all still pretty close) had been giving him a lot of shit for doing this all to me and not taking responsibility and such. Thank God they have some sense too. So he showed, said he would do whatever we wanted. So we went to trial, he testified, and we won!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I went to my dad's grave, and the cunt with no soul had been there. I know this because there was a wreath of flowers with a ribbon in the middle that said "dad". She has three kids, two daughters and one son. I don't hold anything against them, they can't help that they're mother is psychotic. And they're kids. You can't hold grudges against kids. But still. It kills me that they call him "daddy" and she's still keeping this mess up. I put two white roses by his grave (I always do two roses, one for me and one for my brother), and I was on my way back home again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Will asked me to help him find a gift for his sister. He asked for my girl opinion. He sent me to Tiffany's website to go to town and pick out something for her since we have similar taste.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why do I have a sneaky feeling that he's looking for something for my birthday? He was complaining the other day that he doesn't know what to get me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The necklace at the top is my favorite. It's zoomed in so you can't see the whole thing, but hanging down is a pearl pendant. If you want to look at it go to Tiffany's website &lt;a href="http://www.tiffany.com/Shopping/Item.aspx?sku=22412361&amp;amp;mcat=148204&amp;amp;cid=287465&amp;amp;search_params=s+5-p+5-c+287465-r+101323338-x+-n+6-ri+-ni+0-t+"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If Will got me Tiffany's for my birthday I would have a stroke, and I would kill him. Granted I did buy him the Armani necklace he wanted for Christmas, but even so, that besides the point. He's done so much for me this last year, and just forever, so he earned something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would also really love a pair of Chanel earrings. The classic. I think every girl should have some.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195918141329782610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBucBTf4N1I/AAAAAAAAAKk/EdMJhsfEdf0/s200/2423691-m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-4640149023155754714?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/4640149023155754714/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=4640149023155754714' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/4640149023155754714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/4640149023155754714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-won.html' title='I won!'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBuZZzf4NzI/AAAAAAAAAKU/9RaroNg9OAM/s72-c/22412361_l_over_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-5081704614081498126</id><published>2008-05-02T00:20:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T01:17:29.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who has a spooning date?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBqXWTf4NwI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/_7SVIuI6qEE/s1600-h/sb10066468f-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195631529572185858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBqXWTf4NwI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/_7SVIuI6qEE/s320/sb10066468f-001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Wow, time for an actual update!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for all the congrats on passing my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Calc&lt;/span&gt; class, I'm so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;geeked&lt;/span&gt; about that you have no idea! And I also passed Anatomy and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Orgo&lt;/span&gt; despite the raping that was our final. It was definitely my worst semester grade wise, but it was also a semester from hell for me, so I'm just glad I survived it. I can't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; I have to start back up with class on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; right, I'm taking summer classes. Well, just 2 actually. Physics both of our summer sessions here. Blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the store I work at has me working 31 hours next week on top of class and lab. Holy hell. Can we say Mafia will have no life? I think we can. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; what happens when prom and graduation season starts up. It's our busiest time of the year. My hands hate me. Between the past 3 days at work I have imprinted (by hand each one mind you with a little imprinting machine) over 45 packages of napkins and blown with a hand pump over a thousand 5" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;pearlized&lt;/span&gt; balloons (and those balloons were just today). I know that doesn't mean much to people, E and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Snookie&lt;/span&gt; will appreciate it since they used to work with me, but needless to say my hands basically hate me right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So finals week came and went. I went shopping and bought 2 new dresses. One was black and white and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;gorgeous&lt;/span&gt; and I wore it to the banquet on Saturday, and the other is hot pink and I plan on wearing that on my birthday. Oh so fitting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now for the banquet that was the shit show of my weekend. For a refresher on what the banquet was see &lt;a href="http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/watch-out-people.html"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt; post. Basically my dad was being awarded the lifetime achievement award, and my brother and I were asked to accept it at a banquet. I looked absolutely fabulous, which was helping with the all around &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt; situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I suppose I should take a few steps back and give a back story to the cunt who can burn in hell, AKA my dad's fiance before he died. This woman will haunt me until the day I die. To make a long story short, she's insane, was a possible con-artist (shit you not, the woman had moved some odd 30 times and had at least 5 different identities). This bitch was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;suing&lt;/span&gt; me within a week of me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;burying&lt;/span&gt; my dad, she also changed her and her 3 children's last name to our last name, stole things from him, payed for his funeral with his own business state credit card, put incorrect information out in his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;obituary&lt;/span&gt;, and has basically made my life a living hell. Oh and PS, she had a new boyfriend within 2 months of him dying. In a nutshell. Which is why she'll be called the cunt with no soul who will burn in hell. Harsh words, but so deserving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is also an EMT, so the odds of her being at this banquet are pretty high. Whatever, as Will said and I did not follow his advice, is I'll just have to mentally prepare myself for that. So we get there, people ask to take our picture, we're getting tons of looks because my uncle was also there and he looks JUST like my dad it even still scares me sometimes. Everything is fine and dandy, we shake a few hands, talk to people, eat. And then it comes to be time to accept the award that no one knew was coming. So the woman who is president of the EMS Expo gets up and starts talking, and she starts crying because she was friends with my dad, this other guy gets up there and starts talking, and he starts crying. I start crying, the whole room of hundreds of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;EMT's&lt;/span&gt; start crying, a mess basically. So she says "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Pauls's&lt;/span&gt; (my dads actual name) children are here, and I'm going to call them up, but I'd like to show you all this video that was put together first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;powerpoint&lt;/span&gt; presentation comes up with some cheese-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;tastic&lt;/span&gt; music playing. And it's saying words like, &lt;em&gt;loyal&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;caring&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;loving&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;dedicated&lt;/em&gt;. And then it gets fishy when it starts to say, &lt;em&gt;daddy&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;husband&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;partner&lt;/em&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear to God I thought I was going to have a panic attack. Because then it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her "name" came up. Honoring my dad, with his middle name spelled wrong of course, made in loving memory by Tammy (cunts real name too) ______(my last name).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I damn near fell out of my chair. My mum grabbed my leg so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The audacity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then came up pictures of her and him. And &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; children. There was one picture with my little brother and her kids. Nowhere was I mentioned. Not that I wanted to be, this was about him and his life and his work. But damn. Put her kids in there and not me? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;WTF&lt;/span&gt;? Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I started balling my eyes out. I couldn't even tell you what half of the presentation was. I was too busy trying to not completely fall apart because I had to go up on stage and smile and accept this award like nothing was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I have ever wanted to get out of a room so quickly in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically I spent the rest of the night crying. It was a blast let me tell you what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, just not thinking about it any more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I slept a whopping 3 hours that night tops. I just couldn't sleep, and when I finally fell asleep my gay boyfriend called me when he got done &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;bartending&lt;/span&gt; at 3am to see how I was. Then S &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;texted&lt;/span&gt; me at 2am his time (he was in Cali at the time), which meant it was 5am my time. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;. Apparently I'm not allowed to sleep. We &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;texted&lt;/span&gt; for about an hour, and at about 3 am his time (6am my time, the birds were definitely up and chirping) he sent me this text:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S: &lt;em&gt;Why are you still up?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;I couldn't sleep. And this drunk keeps &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; me. Why are you still up, isn't it past your bedtime?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S: &lt;em&gt;Time change.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;It still makes it 3am there.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S: &lt;em&gt;Yeah but this sober chick keeps &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, I definitely said goodnight and ending our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; banter after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, S is back in town. He got back in at about 11pm on Monday night. We haven't had the chance to hang out yet since he's been back, oh well it'll happen eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E don't get any ideas. I know you're reading this and have all sorts of crazy things running through your head. Speak to him and I'll kill you. With love of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday is in 29 days! How excited am I? And you know that means that's when the &lt;em&gt;Sex and the City&lt;/em&gt; movie comes out! So E and Will and I have started to semi plan out the big weekend event that is my birthday. Basics include drinking with my mum, dinner with friends, and then out for two heavy nights of drinking at the bars. I'm so unbelievably excited you don't even know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But get this shitty thing. I was talking to Will about the plans, small dinner with close friends. I say it'll probably be him, and E, me, S, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt;, and then maybe another girlfriend, or maybe Will's boyfriend. We'll see. And Will is just like, &lt;em&gt;"I'm not coming if S is going to be there. You have to decide which of us you want to be there."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What. The. Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? Will really? Are you going there? Because you know I'll have to choose the best friend. But I made the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;executive&lt;/span&gt; decision that it's my birthday, I will have whomever I want to be there, and Will will just have to put up with S being there. Especially since I already told S he was invited, which is just kinda something we both assumed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why Will doesn't like him. I'll just have to tell S to make nice with him or something. Will has absolutely no reason not to be friends with S. Who knows. Once again E, should you see this, you are not allowed to bring anything up in this blog to the boys, you know the deal :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's my plan. Plus my birthday is still a month away, lots could change in that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go to court again tomorrow. Boo. I am so not looking forward to that. Especially since Will can't come with me this time since he has a midterm (he goes to a different school than I do). Ugh. I'm so in denial about having to go. Even though I have to be up bright and early to be on the road. God I'm so sick of this estate mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and lastly to the title of my post. I'm sure E will appreciate it. So the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; and I ended up going to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;acappella&lt;/span&gt; group that I talked about in &lt;a href="http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/blog-post.html"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt; post. It was an absolute blast, you have no idea. Everyone is amazing, we all just clicked, the voices blended, our personalities meshed. Amazing basically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the guy that founded the group is a really cool guy. Funny, nice, and E and I thought a bit of a creeper at first. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;, he needs a nickname. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;iGuy&lt;/span&gt;. Because he has an iPhone and is FOREVER on it all the time, and the name &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Texter&lt;/span&gt; was already taken. So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;iGuy&lt;/span&gt; is always &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; me and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; about rehearsals and just mess in general, and this was before we even met him. Mind you he tried to do this to me during finals week, but I just ignored him, so no issues. But one day he was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; me and I was at work and couldn't text back. And he does this annoying thing if you don't respond to him right away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ahem&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, he'll text "ahem" as if he's clearing his throat. Drives me INSANE. So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;anywho&lt;/span&gt;, E and I are out shopping and then out to dinner and he texts me again. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;. So I just end up telling him I have a boyfriend (E's idea by the way, I was pondering saying that anyways, but of course I love her encouragement). So I say "Sorry I can't talk, I'm out with the bf"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That shut him up real quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we go to the rehearsal, and then go out to dinner with the group. It's an amazing time. He's no longer too creeper with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt;, he's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;redeemed&lt;/span&gt; himself. So fast forward to Tuesday night. He's talking to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; online after we watched 27 Dresses and it put her in quite the romantic mood and wanting to spoon and what not. So they talk and he suggests a cuddle date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; and I and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;iGuy&lt;/span&gt; and one of his friends from the group all went out to dinner last night, and then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;iGuy&lt;/span&gt; came back to our house with his pajamas and all (like they had talked about), and they curled up in her bed at 12h30 in the morning to watch Harry Potter and spoon. And he's back tonight too. They're in there right now watching Star Wars. Yes they are dorks. No offense to any other dorks out there. I'm a dork, but in the science or music kind of way. Not the dorky kind of dork. You know what I mean. And they're just spooning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; doesn't have a fuck buddy, she has a spoon buddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;...I see this going somewhere between the two of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright I think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;thats&lt;/span&gt; all. Holy hell I'm sorry that was a long post, this is why I shouldn't go this long with out updating. I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes in court tomorrow. The goal is to not to be thrown in jail for contempt of court for telling off the judge. People start pooling your bail money now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what comes out on DVD on Tuesday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195644027927017234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBqitzf4NxI/AAAAAAAAAKE/UNA0pvlhc4I/s320/505629~PS-I-Love-You-Posters.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-5081704614081498126?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5081704614081498126/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=5081704614081498126' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5081704614081498126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5081704614081498126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/05/who-has-spooning-date.html' title='Who has a spooning date?'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBqXWTf4NwI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/_7SVIuI6qEE/s72-c/sb10066468f-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-1973511435967092725</id><published>2008-04-29T21:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T21:38:23.408-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I PASSED!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBfMejf4NvI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/2htEvpYyKfo/s1600-h/27-dresses-poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194845520492246770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBfMejf4NvI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/2htEvpYyKfo/s320/27-dresses-poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I PASSED &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;CALC&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this calls for a bottle of wine in celebration!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I bought "27 Dresses" on DVD today! So watching that with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I swear there will be a real update later. Right now I definitely have a few bottles of opened wine calling my name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-1973511435967092725?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/1973511435967092725/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=1973511435967092725' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/1973511435967092725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/1973511435967092725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-passed.html' title='I PASSED!!!'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SBfMejf4NvI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/2htEvpYyKfo/s72-c/27-dresses-poster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-2940425639660741769</id><published>2008-04-23T21:26:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T22:43:31.011-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mental break</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA_iCDf4NqI/AAAAAAAAAJM/pz9UwYpT-WA/s1600-h/mariah-carey---glitter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192617420308100770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA_iCDf4NqI/AAAAAAAAAJM/pz9UwYpT-WA/s200/mariah-carey---glitter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm taking a mental break from the studying for a few minutes. Because, well, to be honest, I don't know how much more information I can get into my head after the brutal mental raping that was my orgo final. Don't ask. Hell on earth. Actually, hell would have been nice compared to that exam. I'm still sore from the ass kicking it gave me. Eish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to my gay boyfriend (not to be confused with Will, my gay husband), I have the same figure as Mariah Carey (I look nothing like her in any way shape or form in my opinion). I think he's out of his damn mind. But basically he thinks that I need to be her for Halloween this year. And yes he realizes that Halloween is months and months away. He also thinks that I should wear the dress she wore in Glitter. There is a snowballs chance in hell of this happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My step-dad is out of town at a conference and he is near one of the best malls in the state, or even in the surrounding states for that matter. I'm so jealous. He didn't realize how amazing it was though of course because of his middle-aged male status. He asked me one day when he found out where they were going&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step-dad: &lt;em&gt;So the women I'm going to this conference with are pretty excited because we're going to be right near ______. Have you heard of it?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;WHAT?! Of course I've heard of it! Oh my God!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So he texted me tonight to let me know they were within walking distance and it was maybe 50 yards away. I told him he HAS to go check it out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Can we tell I'm a shopaholic?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I want him to go to the J.Crew store there and get me this dress&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192619743885407954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA_kJTf4NtI/AAAAAAAAAJk/vN8Y91whA_E/s200/93737_OR5254_o_SU08.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Or this one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192619743885407938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA_kJTf4NsI/AAAAAAAAAJc/SHzq2qaONEc/s200/81972_PK5742_m_SU08.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Or the one I really wanted for the banquet on Saturday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192619739590440626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA_kJDf4NrI/AAAAAAAAAJU/b09hJDHFBOg/s200/73877_BL8780.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Love the man to death, but even in J.Crew with these pictures in hand I don't think I would trust him to buy me a dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well because I get to go shopping with E on Friday! Thank goodness, I need some major retail therapy, especially after this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can think about is going to the beach. It has been so beautiful here and I've been cooped up inside cramming and studying my booty off. I have Monday and Tuesday off next week, so I'm thinking a trip to the beach is definitely in order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, mental break over. Time to get back to cramming anatomy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-2940425639660741769?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/2940425639660741769/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=2940425639660741769' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/2940425639660741769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/2940425639660741769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/mental-break.html' title='Mental break'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA_iCDf4NqI/AAAAAAAAAJM/pz9UwYpT-WA/s72-c/mariah-carey---glitter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-31099750316148558</id><published>2008-04-22T23:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T23:03:39.244-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got skill...or something like that</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA6mujf4NoI/AAAAAAAAAI8/TdCFK-qsJOM/s1600-h/starbucksIV.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192270739137902210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA6mujf4NoI/AAAAAAAAAI8/TdCFK-qsJOM/s320/starbucksIV.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I just realized that I cooked and ate my first meal since Sunday....maybe. It could also be Saturday night when I went out with the girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ability to live off of coffee and various lattes is obscene. I should really be studied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or put in rehab. One of the two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-31099750316148558?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/31099750316148558/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=31099750316148558' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/31099750316148558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/31099750316148558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/ive-got-skillor-something-like-that.html' title='I&apos;ve got skill...or something like that'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA6mujf4NoI/AAAAAAAAAI8/TdCFK-qsJOM/s72-c/starbucksIV.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-248106272504403184</id><published>2008-04-22T14:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T14:23:39.628-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2 classes 2 labs down, 2 classes to go</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA4sdDf4NnI/AAAAAAAAAI0/WR7hdoEvWIw/s1600-h/Wittig1.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192136298071602802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA4sdDf4NnI/AAAAAAAAAI0/WR7hdoEvWIw/s320/Wittig1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I officially survived my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;calc&lt;/span&gt; final. Phew. And it didn't go horribly. I'm praying I pass.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I got a shit ton of errands done this morning. Check. I even ate my first meal in like 2 days. Winner.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm officially done with Psych, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Calc&lt;/span&gt;, Anatomy lab, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Orgo&lt;/span&gt; lab.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I just have to survive my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Orgo&lt;/span&gt; final tomorrow (See above for one of probably 100 reactions I have to know...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;eish&lt;/span&gt;) and then my Anatomy final on Thursday.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Annnnnnnnnnd&lt;/span&gt; break!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-248106272504403184?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/248106272504403184/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=248106272504403184' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/248106272504403184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/248106272504403184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/2-classes-2-labs-down-2-classes-to-go.html' title='2 classes 2 labs down, 2 classes to go'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SA4sdDf4NnI/AAAAAAAAAI0/WR7hdoEvWIw/s72-c/Wittig1.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-6277995091867226701</id><published>2008-04-21T16:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T16:09:55.755-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Panic time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAzzssARPoI/AAAAAAAAAIk/rGrxs-x31i8/s1600-h/10149029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191792419503423106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAzzssARPoI/AAAAAAAAAIk/rGrxs-x31i8/s320/10149029.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; T-minus 3 hours until my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;calc&lt;/span&gt; final.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;beginning&lt;/span&gt; to stress/panic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; today came in my room and said:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"You might want to eat something solid and hold off before your next pot of coffee. And a shower sometime would probably be good too. Don't worry, I already told people you're going to be MIA the next few days."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;God I hate finals.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And my lawyer wanted me to meet with him today. People want more money from me. Go figure.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh stress.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and I had a dream last night I was getting married. Scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191793145352896146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAz0W8ARPpI/AAAAAAAAAIs/bDQp9yg0nrM/s320/200301085-002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-6277995091867226701?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6277995091867226701/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=6277995091867226701' title='3 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6277995091867226701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6277995091867226701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/panic-time.html' title='Panic time'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAzzssARPoI/AAAAAAAAAIk/rGrxs-x31i8/s72-c/10149029.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-6149834898389973753</id><published>2008-04-19T23:14:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T03:04:16.276-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"What? The butt?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAq3IcARPlI/AAAAAAAAAIM/k9t8OIkyjzA/s1600-h/200486226-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191162876082077266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAq3IcARPlI/AAAAAAAAAIM/k9t8OIkyjzA/s320/200486226-001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I have had such a crazy busy day and an amazing night. Basically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out to dinner with some of my psych girls. J has the morals of the group, we nick-named M the man of us, L the old married woman, and me, well of course I'm the mistress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes sense right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are Sex and the City in a nutshell. We are always the loudest and just most obscene, and probably the most entertaining people in any restaurant we set foot in. People never cease to gawk and look and we always manage to turn heads, both because of what we look like, and of how we act/what crazy things we say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course this night was no different. Now we only get the chance to go out as our foursome every once in a while, so we always have to catch up, tell stories, re-live moments, so everything imaginable comes up in conversation. I love it. I can't even begin to explain how much I love these girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point in the night, there is a table across from our booth, and they are being served by this hot waiter. He happens to have his back facing us right near our table, so the only logical thing is to check out his very lovely booty. So I do it, I see L do it, and she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;see's&lt;/span&gt; me so we start laughing. M &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;see's&lt;/span&gt; J do it, so they laugh, and so we all know that we all did the same thing. Except J, bless her little ministers daughters heart, didn't catch on that we were all laughing about staring at his ass. So she goes, "What?! The butt??" as loud as can be just as he's walking by our booth. Priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only this, but we have this adorably cute waiter, in that hot but attainable way. So its four girls all dolled up for a Saturday night, so of course he is going to flirt. The man wants a good tip doesn't he?? But J is convinced that he is just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ogling&lt;/span&gt; (her word) me and that I should leave my number. Mind you they all know about S, but they are convinced that this guy has to have my number. So after many an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt; conversation and laughter that this poor guy has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;endured&lt;/span&gt; from us, we leave him an A-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MAZ&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ING&lt;/span&gt; tip, and get ready to leave. But of course, M grabs her bill that she left, her pen, and leaves him my number with this note:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"(My number at the top) Call _____(my name), the hot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;blond&lt;/span&gt; in the corner with the red necklace..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I didn't catch the rest, which worries me, because well, M is insane. So we shall see if I get a random call from a guy in the next day or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and his name is the same as one of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ex's&lt;/span&gt;. Can we say a bit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt;? I think we can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So of course I tell will about this and he is not so excited, maybe you just had to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he was just bummed that I didn't want to go out to a house party with him and his roommates. For one, house party? No. Two, a house party by kids at his school? No. Thirdly, I spent 4 hours this morning/afternoon doing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;calc&lt;/span&gt;, and then worked for 5 hours, and then went out and I have finals this week and I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;HELLA&lt;/span&gt; stressed? No. I'm just beat. The stress is starting to get to me, I can feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girls night was my last fun night before I start studying non-stop until Thursday at 12h15 when I will officially be done. THANK GOD. I am going to be consuming an obscene amount of coffee in the next few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and I'm also trying to figure out what dress to wear to the banquet I'm going to to accept the Lifetime Achievement Award in honour of my dad next weekend. So of course I need a new dress. And shoes. And accessories. My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; was like "Don't you think you already have something you could wear? Or shoes at least." My response? "Do you even have to ask that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I need votes. I'm thinking this might be the one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191167076560092770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAq688ARPmI/AAAAAAAAAIU/9nqbRr8d394/s320/309862_fpx.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'd really love this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191167720805187186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAq7icARPnI/AAAAAAAAAIc/Hp3-j6Ru6dA/s320/404501_fpx.jpg" border="0" /&gt;But definitely not appropriate for the occasion. Oh well, maybe next time. So thoughts? Or suggestions for other dresses you've seen and loved? I have a week and I have to look BEYOND fabulous for this event.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well I'm thinking its time for me to pass out in front of the TV for a few and then call it an early night. I cannot wait to sleep in tomorrow, you have NO idea!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-6149834898389973753?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6149834898389973753/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=6149834898389973753' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6149834898389973753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6149834898389973753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/what-butt.html' title='&quot;What? The butt?&quot;'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAq3IcARPlI/AAAAAAAAAIM/k9t8OIkyjzA/s72-c/200486226-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-5496943180446404385</id><published>2008-04-18T22:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T23:07:35.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Testing 1, 2, 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAldf_XNXBI/AAAAAAAAAIE/9XkxhlckAQE/s1600-h/sb10067046a-008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190782849687313426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAldf_XNXBI/AAAAAAAAAIE/9XkxhlckAQE/s320/sb10067046a-008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In 9 days the roomie and I will be rocking out together once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're joining a local vocal acapella group. I guess they do classical, jazz, musical theater, the works. I'm pretty geeked not gonna lie. I haven't performed with a group since I was in Paris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and PS, I've been known to sing a tune or two. I'm a bit rusty, but I can work on that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am officially done with classes for the semester. THANK YOU GOD. I really didn't think that I would see the day. Now just a calc review session tomorrow and 3 finals and I'll be good to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say that like those are going to be easy things to survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Are we muting? Because we're creepers? Should we turn out the lights too. I wish we could turn up their volume."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God we are such nosy neighbors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and PS, I think I might miss him. Bloody hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-5496943180446404385?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5496943180446404385/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=5496943180446404385' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5496943180446404385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5496943180446404385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/blog-post.html' title='Testing 1, 2, 3'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAldf_XNXBI/AAAAAAAAAIE/9XkxhlckAQE/s72-c/sb10067046a-008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7720490467973328310</id><published>2008-04-18T10:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T10:29:26.413-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not going completely insane</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAivjfXNXAI/AAAAAAAAAH8/idocA2KBk5k/s1600-h/Chuetsu_earthquake-earthquake_liquefaction1small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190591594793622530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAivjfXNXAI/AAAAAAAAAH8/idocA2KBk5k/s200/Chuetsu_earthquake-earthquake_liquefaction1small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So I'm not going completely insane! Thank God, I thought maybe the stress was getting to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We had an earthquake last night! At about 5h30 in the morning. Ok, we didn't have one, but there was a big one about 350 miles away from us. Now this usually doesn't happen here....At all. So when I woke up feeling like my bed was shaking I thought I was loosing my damn mind. I've been through earthquakes before in Cali, so I know what they feel like, but I was convinced in my head that there is no way we could feel one where I am.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So obviously, after being woken up at 5h30 in the morning to a shaking bed I thought I had finally snapped. Luckily I heard them talking about it on the radio this morning.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Phew, no need to lock me up in the loony bin yet!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Off to my last day of classes!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7720490467973328310?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7720490467973328310/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7720490467973328310' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7720490467973328310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7720490467973328310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-not-going-completely-insane.html' title='I&apos;m not going completely insane'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAivjfXNXAI/AAAAAAAAAH8/idocA2KBk5k/s72-c/Chuetsu_earthquake-earthquake_liquefaction1small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7043593893614299302</id><published>2008-04-17T22:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T23:32:04.354-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep would be amazing right now</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAgJo_XNW-I/AAAAAAAAAHs/LUNM8na9xQ8/s1600-h/sb10061675b-003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190409170352692194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAgJo_XNW-I/AAAAAAAAAHs/LUNM8na9xQ8/s320/sb10061675b-003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; God what I would give to be in a big fluffy bed like this right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gotta love the end of the semester.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, I can't believe that I've made it through this semester. I have two more lectures tomorrow and then I just have to survive finals. I say just like this will be an easy thing. Shoot me now and get it over with please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was ready for bed at 10 tonight, that should be a sign that I should call it an early night. Yep, I think that's gonna happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was soooo beautiful here today! 70 and sunny! Spring is finally officially here, thank goodness! I love being able to drive with my windows down just blasting my music. I think it'll be time to hit the beach soon. That reminds me, I need a new bathing suit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'm a doctor. And I'm single. Project Runway is all I have!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wow, that's so going to be me in 10 years. Thank you ER.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now, just out of curiosity, with absolutely no basis or anything&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Speaking as a completely third party objective with absolutely no personal interest in the matter..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190418224143752178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAgR3_XNW_I/AAAAAAAAAH0/HS4GpszRDgM/s200/shestheman.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank you "She's the Man" for that. Kudos to anyone who caught that reference before I said what it was.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Why do people feel the need to put labels on things? Like relationships for that matter. I think that if two people are having fun why ruin it with a label? I've never been one for labels. I'm not a fan. Just throwing the issue out there.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm watching "Will and Grace" with the roomie. Will's dad just died. It's been 9 months since my dad died today.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I need to go shopping. Ah retail therapy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7043593893614299302?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7043593893614299302/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7043593893614299302' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7043593893614299302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7043593893614299302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/sleep-would-be-amazing-right-now.html' title='Sleep would be amazing right now'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAgJo_XNW-I/AAAAAAAAAHs/LUNM8na9xQ8/s72-c/sb10061675b-003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-966199068289360597</id><published>2008-04-13T16:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T16:32:57.374-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My "surprise"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAJsv_XNW9I/AAAAAAAAAHk/LNuYs5hHuIE/s1600-h/jumper%2520cables.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188829292402662354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAJsv_XNW9I/AAAAAAAAAHk/LNuYs5hHuIE/s200/jumper%2520cables.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I realized I never updated everyone with my surprise at work from S. Probably because there wasn't one. When I talked to him later on that night I managed to pry it out of him. He was just going to bring back my jumper cables that he borrowed from me a good two weeks ago now when his car died. And of course I'd get to see him, which he thought was a great gift in and of it's self. Hahaha oh boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the lack of updates this week. Life has been crazy between classes and house sitting and going back and forth. Thank goodness that's all over. I am officially moved all back into my house. Yay! Thank goodness. It felt so good to sleep in my own bed last night, even if it was only for a few hours. I really need to learn how to get a good nights sleep again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a good weekend though, party at Will's for two of his friends birthday, out for dinner and drinks last night for E's birthday. All around a good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll update more later, but for now it's time to start making anatomy flashcards since I've put that off all weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-966199068289360597?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/966199068289360597/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=966199068289360597' title='2 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/966199068289360597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/966199068289360597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-surprise.html' title='My &quot;surprise&quot;'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SAJsv_XNW9I/AAAAAAAAAHk/LNuYs5hHuIE/s72-c/jumper%2520cables.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-3318672678329551949</id><published>2008-04-06T19:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T03:05:03.378-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ruh roh</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_lbHkuVAaI/AAAAAAAAAHM/g5tqRdNJolc/s1600-h/image001.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186276631569039778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_lbHkuVAaI/AAAAAAAAAHM/g5tqRdNJolc/s320/image001.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm fairly positive I'm going to fail calc. Damn. God if you're up there, just give me a C, please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fuck. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-3318672678329551949?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/3318672678329551949/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=3318672678329551949' title='4 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/3318672678329551949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/3318672678329551949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/ruh-roh.html' title='Ruh roh'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_lbHkuVAaI/AAAAAAAAAHM/g5tqRdNJolc/s72-c/image001.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7657691318809248077</id><published>2008-04-04T23:39:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T23:55:18.426-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How do they do it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_b0okuVAZI/AAAAAAAAAHE/L_9ZqcNtY3c/s1600-h/76943366.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185600998853640594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_b0okuVAZI/AAAAAAAAAHE/L_9ZqcNtY3c/s320/76943366.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; How can guys have such a hold on us? My man fast is not going well at all. S just called me, he was being driven from one bar to another, and he wanted to call me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah the joys of drunk dials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was interesting to say the least. In his drunken state he did manage to ask me how the house sitting is going and he asked if I was lonely, yada yada. He asked if I was going to be up for awhile, all that fun stuff. I told him I would so he said he would call me and he might come keep me company. But of course I informed him that I have to be to work at 9h30 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is when the conversation got a bit interesting. He told me that there just might be a surprise for me at work at some point tomorrow. WHAT?! I'm going to not read into it, but what??? Seriously? And then he said that he was sorry he had been, God how did he word it? "I'm sorry I've been standing you off a bit this week, I'm sorry I shouldn't be a jerk, I promise I won't be anymore. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Color me confused?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my possible (meaning I won't get my hopes up) surprise at work? I probably should have told him that I was going on a job for part of the time I have to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the best part of the Pride and Prejudice is on right now. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are in the fields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7657691318809248077?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7657691318809248077/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7657691318809248077' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7657691318809248077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7657691318809248077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-do-they-do-it.html' title='How do they do it?'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_b0okuVAZI/AAAAAAAAAHE/L_9ZqcNtY3c/s72-c/76943366.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-8138312642663140241</id><published>2008-04-04T21:47:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T03:06:47.694-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Mr. Darcy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_ba1kuVAVI/AAAAAAAAAGk/e1GGnFjYiX8/s1600-h/pride-and-prejudice-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185572634889617746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_ba1kuVAVI/AAAAAAAAAGk/e1GGnFjYiX8/s320/pride-and-prejudice-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh how I would love to have a Mr. Darcy&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yep, guess what is on TV right now :) Thank you Oxygen channel once again for amazing chick flicks on Friday nights.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So it's time for an actual update!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And yes I'm at home on a Friday night, but not technically, it's my old home. My family left for Florida this morning for their spring break and they left me here to house sit and to take care of our pups. And these pups are not so small and they have already managed to crawl over me. I have the feeling that I'm going to smell like dogs and be covered in their fur all this week. Oh well such is life with dogs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So where to begin with this week. It has been insane. I had 3 exams, Anatomy on Monday and Orgo and Calc on Wednesday. Plus labs and other lectures of course. This tends to happen at least 3 or 4 times a semester, when I just have a week full of exams. But the good news is, I ROCKED. I got an A on my Anatomy exam and a B on my Orgo exam. This is HUGE for me. These classes were kicking my ass. Well they still probably are, but now there's hope! Calc hoed my life though. Oh man. Here for you, describing my calc exam when I got done with it, is the text, verbatim, what I sent to Will:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"OMG that calc exam was like being raped by a creeper with AIDS with a 12 inch dildo and no lube while being forced to listen to nails on a chalk board...dear God"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Basically. I definitely got a message back saying &lt;em&gt;"Hahaha funniest text ever!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So that class is iffy at this point. I'm hoping my prof will humor me and pass me. I just need a C. Common, math is not my forte, just do this for me!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I so with I had my camera with me right now, my baby girl, our girl dog, Sabrina (I hate that name, I call her Beaners, after the coffee shop) is sitting on the ottoman next to me, with her legs crossed, it is the cutest thing ever. And now of course she is licking my hands as I'm attempting to type. Not an easy thing to do.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What else, I feel like there was so much more to say before. The Boy Formally and I are definitely on the friend track, and I'm ok with that. We're definitely not each others type. At least I don't think I'm his type. I think it's good for me to have guy friends that are straight.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So we shall see how this all will go. My life is quite interesting. God my phone just started ringed "Let's Hear it for the Boys"...my ringer for my gay boyfriend (not to be confused with my gay husband, Will), which of course managed to wake up both of the dogs. Great. His voice mail&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The reason why you're not answering your phone better be because you are getting fucked harder than you have ever been fucked in your life by S. I'm going to &lt;/em&gt;(insert local gay bar name here)&lt;em&gt; and I was hoping that you would go out with me."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hmmm to go to the gay bar or no. I really should. I'll give him a call when I finish this up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I ordered 3 movies on DVD online the other day. I love the new and used DVD selections on Amazon.com, it makes it so much easier to get great DVD's. So guess what I got? One of the best female movies ever!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Iron Jawed Angels.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185584995805495682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_bmFEuVAYI/AAAAAAAAAG8/4hh5y8gkKbE/s400/mainimg_760x330.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you have not seen this you need to go rent it, or better yet go out there and buy it! I first saw this in my Women's Studies class last year. It's an HBO movie staring Hilary Swank, Anjelica Huston, Frances O'Connor, Patrick Dempsey, and about a million other amazing actresses and actors. It is all about the Women's Suffrage Movement, and getting the right to vote for women. Hilary Swank plays the role of Alice Paul, and she is incredible. I really do think that this movie should be a requirement for all women, and men for that matter, to see. It is so inspirational, I always feel like getting out there and fighting for a cause. God what I would give to have lived in that time and fought for what they fought for. Girls and women these days don't know how hard it was for women, and that it was not until recently that we even had the basic rights such as the right to vote, the right to birth control, and the rights over our own bodies. All of these things came about within the past 100 years, and there is still so much more to fight for. That's right people, I am definitely a full blown feminist here. Watch out! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So seriously, watch that movie. It is on my list of must see's, and one of my favorites of all time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well this has been quite the post, and did I really get much out? I like to think so. So now lets see what this Friday night might bring....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-8138312642663140241?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8138312642663140241/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=8138312642663140241' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8138312642663140241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8138312642663140241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/oh-mr-darcy.html' title='Oh Mr. Darcy...'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_ba1kuVAVI/AAAAAAAAAGk/e1GGnFjYiX8/s72-c/pride-and-prejudice-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-3636350196793296597</id><published>2008-04-04T14:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T14:29:05.062-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Best postcard EVER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_ZyuUuVAUI/AAAAAAAAAGc/koXLY84weu0/s1600-h/Picture+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185458161126277442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_ZyuUuVAUI/AAAAAAAAAGc/koXLY84weu0/s320/Picture+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I definitely just got this postcard in the mail from Snookie today. BEST postcard EVER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only for the lovely pictures on the front, but for what she said too. So she wrote me a little something, and then on the side she had this little caption:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Since last I knew you were man fasting. I thought a bit of dick would brighten your day! :)"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I love her and miss her so much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real updating post to come later when I start house sitting!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-3636350196793296597?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/3636350196793296597/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=3636350196793296597' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/3636350196793296597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/3636350196793296597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/best-postcard-ever.html' title='Best postcard EVER'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_ZyuUuVAUI/AAAAAAAAAGc/koXLY84weu0/s72-c/Picture+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-69879978600949892</id><published>2008-04-01T00:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T00:25:14.485-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_G3B0uVATI/AAAAAAAAAGU/HjKjF481A9I/s1600-h/76121132.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184125888040862002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_G3B0uVATI/AAAAAAAAAGU/HjKjF481A9I/s320/76121132.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My man fasting skills suck. I really need to work on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. It's been such a long day. I feel bad for not posting a real post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got served this weekend. And not in the cool dance off kind of way, but in the lame legal kind of way. So I had a good hour long meeting with two of my lawyers this evening. They are pretty fantastic if I do say so myself. I am really waiting for the day though when I'm in the lab and the police just bust in and arrest me for God knows what. Will assures me that this is not how the system works, but hey, this is my life we're talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an anatomy exam this morning. I have an orgo and a calc exam on Wednesday. Blah. I'm not sleeping tomorrow night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did get to hang out with some of my girls (and Will of course) this weekend which was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S and I continue our interesting conversations, always a fun time. He really is a great guy. It's just confusing sometimes. Je sais pas. I'm a magnet for unavailable men. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am way too sleepy to think about anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fairytale" by Sara Bareilles is my life theme song right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise a real update in the near future!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-69879978600949892?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/69879978600949892/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=69879978600949892' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/69879978600949892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/69879978600949892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/04/sigh.html' title='Sigh'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R_G3B0uVATI/AAAAAAAAAGU/HjKjF481A9I/s72-c/76121132.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7983085741309313501</id><published>2008-03-28T14:27:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T14:34:08.804-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm such a dork</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-04rEuVASI/AAAAAAAAAGM/-oxq1j6tHE8/s1600-h/billnye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182861058826895650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-04rEuVASI/AAAAAAAAAGM/-oxq1j6tHE8/s320/billnye.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dude. My mum met this guy today. And if you don't know who that is, shame on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Bill Nye the Science Guy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes I realize that I'm a huge dork and nerd for thinking this is cool, but common! It's Bill Nye! I grew up watching this guy! She met him this morning while she's been at this science conference in Boston. And of course she texted me right afterwords to let me know. I'm so jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, S and I have had some interesting conversations this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh boys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7983085741309313501?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7983085741309313501/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7983085741309313501' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7983085741309313501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7983085741309313501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/im-such-dork.html' title='I&apos;m such a dork'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-04rEuVASI/AAAAAAAAAGM/-oxq1j6tHE8/s72-c/billnye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7451775592281628462</id><published>2008-03-27T23:02:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T23:22:46.801-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-xjxEuVARI/AAAAAAAAAGE/14qWgwiSmC8/s1600-h/ep71_carrie_charlotte.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182626965929394450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-xjxEuVARI/AAAAAAAAAGE/14qWgwiSmC8/s320/ep71_carrie_charlotte.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm having a very single girl lonely night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate nights like these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Charlotte:&lt;/strong&gt; The thing is, there are some things people don't admit because they just don't like the way it sounds. Like, I'm getting a divorce.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Carrie:&lt;/strong&gt; I'm lonely. I am. The loneliness is palpable.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7451775592281628462?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7451775592281628462/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7451775592281628462' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7451775592281628462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7451775592281628462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/lonely.html' title='Lonely'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-xjxEuVARI/AAAAAAAAAGE/14qWgwiSmC8/s72-c/ep71_carrie_charlotte.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7915909072720606051</id><published>2008-03-27T19:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T19:50:19.529-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>I live for great music</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-wySkuVAQI/AAAAAAAAAF8/YXnhYVrkz00/s1600-h/Saralittlevoicealbumcover%255B1%255D_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182572565873623298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-wySkuVAQI/AAAAAAAAAF8/YXnhYVrkz00/s200/Saralittlevoicealbumcover%255B1%255D_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; How much am I loving Sara &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bareilles&lt;/span&gt; album right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A whole lot, seriously, I've had it on repeat all this evening. I LOVE IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't have it download it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfect soundtrack for my evening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7915909072720606051?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7915909072720606051/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7915909072720606051' title='4 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7915909072720606051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7915909072720606051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-live-for-great-music.html' title='I live for great music'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-wySkuVAQI/AAAAAAAAAF8/YXnhYVrkz00/s72-c/Saralittlevoicealbumcover%255B1%255D_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-3486362929635097152</id><published>2008-03-27T17:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T17:47:46.477-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Days</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-wV2EuVAOI/AAAAAAAAAFs/5zpxg7qfMYY/s1600-h/a0236-000087.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182541289921773794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-wV2EuVAOI/AAAAAAAAAFs/5zpxg7qfMYY/s320/a0236-000087.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I blame the weather for my lack of productivity today. Can I do that? I think I just did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I lived in Paris I was used to the rain. Sure every now and then you'd like to curl up and read a good magazine (not my orgo book) and just lounge around all day, but in Paris it just rained all the time in the winter. You just got used to it. Not any more though, you can tell I've been in the snow for way too long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here I am blogging instead of studying Anatomy. Today however I did take a psychology exam (Abnormal Child Psych, fun stuff right there, and I'm actually not being sarcastic this time, I love it), spent some quality time with my little brother (which is good, our mum is in Boston right now on work, so it's nice to spend time with him, and it's probably good for him too). So we watched "She's the Man" and just talked and had lunch and such. I can't believe he's 16 and driving. I remember myself and my friends at that age and it scares me. He's a good kid though. I've also done dishes, and read all of my orgo (even ahead of schedule, this NEVER happens). So now what I should do is work on Calc (my prof ho-ed my life last night in class, sheesh, I hate calc with a passion), and study Anatomy. But I don't wanna.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, I am a grown (&lt;em&gt;ish&lt;/em&gt;) woman, and I just said &lt;em&gt;I don't&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;wanna&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What I do want to do is just curl up on the couch and watch a movie and spoon with a guy. I wonder what S is doing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really am having those Sex and the City moments, when Carrie is just like &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I need to feel the weight of a man on top of me"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; That would be amazing right now. You have no idea. Any takers? I'll be the big spoon or the little spoon, doesn't matter to me at this point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sigh, it looks like our rain is slowly trying to change over to snow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-3486362929635097152?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/3486362929635097152/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=3486362929635097152' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/3486362929635097152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/3486362929635097152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/rainy-days.html' title='Rainy Days'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-wV2EuVAOI/AAAAAAAAAFs/5zpxg7qfMYY/s72-c/a0236-000087.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-8579036168200840871</id><published>2008-03-25T17:01:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T17:11:58.918-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is there such as thing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-lqeUuVAMI/AAAAAAAAAFc/YQSisXgfCuE/s1600-h/73979616.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181789915458109634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-lqeUuVAMI/AAAAAAAAAFc/YQSisXgfCuE/s320/73979616.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...As harmless sexual flirtation?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My opinion, yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then again, apparently I'm wrong, and sexual flirtation can't be harmless. At least not to guys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Am I sensing a double standard here? I think so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently when the flirtation crosses over from normal to sexual, the harmlessness goes away. If I say things to a guy, it's leading him on. If a guy were to do the same thing to a woman, he would be said to be suave and sexy, and the fact that he is also leading her on never comes into play.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why is there still this double standard that women are supposed to be prim and proper, and the only time they're allowed to be sexual is in the privacy of her own bedroom (or whomever room she happens to be in), and should she be sexual, or heaven forbid, act like a man, she's dubbed a whore?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Am I the only woman out there frustrated by this fact?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why can't I flirt without the expectation that I'll put out?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thoughts?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-8579036168200840871?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8579036168200840871/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=8579036168200840871' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8579036168200840871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8579036168200840871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/is-there-such-as-thing.html' title='Is there such as thing...'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-lqeUuVAMI/AAAAAAAAAFc/YQSisXgfCuE/s72-c/73979616.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-2854131107631588552</id><published>2008-03-24T19:59:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T21:44:22.336-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The legal system is screwing with me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-hAqkuVAII/AAAAAAAAAE8/781yUx-L2Dg/s1600-h/high_court_judge2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181462471446429826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-hAqkuVAII/AAAAAAAAAE8/781yUx-L2Dg/s320/high_court_judge2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The legal system is officially screwing with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. I drove an hour and a half with Will, to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hicktown&lt;/span&gt; USA (actually we'll call it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hooterville&lt;/span&gt;, not because of the boobs, but that's what my mum always called it because it reminded her of a town called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hooterville&lt;/span&gt; on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; show she used to watch). So we drove all the way to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Hooterville&lt;/span&gt;, because that's where the court is, yet again, for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get all dolled up and looking professional, and Will is there in all his glory, and then we meet with one of my lawyers. All is good. We're &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to go into court at 3, he's briefing me on the questions he's going to ask me and what not (because I guess I'm going to "take the stands" which is really just like sitting in a chair at the front of the room in this little court house). All is well. Then My lawyer goes and meets with the other lawyer (I'll have to come up with nicknames for my former step-brother and his lawyer and what not), and the judge. He comes back to me and says again, that the other side wants to make a deal, and I say, again, that I don't want to make a deal, we are taking this all to court. So he goes back. The judge doesn't want this to go to court.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What. The. Hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other lawyer and this judge are playing these small town politics trying to push my lawyer and I around. And to top it all off, the judge said we couldn't actually do what we wanted to do today. What? He said that's not what we were scheduled for. Excuse me, last I checked a hearing before a judge is a hearing before a judge, why should it matter what it's about?? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;. Never mind that I drove an hour and a half here to sit and just say everything that I've already said. And by the way, the last 20 minutes of the drive are through nothing but cornfields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181464339757203602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-hCXUuVAJI/AAAAAAAAAFE/-nlICthKJvk/s200/corn_large.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I don't have a life or anything. I didn't miss an entire day of classes that I really couldn't afford to miss today to go down there. Will didn't give up a day of his spring break just to go sit in those uncomfortable orange chairs for no good reason.&lt;/p&gt;Ugh. So they want to meet some other time. Of course. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;sooooo&lt;/span&gt; unbelievably frustrating you have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;nooooo&lt;/span&gt; idea.&lt;/p&gt;So we did that, then went to our coffee shop (the one small &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;decent&lt;/span&gt; coffee shop that is down there) and got coffee. But get this, they were out of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;chai&lt;/span&gt;! Who runs out of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;chai&lt;/span&gt;?? Then we went and got two roses and I went to my dad's grave and put them there (I always do two roses, one from me and one from my little brother). And then we made our long journey home. Except I do think that we made better time coming home than we did going down there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;In other news, the girl downstairs moved in. She seems odd. I have yet to meet her, but when I pulled into the driveway tonight she was outside smoking with a very odd looking guy with long hair. And as soon as I got into my parking spot, they got right into her jeep and drove away, not as quickly as possible, but creeping so that they could get good looks at me. So odd. This should be more than interesting, I'm not sure how I feel about her at this point. But I won't judge. Yet.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So now I'm off with Will to go get some yummy deep dish pizza (that I have been craving since my mum and I watched a show about pizza on the Food Network) and then at 10 the Hills &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;premier&lt;/span&gt; is on! Don't judge, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Snookie&lt;/span&gt; got me hooked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181468377026461874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-hGCUuVALI/AAAAAAAAAFU/A_G52aQ4_G4/s200/the-hills-400a-082207.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And I just got an invite to go cuddle with S....and he's excited about the Hills, this could be a good night after all.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-2854131107631588552?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/2854131107631588552/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=2854131107631588552' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/2854131107631588552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/2854131107631588552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/legal-system-is-screwing-with-me.html' title='The legal system is screwing with me'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-hAqkuVAII/AAAAAAAAAE8/781yUx-L2Dg/s72-c/high_court_judge2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-3069255370052381049</id><published>2008-03-23T20:00:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T21:05:14.501-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-bv4kuVADI/AAAAAAAAAEU/IXSWEnqUfnY/s1600-h/080320_Peeps_wide-horizontal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181092176546037810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-bv4kuVADI/AAAAAAAAAEU/IXSWEnqUfnY/s320/080320_Peeps_wide-horizontal.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Easter all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So am I the only one who feels like it is entirely waaay too early to be Easter? No? Ok, good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm such a bad Catholic, I did not go to church this morning. Instead I rolled out of bed after being out with Will until about 4am and got ready for the day around 2pm, which involved throwing on some clothes and still rocking my make up and hair from last night. I made it work. I'm sure you couldn't even tell. At least I hope not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So today was a trip and a half. First off, obviously, I come from a big Italian family. So typically at Easter we eat some sort of big pasta dinner and salad and greens and all sorts of good stuff. We stopped making homemade canolis because they take a good few days to make. Now I realize that this all seems odd to people, because apparently the normal thing to do is to make ham or something of the sorts for Easter? We've never done this. I hadn't even heard of it until my step-dad (who is not Italian) brought a ham to his first Easter dinner with us. I didn't get it and neither did the rest of my family. Especially my Nonna (grandmother). She asked if it would be ok to feed it to the dogs. Crazy, I know. So anywho, I was informed that this year we would be having turkey for Easter dinner. Who does that?? I was a bit upset. Well I got there and we had turkey and ham, &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; pasta. Phew, some sort of tradition stayed in tact.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I stopped by my mum's house (where she and my step-dad live, obviously, with my little brother), and started a load of laundry, and while my brother and I were watching TV we were informed that my step-dads parents were coming to dinner. Dear God. This NEVER goes well. I almost had a mini panic attack. Imagine in your head "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" and the guys parents and then the big Greek family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181098314054303826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-b1d0uVAFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/5q6AQbXgtj8/s400/2002_my_big_fat_greek_wedding_007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So we all get there and manage to cram into my aunts small kitchen/dining room. And of course the first thing we do is start talking about the food, and what we normally do and what not. And most of this actually comes out in Italian (most of the Italian I know is about food as sad as that is. The only time my family would speak Italian around me would be in the kitchen or at the dinner table). So his poor parents just sat there, and finally his mum was like "Wow, I don't get to be around Italians that often." and my aunt was like "Well welcome!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh man. And of course the dinner continued on from there, with lots of talking and bickering, because well that's what we do. About halfway through dinner I get a message from Will: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Hi, it's me. Alcohol isn't even helping me at this point. I just wanted to see how you were holding up, happy Easter, and say hi to the family for me"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Will has always been a part of our family basically, so it was odd not having him at a family dinner. My aunt was like "Where is he?" and then of course my Nonna got upset "You told him he was invited didn't you? That should just go without saying, where is he??". I had to explain to them that he was with his actual family. My aunts response:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Oh yeah, I keep forgetting he actually has his own family, he's just always with us."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Way to go auntie. Way to go.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I manage to escape early. And I'm not entirely sure how, but I did pull it off. Then I went back to my mums house, did some more laundry (yes, I still go home to do laundry, it's free, gotta love it). Talked to Will on the phone for a bit. Then my mum came home. For Easter this year I got a card and a $50 gift card for gas (YES! My tank was totally on E), and then she said "I have another present for you. Close your eyes and hold out your left hand". So I do, and this is what happens. I get this: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181101277581738098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="138" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-b4KUuVAHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/T1FhTRkBjyg/s200/Picture+001.jpg" width="151" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And yes, that is my left hand (I have a ring that I always wear on my right hand), and those are real diamonds and real gold. Now I'm not the biggest fan of gold at all, and I'm not too sure about the style of the ring, but that's not the point. It's the ring that my dad gave my mum on their 5th anniversary and my mum wanted me to have it. It's a little tight, but I'll make it work. I thought it was so sweet of her to do that. I just love her so much.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So in other news, the man fast is going quite well. I have yet to have any form of communication from Plaid. Really? Are we going to be that childish? Oh well.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Texter invited me to a party he's hosting this Friday night. I'm so not going. That just spells disaster. And I've decided since I'm stalling from studying anatomy, I'll give the back story here.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Texter and I met through a mutual friend at her birthday dinner/drinks. We met, and immediately hit it off. We'll call our mutual friend, Bean (one of her nicknames). Bean was so excited, and she could tell that we would be great for each other. He bought me a drink, we sat, we talked, it was a blast. After a while he asked if he could have my phone number and if he could call me sometime. Of course I happily gave it to him, I still thought he was a good guy at this point. So eventually I say I need to go, I have an exam to study for. And he asked me which one, I responded with Orgo. "No way! With _____ (our profs name)??" It turned out we were in the same class. Now this is really easy to have happen, because the lecture was over 180 students, and so in a massive lecture hall it's easy not to know if someone is in your class or not. So I stay for a little bit longer, and eventually have to leave. By the time I got home we were already texting each other, and he said we should "study" some time. Now all of his texts had a very sexual undertone to them, and were very flirtatious. So this goes on for a while, and I keep shooting him down because I know he just wants sex. One night when we were on the phone, he said to me "I keep trying to get you to go out with me, and I just keep on running into this brick wall that you seem to have put up. I'm getting sick of trying and not getting anywhere, so when you're ready for a date, or just to talk let me know. It's your move now." Now this really hit me, because I do this with guys. I put up a wall and I never let them get to close. So I think, alright, I do like him, he's a great guy, I'll give him a shot. So we hang out more and more, I get to know his friends, he meets E, she likes him, everything is going great. One night he tells me that he just wants to be with me, and take me out, I just have to name it and it's done. I can tell him I want to go anywhere, do anything, and he'll be there. Adorable right? So the next week after that was Snookie's going away party. So he was headed off to the bar and I was going over to her place with Will for the party, and our game plan was to meet up after that. He told me to call him when I left, or he'd call me when they were leaving the bar, which ever came first. So he called me, and it worked out great because it was right when we were leaving. So I told him I have to drop off Will and then I'd be over. "Ok great, I can't wait to see you." So I drop Will off, and then I head over to Texters place and I gave him a call (like I said I would to let him know I was on my way) and he was like "Yeah, if you want to see me at my best I wouldn't come over right now." To which I said "It's alright, it's not like I haven't seen you drunk from the bar before or been with your friends." And then he dropped the bomb. "Yeah, but I kinda brought this woman home from the bar with me. She's a real cougar. So it's up to you." WHAT?? You have got to be kidding me right? So I go over there and I just sat in my car in the parking lot for a good 20 minutes. I just couldn't bring myself to go in there. I couldn't do it. I knew in my heart he was a jerk and I deserved better. So I head home.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now that would be the end of the story, but I decide that we can still be friends, because he is a funny guy and just all around fun to be with. Until after our winter break, I meet up with a girlfriend for dinner, and she told me that she had talked to Bean, and apparently in a nutshell, Texter had told Bean's roommate that I had said things about her and had started all of this drama, I don't even remember the details at this point. I don't even hardly know Beans roommate. We went out for dinner and drinks for Bean's birthday (which is when we met) and the three of us hung out and watched Grey's one night together. I thought she was a great girl, I don't know why he would say that I said bad things about her. So she got upset and said that Bean should never speak to me again and that she never wanted to see me ever again. Holy mess. So at the end of the day, Texter and I have not spoken since the first week in January, and I intend to keep it that way. Jerk be gone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I'm having a fashion crisis. I have no idea what to wear to court tomorrow. That's right, I'm going to court. In a nutshell I'm suing my former non-step-brother (Lifetime movie here I come). It's a long story, but it ends with me driving an hour and a half away with Will to a little town where my dad used to live to go to court, yet again. E had to borrow back her suit blazer that I borrowed from her since she has an interview tomorrow. So what do you wear to court? Decisions decisions. Will was so cute, he was like "Sweetie, you could wear your scrubs and still look better than those people."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now I have nothing against small town people, it's not like I'm from the biggest city in the world. But this town where my dad lived has 2 stop lights and the only road into the town is over 20 miles long filled with corn fields and soy bean fields. The drive there kills me. And these people rock their 80's track suits and camo gear around town. Gag me. Will and I stick out like sore thumbs there. It's actually almost amusing. I'll figure something out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wow this has been a long post. If you made it all the way through, kudos to you. I'm sure I had more to say, but I honestly can't remember. And I really should stop stalling and get some studying done and get things ready for court tomorrow. Fun stuff.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope everyone has had a great Easter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-3069255370052381049?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/3069255370052381049/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=3069255370052381049' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/3069255370052381049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/3069255370052381049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/happy-easter.html' title='Happy Easter!'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-bv4kuVADI/AAAAAAAAAEU/IXSWEnqUfnY/s72-c/080320_Peeps_wide-horizontal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-6728533341624394490</id><published>2008-03-21T21:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T21:40:37.629-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mafia 1, Real Esate 0</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-Ri10uVACI/AAAAAAAAAEM/3xxCY9TUNGo/s1600-h/erinbr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180374148208459810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-Ri10uVACI/AAAAAAAAAEM/3xxCY9TUNGo/s320/erinbr.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess who's drive way just got done being plowed??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad ass. I'm a G. Don't mess with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And I really did not mean to rhyme there either)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hopefully with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apologizing&lt;/span&gt; tone message I left they'll still like me &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; always plow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I just need my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; to get home so we can push me out of where I'm stuck and I'll be good to go. As soon as this snow stops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-6728533341624394490?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6728533341624394490/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=6728533341624394490' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6728533341624394490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6728533341624394490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/mafia-1-real-esate-0.html' title='Mafia 1, Real Esate 0'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-Ri10uVACI/AAAAAAAAAEM/3xxCY9TUNGo/s72-c/erinbr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-673960181556431715</id><published>2008-03-21T20:31:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T21:08:28.758-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitching'/><title type='text'>What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-RUDkuVAAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/dC37-l8AE1o/s1600-h/Albert_Finney_And_Julia_Roberts.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180357891757244418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-RUDkuVAAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/dC37-l8AE1o/s320/Albert_Finney_And_Julia_Roberts.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I seriously just threaten legal action against the real estate company I rent my house through?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yep.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Crap, now do I call and apologize or no? It is just over snow being plowed. But not just any snow, a fucking blizzard that we've been getting all day.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180360795155136530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-RWskuVABI/AAAAAAAAAEE/7ACyN2FlNUk/s320/%2520%2520Boston%2520Blizzard.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Seriously. There's a foot of snow on the ground. And it's in our lease that if there is anything over an inch of snow we'll be plowed. So I called earlier to be sure that they were coming out. "Oh no problem, I'll call and check on that right now." I get home from work, and there is still a foot of snow on our driveway. My car can't even get half way in. It's currently stuck where I managed to park it out in front of my house.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So the phone call went like this. And by the way it went on the emergency maintenance line, and it was not in a nice or friendly tone. "Hi, it's _____, I live at _____, and there is a reason why I called earlier to be sure that our driveway would be plowed. There is now a foot of snow and my little car can't even get into it. And I have my lease sitting right her in front of me that states that you are responsible for snow removal. If there is not someone here tonight, I would be happy to discuss your breaking of our lease with my LAWYER in the morning." CLICK.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bad idea to threaten legal action, or no? Should I call and apologize or would that make them under mind me? Who knows, maybe they'll actually listen. Or maybe I'll have one of my lawyers call them in the morning. I'll give them a few hours to get here. Or they could be getting yet another angry phone call in the morning.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't care if there is a blizzard going on, I still have a life and they still have to do their job.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't care if they plow at midnight so long as it gets done.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nope, sooooo not apologizing. I am standing my ground.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*UPDATE: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I called and left a general message (not on the emergency line so they probably won't get it until Monday) apologizing for my &lt;em&gt;tone&lt;/em&gt;, but not for what I said. I stated once again that it is unacceptable for them to break they're agreement that is in our lease, and I expect this to be taken care of tonight. I also expected to discuss their breaking of the lease with someone in the near future. I again apologized if I offended anyone and for my tone, and that I know that yelling is not a way to get anything accomplished. And then I thanked them for their time and understanding.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So help me God if my drive way is not plowed by tomorrow however I will be raising hell.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-673960181556431715?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/673960181556431715/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=673960181556431715' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/673960181556431715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/673960181556431715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/what.html' title='What?'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-RUDkuVAAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/dC37-l8AE1o/s72-c/Albert_Finney_And_Julia_Roberts.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-8568087300043720230</id><published>2008-03-20T20:04:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T20:24:32.757-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photographs'/><title type='text'>This is amazing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-L9FUuU_9I/AAAAAAAAADk/yozHNNJWl5Y/s1600-h/ht_KevinConnelly_071205_ms.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179980789333688274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-L9FUuU_9I/AAAAAAAAADk/yozHNNJWl5Y/s320/ht_KevinConnelly_071205_ms.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; His name is Kevin Connolly. He was born without the lower half of his body. Incredible enough as it is, add on to that, he seems like a pretty amazing guy, and he is one hell of a photographer. He traveled throughout Europe on his skateboard and took pictures of people getting their initial reactions to him. They are amazing. The pictures really manage to capture the people when their guard is down and their raw emotions are exposed in a way that just taking someones picture who's posing can't come near doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even kids were captured&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179982636169625586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-L-w0uU__I/AAAAAAAAAD0/v5cXXwtNTz8/s320/02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, check this guy out. His website is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.therollingexhibition.com/"&gt;http://www.therollingexhibition.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if anyone wants to buy me any of his photographs I would be oh so happy :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-8568087300043720230?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8568087300043720230/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=8568087300043720230' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8568087300043720230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8568087300043720230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/this-is-amazing.html' title='This is amazing'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-L9FUuU_9I/AAAAAAAAADk/yozHNNJWl5Y/s72-c/ht_KevinConnelly_071205_ms.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-6356437463817801735</id><published>2008-03-18T23:14:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T23:38:53.182-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Brother'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><title type='text'>Watch out people!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-CFSYJsL4I/AAAAAAAAADM/HmuMf37LIg4/s1600-h/hyundai-next-generation.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179286122243305346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-CFSYJsL4I/AAAAAAAAADM/HmuMf37LIg4/s320/hyundai-next-generation.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-CFLIJsL3I/AAAAAAAAADE/5T7qXuowpCY/s1600-h/hyundai-next-generation.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My little brother turned 16 today. My baby brother, the kid who will always be 5 to me, it today now legally allowed to drive on his own. Dear God that is a scary thought. So people on the roads everywhere, watch out!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So it's been a pretty stressful week. I have a feeling the next 3 or 4 weeks are going to be really rough. My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; and I counted today and we have 23 more get-ups until finals week. My mum and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;coined&lt;/span&gt; the term get up way back when. Instead of counting how many days we have left of school or until a certain date, we count how many days we have to get up out of bed. Hence the term, get ups.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We also found out today that there is going to be a girl moving in downstairs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;! I don't know why, but I assumed a guy would be moving in, but you know what they say about assuming things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Anywho&lt;/span&gt;, I live in a house, and we have the upstairs, and then there are two single apartments downstairs. Nothing is shared, so it's like having completely separate places, just in the same house. And there have always been guys living downstairs. One of them will still be there, but the other guy moved out (so sad :( he was amazing), and I guess a girl is moving in on Monday. This should be interesting...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So since this is completely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;anonymous&lt;/span&gt; and you guys have no idea who I actually am (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hahaha&lt;/span&gt; that sounds so funny to say) I feel like it's alright for me to say this next part even though I was told not to tell anyone because it's supposed to be a secret and they just made an exception in telling us because well, it's us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My dad was killed in a car &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;accident&lt;/span&gt; last summer. He was an EMT, and all sorts of EMT teachers. Saving lives &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; his life. He lived for it. I grew up with him going on emergency calls and riding in ambulances and doing and seeing all sorts of things normal kids don't get to see. It's probably why I want to be a doctor, because being surrounded by medicine is normal to me. So he was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;recently&lt;/span&gt; nominated by his peers for EMT of the year award. The national board made the exception to tell us the results early (we weren't supposed to find out until late April at the banquet with the rest of the EMT world), because my little brother was supposed to be going to NYC that week and would miss it, and he was willing to not go to NYC to go to this banquet. So we got the results today, and he didn't win. The board was so overcome with emotional letters and support and what not for my dad, that the decided that EMT of the year wasn't enough. They're giving him the prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award. Holy crap. This is huge. I almost started crying when my mum told me. And to find that all out on my brothers birthday, just, so emotional to say the least. And they want to present it to my brother and I. I need to invest in some waterproof mascara is all I have to say. A friend of my dad's and one of his old &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;colleagues&lt;/span&gt; made copies of about 15 letters that people had written in his support. She made copies for my brother and I, so I think I'm going to read them before I go to bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Really, if you know anyone who is an EMT, or in emergency medicine, or a fire fighter, or a police officer, just thank them whenever you have the chance. People say it's ironic and sad that my dad saved countless lives and yet his life was taken before someone had the chance to save his. So just thank them, for everything they do, and know that they will be there when you need them most.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179290906836873122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-CJo4JsL6I/AAAAAAAAADc/_4MklgYeib0/s320/150px-Star_of_life_svg.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It has been a rough week, but thanks to S we have this lovely quote to think about:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The moment you feel like giving up, just remember why you held on for so long."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am superwoman. I can totally do it all. Bring it world. I'm ready.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the man fast is going quite well. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-6356437463817801735?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6356437463817801735/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=6356437463817801735' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6356437463817801735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6356437463817801735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/watch-out-people.html' title='Watch out people!'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R-CFSYJsL4I/AAAAAAAAADM/HmuMf37LIg4/s72-c/hyundai-next-generation.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-8655954889040969145</id><published>2008-03-17T00:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T00:16:03.116-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bitching'/><title type='text'>I need a vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R93upYJsL2I/AAAAAAAAAC8/o6zD47a-Q1A/s1600-h/FIJI.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178557541171081058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R93upYJsL2I/AAAAAAAAAC8/o6zD47a-Q1A/s320/FIJI.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I talked to my mum earlier today, and she said I'm too young to need a vacation. I think it's bull. Especially since she leaves for a house boat in Florida in a month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;School would be so much easier if I didn't have anything else going on. Especially work. I swear to goodness I can't work all weekend before having a huge exam on a Monday. It's just not fair. I'm exhausted and I hardly have any time to get anything done. And I think it's bullshit I've worked every Sunday on my own since New Years with the exception of last week and then one week when I had the flu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And don't give me shit that I put this studying off and it's my own fault I have to cram. I can hardly keep up from day to day with my work, throw an exam in there, and I'm fucked. Royally. I don't sleep. All I do is go to class, go to work, study, do homework, I meet with lawyers, I take trips out of town to where my dad lived because I'm the only one who can legally take care of things, I do it all. I sleep if there's time. And I'm barely hanging on. I'm probably going to fail yet another orgo exam tomorrow. Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry this is a really bitchy and whiny post. I had to bitch for a moment. That's what my blog is for anyways right? For me to get my feelings out. Yep I thought so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life is a bitch right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need a vacation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-8655954889040969145?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8655954889040969145/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=8655954889040969145' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8655954889040969145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8655954889040969145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-need-vacation.html' title='I need a vacation'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R93upYJsL2I/AAAAAAAAAC8/o6zD47a-Q1A/s72-c/FIJI.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-8099322114468439150</id><published>2008-03-15T23:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T00:17:52.033-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Man fasting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9yRWoJsLzI/AAAAAAAAACk/bztnNdbJADs/s1600-h/coyotedvdcover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178173489490439986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9yRWoJsLzI/AAAAAAAAACk/bztnNdbJADs/s200/coyotedvdcover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is not a good movie to watch while man fasting.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;That's right, I said it. I'm man fasting. I am putting the control of the situation back into my own hands. For the rest of Lent (aka next Sunday, and about as long as I think I could possibly actually go through with this) I am man fasting. I'm not sure exactly what this will exactly mean, but basically I'm not going to think about guys. Not going to go on any dates (not that I've had many offers lately), I'm just not going to focus my energy and attention on men. I am man fasting. If you choose to do this with me, I suggest not watching a chick flick. Like I have broke down and started doing with the roomie. Thank you Oxygen.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So why am I man fasting you ask? Because I'm sick of trying with guys. S is way too hooked on his ex, or whatever they ware. Friends, yep. The Boy Formally, friends. And now Plaid. Jesus, that's a story.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I texted him on Thursday. Never heard anything else. I was out with E last night, so she was like "Hey, you should give Plaid a call, see what he's up to." So I did. Very casual, very la la la. "Hey, it's ______, I just wanted to see what you were up to, if you wanted to do something tonight or this weekend. Give me a call." or something to that extent. About five minutes later E decided that she wanted to text him. So she texts him wondering if he has any big plans for St. Patty's day. We hear nothing. Which is so odd for him, he always at least answers my texts. So fast forward to about 12h30 in the morning when E's phone goes off. It's him. Seriously?!?! He can respond to her text but not my phone call. Fucking A. And so when she asked him what he had been up to that night he said "Oh a whole lot of nothing, just playing my guitar". (He plays blues guitar by the way). Really. You couldn't even text me back? So, to take the words from my favorite show, Sex and the City&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I will not be the first one to speak. And if he never calls me again, I'll always think of him fondly. As an asshole."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But the thing is he's not an ass. But I seriously won't be the first one to speak. It's his move.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Man fasting would be so much easier if there wasn't the beautiful Alltel man working next door to me. Where I work (we'll call it P2, because well, we actually have nicknamed it that in real life, so why not here too) is a store in a plaza (locally owned business, I've known the owner almost my entire life, mainly because I grew up with her son), and next door to our store is an Alltel store. And one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen works there. He promised me yesterday he would come in today to get some St. Patty's day stuff (we're a party supply store, needless to say we have it all, except liquor, we're not that kind of party store). And he showed up! He said "I told you I'd be back" with this huge smile. It was in a way that if I try and type how adorable that one line is it can't fully en capture it, and I'm sure it sounds like nothing, but it was great. And he's Irish. And he called me sweetheart (typically a pet peeve of mine, but common, he's Irish, on St. Patty's day, calling me sweetheart. How can you resist?). And I got to go see him when I needed more $1's. Of course I'll drool and swoon over him. I'm man fasting. It's only logically that a beautiful man come see me at work this weekend. Sigh.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am exhausted. This is what working at my store will do to you on a holiday. Man. So of course after a long day at work and then cleaning my place up, I have not been motivated to get any work done. I'm royally fucked for my Orgo (Organic Chemistry) exam that I have on Monday. Greeeeeat.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So the past two nights I've had some odd dreams. And both of them have had my dad in them. Now this might not seem too odd to most people, but my dad was killed in a car accident last summer. July 17 to be exact. Odd yet? I've only had him in one other dream of mine a while ago. I also tend to dream a lot and remember most of them, which is always amusing. So two nights ago he was in my dream, and I was sick apparently. And he kept telling me I was sick, and something was wrong and he had to take me to the hospital. In my dream I was all light headed and fainty, and at one point I just fell off the bar stool (at his house we had a bar and bar stools instead of a dining room table and chairs), so he picked me up and took me to the hospital. He laid me down on a gurney and told me it would be ok, but I have to go to the hospital. The last thing I remember is just laying there. And then last night I dreamed he was driving me home in his old car, and we stopped to push Texter and his friends (they were in his jeep) out of the mud. The only conversation was just me saying "Don't help him" and my dad saying "We can help him, he's stuck, it'll only take a minute". That's all. So if I dream about him again tonight I might freak out a bit. I miss him so much.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I felt like there was more to say, but I am so sleepy and of course I have to work bright and early, and then spend the rest of my day studying my little booty off. I hope everyone had a fun and safe Saturday St. Patty's day night out!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-8099322114468439150?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8099322114468439150/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=8099322114468439150' title='3 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8099322114468439150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8099322114468439150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/man-fasting.html' title='Man fasting'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9yRWoJsLzI/AAAAAAAAACk/bztnNdbJADs/s72-c/coyotedvdcover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-5649227071673628394</id><published>2008-03-15T01:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T01:09:48.508-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nuns'/><title type='text'>I'm becoming a nun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9tZBoJsLyI/AAAAAAAAACc/GVtp0PXzKFs/s1600-h/Nuns-Maureen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177830081085320994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9tZBoJsLyI/AAAAAAAAACc/GVtp0PXzKFs/s200/Nuns-Maureen.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. I'm becoming a nun. But one of those hip ones like in Sister Act. All I need now is a little "Climb Every Mountain" from a Sound of Music loving older nun and a beautiful man to come sweep me off my feet to get me out of this convent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I might be done trying with guys. This will probably last a grand total of a week, but you never know. There have to be decent guys out there somewhere, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not giving up, just taking a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hey, I love the black and white combo, throw in a piece of hot pink or red jewelry and I'll be good to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll see you all at mass. And I'll also update later when I don't have to be to work in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9tY4IJsLxI/AAAAAAAAACU/3AtRdaphlcE/s1600-h/Nuns-Maureen.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-5649227071673628394?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5649227071673628394/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=5649227071673628394' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5649227071673628394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5649227071673628394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/im-becoming-nun.html' title='I&apos;m becoming a nun'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9tZBoJsLyI/AAAAAAAAACc/GVtp0PXzKFs/s72-c/Nuns-Maureen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-2269638371183764145</id><published>2008-03-14T00:19:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T01:07:21.696-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Paris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Datable? I'm sorry there's a wait for your table</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9n9coJsLvI/AAAAAAAAACE/9IEp59N0hSY/s1600-h/habits-female-texting-400a062507.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177447914895322866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9n9coJsLvI/AAAAAAAAACE/9IEp59N0hSY/s200/habits-female-texting-400a062507.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I really should have updated earlier, I had much more to say then. Oh well, I should start making post-its..."Remember to write this..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to Will earlier (It's so odd to call him Will, because it's an actual persons name, versus Texter or Plaid or the Boy Formally, or even the initial E, and yet still not his actual name, but oh so fitting), and he made quite the funny comment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (after he tells me he's probably just going over to his boyfriends for the night): "I'm jealous, I want a boy's house to go over to."&lt;br /&gt;Will: "Well you've got a lot of prospects, give it time."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "This is true, but you know me, I'm impatient."&lt;br /&gt;Will: "Well I'm sure any of them would have sex with you, but relationship first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha....Oh we both got a good laugh out of that. Thanks sweetie. Good to know that I'm fuckable, but dateable, now that takes time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what prospects are we talking about here? Boy formally, Plaid? S?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, we're adding S in there. Well I'm not, but E assures me that he's a great guy and is an amazing boyfriend. Back story time...S and I have known each other for a bit, through E. He's her best guy friend (straight too!), she calls him her brother. Like I said we've known each other for a while now, but it's always been in a large group setting. Recently we've started talking and hanging out on our own. He really is a great guy. But the amount of baggage he has could fill an airport. And not just a little air port, but massive Charles de Gaulle in Paris. I think it would be weird to date him personally, simply for the fact that he's like E's brother. That would just be odd. But it's fun to watch her squirm when she hears that we talk and hang out :) The bonus is that he lives literally 2 blocks away. Nice huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I texted Plaid tonight. I hadn't heard from him since, what, Sunday maybe? Whenever he got back from CO. He's all about the random texts, like "Just wanted to say hi, hope you're having a good day" kind of thing. So I figure I'll try it on for size, and send him a random one. It happened to be a beautiful 50 degree day here (a HUGE increase from the 0 degrees with 3 feet of snow we had a matter of weeks ago, seriously). So I text him and say "I just thought I'd say hi and I hope you're enjoying this beautiful day." Have I heard anything back? Of course not. It's only been 6 hours...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized what's bothering me about the Boy Formally. And its not him, well it is, but it's complicated. I was talking to my roomie and to E about it the other night after our study date. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something missing. And not the zsa zsa zsu. That was there, not in full force, but there was a bit of it. Enough to make me think there could be something there between us. And it hit me the other night what was missing. It's something in his personality. I have a very loud and outgoing personality. I'm quite the character if I do say so myself. There's that Marilyn Monroe quote that really does describe me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I'm out of control and at times I'm hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you don't deserve me at my best."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9n9XYJsLuI/AAAAAAAAAB8/R1W5Gmnyh8Y/s1600-h/habits-female-texting-400a062507.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I need a guy who has a strong personality too. Someone who can balance me out. And not in the way that I have a loud personality and he has a quiet one, but in the fact that he can be like "Listen, chill out" or "Buck up and do something about it". Basically I need someone who can stand up to me, instead of rolling over like a puppy dog and doing everything I say. And I'm not saying that the Boy Formally would be like that. Because when the two of us are together things are great, and he's funny and just, himself. But in public he's shy and quiet. And well, I'm not. It's so hard to describe. But I've done the nice guy and that blew up in my face (that's the story of the most recent ex...and boy is it a story, maybe I'll post about that later when it's not 12h40 in the morning), and I've done the jerk thing (*cough*Texter*cough*....Another story, we'll just have to do a story of the ex's). I need a guy who can be sweet and caring and funny, and yet still be able to be on my level personality wise. And as my roomie so kindly pointed out, S seems to fill that description. Oh well. Bad timing. Such is life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a message today from a guy I went to high school with (woah blast from the past), and he used to claim to be in love with me. Hard core, head over heals, in love with me. And as fate would have it I think he's a bit insane and have never felt one ounce of attraction towards him. Turns out he's married and moved out to Cali. He just wanted to let me know that and see how I was doing. Can we say random? But as Will said, that's just how he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I helped Snookie plan her night in Paris! (And no, not like the porno. If we were going to plan one I would pick a much better one to copy off of). Since she's in England she's planning a tour across Europe for her spring break. She's staying in Paris for a night and so we found her a good hotel, which is actually one I used to walk by countless times when I lived there. It made me miss Paris so much you don't even know. I was thinking of all the things she should do and places she should see, and I just wish I could be there with her! Or be there at all. And to top it off I organized all the pictures on my computer tonight (definitely procrastinating from all the work I actually have to do, I'll be kicking myself in the booty later) and I saw all of my ones from there. I'll be back there someday, I know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am craving chocolate cake so much right now. I gave up chocolate for Lent, so only a little bit longer til Easter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like there was something else to say (see this is when the post-its would come in handy), but I suppose if it were important enough to blog about I'd remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on that note, and since it's about 1am, Happy Friday all! Have a fabulous day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-2269638371183764145?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/2269638371183764145/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=2269638371183764145' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/2269638371183764145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/2269638371183764145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-really-should-have-updated-earlier-i.html' title='Datable? I&apos;m sorry there&apos;s a wait for your table'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9n9coJsLvI/AAAAAAAAACE/9IEp59N0hSY/s72-c/habits-female-texting-400a062507.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-6126855599294071985</id><published>2008-03-13T15:12:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T15:19:37.587-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>This took up 2 hours of my afternoon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9l824JsLrI/AAAAAAAAABo/QpSVGAAy6Lo/s1600-h/alg_real-housewives.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177306528866905778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9l824JsLrI/AAAAAAAAABo/QpSVGAAy6Lo/s320/alg_real-housewives.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any one else see this show? I'm now addicted. It definitely stole 2 hours of my afternoon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The one in the middle, Luann &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; Lesseps, is my favorite, hands down. I think she's possibly the most sane, even though I do feel bad for her housekeeper.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah I can't wait to be rich and fabulous and live in a big city. I just won't be crazy like these women. You know I'll still shop discount and Target. Love it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh and by the way it's The Real Housewives of NYC on Bravo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-6126855599294071985?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6126855599294071985/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=6126855599294071985' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6126855599294071985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6126855599294071985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/this-took-up-2-hours-of-my-afternoon.html' title='This took up 2 hours of my afternoon'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9l824JsLrI/AAAAAAAAABo/QpSVGAAy6Lo/s72-c/alg_real-housewives.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7846141431196469197</id><published>2008-03-13T12:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T12:22:02.220-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Videos'/><title type='text'>Behind every pretty girl is an even prettier gay best friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9lUnYJsLqI/AAAAAAAAABg/A32VJ4Y8Ntw/s1600-h/4752303_1.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177262282113822370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9lUnYJsLqI/AAAAAAAAABg/A32VJ4Y8Ntw/s200/4752303_1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes this guy is crazy, but I find this hilarious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGMKgLRU-3c"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGMKgLRU-3c&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update to come later!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7846141431196469197?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7846141431196469197/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7846141431196469197' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7846141431196469197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7846141431196469197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/behind-every-pretty-girl-is-even.html' title='Behind every pretty girl is an even prettier gay best friend'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9lUnYJsLqI/AAAAAAAAABg/A32VJ4Y8Ntw/s72-c/4752303_1.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-5103852849619225071</id><published>2008-03-10T23:50:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T00:11:08.040-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Study date with the Boy Formally....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9YBpoJsLoI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ZhP9KpOlgUo/s1600-h/miromoreira-7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176326636373290626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9YBpoJsLoI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ZhP9KpOlgUo/s320/miromoreira-7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Update time? Yep I think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we got our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;assignment&lt;/span&gt; done, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; all. No other studying got done. Oh well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; why I'm drinking a cup of coffee at midnight. Such is life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So first. I got home from class and gave him a call (like I said I would). He picked up after two rings. Does that seem short? Or fast I should say? And yes I was counting so that I could over analyze later. I am being that girl. So we decided that we would study at his place. He has no roommates and mine was home with a friend of hers, and he also said he had a table. Yep, didn't take much convincing to get me over there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I get there, and it's a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;decent&lt;/span&gt; sized place, but it's in the basement of a house, so it's almost cave like. I wonder if he cleaned before I came? It didn't look bad at all, definitely a guys place though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we did or assignment and then we spent the whole rest of the time I was there talking. Just about random things. And he just makes me laugh, so hard. Which is amazing. My cheeks heart from smiling and laughing so hard. And yeah we're complete opposites, he's from a small town, I'm a city girl, he loves folk music, but I like that he has a passion for music, it really doesn't care what kind of music. But it turns out we are pretty similar. He does like wine (huge bonus!), and get this, he loves to take bubble baths! I know right? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; just insane. He can't wait to move into his new place so that he can have a bath. And we talked about going to the beach this summer, and I told him how I love to go and just sit and watch the sun set. And he said....wait for it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well this summer we can get a bottle of wine and go do that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We? Common, how romantic would that be. He could even bring his guitar. Holy goodness. Me, the boy, wine, the sunset. Could possibly be the most romantic thing ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I would definitely say it went well. But he is a morning person. I left his place around 10h45 and he was getting ready for bed. It's midnight and I'm drinking coffee. But in his defense he had to be to work by 6am this morning, so I'd be getting ready for bed too. Oh and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt; moment, well not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;necessarily&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt;, but important to note...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were talking about &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sex and the City&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, and by we I mean I brought it up. So he said "Yeah, I've seen quite a few of the episodes, my ex used to make me watch it with her, she had every season on DVD." &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, first off, so do I. And I love it. And then it's always &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt; when the ex is brought up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;annnnd&lt;/span&gt; I have something in common with her. But this was big, because when I first met him I never knew he had a girlfriend until I found out on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; (thank you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; for my stalking abilities!), and then I found out they broke up on there. All this time that I've known him he NEVER mentioned having a girlfriend, or breaking up with her, nothing. This was the &lt;em&gt;first&lt;/em&gt; time he ever mentioned her. Progress? I believe so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a "decorator", I have a "decorator"...Thank you Sex and the City&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, this could be something. I'm thinking only time will tell. Plus there's still Plaid....But for tonight just the Boy Formally&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-5103852849619225071?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5103852849619225071/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=5103852849619225071' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5103852849619225071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5103852849619225071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/study-date-with-boy-formally.html' title='Study date with the Boy Formally....'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9YBpoJsLoI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ZhP9KpOlgUo/s72-c/miromoreira-7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-5104260563141016437</id><published>2008-03-10T14:40:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T15:11:09.676-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink...Or is there?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9WDHoJsLmI/AAAAAAAAABA/mEN7-TzPotg/s1600-h/41DB9R8XQYL__AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176187513792638562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9WDHoJsLmI/AAAAAAAAABA/mEN7-TzPotg/s400/41DB9R8XQYL__AA240_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So before writing my orgo prelab, I definitely felt the need to update.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ohhhh boys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So Plaid is back in town! YAY! He really didn't follow through with that whole "I'm never coming back to _____, I'm staying out here in CO". Thank goodenss. I knew he wouldn't, but knowing my luck, he would! So we talked last night via text (what is it with guys and texts lately? It must be something in the water). So I'm thinking that we need to move on to an actual phone conversatoin and then *gasp* maybe a date?? I definitely think it's time for one. Maybe later on this week or this weekend. Now if only I had the balls to ask him out. Isn't that supposed to be the guys job?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we ended our srping break here, and I finially get to get back into my routine of seeing the Boy Formally (known as boy with a girlfriend). He got a hair cut over break, it looks good. It was great seeing him. Maybe the interest died down because of how crazy the last week before break was and then combined with the fact I haven't seen him in about a week and a half. But he definitely seemed happy to see me. In fact, so happy that when we first started talking, on of the first things he asked me was "Hey! Do you want to get together tonight? You know, to study and work on our lab assignment?" Distance makes the heart grow fonder maybe? This will mark the first time we get together outside of campus. Oh and PS, the class/lab we're working on tonight is Human Anatomy. Ironic eh? That could be twisted in sooooo many ways. I'm studying anatomy, with a boy, tonight. This should be interesting....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now I know I said I wouldn't write about him, but there is definitely something to be said about Texter. I know I know, but hear me out. I was Facebook stalking this afternoon, and what did I find? His relationship status changed, he's no longer single and it says he's only looking for friendship. After more stalking, I figured out who the girl is that he's seeing (it didn't take much after reading his wall and looking at the various bumper stickers that have been given to him). And her name is just too funny to pass up making a comment on it....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176190511679811186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9WF2IJsLnI/AAAAAAAAABI/wObnQ05LXNI/s320/700.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I kid you not. That's her name. Barbie. Seriously? He would. Sheesh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alright time for a lunch of humus and crackers and to write a prelab! Update definitely to come later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;~Emitt, Queer as Folk&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-5104260563141016437?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/5104260563141016437/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=5104260563141016437' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5104260563141016437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/5104260563141016437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/water-water-everywhere-and-not-drop-to.html' title='Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink...Or is there?'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9WDHoJsLmI/AAAAAAAAABA/mEN7-TzPotg/s72-c/41DB9R8XQYL__AA240_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-6194661693752186259</id><published>2008-03-09T19:26:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T19:30:57.775-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Math'/><title type='text'>UGH</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9RyyoJsLlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ELpD7grfeYY/s1600-h/1869299_a96476631c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175888085852630610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9RyyoJsLlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ELpD7grfeYY/s400/1869299_a96476631c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I HATE CALC&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You knew this post was coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Math is dumb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hate it. With a passion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-6194661693752186259?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/6194661693752186259/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=6194661693752186259' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6194661693752186259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/6194661693752186259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/ugh.html' title='UGH'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9RyyoJsLlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ELpD7grfeYY/s72-c/1869299_a96476631c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-7001019102187945239</id><published>2008-03-09T00:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T00:35:00.178-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I already for got some...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9N1z4JsLjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/sKtjrzMRXbM/s1600-h/mafia_meeting_arrests_1928.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175609930885639730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9N1z4JsLjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/sKtjrzMRXbM/s200/mafia_meeting_arrests_1928.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after the first post and I already realized that I forgot some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, my friends and I quote "Sex and the City" like it is our jobs, because well it's basically our life but not in the lovely city of NYC. Love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Oh and the name of my city is so crazy, I'll just refer to it as the Zoo. And yes, "zoo" is the last 3 letters of the name of it. Annnnd Google! If you so desire)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my name, as in Mafia Princess (Mafia for short :) ), I come from a very large Italian family. There's no such thing as the mob. And by no such thing as the mob, I mean my family was totally in it. Yes, we are that bad ass. Remember, you don't mess with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also spent a year living in Paris, France. And to come back here it was a bit difficult to say the least. So this is for you Moey! My lover across the pond holding it down for me in Paris :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats all, time to sing more Disney!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-7001019102187945239?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/7001019102187945239/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=7001019102187945239' title='0 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7001019102187945239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/7001019102187945239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/so-after-first-post-and-i-already.html' title='I already for got some...'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9N1z4JsLjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/sKtjrzMRXbM/s72-c/mafia_meeting_arrests_1928.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863074096471612882.post-8331903114667941313</id><published>2008-03-08T23:29:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T00:28:04.760-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Into'/><title type='text'>Bienvenue, let's meet the cast!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9N1XYJsLiI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QPsIeN_KQnM/s1600-h/will_and_grace.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175609441259367970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9N1XYJsLiI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QPsIeN_KQnM/s320/will_and_grace.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I was really struggling for awhile on how to start this first post. So much to say and too little web space. Why not start with a little intro to the main players in my life. Enjoy...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;(Names have been changed of course into some witty nicknames)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Will: My best friend since 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade, the only guy I will probably ever fully trust. He is the straightest gay man you will ever meet, and one of the most beautiful too I might add. He broke quite a few girls hearts when he came out. We are Will &amp;amp; Grace, and we know just near everything about each other, and I honestly don't know what I would do without him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://ifonlymywinebottlescouldtalk.blogspot.com/"&gt;E&lt;/a&gt;: My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;favorite&lt;/span&gt; lady, who is actually sitting on the couch next to me with a glass of wine listening to Dixie Chicks (just for the record I don't typically listen to country music, but when I'm with her I make the exception :) ) We met when we were both princesses at my current place of work. No one ever guessed we would have become as close as we have, but what can I say, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;fabulousness&lt;/span&gt; attracts :) Don't know what I would do if I didn't have her, if only for company in drinking wine and eating chocolate cake late at night :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://aimeeintheuk.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Snookie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;: I have known this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;chicky&lt;/span&gt; since &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;kindergarten&lt;/span&gt;. And I won't go into years, but lets just say I've known her my little brother's entire life. So he is our friendship in human form. And she's left me for bigger and better things on a study abroad trip in England right now. I miss her so unbelievably much, but I know she's having an incredible time, and I'm so happy that she's getting this opportunity. And she comes back to me in about 3 months!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;My Team: I have a team, of lawyers that is. They are speed dial number 7 on my phone, and one of them has even now been known to text me on occasion. I employ half of a law firm here in my town, and I'm pretty sure I even stopped one of them from retiring early. They are amazing. I'm not one to mess with let me tell you what.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Annnd now the boys...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Texter: I'm hoping I will never have to mention him again in this blog. It is the relationship that never happened. And he is cut out of my life short of us having a class together. Just a little detail. Oh well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Boy-formally-known-as-boy-with-a-girlfriend: A mouthfull right there I know. But we haven't been able to come up with a shorter or better nickname. We met in the lab (I spend obscene amounts of time in labs by the way), flirtation happened, and then it turned out he had a girlfriend. Bummer. Hence the first name as "Boy with a girlfriend". And then they broke up. I knew they weren't happy. And now that we spend at least 3 hours a day together every day of the week it kind of makes it difficult to not develop a crush. Oh, and he play guitar, in a folk band to be exact. Definitely not my scene, but oh well. I think we're almost to the just friends point. But we'll see. I'm not sure yet what I want us to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Plaid: I've never actually seen Plaid wear plaid, he actually wore A&amp;amp;F the first time we met. Which was through E, we all went out to dinner one night. Long story short, E's grandma knew he was moving here for a job and later on grad school, and wanted him to get to know some people. I have a tad bit of a crush, which would be much easier if he weren't in CO on a skiing trip. He should be back soon. I'm pretty excited to see where this goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And I guess the most important person I could mention is me. A lovely 20 something. I just keep on adding on things that I'm studying. I'm a Psychology major, with a concentration in pre-medicine, and minors in French, Biology, and Chemistry. I really should be a music major, or a business major. Because by the way I'm going to own a bar on an island one day. But I do love science and playing in the labs and all of that fun stuff. I can't wait to be an MD and work with all the real crazies. I study non-stop, and I swear I'm going to try and avoid posting about how much I hate school and what not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;My life is beyond insane. I really am going to submit it to &lt;em&gt;Lifetime&lt;/em&gt; someday so they can make a movie or a mini-series about it because you can't make this mess up. It's too much to give back stories, but you know they're all gonna come up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;It really is such a hard time trying to talk about myself for a bit, so I'm just gonna stop, possibly go get myself another glass of wine, and belt out Disney music with E :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6863074096471612882-8331903114667941313?l=notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/feeds/8331903114667941313/comments/default' title='Publier les commentaires'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6863074096471612882&amp;postID=8331903114667941313' title='1 commentaires'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8331903114667941313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6863074096471612882/posts/default/8331903114667941313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notesfromamafiaprincess.blogspot.com/2008/03/bienvenue-lets-meet-cast.html' title='Bienvenue, let&apos;s meet the cast!'/><author><name>Jenamie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07056957798915794555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/SLDyVhndvgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/h7M9BE-g3ns/S220/icon018.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eb7fTK8pLDI/R9N1XYJsLiI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QPsIeN_KQnM/s72-c/will_and_grace.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
