<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Sat, 19 Dec 2009 12:47:55 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Living Lesbo</title><description>Hi there!!  Thanks for stopping in.  I hope you wil enjoy what you find here.  I am a woman a bit too close to 30, divorced mother of three, oh and I'm a gay!!  I know, right? LOL  I am rather goofy and am often doing something to make me look like a fool.  Lucky for you I like to share it with complete strangers!</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>57</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-1351332470719037397</guid><pubDate>Tue, 02 Jun 2009 03:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-01T23:07:01.355-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>spencer pratt get me out of here I'm a celebrity schmuck</category><title>I hate Spencer Pratt!!</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SiSlEyZupAI/AAAAAAAAANE/MLsboaa8Cp0/s1600-h/spence.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SiSlEyZupAI/AAAAAAAAANE/MLsboaa8Cp0/s320/spence.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342576559635997698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting here watching the new reality TV show, "I'm a Celebrity, Get me Out of Here." I had to have a few laughs as the show is starting. Right off you wonder who is going to crack and who is going to do really well. You don't think about what the camp dynamics is going to be. Well, I should have. Not even half way through the show you get to know a certain young man a little better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spencer Pratt. I am not sure if you are familiar with him. He is on a "reality" show on MTV. I say "reality" because I'm not sure how much of it is real and how much of it is scripted. He thinks that being on this show and marring his co-star makes him a superstar! I have never seen an episode The Hills. To be honest after watching him on this show I will never watch an episode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between his begging to leave, picking on other contestants, (mostly the women) and talking about how just being around these people was losing him fame, we get told he is a new Christian! What?? Are you serious? This is what them godly folks who protest my marriage are recruiting these days?? Heaven help us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure about his wife. Are they even really married? Last tabloid I saw said something about it being a stunt for the show. Who knows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is so sad that this kid, who has some mild level of fame thinks he is entitled to a certain type of life. And that his self worth is somehow higher than stars who have paid "their dues" for years. Some starting before he was even born. Where is the day when stars were humble and thankful for their position? Uuuggghhh!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently this show will be on four nights a week. You can guess what my blogs are going to be about for a while if this keeps up. And if you read on some paper that a lesbian mom from Michigan sought out Spencer Pratt and bent him over her knee and spanked his spoiled butt...well...you know what I'm up to!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-1351332470719037397?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-hate-spencer-pratt.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SiSlEyZupAI/AAAAAAAAANE/MLsboaa8Cp0/s72-c/spence.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-2205850712450592120</guid><pubDate>Mon, 25 May 2009 14:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-25T09:15:58.800-05:00</atom:updated><title>Stalker-ish..?!!</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/ShqoGPAhkhI/AAAAAAAAAM8/JOR7ZqnNDmk/s1600-h/Untitled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/ShqoGPAhkhI/AAAAAAAAAM8/JOR7ZqnNDmk/s320/Untitled.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339765133262557714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever felt like you had a stalker?  You go somewhere just to run into them there.  You are sitting on line working on a great blog( or not so great as the case may be) and they IM you to see where you are going that day.  I'm beginning to think I have a stalker!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started witha Twitter post.  "Going to the store for eggs."  Pretty simple right?  There are three major grocery stores in our little town.  There are two drug stores, a couple of gas stations, and little markets that sale eggs as well.  Who knows where I was going to go.  I walk in, and there the stalker is.  Right there, in broad day light, lurking in the produce of my store!  Maybe I'm just jumpy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then post to twitter, "going for a bike ride."  I head to the trails.  I don't know about most people but when I ride my bike it's a lot like using the restroom.  I want it quiet so I can think and work on getting out whatever I am trying to work through.  (What an awful comparison! LOL)  I don't like to chat while I ride.  But, who should happen to be there?  Stalker!  And wouldn't you know they want to talk the entire 4 miles I have left on my ride!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this person has a crush.  Maybe they are just in need of a friend.  I'm trying to be nice but it is starting to creep me out a little.  I have decided to do something about it.  I'm going to start posting random locations I may or may not be at.  Maybe they will get tired of going all over town for nothing.  Better yet, I am going to say I am taking a job at the local sex shop.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you see some strange post on my twitter about going to Mexico to start my own donkey show, pay it no attention.  Just trying to duck and weave!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-2205850712450592120?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2009/05/stalker-ish.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/ShqoGPAhkhI/AAAAAAAAAM8/JOR7ZqnNDmk/s72-c/Untitled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-4369746142936215582</guid><pubDate>Mon, 25 May 2009 04:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-24T23:58:05.865-05:00</atom:updated><title>Welcome Back!</title><description>Oh, wait, I was the one gone.  Well, I'm back.  That's not right either.  I wasn't ever gone, just not writing.  Now that we have that settled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have followed my blog you know I moved from a big city to a tiny one.  And this tiny city is not as forward thinking as the big city I left behind.  So there are some good times to be had when my girlfriend and I head out on the "town".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned, though, that there is more than meets the eye.  I have actually found other "family".  Some of them are a little different.  There seem to be a number of weekend lesbians.  The one's who are married Monday through Friday but around the camp fire on the weekend they have a girlfriend.  It can get confusing.  And then the girl who gropes all the women she meets but swears she is straight.  I'm not sure if she confused or just really friendly.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shouldn't be giving them labels.  I know I don't like them.  But, they don't really fit in the nice little boxes.  Not that any of us do 100%.  I'm just happy to know that I'm not the only one the locals will burn at the stake if they find out my girlfriend really is a girl!  LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-4369746142936215582?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2009/05/welcome-back.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-6618129144096508010</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Sep 2008 01:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-09-09T21:06:41.122-05:00</atom:updated><title>Things that are harder to do after 30!</title><description>I love my girl.  lol  Now why does everytime I say that people know I am about to tell a story that she is probably going to kill me for?  Not so much this time.  She didn't do anything really embarrassing.  However, watching her and her friend toss the football with the kids, was some fo the funniest stuff I have seen in a while.  (You know, since Saturday when I saw the peacock at the farmers market!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our friend's (yes we have one) son had a soccer game early in the morning.  So we get up early and head out to watch him play.  I snap some pictures and have a good time.  We head back to their house and decide to hang out for a while.  I had been eyeing the trampoline in the back yard.  I decide to go jump.  Do you know how many muscles in your legs are worked out when you jump on a trampoline??  Too effing many is how many!  Do you know what it looks like when a top heavy woman jumps on a trampoline?  Like two puppies fighting under a shirt trying to smother a person!  It wasn't pretty.  Thankfully my friends kid came out to jump with me.  He made it look so easy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a37.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/34/l_647e7ba3f3d46a38584d3d95e1711c54.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After giving up on jumping on the trampoline I decided to go take pictures of the girls throwing around the pig skin (that's a football for all you really fem girls!)in the front yard.  I would hate to say it...but they kind play like grils.  I can feel safe in saying this as they don't check my blog as often as they should.  (This will teach them!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off...our friend who I will call Princess is amazing.  She is funny and outgoing and full of energy.  She loves to be on the go and make people laugh.  So anytime with her is a good time.  I love her and all...but the girl can't throw a football.  She sticks her one arm out like she is having a seizure while she throws...and well...she can't catch that well either. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a176.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/61/l_964426a6061cef08269719ba534ef4ff.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a920.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/1/l_8bae1c6df8559c376e92c0f1824b85ef.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point the game was really getting fun.  The boys were outplaying the grown women but it was still a good time.  Then it happened.  The little one decided to duck and weave just when the women are heading towards him.  What follows is the greatest act of gravity I have ever seen.  My girls foot gets tangled with Princess' feet.  My girls starts down with Princess right on her tail!  The next thing you know they are piled on the ground!!  I have decided this should be part of our weekend routine from now on!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a157.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/115/l_690178ab540531112af3e8da60ecdd54.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a252.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/32/l_a3bd76e5e5a439f0038b3e979af1de53.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a80.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/49/l_fd2880af8eabec451933e4f054219e4f.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-6618129144096508010?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/09/things-that-are-harder-to-do-after-30.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-1403348547858485892</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Sep 2008 23:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-09-09T20:25:12.943-05:00</atom:updated><title>Ya'all come back now, ya hear!</title><description>I am such a city girl.  I love things city!  I love going to star bucks on Saturday morning.  I love stopping in the mall once every two weeks to have my nails done.  I love tanning on my way home from the gym.  I love getting in my car and in a few minutes being at the local gay bar.  I love the city!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now live 30 minutes from the city.  I live over an hour from the nearest lesbian bar.  I am 25 minutes away from the nearest star bucks.  I have no clue where I can go tanning or get my nails done.  And there is not a gym open past nine anywhere in this town.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had to find new things to do in order to entertain myself.  My lovely girl and I go on five mile bike rides many evenings out of the week.  We go kayaking and enjoy the lake.  We go on long walks and play touch football with some of her old friends.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday mornings I brew my own coffee.  I put it in my tall travel coffee mug and head two blocks south to the fair grounds.  There, every Saturday morning, is the farmers market.  As I have mentioned before I have been to these before.  I have also been to ones in the country too.  However, none are like this.  I have told you some of the things I have seen so far but this past weekend took the cake! (You could get cake too!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we are walking in I see a woman holding a piglet.  A BABY PIG PEOPLE!  She asked if I wanted to buy it.  What on earth am I going to do with a pig?  I smile and say no thank you.  Her son then tries to sell me this scary looking white rabbit with bright red eyes.  No thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walk a bit farther and there is this couple carrying there many different types of chickens they just bought.  Live clucking chickens in cages….being carried away like you had just bought milk at the corner grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a118.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/128/l_8290cd3e5c651f5d20de0aada60e8ddd.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Amish were there.  There were selling fresh produce from their gardens, baked goods, puppies and kittens.  Did you know the Amish were in the business of breeding dogs and cats.  They had some cute shelties.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a126.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/15/l_1282d6df36f4c15b3b477126b8acb095.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I manage to get past the adorable puppies without wanting to take one home to head to the bird barn.  They have chickens, doves, turkey, ducks, geese, and peacocks!  That’s right folks, peacocks!  What would you need a peacock for??  I have only ever seen them at zoo’s.  Usually wondering around nipping at kids fingers for French fries and pooping all over the place.  Now, apparently, you can have one for your back yard too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a233.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/107/l_54c7711cf805a25839278bac4c9ebb50.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a53.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/20/l_61fba950506e6cab3412de2470dbf8b4.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is also an interesting type of people who go down there every week.  The majority of the people there are nothing like me.  Now, they aren’t all like this, I have seen a few yuppies from time to time…but they are so few…they actually stick out.  Anyway, the regulars are very “deliverance”.  If you haven’t seen the movie…go Google it and you will know what I mean.  I get checked out by more men than I can count and think it is only because I have a mouth full of teeth.  I also am pretty convinced there is a short supply of non family members to be found.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://a454.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/7/l_83d79a9e03fc608653274e675f1e0c3d.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is even more strange…..I don’t see this mass of people anywhere else.  I go to Wal-Mart (we don’t have one it’s in the next town over) and I never see them.  They don’t hang out at the ice cream spot, or at the coffee shop.  They only seem to come out on Saturday mornings for the farmers market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I am walking the many isle’s of “stuff” I over hear the funniest story I believe I have ever heard.  A man met his wife at this very farmer’s market.  They knew right off they were destined to be together.  They married just two weeks after they met.  They were so happy they were planning to have kids right away.  They came down to the market together and ran into the brides grandmother.  Turns out….I am not making this up…..they were cousins.  It was by marriage so inbreeding wasn’t an issue.  Come on people!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-1403348547858485892?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/09/yaall-come-back-now-ya-hear.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-8399015353275242397</guid><pubDate>Sat, 23 Aug 2008 03:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-22T22:11:43.782-05:00</atom:updated><title>Did you see us on the olympics???</title><description>&lt;P&gt;In case you missed our coverage in China....&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt; &lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;DIV style="WIDTH: 425px; BACKGROUND-COLOR: e9e9e9"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowScriptAccess="never" allowNetworking="internal" height="319" width="425" id="A387025" data="http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=nAkq5XPPQ8dTGQwa&amp;service=sendables.jibjab.com"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="never" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;param name="allowNetworking" value="internal" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;param name="movie" value="http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=nAkq5XPPQ8dTGQwa&amp;service=sendables.jibjab.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;DIV style="MARGIN-TOP: 6px; WIDTH: 435px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;Try JibJab Sendables® &lt;A href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vc2VuZGFibGVzLmppYmphYi5jb20vc2VuZGFibGVz"&gt;eCards&lt;/A&gt; today!&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;IMG style="VISIBILITY: hidden; WIDTH: 0px; HEIGHT: 0px" height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEyMTg3NzA1ODg1MDQmcHQ9MTIxODc3MDYwMDM3MSZwPTE5MTEzMSZkPTIwMjI1MyZuPSZnPTI=.gif" width=0 border=0&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-8399015353275242397?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/did-you-see-us-on-olympics.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-1413129943511748848</guid><pubDate>Sun, 17 Aug 2008 17:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-17T13:04:19.403-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>first time kayak farmers market hike dogs swimming great time</category><title>My First Time</title><description>So, this is my first blog from Michigan!!  The move went well!  I love Michigan.  It is beautiful up here.  My girl and I have been taking these four mile hikes to Baw Beese Lake so the dogs can swim.  We have to walk about a half mile from the house to a trail that takes you to the lake.  It's a really nice trail too so you bike ride it as well which we have done once.  The dogs love swimming there so much though, we have been walking in order to take them.  It's also just a beautiful lake!  There are these amazing houses around the lake, parks, and a great golf course.  it is one of my favorite places here so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&amp;friendID=54873770&amp;albumID=909494&amp;imageID=35868703"&gt;&lt;img src="http://hotlink.myspacecdn.com/images01/17/439cdbdf0de632bcd85bb6ee0f44ddb7/m.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday mornings we walk the three blocks down to the Hillsdale County Fairgrounds for the Farmers Market.  I have been to farmers markets before.  Lots of fresh produce from the local area.  The farmers market here is much different though.  They have the typical farmers market stuff but also a weekly auction of stuff and livestock.  Chickens and rabbits can be found for sale in a barn.  There were people giving away free puppies and kittens.  (My girl wouldn't let me bring home this adorable kitten...boo on that.)  I loved it!  I love all the different things you can see.  I am taking my camera next week to try and get some pictures to share with everyone.  Oh, there is also a large Amish population here and they have fresh baked goods for sale! Yum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girl grew up in this town (in this exact house actually) and knows quite a few people here.  Her best friend is one of the coolest people I have met in a long time.  Our second day here she got us out on the lake tubing followed by a BBQ!  That's my kind of welcome.  Yesterday we took the Jet Ski's out again which was a blast.  We enjoyed some drinks on the deck overlooking the lake while sharing old funny stories.  As we are talking we notice just how bright that full moon was and decided to take the kayaks out.  It was amazing!  The water was like glass and it was so peaceful.  We paddled around for a while and then sat in the middle of the lake just talking and enjoying the moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&amp;friendID=54873770&amp;albumID=909494&amp;imageID=35868699"&gt;&lt;img src="http://hotlink.myspacecdn.com/images01/20/55e2379eb2b2caebee34717cda05e606/m.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say all of this has really been good for my soul.  It feels so much like the small town world I grew up in yet so different.  Don't get me wrong, I miss all the big city things I got so use to but I am really enjoying my new environment!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-1413129943511748848?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-first-time.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-5090097227851941330</guid><pubDate>Tue, 05 Aug 2008 03:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-17T13:05:14.194-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Michigan u-haul moving road trip small bladder</category><title>Michigander....</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJfKytjaHDI/AAAAAAAAAKM/IFANmUZ8S5s/s1600-h/michigan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230872464784497714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJfKytjaHDI/AAAAAAAAAKM/IFANmUZ8S5s/s320/michigan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are loading up the truck right now!! Well obviosly not "we" as I am sitting here typing this, but the truck is getting loaded right now! Once the truck is loaded we will be on the road from Kansas City to a small city close to Lansing, Michigan!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have never been that far north and am very excited about it. I will be taking pics of our lovely drive there and posting them for you all to see!! That is if my girl doesn't kill me for needing to stop 100 times to tinkle because I have the toddler bladder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really am excited. I am sure I will be offline for a couple of days till we get things turned on up there but will post as soon as I can.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Be good to each other.....see ya soon!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&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/4664964620365333315-5090097227851941330?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/michigander.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJfKytjaHDI/AAAAAAAAAKM/IFANmUZ8S5s/s72-c/michigan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-8529971286476893301</guid><pubDate>Mon, 04 Aug 2008 02:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-17T13:05:44.308-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>ambien sleep walking sleep eating amnesia scary drug</category><title>Ambiem made me do it!!</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJZ3ZcJcUYI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/-G7lZ50l404/s1600-h/14185.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230499296173642114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJZ3ZcJcUYI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/-G7lZ50l404/s320/14185.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you ever layed awake at night trying to get your brain to shut off. You keep thinking of the many things that may have you stressed out and can't sleep. This is how many of my nights go. I usually wind up blogging or catching up on other people's blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was once given a drug called Ambien to help me sleep. It had just come out and everyone was saying how great it was. No groggy feeling, 8 hours of sleep. Perfect!! When they give it to you they tell you to not take it until you are laying in bed. I kind of laugh, as it usually takes about an hour for medicine to kick into my system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go home. I take my shower and take the ambien. I got to bed and sleep well. I used it for a while and then my sleep patern improved so stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am stressed out and very worn down. I wasn't getting any sleep at all. So, I break out the ambien. I do my typical night routine and then head to the couch to settle in for the night. I then wake up in bed and it is the next morning. What?? How did I get to the bed from the couch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think a lot more about it until my girl wakes up. She rolls over and looks at me. I smile and tell her good morning. She says nothing. She glares at me and gets out of bed. Wow, someone got up on the wrong side of bed. She doesn't talk to me for a long time after she gets up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally ask her why she is mad at me. She tells me I came downstairs and sat on the couch next to her. She was eating some cheeries and I asked for a few. She jokingly tells me she has one for me behind her ear. (She likes little kisses behind her ear.) She says the next thing she knew I was biting hard into her ear lobe. She coudn't get me to stop. I was locked on like a snapping turtle. She finally prys me off her ear and then I decide I want to go for a walk.  At two in the morning in my pajamas. She tries to talk me out of it but I want to go. I then fall down the stairs. She tells me to get in bed and I once again try and go for a walk. I guess after an hour of fighting me I finally settle in the bedroom and get online. I appearantly emailed everyone on my friends list about how mean my girl is being for not letting me take a walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember NONE of this. I remeber taking medicine and then heading to the couch, then waking up in bed. I have been banned from ever taking it again. I was shocked I had such a weird reaction to it, so I googled it. This is what I found:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you suffer from insomnia, and millions of people do, then the prescription drug Zolpidem, commonly called Ambien, might just give you the relief you need. A lot of people are already taking the drug. According to the latest survey, more than 23 million prescriptions for Ambien were written last year, and the number is growing.&lt;br /&gt;It's the most popular drug for the treatment of insomnia, but it can have some strange side effects, especially if you don't take it properly,.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drugs.com lists the following possible side effects:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;allergic reaction including difficulty breathing&lt;br /&gt;hallucinations&lt;br /&gt;abnormal behavior&lt;br /&gt;severe confusion&lt;br /&gt;Other less serious side effects include headache, nausea, depression, muscle pain, vivid dreams, temporary amnesia, and others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drugs.com also mentions rebound insomnia. This sometimes occurs when you stop taking a sleep medication, and usually subsides in a night or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KEYC television reporter Amy Stone spoke with Keith Matos who is taking Ambien for insomnia. The instructions for the medication include the admonition to take the medication and immediately go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matos decided to stay up and make a few phone calls. Later he couldn't remember making the calls, found out he'd said things that made no sense, and had done things around the house that he didn't recall doing. This is known as temporary amnesia. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What the hell?? How on earth can a drug like this still be on the market?? I found other forums on the drug as well and one woman even had sex with her neighbor while asleep! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know some poor insomniac is going to kill their spouse and their defense will be, "Ambien made me do it!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-8529971286476893301?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/ambiem-made-me-do-it.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJZ3ZcJcUYI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/-G7lZ50l404/s72-c/14185.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-66038992056433811</guid><pubDate>Sat, 02 Aug 2008 21:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-02T17:14:22.755-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>boobs diet water parks thrill rides</category><title>Diets Suck!!</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJTTbO517qI/AAAAAAAAAJs/SoEgQyMof_A/s1600-h/untitled1.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJTTbO517qI/AAAAAAAAAJs/SoEgQyMof_A/s320/untitled1.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230037532094623394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on a diet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That sentence stands alone, all by itself, for the pain it inflicts on me. I hate to diet. I hate to exercise when it's a hundred degrees outside. I also hate being fat. So something has to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First I am cursed with more boob than one person could ever need or want. When you gain weight it seems to make them even bigger. Big boobs alone make it hard to fit in those rides where the harness comes down over your head to keep you from flying out. It's not a pretty sight when I have to squeeze and mash them in there. And after the ride, as you pull back up to the station, you look like you have three boobs because part of them have squeezed out the sides but some was trying to escape in the middle. Beautiful right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eating in public when you are overweight is miserable. I love to dip my french fries in my frosty at Wendy's. LOVE IT! However, if you are a chunky butt like me and do this..people watch. As if they are the cops of what goes in my trap. What's great is they are usually sitting there eating a double cheeseburger themselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Water parks. I hate swimsuits in any fashion. Keeping your boobs in suit is a hard enough if they are of normal size. I cannot count the number of times I have flown down a slide just to realize my top bailed out on me half way down the slope. What's worse is I don't usually notice until my top floats by me and everyone is laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I am on a diet. I have cut back on how much I eat and what I eat. I try and get a bike ride in a day and a walk. It's hot right now so have been doing it at night after the sun goes down but still getting it in. I also have been swimming as often as possible. Remember not a fan of the swimsuit so not as eager to do that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have one serious weakness though. Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I love them. I don't get them very often. Usually if they are fresh at Wal-Mart. We don't go there very often so I am pretty safe. However the second I decided to go on this diet.....they are everywhere!! Did someone call ahead..."Alert Alert, Wendy is on her way in the store...place out all the doughnuts!" It's probably right after the announcement to put out the cart with the broken wheel and to get all the old people set up in my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also wonder why you can't look a bit more flattering while working out. When I am riding my bike I am sure many think of an elephant on a tricycle. (Only I don't have a little bell) You would think there would be a way to look better as you work out so you weren't so scared to be seen doing it. Going to the gym is worse. Working out next to barbie and ken isn't helping me much. In fact last week I was sure I would start chewing on her leg if I thought there was any meat there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, hopefully by next summer(I know this summer isn't over yet, I have to be realistic here) I will be happy to get in a swimsuit. If not, invest in Krispy Kreme as they will still be making money off of me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-66038992056433811?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/diets-suck.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SJTTbO517qI/AAAAAAAAAJs/SoEgQyMof_A/s72-c/untitled1.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-3644795306527069617</guid><pubDate>Tue, 29 Jul 2008 10:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-29T05:57:10.018-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>cheerleader round off 21 greatness</category><title>But, I was a cheerleader!!</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SI70v217ZLI/AAAAAAAAAHY/6Xq0xtg05gY/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SI70v217ZLI/AAAAAAAAAHY/6Xq0xtg05gY/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228385320436458674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But, I was a cheerleader!”  I shouted behind me as I take off running preparing to do a round-off.  I should mention I haven’t done one of these since I was in college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will forever be 21.  I don’t care how many birthdays come and go, this isn’t going to change.  I look in the mirror and don’t understand why the Wendy looking back at me looks like she will be 30 while the Wendy looking in the mirror is clearly 21.  How can this be.  I will buy a new mirror!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can still do everything I did when I was 21.  In my head, I can still do everything I did when I was 21.  Just the other day I realized that it is “all of a sudden” taking me longer to walk the hill that is half the size of the hill I use to have to climb to get to school.  “The hill must be as big or bigger but looks smaller now that I am all grown up!”  I don’t acknowledge that I haven’t grown an inch since the sixth grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am off running across the yard to this amazing feat of cheerleader greatness!  I am going to show my girls just how cool their mother still is.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Crack!” What was that?? “Snap” What the hell?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that moment, my arms went in the air.  I was too far in the act of pulling off the amazing acrobatic gesture that I couldn’t stop.  My knees kind of wobbled and banged together as they bent to propel me into space!  And wham!!  The ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea what happened.  One minute I was bragging about my mad skills and the next fearing months of traction for the injuries I was sure to have just endured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still 21.  I can still do all the things I did when I was 21.  My body just doesn’t believe me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-3644795306527069617?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/07/but-i-was-cheerleader.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SI70v217ZLI/AAAAAAAAAHY/6Xq0xtg05gY/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-1176998514559073633</guid><pubDate>Sat, 26 Jul 2008 12:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-28T08:27:59.812-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>tastes good swearing nut sack lesbian</category><title>Potty Mouth!!</title><description>&lt;img src=http://www.theprettypenny.com/images-T-Shirts/Potty-Mouth-Roll.gif&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is 6:45am.  I haven’t been to bed yet.  I can hear the coffee pot going behind me.  A really great movie is running on cable.  I am not a huge fan of movies on cable but it will do.  I am trying to keep up on my blogs.  I have been reading and commenting on my favorites.  It’s not packing….that’s what I should be doing is packing.  But, this stuff will still be here to pack when I am done.  LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally off subject…. Have you seen the commercials for True North nuts?  Oh lord…well at the end of the commercial it says something about a simply great nut snack.  I  never hear that.  I never hear nut snack.  You know what I hear so I don’t have to type it.  I will be in another room and can’t see the television..but I can hear that commercial come on.  When I do I laugh because I know they are going to say the tag line and I am going to hear it wrong.  My brain refuses to hear it correctly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever wondered if you have Turrets syndrome?  First off if you suffer from this I am not making fun of this at all.  I have read many things on this topic and cannot imagine how your day to day must be.  Now….I sometimes sit…and out of no where….a curse word comes sailing through my brain.  Or the entire nut snack commercial thing.  And if I am telling a funny story to friends who are adults….I have to put in as many curse words as possible.  Who does that?  And I am bored with the same old curse words.  I like my own…and I like to strew them all together.  Like….”Jesus, plowing Mary on a coffee table while Lazarus drops his thumb on her!”  Yeah….I have no idea where it comes from but it flies out and it taste good in my mouth.  “Moses in a basket in a Nile in Egypt. “&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who made up curse words?  I mean, who was sitting around and hit their thumb and said…”F*(K”  I would never have come up with that word.  I would have been more like “Blehamm!”  So, where did they come from?  I am going to have to Google the creator of my favorite curse words.  We shall see what we come up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coffee’s ready!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-1176998514559073633?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/07/potty-mouth.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-6506277752595879315</guid><pubDate>Sat, 26 Jul 2008 03:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-26T05:31:40.180-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>stole lesbian thief survey questions</category><title>Shhhhh.....I stole it!!</title><description>&lt;img src=http://my.opera.com/darkpony/homes/blog/Shhh.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stole these 50 questions from Spacey Stacey.  She stole them from someone named blue.  Lesbians are a stealing bunch let me tell you!!  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) What do you add to your coffee? creamer and sugar&lt;br /&gt;2) What are you reading now? blogs &lt;br /&gt;3) Do you own a gun? No.  I have little people in my home….wouldn’t feel safe&lt;br /&gt;4) Are you registered to vote? yes&lt;br /&gt;5) Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? sometimes&lt;br /&gt;6) What do you think of hot dogs? Only good with pork and beans or as a corn dog!!&lt;br /&gt;7) Favorite Christmas Song? I have a few…I love Christmas songs&lt;br /&gt;8) What do you prefer to drink in the morning? coffee. i'm not human without it.(amen sista!!)&lt;br /&gt;9) Can you do push ups? Yes, but refrain from doing them as it might make me healthy&lt;br /&gt;10) What was the name of your first boyfriend/girlfriend? bf: Clayson  (total geek), gf: The Chavez&lt;br /&gt;11) What’s your favorite piece of jewellery? My engagement ring&lt;br /&gt;12) Favorite hobby? hot lesbian sex (stole answer from spacey Stacey who stole that answer from blue, but hey, we have the same hobby, how cool is that?)&lt;br /&gt;13) Do you work with people who idolize you? absolutely ;-)&lt;br /&gt;14) Do you have ADD? Look….something shiny!!!&lt;br /&gt;15) What’s one trait that you hate about yourself? I love all things ME!  lol&lt;br /&gt;16) What’s your Middle name? Lea&lt;br /&gt;17) Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. We should hire a moving company.  I really should be packing.  Why is my woman giggling upstairs?&lt;br /&gt;18) Name 3 things you bought yesterday. nothing&lt;br /&gt;19) Name 3 beverages you regularly.  Iced tea mostly&lt;br /&gt;20) Current worry right now? money, money and moving&lt;br /&gt;21) What side do you dress to? Ummm I thought you had to have male parts for that and I am fresh out of those sorry&lt;br /&gt;22) Favorite place to be? in the wife's arms. (and if she's naked, even better)&lt;br /&gt;23) How did you bring in the New Year? at home with the wife &lt;br /&gt;24) Where would you like to go? Hawaii&lt;br /&gt;25) Name three people who will complete this. I dunno&lt;br /&gt;26) Whose answers do you want to read the most? everyone's&lt;br /&gt;27) What color shirt are you wearing? White&lt;br /&gt;28) Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? No…I sleep in satin PJ’s and if you run and jump on satin sheets while wearing satin Pj’s you will hit the wall and it will hurt!!&lt;br /&gt;29) Can you whistle? yup&lt;br /&gt;30) Favorite colors(s)? pink &lt;br /&gt;31) Could you be a pirate? I am done searching for bootie&lt;br /&gt;32) What songs do you sing in the shower? Whatever is stuck in my head…right now..I kissed a girl just to try it…taste of her cherry chapstick!&lt;br /&gt;33) Favorite girls name? don't have one&lt;br /&gt;34) Favorite boy’s name? don't have one&lt;br /&gt;35) What’s in your pocket right now? nothing&lt;br /&gt;36) Last thing that made you laugh? My adorable yorkie&lt;br /&gt;37) Best bed sheets as a child? Rainbow brite suckers!!  You know you’re jealous&lt;br /&gt;38) Worst injury you’ve ever had? Had a few bad ones…I am a clutz&lt;br /&gt;39) Do you love where you live? In the middle of moving.&lt;br /&gt;40) How many TVs do you have in your house? 4 right now&lt;br /&gt;41) Who is your loudest friend? Christy&lt;br /&gt;42) How many dogs do you have? 2 &lt;br /&gt;43) Does anyone have a crush on you? doubt it&lt;br /&gt;44) What are the most fun things you ever did? plenty. and plenty i can't tell you either&lt;br /&gt;45) What are your favorite books? Anything with Dean Koontz&lt;br /&gt;46) What is your favorite candy? chocolate&lt;br /&gt;47) Favorite Team? MSU by marriage….Auburn by blood!!&lt;br /&gt;48) What songs do you want played at your funeral? I kissed a girl and I liked it…lol..oh wait that was some other question&lt;br /&gt;49) What were you doing at 12 AM? Chatting with my woman online who was just upstairs…..we are that couple&lt;br /&gt;50) What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? oh god, what time is it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-6506277752595879315?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/07/shhhhhi-stole-it.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-2503062416861514028</guid><pubDate>Sun, 20 Jul 2008 19:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-29T05:57:57.108-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>two mothers sex-education swimming pool lesbians</category><title>"So, who's the daddy?"</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIOefNJsqXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/pngk87I7v-8/s1600-h/mom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIOefNJsqXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/pngk87I7v-8/s320/mom.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225194251623377266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My youngest is an adorable little girl.  Well, all three of my kids are adorable, but that little one is funny.  There will never be an end to the funny stories I can share thanks to this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are at the pool the other day having a good time.  My girl and I are working on our tans and the kids are swimming with friends.  We get in quite a bit to join in the fun playing sharks and minnows or dunking...whatever the game is at the time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter where we go, it is often asked who is the mom.  They are usually asking who is the biological mother.  I of course let them know that is me.  I then point out they look more like their dad.  Here is where it usually gets weird.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We live in this world of politcal correctness.  I am not complaining, just helping to explain.  Everyone is so careful about what they ask and how they ask it.  It would seem a lot of straight people have no clue how gay relationships work (as if they are night and day different from straight relationships) and want to ask questions.  They are not sure they can ask questions though!  Unless they are 8.  At the age of 8 you are free to ask any question you want and it's ok.  You're a kid and you don't understand and you want to know.  Your mother might want the earth to open up and swallow her at that moment but you can still ask! This is what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are swimming with the kids and their little friends.  One of the girls asks my youngest who is the mommy.  My daughter points out that I am the mommy.  She then goes on to say that my girl is her step mommy and she has another step mommy and a daddy.  Her friend is very confused at this point and her mother who is right behind her is starting to pray in her head.  "Lord, please do not let her ask...don't...please!"  Too late.  The little friend looks at my girl and asks...are you the daddy?  I give a little laugh as my girl gets nervous on how to explain.  I decide to save her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Her dad lives with his new gf."  "This is my gf."  The little girl does not understand.  She then wants to know where my bf is.  I explain I don't date boys I date girls.  The mother is listening very closely and decides that since we are so open she can get her lesbian education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get to sit for the next 45 minutes in the shallow end of the pool explaining how lesbian relationships work.  How we do things like other couples, have the same stress, and so on.  The woman was just in awe.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do people really think we are that different?  She tells me she was sure we all had orgies and jumped from one partner to the next and other such things.  I laughed.  I explained that we weren't the local frat and it's sad that the world has given her view like this.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little while later she comes back and wants to talk more.  At the end of the conversation she says....it must be awful having a relationship without sex.  What??  I asked what made her think we didn't have sex and she stammers to explain that you can't without "the male member".  I about die.  I am laughing so hard I can't breathe!  My girl now wants the world to swallow her up!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to educate a middle aged, hoity toity yuppie house wife about oral sex, and the art of girl on girl love making.  What is even more amazing than that...she didn't blush once...in fact...had we not been in a pool I am sure she would have been taking notes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am going to start a new business...I am going to go from yuppieville to yuppieville and educate those poor housewives on the ways of the world.  Saving all of those other helpless lesbians in the neighborhood pools from having to explain, "Which one's the mommmy and which one's the daddy?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-2503062416861514028?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/07/so-whos-daddy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIOefNJsqXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/pngk87I7v-8/s72-c/mom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-3512273844527955016</guid><pubDate>Sat, 19 Jul 2008 06:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-19T01:53:29.270-05:00</atom:updated><title>Is the internet addictive.....</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIGPXRn-RNI/AAAAAAAAAEo/KvyzXE4qYR4/s1600-h/l_12aed6c1243e203e919b00a623959536.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224614672757310674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIGPXRn-RNI/AAAAAAAAAEo/KvyzXE4qYR4/s320/l_12aed6c1243e203e919b00a623959536.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am sitting here watching the reunion of celebrity rehab. I have to say....if I ever start doing a drug...you fool's won't be tricking me into an intervention. I have seen that show...I don't want to be in a room where all you see is "a bunch of people who love me". Anyway, back on point, I am listening to how they define addiction...and it struck me. I think I have an addiction. I have to check my email at least twice a day. I love looking at the gossip rags to see what celeb is doing what. I have to see what is going on with my facebook and myspace pages. I have to send a comment back to anyone who posts one for me. (This can be very hard work on myspace around a holiday if you have a lot of friends....and I'm kick ass cool..so I do.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have gone without. It wasn't pretty. We were switching from satellite to cable and the Internet changed as well. I couldn't get online. Apparently we lived in the only spot in the effing world with no wifi signal. I was nuts. I constantly felt like I was missing something. Someone was waiting on a reply and I didn't even know.... or .... someone had let me a cute pic of a kitten with from ears and I hadn't sent something clever back. Say it ain't so!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not sure I could ever give up this addiction. One....it would be so hard on all of you...I mean what would life be like without my horrible grammar and typos. I have some funny stories that you all love to read because it makes your life look normal. I know this and I gladly sacrifice myself for all of you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&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/4664964620365333315-3512273844527955016?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/07/is-internet-addictive.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIGPXRn-RNI/AAAAAAAAAEo/KvyzXE4qYR4/s72-c/l_12aed6c1243e203e919b00a623959536.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-6750251401364000288</guid><pubDate>Sat, 19 Jul 2008 06:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-19T01:34:03.511-05:00</atom:updated><title>Didn't she die a while back??</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIGKx5MTMVI/AAAAAAAAAEg/DFfyN52rU94/s1600-h/l_847f020b6cd04b2274995e505407933e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224609632497119570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIGKx5MTMVI/AAAAAAAAAEg/DFfyN52rU94/s320/l_847f020b6cd04b2274995e505407933e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t believe it’s been over two months since I have posted a blog. That is just crazy!! I’m back!! I always wonder how much other people want to know about my day to day life. I am kind of known for my silly stories here and not a running commentary on what is going on in my life. So…. If you are one of those readers who just wants to read another funny story you probably can skip the rest of this one. I am going to give an update. We (my lady and I) are officially engaged!! Ring and all! I don’t take it off and wave it under anyone’s nose. My produce guy at the grocery store is really quite sick of it! We are also moving. I will no longer be blogging from Kansas City. We are moving to Michigan. M-I-C-H-I-G-A-N!! I love warm weather. I adore warm weather. I cannot stand snow, ice, and cold weather. So this move is a huge change for me. I am excited as it’s back where my girl is from. She will be able to show me so many things from her childhood. But I am not looking forward to the winters! I am sure there will be some blogs when I am hiding out from the cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was running my own photography business and writing. I have decided that more income could be a great help right now so am headed back to the office. I worked in investments for many years back in the day and am happy to be returning to it. I hope I am as good as I use to be and can wow them good ol boys with my mad skills!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also writing a book. Stop rolling on the floor and laughing. I know I seem a bit A.D.D. but I am doing it. It’s not something I sit down and work on everyday. I should do that but don’t. Anyway so I have started it. I have to say it has actually been rather therapeutic. I’m digging it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that’s what’s up! I didn’t die. I didn’t go straight. I didn’t go underground in fear of the ozone finally coming apart and us all burning to death by the big ball of flames in the sky until they ship us off to Mars! I’m back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and a good friend has joined the blogging world. She is actually doing this very cool dating thing so go check her out! http://samepoo.blogspot.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-6750251401364000288?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/07/didnt-she-die-while-back.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/SIGKx5MTMVI/AAAAAAAAAEg/DFfyN52rU94/s72-c/l_847f020b6cd04b2274995e505407933e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-7755585444720634761</guid><pubDate>Thu, 15 May 2008 01:42:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-14T20:43:28.773-05:00</atom:updated><title>The drop off line at school</title><description>You would think most of what I have to say would be self-evident behavior for the drop off line at school, but sadly, it seems not. What the hell are you people thinking? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, of course,...people, get off your cell phones! How many times do people have to be told this? You’re in line for 2 minutes (unless there is another inconsiderate jerk like you in the line), don’t you think the high profile world issues you face on a daily basis could wait until you drive off? Pull forward retard! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, coffee...you prepping your $6.50 cup cream-mocha-latté-whatevertheheckitis is not an acceptable reason for holding the rest of us up. If you just have to mix your lead filled package of Chinese slave labor flavoring before heading off to your stressful day, could you drop your child off, pull to the side, and do it out of the flow of traffic? Pull forward retard! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third, whatever the hell it is you are digging for in your console. Why do you stare at the line, eyes fixed forward, waiting...waiting...waiting...and then just seconds before it’s time to pull forward, you pull your hands away from the wheel, flip open your console, and start digging for...?...what? What the hell are you digging for? You never find it! The statistical odds of finding anything in your console, while waiting in line to drop off you child, is nill. You have proven time and time again. It’s not there. It’s never there. Pull forward retard! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, dressing your kid in the car. If you don’t have your child dressed by the time you arrive at the drop off line, then you are not ready to get in the drop off line. Most of us dress our kids at home…I know, weird concept! If your kid is late, your kid is late...and dressing him or her in front of the school, in line, holding the rest of us up, does not somehow magically stop the clock and make it all OK. I know, I know, “It takes a village,” but the village is stacking up behind you, and we really wish you would pull forward retard! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, “Snoop-Dog”...yes, you driving the 1987 Corolla with the snap-on hubcap spinners and the bumper sticker that says “My other car is Tupac”, stop getting out of your car each day, defiantly starring at the line waiting behind you, and doing that gangsta swagger where you hold your balls with one hand and walk as s-l-o-w-a-s-e-f-f-i-n-g-p-o-s-s-i-b-l-e around to the other side of your car to let your kid out. There are two teachers and ten monitors there to make sure you kid gets out safely. If you just have to do this routine everyday, then move to the side, otherwise...pull forward retard! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slack-jawed people...I am pretty sure you can’t read this, but hopefully a nose breather has seen it and passed it on to you...that big empty space in front of you...the big 5 car space between you and the lady up there on her cell phone...that is a space which your car and the 4 people behind you should be filling in. Those people up there with the safety vests, waving their arms, looking at you like you should close your mouth and step on the accelerator are giving you the universal signal to...pull forward retard! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last, the stay at home moms...do you have to talk to every other stay at home mother that you happen to see on school grounds? What the hell do you have to talk about each and every day? You just talked to her yesterday when you held us all up, what could possibly transpired in the last 24 hours that would require you to once again pull forward 5 feet, step on the brake, try to roll the window down, hit the locks, lock again, roll down the window, talk for-effing-ever, and then roll your window up, pull forward another 5 feet, and repeat the whole process again? Maybe you could start a coffee group, a “La Starbucks’s For Moms,” or some other type of morning meeting that would satisfy your craving for endless conversation, but somewhere other than in front of the other 20 cars trying to drop their kids off. Until you come up with a plan, could you please pull ALL the way forward retard!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-7755585444720634761?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/05/drop-off-line-at-school.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-6848006361287194426</guid><pubDate>Fri, 09 May 2008 09:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-09T05:00:06.228-05:00</atom:updated><title>The secret of why women go the restroom in groups</title><description>&lt;img src=http://www.eastlakederry.com/images/IMG_3823.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you have to visit a public restroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't-so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday-the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's smaller than your thumbnail. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backwards against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lost your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper-not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet papet trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you exit, you spot your guy friend, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public restrooms. It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-6848006361287194426?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/05/secret-of-why-women-go-restroom-in.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-383115554842815015</guid><pubDate>Fri, 09 May 2008 09:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-09T04:53:19.555-05:00</atom:updated><title>After this brief commercial break....</title><description>&lt;img src=http://w11.centralmediaserver.com/SevereWXLeaderboard.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been in one of those moods where you’re completely, utterly pissed off, but there’s no single reason? Just a million little things that decide to save themselves up for a good month and hit you all at once, but you happen to be in a completely intolerant mood to top it off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course you have. You are human too. (Unless you are some freak trained ape able to use the internet.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don’t get me wrong, sure it could be worse. You could be a starving kid in a third world country, you could have a hump on your back, a doberman could have bit your naughty parts off. Your keyboard could have arbitrarily decided to write over any corrections you make to a pointless rant instead of inserting them, making you have to type every sentence again. It doesn’t matter that you know how to fix it, because your computer has decided that it’s smarter than you today and will not let you. Your email that you just copied and pasted from an unformatted text document decided to triple space everything, put it in wingdings font, and turn it blue for the hell of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, unlike this computer that thinks it’s a human in a pretentious abstract art school, we actually are human, and we’ve been granted the greatest gift of all: the gift of incessant complaining. In the spirit of this incessant complaining,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m picking an arbitrary rant out of the thousand things that have mildly bugged me in the last 24 hours: the local news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night at about 7:00, a man with caps on his teeth and hair that looks like it should be stuck to the top of a Lego man informed me that it may or may not storm, and he’ll give me the answer at 10:00. This pixelated man looks me straight in the eyes from MY OWN TELEVISION that I paid for WITH MY OWN MONEY, this guy who’s salary I pay for by being exposed to Beyonce telling me to switch to cable (which I’m already on), and those horrible Jared commercials, the J.G. Wentworth guy, the seemingly innocent Money Tree caterpillars that are demons from the foulest pits of hell, charging 742% interest in states they can get away with it in (no exaggeration), and those awful credit score commercials. "I’m thinking of a number. Do you know what it is?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. I do know what it is. It’s 53,289, and it happens to be how many times it feels like you’ve inflicted your androgynous presence on this house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. This hair helmet newscaster looks me right in the eyes and lies. He’s not going to tell me whether it’s going to storm at 10:00. Oh, no. That would be far too easy. He’s going to tell me at 10:00 what kind of strawberry harvest farmer Joe had a month ago, and then he’s going to delve into some heavily biased politics, and then he’s going to tell me that he’ll reveal this magical storm secret after the commercial break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyonce tells me to switch to cable again, having not heeded my prior notifications. J.G. Wentworth Guy asks me if my hope is starting to fade. Viagra people tell me that I’m a geriatric man and can’t get a boner. I wonder if someone could tell them I am woman and sick of their commercials. Credit Score Guy asks me about number 53,290.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the news comes back on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bush, Iraq, pretty white girl hasn’t called parents in over six hours, "Storm may be on the way – we’ll tell you how much rain to expect! After the commercial break."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curse your scaly hide Beyonce! Screw YOU, Credit Score Guy! (53,291) No, I do NOT need an artificially inflated piece of compressed carbon that is built on the blood of Africans and is controlled by a monopoly. Beyonce? AGAIN? TWICE? IN ONE BREAK? I finally understand that personality is genuinely more attractive than looks, because she has somehow transformed from this gorgeous vixen to a blood sucking tic in a mere week. Is it really necessary to have four topless guys dancing in perfect synchronicity with her while she yet again stares me in the eyes and tries to sell me cable? And why does everyone have to stare me in the eyes when they’re trying to sell something? I pay about a hundred bucks a month for this lousy cable, and this is what they do with the profits?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would appear that part of Dante’s Inferno was lost with time. He claimed that there are only nine circles of hell, relating to pagans, lust, gluttons, material good obsessions, sloth, heretics, the violent, fraudulent, and betrayers. Maybe it was due to an early translation, but what was missing is the lowest level of hell, reserved as a special place for those that appear twice in one commercial break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The news comes back on. Clinton, Obama, Giuliani. Which one sucks the most? We’ll tell you tomorrow at ten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, at 10:55, sweet release: "It looks like it might storm tonight or tomorrow. Somewhere between zero and infinity inches of rain." Apparently they've hired Captain Obvious to do the weather forecasting. "Thanks for watching your ten o’clock news, we’ll see you tomorrow night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no. No, you will not see me tomorrow night. You will not see me ever again, ten o’clock news. We’re officially broken up. Now pack your crap and get the hell out of here, and if you come within a hundred yards of me I’m calling the police. I’ve stolen everything that’s important to you and will incinerate it all tomorrow at 9:45. I’ll tell you where you can pick up the ashes at ten. Your signed poster of Barbra Walters is yours to keep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-383115554842815015?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/05/after-this-brief-commercial-break.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-235678752646462466</guid><pubDate>Fri, 09 May 2008 08:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-09T03:57:47.643-05:00</atom:updated><title>Slacker!</title><description>So, I have been slacking a bit over here.  I actually have been writing just haven't posted them.  Goind to do so right now though!!  I hope everyone is well and really enjoying their spring!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-235678752646462466?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/05/slacker.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-5897082626927315931</guid><pubDate>Fri, 18 Apr 2008 15:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-04-18T10:11:41.180-05:00</atom:updated><title>You Poo Poo Head!!</title><description>While sitting and having a deep conversation with my 8 year old daughter, I was reminded of one of the funniest moments of my life. We all have that moment when you are laughing so hard the tears are flowing and beverage just shot out your nose….and you know there will never be a moment this funny ever again.&lt;br /&gt;My kids are always a source of entertainment for me. And for many of my friends for that matter. There are many stories of the funny little things they have done through the years. But, no moment is as good as the moment my youngest child first attempted finger painting.&lt;br /&gt;Before we can go forward, I need to give you a little bit of background. My ex-husband worked nights. So, he would go home and go to sleep. I was a stay at home mom at the time and my youngest was just a baby. Not quite a year old yet. When she needed a nap I would usually put her in bed with her dad. She seemed to sleep longer when I did this so I could get more done. It worked great!!&lt;br /&gt;One day I put my baby down with her daddy and started with my house work. I got through my work and was waiting for daughter to wake up. I never heard a peep. I decided now was a great time to take a shower. Normally when I would take one with my youngest awake I either had to take her in with me or sit her in her car seat outside the shower. So this was going to be a treat.&lt;br /&gt;Halfway through my shower my ex walks into the bathroom. He tells me that my daughter has been awake but was being quiet just sitting next to him in the bed. I say that was awful nice of her and he agrees. Then he starts talking about needing to empty the trash can in the bathroom becomes there must be a diaper in there. I assure him I never leave those things in the house and laugh him off. He go back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;He comes in a bit later and starts going through the trash can. No diaper. He again says the room smells awful. Mind you, I am in the shower with all my smell good soaps but he thinks the room stinks. I finally finish my shower and come out and take a good look at him. Smeared all over his face is this strange brown substance. I instantly know what it is. I can’t help but laugh. I can’t stop laughing long enough to breathe let alone tell him what is so funny. I can stop….the tears are coming…..I can’t breath…..I even snort…..doubled over the laughing is so deep and hard. He is getting annoyed. I laugh even more. He then gets mad and says “This is crap”. I laugh even more…so funny. I finally manage to point to the mirror and gasp the word “LOOK!” He turns his head and turns green. He pushes me away from the shower and jumps in and starts scrubbing his face. I am still in tears.&lt;br /&gt;I leave him to cleaning his face to check on my little girl. She has made a mess on his pillow case by sticking her fingers in her dirty diaper and then “finger painting” with them. I strip the bed and clean her up. My ex comes upstairs after his shower and is still so mad. We don’t really talk about it again. Then my son gets home from school. He’s sitting at the table having his after school snack and asks his dad why he has mud in his ears. Before, I can answer for him, my ex says, “There more of her poop on me?” My son starts laughing….I tell him what had happened that day. With out missing a beat he says, “Mom, I guess poo poo heads really do exist. “ It was great!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-5897082626927315931?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/04/you-poo-poo-head.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-816679279720255743</guid><pubDate>Fri, 18 Apr 2008 15:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-04-18T10:09:57.928-05:00</atom:updated><title>A Haunting story!</title><description>So I just finished watching another episode of TAPS. If you aren’t familiar with this show it’s about ghost hunting. Well more than that….they also debunk some of the claims as well. Which I like. It’s about things that can be proven or not. Not just a feeling. Anyway….&lt;br /&gt;So tonight they are at this huge hotel. And they actually catch a woman talking in this room…when no one was there. And she could hear them…..but not see them. It was very odd. It also got me to wondering. If there are ghosts….and they are around us….do they know we are here?&lt;br /&gt;Remember the movie with Nicole Kidman (you know that tall beautiful red head who was married to Tom Cruise before he went crazy) called The Others? They hit on the idea that ghosts may be there but not realize they are dead. They are just living on in their time doing the things they always did. They might hear us…or be spooked when we move something of theirs. An interesting notion.&lt;br /&gt;When we were first together we moved into a charming house. The man who rented it to us was in the business of cleaning up crime scenes. So, if someone was killed in a house, they came in after the cops were done and cleaned up the mess so other people wouldn’t have to deal with the mess. So when we saw the house he was showing us we of course asked if someone had been killed in that house. He said no.&lt;br /&gt;We were there for a while before the odd things started happening. We loved it. It had a huge big back yard. Bird houses, walking trails, deer…the whole thing. We loved it. We had our house warming party and then settled in.&lt;br /&gt;Then weird things started happening. We had windows in the living room that would open on their own. We would lock them…they would open again. The front door would open. Locked or not. Same with the door to the basement. One day we left to run errands. When we came home the gates are all open…..as are the doors to the house and the door to the shed outback. Nothing is missing. Nothing even looks touched…it was weird. And the weirdest part….the unfinished side of the basement where our washer and dryer was always felt creepy. I hated being on that side by myself. I still thought no one ever died in this house though and it was just fluke stuff.&lt;br /&gt;One day when we had got a lot of snow (after my girl had shoveled the entire circle drive) a man stopped by to see if we wanted chopped wood or for him to clear our drive way when it snowed…..in the future. LOL I said no and then looked over to the window and noticed it was open….again. So went to lock it and giggled a bit. Then the man freaked me out. He has lived behind this house since he was a little boy. He knows everyone who has ever lived here. Which was just one family. An elderly couple had raised their kids there. They were big on feeding the birds and deer. They also loved their yard work. They would open all the gates and the shed to use the riding mower…and she liked the doors open while he mowed. Yeah…see where I am going with this. LOL He said the little old lady loved the windows open for the fresh air…and always was going behind her husband to reopen windows.&lt;br /&gt;A few years ago they had their troubled grandson staying with them. He had been in some trouble at school so they sent him to his grandparents. After much trouble with them he was sent back home. However, he went back intending to steal from them with his buddies. I am not sure what went wrong or the rest of the story…except that the old couple was found dead in the unfinished part of the basement. It was ruled a homicide and the son went to prison. Everything this old man said related to the things that were happening and we were feeling in the house. It was eerie.&lt;br /&gt;So….are they really there? Do they know we are here and they are dead?? Or do we all want to believe in something beyond death so badly….that we see and hear what we want?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-816679279720255743?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/04/haunting-story.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-3075158786512388559</guid><pubDate>Mon, 07 Apr 2008 03:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-04-06T23:18:45.116-05:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>horses</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>sunshine</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>larping</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>water</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>fishing</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>clouds</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>park</category><title>A beautiful day in Kansas</title><description>Today was a beautiful day here. The sun was out. The birds were chirping!! My kids were behaving....ok... we all know that isn't true but you get the point. Beautiful day!! I am so happy spring is finally getting here. I am sick of the snow and ice and bitter cold!! Enough!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we decide to head out and enjoy the weather I decide to grab my camera so I can show you what all we got to see today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to take a short drive to our local lake/park. It is one of my favorite places to go. It has a little bit of everything so is good for a number of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5875 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2394224623/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5875" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2361/2394224623_a95240c242.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too shabby, right? Here, let me pull up a bit...give you a better look...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5874 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2395057578/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5874" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3010/2395057578_c57a6240ee.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I'm talking about!! Stunning day. We decide to get out and see what the rest of the park visitors are up to on this lovely day. One man decided he would get one last nap in before his work week began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5858 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2395071850/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5858" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2165/2395071850_1ba3735063.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He must have been very tired because he didn't hear any of the commotion coming from down the hill. If it weren't for my amazing lady I would have had no idea what these people were doing...but she learned all about it on Beauty and the Geek. Larping!! (A live action role-playing game (LARP) is a form of role-playing game where the participants physically act out some or all of their characters' actions. The first LARPs were run in the late 1970s, inspired by role-playing games and genre fiction. The activity gained international popularity during the 1980s. LARP groups have highly varied approaches to rules, costume, degree of physical acting out, focus of character activity, and genre. LARPs range in size from small private events lasting a few hours to huge public events with thousands of players lasting for several days.) They take this stuff very serious...as you can see!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5865 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2394244975/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5865" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2294/2394244975_e3ee6c2fde.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5873 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2394190139/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5873" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2129/2394190139_13f03a63de.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5868 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2395081926/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5868" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2292/2395081926_abab07e4ce.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5871 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2395083262/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5871" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2020/2395083262_d34c6835e3.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to worry....not everyone enjoying the weather in the park today was a nut job...there were some people looking for dinner..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5861 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2395074998/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5861" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3058/2395074998_8b9802f263.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think they ever caught anything but it looked like a nice relaxing time..unlike the Larping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to check out some other area's of the park....they have stables....can you believe it...all in one park...larping, napping, fishing, and stables!! I made the coolest new friend!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5880 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2394230545/"&gt;&lt;img height="500" alt="100_5880" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2200/2394230545_cac15802c2.jpg" width="375" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was totally bonding with her....until my Girl found the sign on her pen that said "sick horses only". Just my luck!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what did we wind up doing in this full service park on such a wonderful day....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="100_5867 by nona_luke, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25405939@N02/2394246305/"&gt;&lt;img height="375" alt="100_5867" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3294/2394246305_cb5e9d02e0.jpg" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We layed back, watched the clouds roll by...and looked for shapes in them...like larpers...or fish....or sick horses....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-3075158786512388559?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/04/beautiful-day-in-kansas.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-3163265246382788054</guid><pubDate>Wed, 02 Apr 2008 19:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-04-02T14:18:12.614-05:00</atom:updated><title>R.I.P.</title><description>I have the cutest little dogs.  I have wrote of them before.  We have been having issues with them wanting to mark everything in sight when we take them on walks.  So the vet said that getting the fixed would help with this.  So we talked it over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our dogs are very much a part of our family.  I hate thinking of doing something to them that would cause them pain.  But, finally decided it was best.  Monday we called and made their appointment for the next day.  I am a bit nervous but figure it will be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get there and the first thing I see is a bunch of cats that this one woman was bringing in to get fixed.  My dogs have never seen a cat.  They go nuts.  I swear we are going to have an issue on our hands but my boys calm back down.  We fill out the paper work and turn over our little guys to the woman who is going to take them to the back.  Then the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;weirdest&lt;/span&gt; thing happened.  I started to cry.  Don't laugh! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our dogs have never spent a night away from us since we got them.  So to have them spend the night somewhere strange after surgery had me worried for them.  All night long I talk about how strange it is to not have them at home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We go to pick them up at 7:30 this morning.  They bring out my little men and show me the sites where the surgery was done.  I was pretty shocked to see that the skin where their manly parts use to be was still there....just empty.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ewww&lt;/span&gt;! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had read somewhere that a company makes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;implants&lt;/span&gt; for dogs after they have those parts removed....maybe we should do this so they don't feel weird.  But, my partner refused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...a moment of silence....for the little items that brought so much joy to my little guys.  R.I.P. puppy balls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-3163265246382788054?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/04/rip.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664964620365333315.post-9167974990366251882</guid><pubDate>Sat, 29 Mar 2008 17:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-03-29T13:00:02.815-05:00</atom:updated><title>If Men Had Boobs</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/R-6DmMtgbDI/AAAAAAAAAEY/5jh_wLDLtkI/s1600-h/610x.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183224913420381234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/R-6DmMtgbDI/AAAAAAAAAEY/5jh_wLDLtkI/s320/610x.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I had the unpleasant experience of shopping for new bras. You must understand that I do this only under extreme duress. I don’t like shopping for anything (I know, unusual for a woman apparently), but shopping for brassieres is the worst of the worst. When I find one that actually fits, I buy like a zillion so I don’t have to go shopping for them for at least a decade. However, I’ve lost a lot of weight recently, which necessitated said shopping trip.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Suffice it to say that I have big boobs. Real boobs, too. No baggies filled with gelatinous substances inserted here! But now my size E boobs are only size DD boobs, which although smaller, are still plenty big. I am a curvy girl but my boobs are not billowing rolls of lard. They're just plain ol' big. I should also point out that I am fairly short, 5’ 3” to be exact. Evidently, these physical features seem to render fitted lingerie a near impossibility. Unfortunately, women with big hooters don’t have the luxury of walking around braless. If we did, our tits would eventually hang down to our navels, much like those tribal women in the National Geographic magazines. No thanks. Bras are a must.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, after rifling through rack after rack of bras of every shape, size and color imaginable hanging on those stupid little hangers that get caught on each other, other bras, your sleeve, your purse, or whatever else comes in close contact with them, I came to believe that men and men alone design bras.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Therefore, this rant goes out to those dipshit male bra designers. If you men had boobs, you’d understand how frustrating it is to buy a decent fitting bra, but since men only have balls, allow me to enlighten you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;First of all, whatever inspired you to believe that a woman wants a piece of inflexible wire shoved under her boobs for ‘support’? Is it some kind of latent, sadistic desire to torture women? Let’s put that same wire in your whitey tighteys and see how much you like having a piece of wire grinding on your balls every time you move. How you’ve managed to flood the market with these instruments of torture is beyond my understanding. Excuse me, but my boobs, nor any other woman’s boobs, needs to be supported by a piece of fencing. Although in your primordial brain you may think of boobs as udders, we are not cattle and our boobs do not need to be corralled. Thank you very much, asswipe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realized today that male bra designers prefer small boobs. I can prove that because it is nearly impossible for anyone with big boobs to find a bra that is even remotely attractive. For those of us who are well endowed, it seems that bras are for utilitarian purposes only, that is, to hold those boulders up where they belong. No, instead of those cute, colorful bras for the tiny-titty-B-cup-and-under set, we get white, black or tan (and sometimes pink!!) industrial strength bras whose only embellishment might be some itchy lace. Let’s put some of that lace on your y-fronts, shall we, boys? And let’s not forget to mention that these same behemoths have shoulder straps that could double as seatbelts. Jesus effing Christ. Have some imagination, will you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It has taken decades for women’s clothing to come in more diverse sizes, but finally it is possible for those of us in the low altitude zone to wear jeans that don’t drag along the ground and shirts whose sleeves aren’t rolled 5 times so they don‘t hang off your hands. Halle-fucking-luiah! So, now that we’ve come this far, why the hell haven’t any of you moron male bra designers figured out that short women have short bodies, therefore, it might be a good idea to shorten the length of the shoulder straps? Imagine yourself walking around with your whites drooping down your ass all day. That’s what it’s like. Dickweeds. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe that you poop-for-brains male bra designers imagine that every woman has boobs like Barbie’s. It probably relates back to your childhood when you hid in the closet with your sister’s Barbies, perversely stroking those enormous plastic tits. Let’s face it, Barbie has some pretty perky knockers, but it begs the question: Have any of you imbeciles ever seen any real tits? THEY ARE NOT POINTED!!!!! And furthermore, real boobs can’t be squeezed into points! So why do you design bras that could pop balloons, retards? Does anyone have deformed enough boobs to wear one of those monstrosities? Oh that’s right! Barbie does! Good lord.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, I’m done ranting. I feel better now. Thanks for listening! By the way, for the record, after an hour of trying on a multitude of brassieres, I managed to find ONE that fit, although it looks like a seat cover for an F-150 with obligatory seatbelt straps – white, of course. Swell. Just swell. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4664964620365333315-9167974990366251882?l=livinglesbo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://livinglesbo.blogspot.com/2008/03/if-men-had-boobs.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Wendy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_W4z8KiJTm1Y/R-6DmMtgbDI/AAAAAAAAAEY/5jh_wLDLtkI/s72-c/610x.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item></channel></rss>