<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762241771282845798</id><updated>2011-12-09T16:24:19.660-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts of a Naive Tattooed Chick</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Joious</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15554399091694921033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-woU-GYVbp7k/To0Tf0qgFMI/AAAAAAAAABE/5hJ13VgckV8/s220/iPhone%2B042.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762241771282845798.post-7571367358013658524</id><published>2011-10-18T08:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T08:53:43.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One of Us Has to Die</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;So I dedicate this all of those who have said this. Whether it was out loud or speaking telepathically. The feeling of fear, helplessness, a never ending traumatic experience that began years ago and still it consumes the best of you:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;Damn bugs!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;I hate them. They turn my coolest, laid back moments into a crazed, panicked, shrieking school-girlish fiascos. I have an intense fear of bees, a strong fear of spiders and, unknown to many, a nagging fear of Mosquitos. (yes, I admit it damn you!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EI40VovZzbQ/Tp2eUhLQUgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/HvZcTLnaprk/s1600/Gio+1+186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EI40VovZzbQ/Tp2eUhLQUgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/HvZcTLnaprk/s320/Gio+1+186.JPG" width="240px" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;I'm sure you may have heard the story where I was in the driver seat of our family car in my parents driveway when a bee (lets name him Steve) casually decided to show its stupid unwelcomed ass into the car full of my kids and husband. I jump out of the car, totally forgetting I had it in "drive" and commenced the typical "crazy dance" of swatting at the air. By the time I calm down, I look up to notice Steve following the car full of screaming people as it coast down the driveway nearing the neighbor's mailbox. That was one of two times I almost killed my family with one shot but I won't get into the other for the sake of my credibility as a mother. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;I don't know where the hell it comes from. Is it a learned behavior. And if it is learned, can you just "un-learn" it?? Why can't I just wake up and say "fuck you fear, I'm not gonna be afraid anymore because you suck!!!"&amp;nbsp; Followed&amp;nbsp;that with&amp;nbsp;a picnic consisting of Zinfandel and cheese with Steve and his friends and family. I want to KILL fear. My fear of confrontation, my fear of hitting a deer with my car, my fear of uncertainty, my fear of failing as a mother, my fear of skydiving, my fear of sucking as a wife....my fear of Steve. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;There are so many things in life that I am bigger than, yet that one little word, fear, empowers them to overcome me. But God gives us tools and it is up to me to use them to pummel fear&amp;nbsp;out of my life. He gave me experience, bright lights, prayer, friends, adrenaline and Daniel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;He gave me a broom and Wasp spray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;And I'm sorry but Steve, one of us has to die.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XK4losh7gE4/Tp2exdGkb4I/AAAAAAAAACA/m6HORVcnqhM/s1600/Gio+1+015.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XK4losh7gE4/Tp2exdGkb4I/AAAAAAAAACA/m6HORVcnqhM/s320/Gio+1+015.PNG" width="213px" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5762241771282845798-7571367358013658524?l=joious.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/feeds/7571367358013658524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/10/one-of-us-has-to-die.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/7571367358013658524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/7571367358013658524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/10/one-of-us-has-to-die.html' title='One of Us Has to Die'/><author><name>Joious</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15554399091694921033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-woU-GYVbp7k/To0Tf0qgFMI/AAAAAAAAABE/5hJ13VgckV8/s220/iPhone%2B042.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EI40VovZzbQ/Tp2eUhLQUgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/HvZcTLnaprk/s72-c/Gio+1+186.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762241771282845798.post-9016532665533247330</id><published>2011-10-13T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-13T22:44:01.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is Your Tattoo?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m2JhQRxceIA/TpfK-7KCeTI/AAAAAAAAABg/1j5JzKo-RH4/s1600/Iphone3+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m2JhQRxceIA/TpfK-7KCeTI/AAAAAAAAABg/1j5JzKo-RH4/s320/Iphone3+023.JPG" width="240px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;So I finally got my tattoo finished today.&amp;nbsp; It is a tribal background with two Peonies and a Koi fish in color.&amp;nbsp; I found out I was preggo when Lil E. finished coloring the flowers so I just now got a chance to finish the fish.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Larry, the shop manager, was more than happy to see me (it seemed) since I apparently am one of the 3 black females in the surrounding area with a half-sleeve.&amp;nbsp; I made the appt for the next day.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(wait I digress, my dog is choking on something.....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Ok, the dog is good.&amp;nbsp; So I come in, today.&amp;nbsp; And I cannot help but to admire the atmosphere.&amp;nbsp; Everyone is friendly and accepting.&amp;nbsp; People are scared, excited, anxious, impatient, young, old.&amp;nbsp; And me, well I will be honest;&amp;nbsp; I stopped at the liquor store and got one of those $1 shots just to calm my nerves.&amp;nbsp; I'm guessing it is my age finally getting to me.&amp;nbsp; (yes, baby I cheated)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Larry is cheerfully stabbing me repeatedly with needles that he says are "the best", I look at my arm in curiosity.&amp;nbsp; I have had my half-sleeve for a year and a half now.&amp;nbsp; And do I regret it????....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can count on one hand when I wished I could have reconsidered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R2HYKnPqmeo/TpfLB9xmfoI/AAAAAAAAABo/dCyDoYsmq7k/s1600/Iphone3+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R2HYKnPqmeo/TpfLB9xmfoI/AAAAAAAAABo/dCyDoYsmq7k/s320/Iphone3+025.JPG" width="240px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;When my arm comes from "hibernation" in the Spring.&amp;nbsp; I forget it is there and it attracts a lot of attention that I am not used to the 1st couple of weeks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I meet someone for the 1st time and they see it.&amp;nbsp; I have to speak "extra" smart and professional to assure them I am "educated" and not violent (nevermind me being 5'1" 110).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When at my sisters graduation party and people did not know that the "tattooed chick" fixing plates was indeed the Preachers Daughter.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yet, I sit in awe of my left arm.&amp;nbsp; The hand that I write with.&amp;nbsp; The arm I choose to carry my son's car seat because it is the strongest.&amp;nbsp; The arm I am a little more inclined to pull up my sleeve because it shows my love, my art, my passion, the representation of the happy marriage (Peony)&amp;nbsp;and swimming though an ocean of suffering without fear (Koi).&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not ashamed of my decision.&amp;nbsp; I love my art.&amp;nbsp; I love my constant reminder of the GREAT THINGS in my life.&amp;nbsp; People have different ways of reminding themselves of where they have been and where they are going.&amp;nbsp; I chose this...my left, now-colorful arm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your reminder to be your best in life?&amp;nbsp; What makes you want dig a little deeper, and swim a little harder?&amp;nbsp; Where is your tattoo.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t4xGp-O3KMA/TpfLEGVkNVI/AAAAAAAAABw/sYCjmyFb5ho/s1600/Iphone3+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320px" oda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t4xGp-O3KMA/TpfLEGVkNVI/AAAAAAAAABw/sYCjmyFb5ho/s320/Iphone3+027.JPG" width="240px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5762241771282845798-9016532665533247330?l=joious.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/feeds/9016532665533247330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/10/where-is-your-tattoo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/9016532665533247330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/9016532665533247330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/10/where-is-your-tattoo.html' title='Where is Your Tattoo?'/><author><name>Joious</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15554399091694921033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-woU-GYVbp7k/To0Tf0qgFMI/AAAAAAAAABE/5hJ13VgckV8/s220/iPhone%2B042.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m2JhQRxceIA/TpfK-7KCeTI/AAAAAAAAABg/1j5JzKo-RH4/s72-c/Iphone3+023.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762241771282845798.post-5580023076207173349</id><published>2011-10-05T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T19:29:19.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Shit in the Bathtub</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Today, my 2 year old daughter was the facilitator of this evening's lesson on life. I'm sure it was accidental but yet it was profound in a.... Gross way!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;She shit in the bath tub.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ayW3ZZnFFQ/To0PnYqcpWI/AAAAAAAAAA0/e6cb1dg_Wgk/s1600/Gio+1+233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ayW3ZZnFFQ/To0PnYqcpWI/AAAAAAAAAA0/e6cb1dg_Wgk/s320/Gio+1+233.JPG" width="240px" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Mind you, I thought past the age of 18 months and about 37% into potty training, we were beyond the possibility of this damn fiasco. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;My 12 year old step-daughter comes out of the bathroom with a slight grin. "Bop boo-boo'd in th&lt;/span&gt;e tub." I look at my lunch- breaking husband, then at Sierra and knew I was alone on this one. So I get it out, drain the water and proceed to give Bobster a shower. I was so annoyed but in the end, I gave her a big hug and told her I loved her. I told her we will work harder to grow up to the big potty so this won't happen again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Hours later......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;It hit me!!! About a month ago, I shit in the bathtub. No! Not literally, but in my marriage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;We were damn near perfect. Yes, occasionally I talk too much and he chews with his mouth open but other than that, no issues. Until the day I had that shitty feeling that sometimes shows itself as my previous marriage which was a complete case of diarrhea&amp;nbsp;gone completely wrong. And instead of putting it in the toilet, I put it in the warm- watered, toy filled happy place bathtub that was my current marriage. I accused my husband of being wrong and disrespectful of our relationship when looking back, he was completely oblivious to what I was talking about because he wasn't. I created a "trust" issue when there was no need for one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;I shit in the fucking bath tub when it should have been flushed somewhere else. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;But he, like that of&amp;nbsp;an understanding and patient mother, cleaned it up, washed me off and held me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;tight. He told me we will get through it and move on from both of our past together. He was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;showing me how to move on because it will only get better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;So, to my Bopster, thanks for showing me that we are human and shit happens even when we are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;happy and content. Just look forward and learn to be a better person. Appreciate the warm, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;clean water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Don't shit in the bathtub&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0w6IuXxEdPU/To0Q0c5qK9I/AAAAAAAAAA4/Ig7i4ldIhRs/s1600/Gio+1+125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0w6IuXxEdPU/To0Q0c5qK9I/AAAAAAAAAA4/Ig7i4ldIhRs/s320/Gio+1+125.JPG" width="240px" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5762241771282845798-5580023076207173349?l=joious.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/feeds/5580023076207173349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/10/dont-shit-in-bathtub.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/5580023076207173349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/5580023076207173349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/10/dont-shit-in-bathtub.html' title='Don&apos;t Shit in the Bathtub'/><author><name>Joious</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15554399091694921033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-woU-GYVbp7k/To0Tf0qgFMI/AAAAAAAAABE/5hJ13VgckV8/s220/iPhone%2B042.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ayW3ZZnFFQ/To0PnYqcpWI/AAAAAAAAAA0/e6cb1dg_Wgk/s72-c/Gio+1+233.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762241771282845798.post-4046409844565080568</id><published>2011-10-05T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T13:29:34.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiss my ass dishes!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>So I'm sitting here looking around. There are poker chips scattered all over the floor. Shoes thrown meticulously throughout the dining room. Expensive bottles of desert wine and a hundred dollar bottle of Hennesey on the fireplace mantle. Painters tape still on an unfinished wall (we ran out of paint during a project 2 months ago).  Jackets, books, laptops, diapers.&lt;br /&gt;Shit is everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But.....I love it!  I love my life because of who is in it. And I love my life because I have "stuff" I am happy to be able to have stuff to clean up instead of an empty, lifeless house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tv has been sitting on the floor for over a year but I can still kick back and watch Ellen until tears flow from my face because I laughed so hard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter how much chaos is in your life. How messy shit gets or how long it takes u to complete something. Just bask in the positivity and love that surrounds you. Accept that you are human and just do what you can without sacrificing the gift of joy you can give to those close to you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell those dishes to kiss your ass!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5762241771282845798-4046409844565080568?l=joious.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/feeds/4046409844565080568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/10/kiss-my-ass-dishes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/4046409844565080568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/4046409844565080568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/10/kiss-my-ass-dishes.html' title='Kiss my ass dishes!!!!!!'/><author><name>Joious</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15554399091694921033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-woU-GYVbp7k/To0Tf0qgFMI/AAAAAAAAABE/5hJ13VgckV8/s220/iPhone%2B042.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5762241771282845798.post-3486300648946005088</id><published>2011-09-20T16:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T16:16:32.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to my world</title><content type='html'>So top of the morning to you. I'm not sure if I am doing this for my benefit or for others to share what my life is really like (assuming you may be interested). Let me clarify:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am 29 years old and the mother of Adrianna (Bop) 2, Gio 8 months, and my step daughter Sierra 12.  I have an awesome, fantabulistic, drop dead gorgeous, make you wanna say "holeeeee shiiiit" husband named Daniel.  We have been married 4 years and I consider myself still in that "clingy" phase. We both work at the same company but recently, they changed his shifts to work nights (I still work weekends) This leave me to be a "single" mother through the week and the stress and patience required to be a "single" mom has been difficult. Sooooooooo.... I decided to write about it and stuff and things of that nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love for someone to take interest in my life but if not, I'm hoping writing will bring some type of satisfaction for me constant need of interaction. (Extreme extrovert) I would just like to be able to write freely about my random thoughts which can go pretty far off the deep end (warning). But feel free to ride with me as I explore my life. Share my jois, pains, laughters tears, accomplishments and embarrassments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ready???.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5762241771282845798-3486300648946005088?l=joious.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/feeds/3486300648946005088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/09/welcome-to-my-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/3486300648946005088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5762241771282845798/posts/default/3486300648946005088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joious.blogspot.com/2011/09/welcome-to-my-world.html' title='Welcome to my world'/><author><name>Joious</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15554399091694921033</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-woU-GYVbp7k/To0Tf0qgFMI/AAAAAAAAABE/5hJ13VgckV8/s220/iPhone%2B042.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
