<?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-6347902308686870179</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:27:41.488-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Faster Without Cupcakes</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>89</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8394251342232041612</id><published>2011-11-28T16:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T16:46:05.762-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey</title><content type='html'>I found my blog...prepare for some entries...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8394251342232041612?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8394251342232041612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2011/11/hey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8394251342232041612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8394251342232041612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2011/11/hey.html' title='Hey'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8778222081344717865</id><published>2010-11-09T13:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-09T13:06:16.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bicycle UPGRADE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TNm3wY5kmZI/AAAAAAAAAHY/TPgIfqGCdkE/s1600/Camera%2BDos%2B028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TNm3wY5kmZI/AAAAAAAAAHY/TPgIfqGCdkE/s320/Camera%2BDos%2B028.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537659258774264210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TNm3iAQRUqI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/RWwX36orMM0/s1600/Camera%2BDos%2B027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TNm3iAQRUqI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/RWwX36orMM0/s320/Camera%2BDos%2B027.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537659011640414882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big thanks to the awesome guys at Pedal Hard for taking time to talk with me about what I want to do with my bike. Also for not being assholes like those bigger bike shops&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TNm3ZHr2PUI/AAAAAAAAAHI/5w5G6pwnKuw/s1600/Camera%2BDos%2B021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TNm3ZHr2PUI/AAAAAAAAAHI/5w5G6pwnKuw/s320/Camera%2BDos%2B021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537658859016305986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8778222081344717865?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8778222081344717865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/11/bicycle-upgrade.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8778222081344717865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8778222081344717865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/11/bicycle-upgrade.html' title='Bicycle UPGRADE'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TNm3wY5kmZI/AAAAAAAAAHY/TPgIfqGCdkE/s72-c/Camera%2BDos%2B028.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8218497969029935775</id><published>2010-11-01T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T16:09:22.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to November</title><content type='html'>It seems like just yesterday it was August. I believe my many hours alone at my office and again at home have fast-forwarded the weeks. Thankfully I have stabilized my life and have settled into a pattern of being ok alone. No long story, just a lot of resolution in my life and final words to end any future communication one might think of having with me. Well, make that for two people, I guess. Looking back I really should have gone into therapy to deal with my insane issues, but I am at the point where I have a clearer look at myself. I just could not live without comparing myself to others and torturing my mind with my inadequacies. I didn't do that before. I forgot to look at how awesome my life is without some turd of a boyfriend or bitchy roommates. I still don't want to be in super social situations, but at least I'm not as prone to avoidance as before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At a party on Saturday I dressed up as Mary Kate Olsen with flour on my face and fur jacket with leggings. Hilarious. With my first beer of the night a girl walks up to me and askes what I am. I tell her, and she looks me up and down and says "You might want to do something about getting those bones, ya know, exposed." Me from a few months ago probably would have cried. This me just said, "Well, I work with what I got." and thought how sad it must be for her to think that way and speak to people in that manner. As the night progressed I learned she had 3 kids, chain-smoked, and I'm pretty sure she drinks all the time. Maybe her bitch is her defense? I just avoided talking with her the rest of the evening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still am scared of the lingering damages Asshole 1 &amp; 2 may have left upon me, but I look to the new year as a year for ME and not for some mean or lying prick. And no more dates from Craigslist. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8218497969029935775?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8218497969029935775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/11/welcome-to-november.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8218497969029935775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8218497969029935775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/11/welcome-to-november.html' title='Welcome to November'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-997942915081862376</id><published>2010-10-28T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T10:04:27.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightmare</title><content type='html'>Wow. I have scary dreams, but last night was the first showing of a dead baby in a ziplock bag. I kept finding it in there, opening it, and somehow making it breathe again only to have it die. Many times. I woke up hella confused, but also not preggo or with a dead baby. I forced myself to walk by the child care center today to see some live versions. Bad imagination, time for a time out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I found out who snagged the ACWA job. It's this weird pensive genuis boy-man that has worked in the building for a while. Also a third year law student. Yeah, wouldn't have gone for the job if thats the kind they want. Fucking overachievers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-997942915081862376?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/997942915081862376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/nightmare.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/997942915081862376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/997942915081862376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/nightmare.html' title='Nightmare'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4122257845581846936</id><published>2010-10-25T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T13:28:53.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Monday?</title><content type='html'>Lets see, it rained all weekend, which kept me off my bikes. I walked around quite a bit, partied with midtown homies Friday and again on Sunday. Giants game on Saturday sent us to the World Series... Today meant work, and I was not too excited to have to work on a sunny day, but I rode my bike in and took an extra loop around the Capitol as Good Morning Sacramento was filming on the west steps and I wanted to ride by. As I approached, some huge group of high schoolers unloaded from a bus and as the teacher made the kids move to the side of the sidewalk, one fella called out " Bye biker. I love you!!" Thanks, Biebs, but this lady has some standards. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At work I left at 11 to tour the Governor's office. A tad short, but I saw the ever-delicious Aaron McClear and that was the highlight. After, went to Pyramid and downed a few brews with the parents of the people I partied with this weekend. It's almost 2 and this Monday doesn't suck like most others!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4122257845581846936?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4122257845581846936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/happy-monday.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4122257845581846936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4122257845581846936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/happy-monday.html' title='Happy Monday?'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-9094875288639606145</id><published>2010-10-21T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T11:37:35.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mucho Loco</title><content type='html'>Yesterday at work I was able to speak with the wife of a cartel member for 20 minutes. She had her kids taken from her by CPS for aiding and abetting the cartel that I shall not name but know who they are. I am a little scared to follow up with her on her foster care issue....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-9094875288639606145?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/9094875288639606145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/mucho-loco.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/9094875288639606145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/9094875288639606145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/mucho-loco.html' title='Mucho Loco'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3538746464594686225</id><published>2010-10-20T15:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T15:19:22.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oreally?</title><content type='html'>I have had enough issues with the blood-thirsty campaigners (who I doubt do anything) call and call and call to have me volunteer. I have no hearing, no car, and the last phone back I went to you did not have enough food to feed me or 4 others. GFY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat enjoying Russell Brand's first book, my superior spies me enjoying my time and immediately grabs a legal pad and asks me to update her on my research for next year. Uh. What? MORE than half our staff is gone doing awesome things in San Diego that I was not invited to. You just returned from a TWO HOUR lunch after coming into work at 11am. I appologize I don't know what to recommend just yet, but one should really mind their own business when nobody else is working. And like some sick plot, I get all the vacation requests for Italy and shit for all the other workers, assuring I still will be the only person here to staff the office into the long, cold winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh to have the strength to just off myself...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3538746464594686225?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3538746464594686225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/oreally.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3538746464594686225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3538746464594686225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/oreally.html' title='Oreally?'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2083718828846700829</id><published>2010-10-11T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T11:47:23.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Dressed Up...</title><content type='html'>My lovely neighbor Mike has lent me the keys to his car and apartment for the next week. This weekend I went to the gas station, filled up his ride, and realized there wasn't anywhere I wanted to go. I drove on the freeway to 59th, went to Trader Joes, and drove home. I blame the budget for my lack of creativity, and also my bike for making me know how lame it is to drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do get to move the car tonight as tomorrow is the street sweepin' day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side note: I realize we don't get Columbus Day off. Europeans get four month Holiday each year. All women should get a day a month off for their period. I want that day to be today as I am in hella pain and since getting off the ol' birthing control my immune system takes a hit each month. I can't hear out of my left ear today. Weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2083718828846700829?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2083718828846700829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/all-dressed-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2083718828846700829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2083718828846700829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/all-dressed-up.html' title='All Dressed Up...'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4155635307017056886</id><published>2010-10-07T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T10:42:38.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Karma</title><content type='html'>Over the summer, my mom has been buying me the fanciest international coffee beans as she has been travelling around. I believe I have 4 bags from her. She had asked me if I had a coffee grinder, and I said "Of course." Wrong. So what do I do? I go to the grocery store and buy ground coffee as I have a french press that requires such. I get home and pack the coffee for work. I prepare the press, pull out the Hawaiian blend, and OH SNAP its whole bean. Effing head in the clouds!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward a few weeks. I am sitting in my friend Sara'h apartment a few blocks from me., Her and her man are hanging out, getting ready to go get more beer for our Fuck Monday nights. I ask her if she had a grinder I could borrow, and I tell her my tales. She didn't. We get up and walk the two blocks to the market, and Sarah is walking ahead of me. She screams out " Holy shit!!!!" I walk over, expecting a dead cat or something, and there is a box along the road marked free. Inside? A perfectly new Krups coffee grinder. Yeah. Holy shit. It was the only thing in the box.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4155635307017056886?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4155635307017056886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/karma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4155635307017056886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4155635307017056886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/karma.html' title='Karma'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-685631627212196285</id><published>2010-10-07T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T10:37:35.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 3</title><content type='html'>Since Monday evening I have been drink and smoke free! Well, I can't say too much for the drinking but smoking is definitely on its way out. I've been keeping busy at home to not get bored and want to smoke on the patio. I cleaned up, went on a walk, did some crosswords, laid down to rest, and watched some news. No smoking! I have yet to go on an ride, but that will happen this weekend. I had originally planned to drive home tonight to attend a friend's funeral tomorrow, but its looking like the budget vote will continue into tomorrow. Its fine, I can mourn on my own. Plus, there will be hella people from high school there as Morgan was GORGEOUS and was generally a real, nice person. I wish I could be more upset as this motherfucking budget has now cost me a friend's wedding and a friend's funeral. And no budget!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-685631627212196285?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/685631627212196285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/day-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/685631627212196285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/685631627212196285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/day-3.html' title='Day 3'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3322461987766373245</id><published>2010-10-06T12:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T12:15:23.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Mas Fumar</title><content type='html'>Holy hell I forgot the way my body revolts when I quit smoking. It's day 3 and last night I almost murdered my windows. I opened and shut them repeatedly as neighbors on all sides made noises throughout the night. My mind was in a spin and I started to think about just taking a puff, but instead I lit a huge candle and stared at it. Amazing results followed as I drifted to sleep staring at the light. I thought about getting those electronic ciggs, but they are like hundreds of dollars! Maybe I should make my own walk-a-thon that helps me quit by raising money to afford the tools I need to do so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've taken a four month break before, so I know it can be done. Ugh. I hate you, wacky tobacky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3322461987766373245?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3322461987766373245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/no-mas-fumar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3322461987766373245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3322461987766373245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/no-mas-fumar.html' title='No Mas Fumar'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2340215401500517294</id><published>2010-10-01T10:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-01T10:30:45.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Decriminalization</title><content type='html'>As I perused the Governor's approved measures today, I read in depth to SB 1449. If you are caught in posession of less than an ounce of pot, it is now simply an infraction ($100 fine) instead of a misdemeanor. I know at least two people that have been punished for small amounts, and this is a great judicial movement so we can stop wasting money in our courts. As Arnie says, "Its just a leaf."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2340215401500517294?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2340215401500517294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/decriminalization.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2340215401500517294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2340215401500517294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/10/decriminalization.html' title='Decriminalization'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2571199779975129695</id><published>2010-09-30T12:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T12:23:09.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Twi-tards</title><content type='html'>I would totally get into the Twilight fils if Buffy the Vampire Slayer showed up and took care of some much-needed business.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2571199779975129695?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2571199779975129695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/twi-tards.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2571199779975129695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2571199779975129695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/twi-tards.html' title='Twi-tards'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1784369254548421939</id><published>2010-09-29T15:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-29T15:55:19.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Idiots</title><content type='html'>Way too many in my life right now. Being alone in the office was terrible enough last week, but this week greeted me with my only other co-worker coming down with the MF whooping cough. She is out for at least a week. Our auxillary office has Mike, who leaves for San Diego tonight until November. Are you kidding?!!? I am losing my mind with this job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of work stress, I think I am becoming an alcoholic. I max out at like 2 or 3 drinks, but I have consumed fairly regularly. Is it ok if I question myself? I get home and after wading in the dark cloud all day I just want a warm fuzzy tummy hug. It gives me love and makes time roll faster. Since I turned maybe 26 I have developed a very real fear of becoming drunk, so I never drink fast for fear that I will act like an idiot and somehow someone from work will see me. I've seen drunks at work and it totally stole my respect for them. But again, I am on the town. Not at work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiredoflife.com.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-1784369254548421939?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1784369254548421939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/idiots.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1784369254548421939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1784369254548421939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/idiots.html' title='Idiots'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1857994351626698122</id><published>2010-09-27T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T11:55:17.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Dang, Life.</title><content type='html'>There are certain reasons why I only visit SF maybe twice a year. This last weekend I had excellent control of myself, but the events that transpired rocked my world. &lt;br /&gt;Mike, my neighbor/roommate from across the patio, had his 24th birthday in SF. I arrived via foot, as I walked from my apartment to light rail, to amtrak, and then to BART. I walked from the Powell Station and there I was. I would have liked to have brought my bike but on Sunday we had planned on visiting the Folsom Street Fair. FYI- I had no clue what the testicle festival was to be about. I asked, and the group responded in unison "Bondage". I like to party, so who cares. Wow. What a penis parade. My personal highlight was getting to handle a porn star's gigantic penis. It high-fived me. I also showed my tits to a woman with a corset and fishnet stockings. That was it. Where the hell was GaGa? This was like her Tuesday night. Lots of drinking, dancing, laughing, spanking, and slapping (asses, not faces). Mike and I finished the festival with some Jack in the Box and then he drove out of SF and I took over on the freeways. It was my first time drivig on the freeway for like 9 months, and I was on no sleep, a little hungover, and without glasses. I made Mike blast the radio and we sang all the songs on the way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But dang, life. Just when I had yet another amazing and lovely weekend (Emphasis on the love, Ben from Santa Cruz made me leave my heart in San Francisco....)I come home to check email and the likes. My good friend Clay's little sister, who I played water polo and swimming with in high school, had passed away over the weekend. I don't want to fucking be at work right now. Morgan Strong, loved by so many and I alsways thought she was so gorgeous that she was the model for how Cameron Diaz should have turned out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you girl, no more suffering...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-1857994351626698122?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1857994351626698122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/oh-dang-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1857994351626698122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1857994351626698122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/oh-dang-life.html' title='Oh Dang, Life.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-6053490377163280736</id><published>2010-09-24T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T11:16:27.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Favorite Times</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TJzqgDjqKgI/AAAAAAAAAHA/nPoPdBmfzFE/s1600/james.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 295px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TJzqgDjqKgI/AAAAAAAAAHA/nPoPdBmfzFE/s400/james.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520545079680969218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:41am&lt;br /&gt;12:23pm&lt;br /&gt;2:45pm&lt;br /&gt;4:40pm&lt;br /&gt;7:12am&lt;br /&gt;10:11pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need something to do at work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-6053490377163280736?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/6053490377163280736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-favorite-times.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6053490377163280736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6053490377163280736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-favorite-times.html' title='My Favorite Times'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TJzqgDjqKgI/AAAAAAAAAHA/nPoPdBmfzFE/s72-c/james.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5936819405372031899</id><published>2010-09-23T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T12:25:09.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess Who is Bored??</title><content type='html'>WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? &lt;br /&gt;Sweet Melissa by the Allman Brothers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? &lt;br /&gt;My life choices have been smarter, so during a movie a few weeks ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? &lt;br /&gt;Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? &lt;br /&gt;Bacon &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU HAVE KIDS? &lt;br /&gt;Nope. I can’t even handle a cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? &lt;br /&gt;Yes! I’ve been looking for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU USE SARCASM ALOT? &lt;br /&gt;Not as much as before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? &lt;br /&gt;Yes &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? &lt;br /&gt;No &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? &lt;br /&gt;Lucky Charms &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? &lt;br /&gt;No. I do best without laces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? &lt;br /&gt;Yes. I try to only like guys I can’t beat up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? &lt;br /&gt;Rocky road. I like options. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? &lt;br /&gt;Whether they look me in the eyes or not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RED OR PINK? &lt;br /&gt;I’m wearing pink (sad) but I love red. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? &lt;br /&gt;I get impatient with lines. I’m not as forward as I used to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? &lt;br /&gt; Everyone I left in Modesto, and all my homeboys I lost to the streets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? &lt;br /&gt;Rainbows to work &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? &lt;br /&gt;Eggs. I love ‘em!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? &lt;br /&gt;The news &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? &lt;br /&gt;Burnt sienna. Badass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SMELLS? &lt;br /&gt;honeysuckle, roses, jasmine, bacon, taco bell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? &lt;br /&gt; A coworker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOUNTAIN HIDEAWAY OR BEACH HOUSE? &lt;br /&gt;Beach house &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? &lt;br /&gt;Baseball (Giants). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAIR COLOR?&lt;br /&gt;Dark light. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EYE COLOR? &lt;br /&gt;Brown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? &lt;br /&gt;Glasses &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE FOOD? &lt;br /&gt;fruit, avocado, tomatilla, salmon, ahi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? &lt;br /&gt;Who doesn’t love happy endings? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? &lt;br /&gt;Hot Tub Time Machine &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? &lt;br /&gt;blue floral button up with pink see through shirt underneath &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUMMER OR WINTER? &lt;br /&gt;summer adventures&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUGS OR KISSES? &lt;br /&gt;I never get enough hugs &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE DESSERT? &lt;br /&gt;coconut &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STRENGTH TRAINING OR CARDIO? &lt;br /&gt;cardio. MAKE ‘EM SWEAT! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COMPUTER OR TELEVISION? &lt;br /&gt;Life &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? &lt;br /&gt;Waiting for another library trip &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? &lt;br /&gt;My hand &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SOUND? &lt;br /&gt;wooden chimes &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? &lt;br /&gt;Stones &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? &lt;br /&gt;New Zealand &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? &lt;br /&gt; I can walk on my toes and can snap really sharp mental pictures&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHERE WERE YOU BORN? &lt;br /&gt;In Livermore with my brother. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHERE ARE YOU LIVING NOW? &lt;br /&gt;In a ding bat by myself surrounded by strangers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT COLOR IS YOUR HOUSE? &lt;br /&gt;White with blue trim. Lahaina!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT COLOR IS YOUR CAR?&lt;br /&gt;Invisible ‘cause I don’t have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHICH CELEBRITY DO YOU GET MISTAKEN FOR?&lt;br /&gt;Possessed people. Seriously. Jessica Simpson once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? &lt;br /&gt;Content and not alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHEN YOU HAVE 30 MINUTES FREE, WHAT DO YOU DO? &lt;br /&gt;Clean, smoke, call my mom, or take a shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT WOULD YOU NAME THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF YOUR LIFE? &lt;br /&gt;Died Twice &amp; Lived A Thousand Lives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT SONGS ARE INCLUDED IN THE SOUNDTRACK TO YOU LIFE? &lt;br /&gt;Refugee (TP&amp;H), Hey Oh (RHCP), Strange (Doors), Gin and Juice (Snoop), that theme song from Donny Darko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT CURSE WORD DO YOU USE THE MOST? &lt;br /&gt;Fuuuuuck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU OWN AN IPOD? &lt;br /&gt;Yes, but not the songs&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHAT TIME IS YOUR ALARM CLOCK SET? &lt;br /&gt;7AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT COLOR IS YOU ROOM? &lt;br /&gt;Smothered in art and Pink Floyd Posters. White unders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FLIP FLOPS OR SNEAKERS? I&lt;br /&gt;Toss on/slip on shoes. Fuck laces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOULD YOU RATHER BE IN OR TAKE A PICTURE?&lt;br /&gt;ake the picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO ANY OF YOUR FRIENDS HAVE CHILDREN?&lt;br /&gt;Most of them in Modesto do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAS ANYONE CALLED YOU LAZY?&lt;br /&gt;HAHA. I am the anti-lazy, but have been only by assholes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU EVER TAKE MEDICATION TO SLEEP FASTER?&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I have to, but my body just loves sleep anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT CD IS CURRENTLY IN YOUR PLAYER? &lt;br /&gt;Just heard the new Big Boi album. Sick beats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU PREFER REGULAR OR CHOCOLATE MILK? &lt;br /&gt;Chocolate soy or almond milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAS ANYONE TOLD YOU A SECRET THIS WEEK? &lt;br /&gt;I have a network of secret sharers in the grid. Crazy, I know.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON TO CALL YOU? &lt;br /&gt;I forgot my phone again. Fuck phones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU THINK PEOPLE TALK ABOUT YOU BEHIND YOUR BACK?&lt;br /&gt;I work hard to be nice, but it probably happens. I can be bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DID YOU WATCH CARTOONS AS A CHILD? &lt;br /&gt;Did? More like does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW MANY SIBLINGS DO YOU HAVE? &lt;br /&gt;One twin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU SHY AROUND THE OPPOSITE SEX? &lt;br /&gt;Strangers totally scare me - especially in Sactown.  Hella bros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT MOVIE DO YOU KNOW EVERY LINE TO? &lt;br /&gt;Goonies, Stand By Me, Wedding Singer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU OWN ANY BAND T-SHIRTS? &lt;br /&gt;Red Hot Chili Peppers, MxPx, and the rest were worn to death. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON TO TEXT YOU?&lt;br /&gt;Ted, to cite me in another herbal story. Rad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU OWN A COMPUTER? &lt;br /&gt;One that I haven’t opened in 2 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU CURRENTLY WANTING A PIERCING OR TATTOO? &lt;br /&gt;I got the next tat, just not the cash or drive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SLEPT ON A FLOOR? &lt;br /&gt;Last week. I have spent months sleeping on dirt, so who cares?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW MANY HOURS OF SLEEP DO YOU NEED?&lt;br /&gt;Eight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU IN LOVE OR LUST? &lt;br /&gt;Just got my usual lineup of pretend boyfriends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW OLD WILL YOU BE TURNING ON YOUR NEXT BIRTHDAY?&lt;br /&gt;29&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARE YOU PICKY ABOUT SPELLING AND GRAMMAR?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, and it now determines datability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU SLEEP ON YOUR SIDE, TUMMY, OR BACK?&lt;br /&gt;Back or front. Sides hurt my bony hips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER BID FOR SOMETHING ON EBAY?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, and I get my Santa Cruz sweatshirt soon  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU ENJOY GIVING HUGS? &lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT SONG DID YOU LAST SING OUT LOUD?&lt;br /&gt;I’m a Little Tea Pot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5936819405372031899?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5936819405372031899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/guess-who-is-bored.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5936819405372031899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5936819405372031899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/guess-who-is-bored.html' title='Guess Who is Bored??'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5870210604813290018</id><published>2010-09-22T09:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T10:05:19.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Be Expected</title><content type='html'>For the past years of my life located here in Sacramento, I have dedicated quite a bit of time to elections. Never have I been paid for my services and I have been to Bakersfield, Fresno, Rancho Cordova, Modesto, Hanford, and at phone banks in Sacramento. I learned about my current boss while phone banking. &lt;br /&gt;This year I had planned on taking an election year off. I am tired, the last two years have been terribly stressful, and being totally fucking poor didn't help. This morning an upper level staffer called me and asked me if I had volunteered yet. I said no becasue it was true. I then listened as they explained that the election volunteers had been saying they were going to hang up pictures of capitol staffers who had not yet volunteered. Really? These fucking newbies come in and think they are the shit!??! My superior then said, "You better get on it before its too late."&lt;br /&gt;What, are they going to fire me for not giving up my free time? Well I wasn't invited to San Diego, dicks. You brought UNEXPERIENCED staffers and are paying them extra and leaving me in the capitol to continue to handle everyone's business. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When another staffer returns I need a vacation. Maybe I will lie and say I'm on GOTV duty. Can't a girl get a break???? I've been so nice to random people....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5870210604813290018?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5870210604813290018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/to-be-expected.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5870210604813290018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5870210604813290018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/to-be-expected.html' title='To Be Expected'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-711003244001918633</id><published>2010-09-21T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T10:56:21.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer of Adventures</title><content type='html'>Last night I was able to go on yet another amazing night ride. My cousin showed up and we rode to my favorite park, 8th and O. We smoked atop the walls as we balanced over a 20 ft. drop. Not only do I get to catch up with family, but I also brought my 4th person to share the experience of the park with. As I caught up with Nick, I mentioned that no other summer has been so adventurous in such a long time. The reason, I expect, is that I do not operate any vehicle. It's been nine months of not driving. Me and the bikes have been alll over the city. Even when I broke my back in June I got on my cruiser and rode to Carmichael to do laundry. The things I see along my random ass routes bring such pride to me for chosing this city as a place to lay my head. None of the other cities I lived in catered to being independently hyper like the miles of river and paths. Cars are nicer, but I think its because this city does have plenty of freeways to clear up side streets. I never drive drunk, so when I go out its always a good time. People visit me, crash at my place, take me out cause I'm already downtown... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit that turning 28 this year totally freaked me out, especially spending that shit relatively alone and having the parentals and the twin not really care. I felt old as all my homegirls (ALL) back home got married or had babies yet I was still living like a kid partying all over and not even being able to handle a cat for a full year. I'm only going to do this once (sorry Scientology) so I plan on just riding and enjoying the rest of the fucking amazing weather. My friends have soccer games and Bed Bath &amp; Beyond, while next weekend I am riding to SF where I am crashing on someones floor after danceYOURface off night and riding through the bay all day Sunday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the disaster last year, I feel much stronger moving into this fall season. My head is clearer, I found better people in the grid, and DAMN I got faster on my bike.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-711003244001918633?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/711003244001918633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/summer-of-adventures.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/711003244001918633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/711003244001918633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/summer-of-adventures.html' title='Summer of Adventures'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5250470553739892763</id><published>2010-09-16T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T12:37:33.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rivers drives me wild.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KucV8renOfI&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xd0d0d0&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KucV8renOfI&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xd0d0d0&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5250470553739892763?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5250470553739892763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/rivers-drives-me-wild.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5250470553739892763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5250470553739892763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/rivers-drives-me-wild.html' title='Rivers drives me wild.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4728190516618664328</id><published>2010-09-15T11:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T11:53:46.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Math</title><content type='html'>Little did I know while studying mathematics growing up how much my whole being would learn to HATE the negative sign. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck you, minus zero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4728190516618664328?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4728190516618664328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/math.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4728190516618664328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4728190516618664328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/math.html' title='Math'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4710238008960281653</id><published>2010-09-14T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T15:26:18.987-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss the wind</title><content type='html'>Taking one weekend off of riding caused two things to happen: My warrior wounds had time to heal, and I missed the hell out of being on my bike. The wounds, one from being hit by a freight train and the other a swollen ankle from wearing flip flops in the first rain, were the reason I felt I needed to slow down and rest. Now, all I can think about is flying across the road and the feeling of being released from the confines of a metal machine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4710238008960281653?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4710238008960281653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-miss-wind.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4710238008960281653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4710238008960281653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-miss-wind.html' title='I miss the wind'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3642343741618967408</id><published>2010-09-09T11:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T11:49:52.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mysteries of Vajayjay</title><content type='html'>My good friend just sent me this list of 20 things men don't know about women. She asked me to review and get back to her. I decided to add my comments after the 'truth'. Enjoy and discuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.   As soon as we are alone in the house—husband leaves for the office, kids go to school, roommate goes out of town—and we have quality free time knowing no one is going to walk in on us, we masturbate. Sometimes we even just do it if you’re still in the house if that quality free time is never going to come. Usually, it’s while we’re in the bathroom. &lt;strong&gt;I still would prefer to just have sex, but the partner is the issue.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.   A good majority of us prefer to pee outside. And in the shower. And sometimes we really just want to do it in the hot tub, but we try to not do that one out of respect for everyone else in there.  &lt;strong&gt;Most definately. I have mastered the art of public urination in a dress. You sit like a lady on the grass with none the wiser.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.   We pluck stray hairs from our toes, our chin, our lips, moles on the backs of our legs and our nipples. And we really, really enjoy plucking a stubborn ingrown hair. Getting that sucker out is, for some gross reason, such sweet satisfaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FYI ladies: not appropriate to ask this question to friends at a pool party. "C'mon, don't you have hairy nipples?" No, creeper.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4.   When we’re in love, we smell your clothes or the pillow you were sleeping on when you’re not around. If you were to catch us doing this, we’d be mortified. &lt;strong&gt;Been caught and still have articles of clothes hidden deep in one of the closets.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.   We’ve all wished that we could be more open and casual about sex from time to time … maybe go to a swingers party, have a threesome or be a dirty stripper for a night, but with no emotional consequences. &lt;strong&gt;Fuck that. I hate strippers. I've had threesomes and they ain't that special.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.   Deep down we really hope that your guy friends secretly want to sleep with us, and very often we will dress for them and subtly flirt just so they will. We don’t want to bone them; we just want them to want us. &lt;strong&gt;Kinda creepy to me. If I wanted to look fuckable for your friends, I'm probably going to cheat.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.   We are not insulted in the slightest by those catcalls from construction workers, as long as they aren’t rude or nasty. It’s kind of flattering. We also like it when you get a little jealous, to a degree. Not in an irrational or psycho way, just a bit to show you’re protective and you care. &lt;strong&gt;Sometimes I too miss harassment.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.   We regularly check in on what our exes are up to via Facebook, emails or texts. As long as we have the technology, they will never be fully out of our lives or minds. This doesn’t mean we still love them; we’re just curious. &lt;strong&gt;Sounds like guy bullshit. My exes are boring and I am much more obsessed with secret boyfriends than guys I already am over.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.   When we have girls’ nights, we do bad things that you wouldn’t approve of like spill all of your embarrassing secrets, sneak cigarettes or other substances, and drink way more than we let on. Grinding with strangers at a club can also sometimes occur. &lt;strong&gt;Sounds like a Thursday. I live hard, what can I say?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.   When you’re not around, we fart. The longer, the louder and the stinkier, the more enjoyable. &lt;strong&gt;Word. I am afraid my neighbors can actually hear me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.   If you’re really hot or the sex is good, you can be a total idiot and we’ll still date you for a while. But we’ll never marry you. Brains and kindness will always trump sexiness when it comes to marriage material. &lt;strong&gt;See last ex.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12.   A lot of times we really like to have sex on the first date to determine whether the chemistry is there and we should have another date. Or sometimes we’re just plain horny and want to get laid. We hate being judged for it.  &lt;strong&gt;I just had a date. I think you are supposta wait if you actually want him to call later. Fuck? NO.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.   We hate waxing our privates. Hate it, hate it, hate it. But, we like that when it’s cleaned up you go down on us more readily. In a perfect world, you would go down on us with regularity on naturally poofy pubes. &lt;strong&gt;I ain't twelve and I'm not swimming anymore, so fuck that idea. Me woman.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;14.   When a guy says he doesn’t want kids, it’s really a dealbreaker for almost every woman who is still of child-bearing years. &lt;strong&gt;I wonder if they kick puppies even though I always joke about babies being wishful footballs. &lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15.   The majority of us don’t really care about how much money you have or make as long as you are kind and emotionally generous and work hard. Laziness and lack of motivation is inherently unsexy. &lt;strong&gt;But if you can't pay for a movie or a meal, get a fucking clue and grow up. If I can get a job, you can too.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.   A lot of us are fakers … when it comes to our love of sports and being outdoorsy. &lt;strong&gt;Wow. Fakers are the ones that end up married; I'm the one that becomes their hiking buddy. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17.   We love flaws on guys. A little belly, gray hairs, even a receding hairline. It reminds us that we all have body issues and that we shouldn’t be so insecure or hard on ourselves. Being human is cool. But being whiny about your paunch or constantly fussing over your gray temples is as annoying as us always asking, “Does this make me look fat?” &lt;strong&gt;I hope they have the ability to work on these superficial flaws they have issues with. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18.   During sex, we’re usually thinking about something other than you. A gross and pervy situation, another man, being dominated … who knows, but we always, always fantasize. It doesn’t mean we’re not sexually attracted to you, we just need the weird mental images to get us off. &lt;strong&gt;Ok, what women were interviewed? Fucking PAY ATTENTION or get a hotter dude.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19.   We don’t consider drunk kissing cheating, as long as we’re the ones doing the drunk kissing. We consider sex with another man cheating. &lt;strong&gt;Who is this slut? Drunk calls are questionable cunts! Kissing ahomegirl ok-another man and you are a bad person&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20.   We cherish our independence and “me” time more than you’ll ever know. We say we miss you, but are often secretly glad you’re going so we can just totally relax and be ourselves. But we still love it when you come back. &lt;strong&gt;Don't be up in my shit but be around so I can talk to someone!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3642343741618967408?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3642343741618967408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/mysteries-of-vajayjay.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3642343741618967408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3642343741618967408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/mysteries-of-vajayjay.html' title='The Mysteries of Vajayjay'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3694910426950819872</id><published>2010-09-07T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T14:33:53.094-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ah, and now I remember...</title><content type='html'>Why I hate dating so much. Hooray, I found a somewhat normal guy. I've been dating idiots for so long that I forgot the normal pattern of dating is vastly different than my usual We-date-but-we-can't-get-enough-be-together-every-fucking-day non-relationship status. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dated on Friday. Before, we had texted all week and he was so interesting. Our date was fun: we drank, ate, walked through the park, smoked, laughed. He could keep up. On Saturday I did not call. Good girl, I guess? He texted me to ask if I had his lighter, but nothing in depth. Sunday I texted in the afternoon to thank him for a great time. He texted back the same. Then.....nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand girls do scare guys with the psychotic theory that girls are rabid beasts looking to tie down a man and dick-rape some babies from him. However, I don't need any babies or any white wedding bullshit. Dude, I want you to text me like we did before. Why these nonsensical games when you were cool and essentially we should just hang out?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said ok to the date in the beginning because this guy had his head on right and is so against the societal norms he lived in a shack in Montana for three years after selling his house and leaving it 'all' behind. Amazing! My man! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shoulda known when he mentioned GTL. Fuck. I can just hear The Situation, " Yo, give the piece a call when the milk you got now goes bad. If she ain't still waiting, on to the next groupie."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3694910426950819872?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3694910426950819872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/ah-and-now-i-remember.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3694910426950819872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3694910426950819872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/09/ah-and-now-i-remember.html' title='Ah, and now I remember...'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2146103476894930971</id><published>2010-08-30T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T13:03:43.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Choo Choo</title><content type='html'>Josh and Crystal's wedding was such a blast. Getting to Davis and seeing some SN&amp;R staffers that I hadn't seen since I hosted a party last year after the Summer concert. I laughed so much and really appreciated being a guest at such an awesome wedding. My first time in Davis revealed that the citizens of what I thought was a college town have serious issues with colorful language. Outside. At a bar. Thanks mom, but my mom calls me a bitch so my words are not of your concern. My parents taught me to enjoy variety and to be creative. So in the most expressive sense, fuck off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This may be the first wedding I didn't dance at, but by not knowing a majority of the guests, my humor in the art of movement may not have been received as well as it usually is. The Hipster and The Elaine were far too much. I took tons of pictures before I was hit by a freight train twice and broke my camera. True story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THwOjbYUghI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/VJVOTy0bJwQ/s1600/Josh+%26+Crystal+Get+Married+068.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THwOjbYUghI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/VJVOTy0bJwQ/s400/Josh+%26+Crystal+Get+Married+068.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511296045802619410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2146103476894930971?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2146103476894930971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/choo-choo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2146103476894930971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2146103476894930971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/choo-choo.html' title='Choo Choo'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THwOjbYUghI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/VJVOTy0bJwQ/s72-c/Josh+%26+Crystal+Get+Married+068.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-7495172444397758782</id><published>2010-08-26T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T15:03:13.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Wa Wa Wa Weekend Time!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THbkixn9SVI/AAAAAAAAAGI/2TZV5vOj4WU/s1600/Woman_on_Bike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 317px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THbkixn9SVI/AAAAAAAAAGI/2TZV5vOj4WU/s400/Woman_on_Bike.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509842480221997394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-7495172444397758782?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/7495172444397758782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/almost-wa-wa-wa-weekend-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/7495172444397758782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/7495172444397758782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/almost-wa-wa-wa-weekend-time.html' title='Almost Wa Wa Wa Weekend Time!'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THbkixn9SVI/AAAAAAAAAGI/2TZV5vOj4WU/s72-c/Woman_on_Bike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2594306542521216325</id><published>2010-08-25T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T16:27:42.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wet Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THWmv2gmUiI/AAAAAAAAAGA/froKCtZmkWA/s1600/apachebike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THWmv2gmUiI/AAAAAAAAAGA/froKCtZmkWA/s400/apachebike.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509493060173976098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I am talking to this guy about getting this bike. If anyone gots a car- take me to EDH to pick this Apache goddess up!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2594306542521216325?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2594306542521216325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/wet-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2594306542521216325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2594306542521216325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/wet-dream.html' title='Wet Dream'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THWmv2gmUiI/AAAAAAAAAGA/froKCtZmkWA/s72-c/apachebike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-6181168053773937559</id><published>2010-08-25T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T12:36:36.805-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When work hits home</title><content type='html'>I have been receiving hundreds of calls on SB 399, a measure that would allow juveniles convicted to life in prison to have their sentences reviewed if the inmate shows promising results from rehabilitation. I just received a call that I knew was a 209-local number. When I asked the city and name, it was the sister of a kid that was recently murdered just down the street from the house I grew up in at a gas station that was a Saturday night pit stop. Totally freaky, but she thanked my boss for protecting the victims' families. Right on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-6181168053773937559?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/6181168053773937559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/when-work-hits-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6181168053773937559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6181168053773937559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/when-work-hits-home.html' title='When work hits home'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8013285286314850518</id><published>2010-08-24T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T14:00:50.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Pick-Up Line I've Heard</title><content type='html'>Granted, I am about 94% sure it was Chad from Intervention, but this was heard after a serious session with Ted and Bob, a grocery trip, and a funky cookie later:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And now showing,'Girls Too Pretty for Midtown'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled for minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8013285286314850518?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8013285286314850518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/best-pick-up-line-ive-heard.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8013285286314850518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8013285286314850518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/best-pick-up-line-ive-heard.html' title='Best Pick-Up Line I&apos;ve Heard'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4969017925787561885</id><published>2010-08-18T12:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T12:49:13.729-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Yo Face</title><content type='html'>The last time I had communicated with the infamous intern in my office, I was three drinks deep and basically breaking up with him in the smoke lounge of Zebra via phone. Now he is here today. Just showed up even though I already have an intern today. Well fuckity fuck, dude. I meant what I said on the phone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To explain, this fella came over one night a few months ago with a bottle of whiskey and a broken heart. His girlfriend of a long time was done with him. He said they were really breaking up this time, that he would not go back and he was moving on. We drank and laughed and hung out all night, and then proceeded to stay up most of the night. For the first time, he slept over with me and waking up to another guy is pretty big to me, especially when we were secretly having an affair for more than a year. He even bought me breakfast the next morning....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didnt hear from him for a few days, but I didn't give a shit. He probably felt bad or something. Well about a week later I am stumbling through Safeway with my neighbor Mike and lo and behold- there he is. As I walk forward smiling, the image of a much-blonder her came into focus and slapped my senses clean. WTF? I fakes the hellos until they left, and got the fuck out of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to Zebra. The prick is drunk (alcoholic) and calling to see what I am up to. A booty call. Well, Sir Fuck You, remember when I saw you with your girl when you said you two were done??? Go fuck yourself and never call me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't believe he is here today. Fake it till he leaves, then curse his bastard soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4969017925787561885?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4969017925787561885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/in-yo-face.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4969017925787561885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4969017925787561885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/in-yo-face.html' title='In Yo Face'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-7191335811132308940</id><published>2010-08-10T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T12:39:23.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For those who do not two-wheel...you miss a lot.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGq4nnQi6I/AAAAAAAAAF4/oJZrlN69Dsg/s1600/Modesto+in+July,+2010+049.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGq4nnQi6I/AAAAAAAAAF4/oJZrlN69Dsg/s400/Modesto+in+July,+2010+049.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503868109306497954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqkLercsI/AAAAAAAAAFw/uyeLIxv0geo/s1600/Modesto+in+July,+2010+060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqkLercsI/AAAAAAAAAFw/uyeLIxv0geo/s400/Modesto+in+July,+2010+060.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503867758156935874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqjj9snEI/AAAAAAAAAFo/sMUyK68E-9Q/s1600/Modesto+in+July,+2010+037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqjj9snEI/AAAAAAAAAFo/sMUyK68E-9Q/s400/Modesto+in+July,+2010+037.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503867747549617218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqjIA05_I/AAAAAAAAAFg/cgln6vX6Wsg/s1600/Kristin%27s+Goodbye+Luau+023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqjIA05_I/AAAAAAAAAFg/cgln6vX6Wsg/s400/Kristin%27s+Goodbye+Luau+023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503867740046551026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqith4EjI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fR75Bseu8rc/s1600/Kristin%27s+Goodbye+Luau+024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqith4EjI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fR75Bseu8rc/s400/Kristin%27s+Goodbye+Luau+024.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503867732937413170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqiDQ19RI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/LL45mXop1fA/s1600/Kristin%27s+Goodbye+Luau+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGqiDQ19RI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/LL45mXop1fA/s400/Kristin%27s+Goodbye+Luau+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503867721591682322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-7191335811132308940?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/7191335811132308940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/for-those-who-do-not-two-wheelyou-miss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/7191335811132308940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/7191335811132308940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/for-those-who-do-not-two-wheelyou-miss.html' title='For those who do not two-wheel...you miss a lot.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGq4nnQi6I/AAAAAAAAAF4/oJZrlN69Dsg/s72-c/Modesto+in+July,+2010+049.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1630409445131351179</id><published>2010-08-10T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T12:32:40.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where I'd rather be....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGoYvL9RaI/AAAAAAAAAFI/xr1gqOJRa20/s1600/peewee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 397px; height: 223px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGoYvL9RaI/AAAAAAAAAFI/xr1gqOJRa20/s400/peewee.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503865362560402850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riding with Pee Wee!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-1630409445131351179?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1630409445131351179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/where-id-rather-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1630409445131351179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1630409445131351179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/where-id-rather-be.html' title='Where I&apos;d rather be....'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TGGoYvL9RaI/AAAAAAAAAFI/xr1gqOJRa20/s72-c/peewee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-842546687775951005</id><published>2010-08-09T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T15:09:25.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Myokymia</title><content type='html'>Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays cannot bring me joy as they used to. My fucktarded intern always ruins my day, and today he left people in tears with his general inability to answer a fucking phone normally. He also made my eye twitch, which it will not stop doing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-842546687775951005?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/842546687775951005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/myokymia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/842546687775951005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/842546687775951005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/myokymia.html' title='Myokymia'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3502124959606328168</id><published>2010-08-05T15:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T15:38:55.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wacktress Video Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PGizpnRf-FQ&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xd0d0d0&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PGizpnRf-FQ&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xd0d0d0&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3502124959606328168?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3502124959606328168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/wacktress-video-game.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3502124959606328168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3502124959606328168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/wacktress-video-game.html' title='Wacktress Video Game'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2417760865622711300</id><published>2010-08-04T10:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T10:18:25.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TFmgw3e_MTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/yW7fKdnM3wo/s1600/Modesto+in+July,+2010+077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TFmgw3e_MTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/yW7fKdnM3wo/s320/Modesto+in+July,+2010+077.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501605181197857074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking to work today I saw the cutest little old lady getting out of her car. She had a denim jumper with a yellow sweater and purse...tre Karnette. As she passed me, I realized she had a state badge hanging from her neck. It really hit me that this lady belongs in an RV or out gardening-not getting to work before 9am. I've always wanted a really good paying job so that when it comes her time, my momma won't have to work. I want her to chill out after working her whole life and raising two twin hellions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other thought, I am taking a mini break from riding my bike. As in not riding every single day. I love my bicycles so very much, but I ride them so much I have to repair them all the time. Walking the grid has so many opportunites. I make eye contact with way more people, I get to talk to strangers (my favorite). Just a few days ago as I was walking back from Safeway that guy from Intervention who was a pro cyclist asked me for change on a $4000 bike. I laughed and said no. The lady behind me mumbled something, so I turned around and explained who that guy was. I ended up walking with her for a block, just strolling and bitching. I can't even stiffle the smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is ok. I would kill a kitten to make more money. I rearraged my desk yesterday and like the newer attempt at privacy. This month my homegirl is getting married. Every single weekend she has an event. Seriously? Shower, Bachelorette, and then wedding. Just to get to all three events would cost me at least $160. With lodging in Tahoe and such, its upwards of $400.00. Yikes! She didn't even put me in the wedding party! I secretly hope the budget will cause me to stay here in Sac. Who would want to leave this weather?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2417760865622711300?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2417760865622711300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/thoughts.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2417760865622711300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2417760865622711300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/08/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TFmgw3e_MTI/AAAAAAAAAFA/yW7fKdnM3wo/s72-c/Modesto+in+July,+2010+077.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4750296905255721450</id><published>2010-07-27T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T11:56:25.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Turn Turn Turn</title><content type='html'>Every year I make it to my birthday is a day that should be spent thanking the stars for all the death-defeating stunts I pull. Last night I almost t-boned a van on my bike and then nearly missed riding in front of a car. Both involved skid-stops. This is one day.&lt;br /&gt;I really do not like my birthday. Everybody else has a birthday in July and I just don't feel special. This year, I feel extra-unspecial. Why and how? Well, I haven't heard anything from either my father or my brother in months-birthday included. This is especially strange as I am a TWIN. Yep, my bro knows its my birthday too, but he won't call me or contact me in any way as he is too busy with his "weeklong birthday celebration for ME" (Side note: Self was not invited)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well look at this sad bird. Friends? Ah yes, I do have them. Unfortunately in this busy time in their lives, they could give a flying fuck about my birthday. One called me to personally cancel. Another just did not show up for her "Super birthday celebration weekend" she had promised me. The closer the hours get to my birth, the greater the amount of suck involved. I'm not riding my bike in case I am meant to perish on this 28th year of my life.  I died already and the first time was a real downer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I stride (not ride) into my unspecial fucktarded day. I would get a tattoo of a black broken heart to commemorate this time, but I am too broke. The money I do have is buying me some hard booze tonight. I had planned on barhopping a bit with friends, but I will now sit on my floor with a shot glass and numb the remnants of 27 years of tragedy out of my system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does this qualify for FML?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4750296905255721450?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4750296905255721450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/07/turn-turn-turn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4750296905255721450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4750296905255721450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/07/turn-turn-turn.html' title='Turn Turn Turn'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-426209468649948617</id><published>2010-07-15T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T14:55:45.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home is where Home is.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TD-CnDUBySI/AAAAAAAAAEc/6M_MX_uIDyo/s1600/Modesto+in+July,+2010+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TD-CnDUBySI/AAAAAAAAAEc/6M_MX_uIDyo/s320/Modesto+in+July,+2010+009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494253677831112994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TD9_2nMhKFI/AAAAAAAAAEU/5AMCXCJ2JOQ/s1600/Modesto+in+July,+2010+037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TD9_2nMhKFI/AAAAAAAAAEU/5AMCXCJ2JOQ/s320/Modesto+in+July,+2010+037.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494250646626445394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Loves the bike cause it takes me home! My weekend in Modesto certainly realligned me and my priorities. Being with my mom and homegirls makes me so very happy. They know the nitty gritty and I know the city like nothing else. My home is the place where I come home wasted from the local bar and my mom takes me to Jack in the Box soooo wasted I could not read the menu board. My mom was also impressed with my photographic memory that she tested all weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My time with Sylvia was wonderful. We shared secrets while drinking 40's in the local park. I also learned that when wearing a skirt, you can pee most gracefully upon the grass. She redid my hair and made it look so nice. She kept staring and calling me beautiful. Love the friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wait for the train was fun as I played on my bike and balanced and rode in loops. I put on some jams and just took in the cow shit smells and plethora of bugs that bring me right back to when I was 18 and a wild bird freed from her cage. I can't wait (but I will) to go back again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-426209468649948617?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/426209468649948617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/07/home-is-where-home-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/426209468649948617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/426209468649948617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/07/home-is-where-home-is.html' title='Home is where Home is.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TD-CnDUBySI/AAAAAAAAAEc/6M_MX_uIDyo/s72-c/Modesto+in+July,+2010+009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3806085097537229112</id><published>2010-06-28T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T14:31:34.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow, Sacramento</title><content type='html'>Your dudes suck. Did you bottle-feed them so they all would be addicted to whiskey like crack? What did you put in the water that makes them lazy and liars? Did you secretly arrange a list of eligible ladies that are doled out upon any hot &amp; eligible bachelor's arrival so that any possible hottie has that iron band around him like a fucking chastity belt(FYI-'CAUSE I RESPECT IT!)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you ho. I hate dating. Date one went quite well before shit crashed and burned as the little personal gems seeped out during date two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Attention Datable Men:&lt;/strong&gt; Stories about how bars stopped "loving you" or how biker chicks are on your nuts and buying you drinks or that you spend about 4 hours a day at some shitty bar even I haven't visited aren't exactly the lines a lady needs to be wooed. Plus, you shouldn't be there if you lost your house, tool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should commend you for keeping it real, though. No need for months of frustrating calls and yearning for the sweet, sweet nectar of singlehood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3806085097537229112?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3806085097537229112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/06/wow-sacramento.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3806085097537229112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3806085097537229112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/06/wow-sacramento.html' title='Wow, Sacramento'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-9206130038065114301</id><published>2010-06-17T12:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-17T12:22:00.629-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey Friend....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TBp1sLDF-FI/AAAAAAAAAEM/VjVa8Cl7Ei0/s1600/keanucats.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TBp1sLDF-FI/AAAAAAAAAEM/VjVa8Cl7Ei0/s320/keanucats.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483824898017458258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheer up, Keanu. It's almost Friday. And youz gots hella cats.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-9206130038065114301?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/9206130038065114301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/06/hey-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/9206130038065114301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/9206130038065114301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/06/hey-friend.html' title='Hey Friend....'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TBp1sLDF-FI/AAAAAAAAAEM/VjVa8Cl7Ei0/s72-c/keanucats.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1100636493233551503</id><published>2010-06-15T14:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T14:55:10.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drunk Peguin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TBf2qot7YFI/AAAAAAAAAEE/3nfO66Q_4-U/s1600/Sacroiliac-Joint.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 289px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TBf2qot7YFI/AAAAAAAAAEE/3nfO66Q_4-U/s320/Sacroiliac-Joint.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483122283691860050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is what I have looked like walking around. Or maybe a Fremont Park bum circa 2008-now they wander a 7 block radius and take Keystone showers in the alley. Anyway- this young whippersnapper broke her back, and it hurts like a MOFO. I took 3 days off to stay immoblie and not move, but this week called me back to work and now that I have the official doctor's word that it won't heal for weeks- I am fucking frustrated!! Dammit shoulda picked up a boyfriend to fetch me things and help me get up and sit down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even blog. I hurts much. I miss my bike very much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-1100636493233551503?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1100636493233551503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/06/drunk-peguin.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1100636493233551503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1100636493233551503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/06/drunk-peguin.html' title='Drunk Peguin'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/TBf2qot7YFI/AAAAAAAAAEE/3nfO66Q_4-U/s72-c/Sacroiliac-Joint.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-9187139285692128059</id><published>2010-05-27T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T13:14:47.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Argh.</title><content type='html'>Asm. Cook called me up to yell at me today, which caused me to crack and start crying. I don't cry much at all anymore, so when the gates opened-I was fucked.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Red Eyes. Now nobody will take me seriously. The office was sympathetic and the cheif of staff clamed me down, and then told me to grow a pair in a very nice way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and fuck off, Cook.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-9187139285692128059?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/9187139285692128059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/argh.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/9187139285692128059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/9187139285692128059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/argh.html' title='Argh.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8110985782078348989</id><published>2010-05-26T12:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T13:03:29.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hire me and I might save the world.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_18ng9FSPI/AAAAAAAAAD8/apEeSLJppdM/s1600/enviro+idiots.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_18ng9FSPI/AAAAAAAAAD8/apEeSLJppdM/s320/enviro+idiots.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475669740255267058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Hey BP and Feds:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed you responding to the oil disaster by placing dirty oil-soaked sand into plastic bags. On the cover of USA Today, the picture panned the length of a beach and all I could see were the ENVIRONMENTALLY DISASTEROUS plastic bags holding all of the icky sand. Listen, dumbfucks, so you can't stop the oil. OK. But STOP pouring chemicals into the gulf to break up the oil that is proven to sicken anyone in a 50-mile radius. STOP putting the oil in plastic bags. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obama-quit being lax and step up and force BP to change the chemical dispersants like right the fuck now. Put the fucking sand in wheelbarrows and then into a larger container which can fill the sandboxes of BP exec's children so they can understand the scope of what they did. Get to the site and plug the effing hole. How about shooting some steel into that hole? That shit is strong, even under 5,000 feet. Hello, submarines? Why aren't they there? Where the fuck is the Navy? Those dolphins could be rescued and trained to dismantle underwater bombs. The Navy does this now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, why was the off-shore drilling regulator's office in Colorado? Is that to protect them from the inevitable?? Hope that doesn't mean emminent threat to our beautiful California. I kILL you if you touch our beaches, beotches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8110985782078348989?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8110985782078348989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/hire-me-and-i-might-save-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8110985782078348989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8110985782078348989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/hire-me-and-i-might-save-world.html' title='Hire me and I might save the world.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_18ng9FSPI/AAAAAAAAAD8/apEeSLJppdM/s72-c/enviro+idiots.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-7740147524385172656</id><published>2010-05-24T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T14:52:22.934-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Life, A Chapter.</title><content type='html'>The title looks like two people's names. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its rounding up to almost a year since my deadly encounter with love, or what I think it is. More like thought. In times like these I find it essential to look back and compare one life to another. This year I am single. So much fun on the weekends, a tad (majorly) lonely in the evenings when I wish I could talk to a hot naked man in my bed. I still have a job, I now have a cat, and I also gained another bike :)&lt;br /&gt;My sanity seems to be cresting right near the middle. I seriously lost it this time last year. People who turned away from me because of his outrageous abuse towards me came back forward and reaffirmed their love for me. Sylvia damn near moved to Sac. Nobody hits her baby!&lt;br /&gt;What has changed the most is inside. I was able to rip myself open (he did, actually) and expose my flaws and weaknesses and see them from a multitude of perspectives after months of recovery. The disturbing experiences I endured will never leave my thoughts. There are things he made me go through that I can never tell a soul. Sometimes when Im drunk I want to tell Syl, but the pain associated with it is so severe and numbing that I don't want others to have to know what the fuck I went through. When you've already talked about the choking, the punching, the nights with a knife in my face, sometimes the most horrific things are best left to be buried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am better, and I no longer have room in my life for monsters. Sometimes at night, when Im sitting on my patio enjoying the trees swaying in the breeze, I hope he dies a terrible death. This bitch won't forget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-7740147524385172656?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/7740147524385172656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/life-chapter.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/7740147524385172656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/7740147524385172656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/life-chapter.html' title='A Life, A Chapter.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4248867144834198353</id><published>2010-05-20T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T14:53:30.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_Wu7J5uS3I/AAAAAAAAAD0/lW-4O_jXFA4/s1600/rainbow+tools.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_Wu7J5uS3I/AAAAAAAAAD0/lW-4O_jXFA4/s320/rainbow+tools.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473473253432249202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much is this person/team paid to create these mascots for London's Olympics? They look like crazy rainbow penises. Really, a one-eyed monster??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring back things like Koalas or some species on the endangered list! Quit making the world look stupid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4248867144834198353?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4248867144834198353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/seriously.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4248867144834198353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4248867144834198353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/seriously.html' title='Seriously?'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_Wu7J5uS3I/AAAAAAAAAD0/lW-4O_jXFA4/s72-c/rainbow+tools.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3067864394748652500</id><published>2010-05-18T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T13:02:51.087-07:00</updated><title type='text'>May Half Over</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_Lwx5_xs9I/AAAAAAAAADs/RM2j8j98nhc/s1600/MellyMel+Parkside.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_Lwx5_xs9I/AAAAAAAAADs/RM2j8j98nhc/s320/MellyMel+Parkside.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472701237381149650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I definately needed to recover after a great weekend that revolved around bikes! Saturday was a standard ride to my dad's except I found the most amazing park called Santa Anita park between Bell and Fulton. Bonus-when you pop out onto Fulton, its next to the abandoned (joy!) Hummer dealership, so I had an awesome time just riding and swerving on all that empty pavement. I smoked too much at my dad's so I laid in the sun for far too long and now I am kinda sure my shoulders will be blistering. The rest faded to a pretty tan. Me likey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday I spent at the race at Capitol. Mike and I had a great break in the park from stuffing our faces with free carne asada tacos and wine. We caught the end of the race and meandered around the streets but ended up heading to homegirl Sarah's for some late night chili and beer session with her new man Jake and his roommate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shoulda been to two places last night but I came home after a tough day and crashed. I slept from 7pm until midnight, and then again from 1am to this morning. If I had to call myself an addict, it would be towards sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next weekend...BOWS AND ARROWS GARAGE SALE!! HELLS YES and I've been telling every girlfriend with my fashion to show up at my apartment at 8am for some sick ass clothes from 1-3 bucks. Half my wardrobe is from this store!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3067864394748652500?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3067864394748652500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/may-half-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3067864394748652500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3067864394748652500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/may-half-over.html' title='May Half Over'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S_Lwx5_xs9I/AAAAAAAAADs/RM2j8j98nhc/s72-c/MellyMel+Parkside.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5405852029643798688</id><published>2010-05-07T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T10:43:56.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange Days of May</title><content type='html'>I have noticed in the past few days the strangest of occurances. It could be this crazy wind (hello, witch mountain) or the restlessness of too many rainy days for the finicky Californians. Yesterday was a smashup of strange events. Leaving work soon after 5pm, as I left the office and walked into the hall, the loudest Christian rock music blared from what must be the loudest amps to ever bestow Capitol grounds. The open-air staircase did not help to escape the wasted energy. I fumbled in my bag and slammed those iPods into my ears to drown out the hypocritical nonsense with some fucking Lady Gaga. I pulled my bike out of the compound and hoped for the best on my ride because my pedals had been sticking for a few days but I had lubed the chainring and cranks before I went to work. &lt;br /&gt;You know those times when you have some sweet jams going and you got the wheels turning and you are just hitting your stride on the bike? I was right there when I felt my devil's tail whip up and slap me across my ass and back. WTF?? Thinking my secret identity was pulled out of my body in the presence of such a heavy religious right protest, I tried to pull over olong Capitol park but alas my tires were unable to move! My chain had snapped off and was now jammed between my rims and my brakes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short jaunt to Mike's Bikes and one "Are you fucking stupid??" look from a bike mechanic when he asked me what gear the bike was in and I responded "Single". I was serious, dick. Actually I said, "I know you are looking at me like i'm a fucking dumbass but I didn't initially put the chain on and the bike went pretty fast but not professionally fast. Sorry." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met up with my friends and we had a few beers and then went back to my place. One of the girls kept drinking with me and crashed at my spot. Shitty thing because she crashed out on my bed and because I moved my couch into a smaller room I can no longer pull the bed out the whole way. I was forced to balance the half-opened sofa couch and balance my ass without a pillow or a blanket. I was cold and paranoid the whole night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am excited to go home to Modesto tonight so I may sleep in peace and get outta Weirdsville.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5405852029643798688?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5405852029643798688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/strange-days-of-may.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5405852029643798688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5405852029643798688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/strange-days-of-may.html' title='Strange Days of May'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-6321976170525747570</id><published>2010-05-04T10:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T11:00:03.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Drag</title><content type='html'>My co-worker was so mean with the way she spoke to me today, it made me lose all interest in ever working again. Yeah bitch, I called you out on not getting to work until 10am every day, but guess what-you're guilty. I'm tired as fuck of being the only one here, and when my boss asks me if I'm going to committee and Im swamped because nobody was in the office and I had 5 tasks to complete, I'm going to tell him I had to wait for people to get there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make it worse, she has the mindset and the nerve to tell me that I didn't have her back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would if you had mine, sour puss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ted, maybe we will work at WalMart together, but you'd still be paid more than me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-6321976170525747570?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/6321976170525747570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-drag.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6321976170525747570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6321976170525747570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-drag.html' title='What a Drag'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-482362304398562619</id><published>2010-04-27T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T14:19:26.581-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GrrrCat</title><content type='html'>Last night as I vacantly watched TV, I was again cat slapped by Reggie. I immediately kicked himm outside but then remembered that it was going to rain. No worries- as I was lumbering towards my bed I heard some loud ass cat fighting going on, so I threw on my sweats to go track down my pussy. As I looked for my keys I heard another cat screech and it was definately Reggie. As i swung the door open, his fat ass was coming up the steps. He was absolutely fine, but based on his strange grooming skills, he probably maimed the malnourished and semi-abandoned cat that lives behind me. Good thing, my little prince doesn't have time for those mangy felines. I am proud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-482362304398562619?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/482362304398562619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/grrrcat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/482362304398562619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/482362304398562619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/grrrcat.html' title='GrrrCat'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2251578449028352974</id><published>2010-04-26T12:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T13:07:43.769-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you listening?</title><content type='html'>For some reason or another, life seems better this week. I had a great time this weekend working out this social brain. I also got in two hours of bike riding through the sunlit streets and danced on the town two nights in a row. &lt;br /&gt;Friday I was able to meet up with my grid girls Kristin, Meg, Kristine, and some new guests. We tried out House Kitchen and Bar, and I'd say they are pretty decent except they totally blocked Lady GaGa's Telephone from playing twice. We pretty much left after that. After a rest stop at Cap Garage, we ventured to MIX to find G and hopefully room for dance. Meg, Kristine and I had so much fun dancing and gossiping. Ah, the good old days of bullshitting for a few hours with friends. Makes me miss high school all the more.  I pulled a Cindarella and was outskies by midnight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday was a blur of chores, sun, and walking. In the evening I hung out with last guy to leave me hanging with his girlfriend (ugh) and their decently cute friend who left within 5 minutes becasue he is apparently super strange and an escapist much like myself. Finished off the night by heading to Old Ironsides to see my friend Sarah and the band she promotes called Prieta. They rocked and she forced me to meet all of them before I left. Awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday I rode the bike to Mandi's and cooked her Mac and Cheese and Beercan Chicken. It was JR's birthday so we also snacked on bacon-wrapped hot dogs and chips. We watched the Hills marathon before Mandi and I hung out in the Chick Cave with Crown Royal. She is one classy lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have good news on spawn of satan feline: Reggie is now an outdoor-at-night cat. I think he really likes to be in the dark and it makes the ninja in me so proud and quite happy that I can again pull off a full night of sleep without his furry ass up in my shit and making noise. Now we just have to split our shifts at the apartment so we may live together peacefully.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2251578449028352974?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2251578449028352974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/are-you-listening.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2251578449028352974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2251578449028352974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/are-you-listening.html' title='Are you listening?'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5652869617104181469</id><published>2010-04-22T10:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T11:08:00.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday!</title><content type='html'>HOLIDAY.....CELEBRAAATE....HOLIDAYAAAY....CELEBRAAAATE!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I celebrated to my limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The National Bob Day was recently upon us, and I took advantage of any opportunity to sacrifice human flesh (lungs). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neighbor Mike and I woke up at 4:10am to meet on our patios and light up separately, and then I lumbered my sleepy ass down P Street so we could share a light, had a sundae I brought over, and then went back to sleep. FYI if you smoke that early you wake up c r a z y. Haha. Not really, but I had very sexual dreams. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work prevented any further shenanigans until the afternoon. After work I scooted back home to light up. I was dancing around and kicking my cat when Mike hollered over " Hows about some La Granacha for this special day??" YES!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After preparing herbally for the journey ahead, we enjoyed the peeking sunshine and I wore a dress over pants over rain boots. I dress outlandish anyway, but I felt like a meadow-hippie in my garbs. Mike wore his UC Santa Cruz sweatshirt. It may have just been the day, but the breakfast burrito I ate must have been the best one I ever had there. Perfect pico de gallo, perfect potatoes, perfect eggs, perfect dryish bacon. I loooooved it, and being the Holiday, i partnered this with a giant Coca Cola. We both almost ate the whole monstrocity, but we hesitated as we both needed some digestive aides to handle the food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at Mike's, we were joined by a couple of people we had shared herbage with before. Super nice and random people and we all had a good giggle. After they departed, Mike and I waited for James Franco/Sean to show up, but I lost the drive and cut out to go to sleep before midnight. It was a good day and it really was fun to hang out with Mike all day since he is my local smoking buddy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone who does so had the chance to pay tribute to the best medicine to ever come from Earth. I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5652869617104181469?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5652869617104181469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/holiday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5652869617104181469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5652869617104181469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/holiday.html' title='Holiday!'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4481561281209769259</id><published>2010-04-14T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T12:42:41.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chivalry died, but I still think you are an asshole.</title><content type='html'>Dear Mr. Lobbyist,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you walk into an office that you have worked with for the past year and then some, it is ill advised to walk into a legislative office and holler at the first female you see. Just looking at me with your jerky eyes and repeating "Monica?" "Monica?". Hey fucktard- right next to my head is my name plate. Just because a girl is sitting at a desk does NOT make her a fucking secretary, pendejo. Also, you have worked with me on legislation before, but I now know you are a dirty little prick and you probably thought I din't earn my position.  Also, try communicating with sentences to relay your insignificant message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breathe.....just a little anxious as I usually am around the end of the pay period. Mr. Lobbyist, I am reminded that I am a female every time I use my atm card. At the other end is a bank account with nothing in it because pendejos like you gage the pay rates for females. FUCK YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breathe....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4481561281209769259?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4481561281209769259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/chivalry-died-but-i-still-think-you-are.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4481561281209769259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4481561281209769259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/chivalry-died-but-i-still-think-you-are.html' title='Chivalry died, but I still think you are an asshole.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-6898861728389861186</id><published>2010-04-01T12:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T12:23:55.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I big Heart you, Taco Bell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S7TyOrg5DtI/AAAAAAAAADc/9ZuGtng-EQY/s1600/burrrito.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455251382665285330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S7TyOrg5DtI/AAAAAAAAADc/9ZuGtng-EQY/s320/burrrito.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; As if I could love them anymore than I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, after a boozy trivia night with Intern Billy, I came home drunk and hungry as I did not eat dinner. I hollered over to Michael, and he drove us to Taco Bell. As I picked up my nachos and shrimp taco, the server informed me I was to eat the very last shrimp taco in the Sacramento region. HOLY SHIT ITS LIKE MY PERSONAL EMMY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I totally freaked out because I was drunk and excitable. Mike got Carl's Jr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-6898861728389861186?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/6898861728389861186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-big-heart-you-taco-bell.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6898861728389861186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6898861728389861186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-big-heart-you-taco-bell.html' title='I big Heart you, Taco Bell'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S7TyOrg5DtI/AAAAAAAAADc/9ZuGtng-EQY/s72-c/burrrito.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5622063981353497218</id><published>2010-03-31T16:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T16:52:04.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>F M L</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S7PgFkV_-qI/AAAAAAAAADU/Zpl1569meDM/s1600/eff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454949959935720098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S7PgFkV_-qI/AAAAAAAAADU/Zpl1569meDM/s320/eff.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was not an 8, horoscope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was closer to a 6 socially, maybe a 7 at work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Guy I liked now seeing someone. Thanks for telling me today to assure crushed dreams. And for showing me her picture. And telling me she is exhausting you by always spending the night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another dude becomes my friend on FB, so I can see the pics of he and his girlfriend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hate to bitch, but what the fuck?? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its the feeling of not having the social situation planned out that fucking kills me. The curtains were brought down when I was recapping what happened with men today, and just then my ex walks in, reminding me that my past is filled with douchebags.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next tat:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see above.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5622063981353497218?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5622063981353497218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/f-m-l.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5622063981353497218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5622063981353497218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/f-m-l.html' title='F M L'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S7PgFkV_-qI/AAAAAAAAADU/Zpl1569meDM/s72-c/eff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8560546666588187141</id><published>2010-03-30T15:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T15:09:15.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Break!</title><content type='html'>Not quite. Today being Tuesday but really my Monday. Really, the next four days should be Saturdays, but my pay results in workweeks to be included during spring break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other leg aide in my office has enough money to buy a house. I probably can't afford to buy a gun, so I will omit whats really on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how independent I am, I want to strangle my cat and living by myself is damn lonely. My friends want me to let devil Kitty to run free outside, but he probably won't come back and I can't afford flea treatments for the little shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told my friend when I was drunk that I wanted to go on a cruise with her and our friend Janet this spring. I'm too broke to go, and the money I do have all went to my new bike. I haven't called her back and I feel hella bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is so fucking upset with me for not hitting her back this weekend to arrange when she could come visit. Well moms, baby is broke, super fucking messy, and the only enjoyment she gets from life these days is something baby knows you don't want baby takin' a part of. Socially acceptable, but not by moms!&lt;br /&gt;And thanks for ragging on me on Facebook. You got the one family member I hate to pitch in her two cents too, so thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8560546666588187141?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8560546666588187141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/spring-break.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8560546666588187141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8560546666588187141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/spring-break.html' title='Spring Break!'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8733084231647404360</id><published>2010-03-25T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T13:49:18.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March Madness Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S6vKwLY3l5I/AAAAAAAAADM/2MlC5CD0RAc/s1600/Tomato.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452674702901745554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S6vKwLY3l5I/AAAAAAAAADM/2MlC5CD0RAc/s320/Tomato.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;March, where the hell did you go? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I post this picture because I never have current photos of me. Me with a tomato is post-worthy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am excited for this weekend. It's a three-dayer that leads into the legislature's spring break. Currently, I am the sole staffer here everyday during the week. I have stuff to do and no money to leave. I have netflix-im not worried about losing my mind.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Speaking of losing my mind, I agreed to go rollerskating Friday night with Pico. I am going to meet up with him and a 'car mod' group that do modifications to their car. I asked-its not like Tokyo Drift. They do things like lower minivans and other creative outlets. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I want to go home today because I have SERIOUS FUCKING PAIN in my lady regions. I feel like I must be a descendent of Eve to receive this much suffering for original sin. Makes sense, I can be a misguider quite often. My personal James Franco brought me Bob last night and also enticed me to go get SCUBA certified at the Dolphin shop he works at. Sunday at 1pm! Not gonna happen when its off El Camino. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8733084231647404360?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8733084231647404360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/march-madness-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8733084231647404360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8733084231647404360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/march-madness-post.html' title='March Madness Post'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S6vKwLY3l5I/AAAAAAAAADM/2MlC5CD0RAc/s72-c/Tomato.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8793597308889003791</id><published>2010-03-17T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T13:34:08.625-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ways and Means</title><content type='html'>When you face the red ink every month, your brain begins to evolve to think outside normal practices. Lunch becomes a hurdle, nay, an option. Dating becomes slightly obsolete as I don't leave my apartment too much because many fun things are costly. Movies are definately out, corporate bastards. Clothes are second hand and holes are ignored. Bikes have rust and cat is a psychopath. Carpet is dirty because I have a broom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bitching besides, my charming neighbor Mike recited - at no charge -  the entire plot of Avatar for me. From opening scenes to the closing battle, I knew my shit. I don't really need names of aliens or pretend monsters/animal/dinosaurs. I need the jist. He took an unbelievable 25 minutes of explaining and reversing and inhaling and exhaling and hand motions and theories. He started to talk about the movie, paused, and confirmed that I will not be shelling out the green for the theater experience before continuing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, if you regularly Bob with someone that makes more money than you, they usually discourage you from upping your cache until the weekend...although seeing my James Franco(Pineapple Express) as he delivers is something I cherish and look forward to. A bonus- he has multiple options! No Snickle Fritz offered!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The downside- you end up with less control. Example: my brother was to be on Channel 12 Morning Show last Saturday. I got up all early and 10 minutes into watching and waiting-my cable went out. Instinct tells you to call someone, actuality told me to take a ride or go to bed because I cannot call anyone to complain. I lost the History Channel a few months ago and have to face the static channels as a reminder that I am powerless to restore this quality programming. Sad Face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8793597308889003791?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8793597308889003791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/ways-and-means.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8793597308889003791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8793597308889003791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/ways-and-means.html' title='Ways and Means'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1298270444766643267</id><published>2010-03-16T16:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T16:35:43.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Say Hello to my Little Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S6AVqakl2pI/AAAAAAAAADE/FxOqpn-SE-U/s1600-h/bikey+bike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449379367549786770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S6AVqakl2pI/AAAAAAAAADE/FxOqpn-SE-U/s320/bikey+bike.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; He's also the only one allowed between the stems, too!!&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/6347902308686870179-1298270444766643267?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1298270444766643267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/say-hello-to-my-little-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1298270444766643267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1298270444766643267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/say-hello-to-my-little-friend.html' title='Say Hello to my Little Friend'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S6AVqakl2pI/AAAAAAAAADE/FxOqpn-SE-U/s72-c/bikey+bike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-899693581789131537</id><published>2010-03-09T16:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:43:05.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drowning</title><content type='html'>The world is spinning at a faster and faster rotation. We lose days by the millisecond every time the earth stretches, and I feel it getting shorter and shorter. Those closest condemn, those further away praise...and I am left to decipher the complexities of absurd communication patterns. Why can't it all be cut and paste? What attrocities have been had that keeps me in such a transitionary state. I keep waiting for the clarity and serenity, but it is as if my mind now only feeds off the tragic, and without it, I am useless. My role in life is both daunting and rewarding; the neverending mixture leaves me alone. No one stays consistent-everyone goes home to another. I may have passed the jumping point and now I am left without any light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fucking depressing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-899693581789131537?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/899693581789131537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/drowning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/899693581789131537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/899693581789131537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/drowning.html' title='Drowning'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3361756844213359106</id><published>2010-03-03T16:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T16:50:02.222-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Age Ain't Nuthin But a Number, But I Look 12</title><content type='html'>At first, I thought the trend was a sign of the stress I had eliminated from my life when I chose to end communication with Adrian. After a meeting with professional scientists today, evidence points to....looking like a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our discussions on the budget crisis, complications in bargaining proposals, and direct references to a college education could not sway the expert scientists from commenting as we ended our meeting, " I saw you around the office and I swear you can't be out of high school"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have become concerned as increasing reports of youthfulness have led me to believe that perhaps that accident I had when I was 13 actually stunted my growth and led me to stop aging. Doctors back then knew that the accident halted my growth as I retain the title as smallest person in our family. It was estimated that I was to grow until I was 21 to reach 5'10, as my mother had. At 13 I was 5'7, and I remain that height today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skeptical of my theory? Fine, but you got lotsa 'splaining to do to those scientists today. 3 outta 4 agree I may be the eternal Melissa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3361756844213359106?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3361756844213359106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/age-aint-nuthin-but-number-but-i-look.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3361756844213359106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3361756844213359106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/age-aint-nuthin-but-number-but-i-look.html' title='Age Ain&apos;t Nuthin But a Number, But I Look 12'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8156827555458487787</id><published>2010-03-01T13:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T13:44:59.377-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The City by the Bay</title><content type='html'>Hellllo San Francisco! My trip there on Sunday was epic- as one should expect when descending upon the city with 4 homegirls lookin to get drunk and cause problems.  The traffic there was a nightmarish 4 hours of red lights- but the city had its Chinese New Year parade on Market- which was right next to our hotel. We made fun of shitty bikers on the streets (seriously, its not that SF is that unsafe- its riders are just idiots who wobble to and fro on their uncomfortable hipster bikes) and hollered at cars that cut us off. After narrowly evading two police officers blocking the street to our hotel, we were THERE. We first went to our hotel room, number 420, and got dressed for dinner at the swanky place in the hotel. As we walked in, the bar stopped and one guy said to us, "Now there's a motley crew". Turns out he had ESP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't get into complete details, but birthday girl Melissa was literally carried out of the bar after telling off a bartender, butting between couples to dance with men, and dancing without care. She screamed rape as she was kicked out and proceeded to yell at the manager for 20 minutes about how her uncle is the DA for San Diego (actually a woman) and that her arm was broken by "Tonga Tonga" bouncers. In all fairness, she thought they were kidnapping her to roast her when they kicked her out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got mad at some guy Janet was dancing with, so I left and kicked it by myself for an hour watching people dance and roaming about. At  that time, it is estimated that every girl in our group was on her own. In the City. I went outside to hang with Bob (and the two bums and random guy I hung out with) went back in, danced with Janet, fell in love with a stranger, left hot stranger with Janet to track down the girls, and as we retreated from a random bus stop, we heard our names from afar and the other 3 girls were in their nice dresses kicking it on the curb, surrounded by Asian men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets see....Melissa was giving a guy a hickey because he had a girlfriend, Rachel was smoking and singing rap songs, Hadasa was speaking in Chinese to the guys, and I sat my ass down because it was 3 in the morning and we couldn't get a cab because we were also next to an ambulance. I walked right up to it and through what I believe was an accident scene. I was drunk- I had no limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning I awoke on the floor of the hotel. I was too drunk to try and move my girls who were already two to a bed. I had taken a shower so I was the last alive and the floor works for me.  I had Bob and ate cereal at the continental breakfast before walking SF under blue skies. Hit up Union Square and Chinatown and returned to wake up two girls who chose to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many side stories about hotboxing cabs and screaming and doing bad things in elevators- but I think I am locking those away for now....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2010- still better than last year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8156827555458487787?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8156827555458487787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/city-by-bay.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8156827555458487787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8156827555458487787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/03/city-by-bay.html' title='The City by the Bay'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1027830985658824737</id><published>2010-02-25T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T11:33:16.225-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Moments</title><content type='html'>The same week I was mistaken for a high schooler twice at work and when complaining to a co-worker, they too agreed I looked like I was 17.  Ok, great. When I had my 27th some gays buying me drinks were sure I was turning 21.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this little ego-cushion sets me up for today, when interns and staff agreed that if I don't get a move on, I will end up married to my job with 5 houses and 20 cats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Melissa likes the wrong people". Ugh I know- but I follow my heart all the damn time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-1027830985658824737?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1027830985658824737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/funny-moments.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1027830985658824737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1027830985658824737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/funny-moments.html' title='Funny Moments'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8189046603334595595</id><published>2010-02-23T11:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T11:50:02.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Get yer Hands off my Wheels, Senator.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S4QwWJuMDYI/AAAAAAAAAC8/aZsk7t8Fv3s/s1600-h/50cent+draw.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441527406895304066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S4QwWJuMDYI/AAAAAAAAAC8/aZsk7t8Fv3s/s320/50cent+draw.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So apparently Mr. Joseph Simitian has introduced legislation to outlaw texting or talking while riding a bike. Yes- riding a bike. I can't find the bill number so I can only hope its a fluke on the part of the Santa Cruz Sentinel, but I don't think it is. Can I protest this? Also, you can get points on your driving record for what I assume would be for a second offense. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The only people in danger when a rider talks on the phone is the rider. Any pedestrian who is hit will probably call the police and sue. But its two wheels and operated by feet-not an iron behemoth(sp) that kills going 25mph.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hate this bill and it should die.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8189046603334595595?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8189046603334595595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/get-yer-hands-off-my-wheels-senator.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8189046603334595595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8189046603334595595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/get-yer-hands-off-my-wheels-senator.html' title='Get yer Hands off my Wheels, Senator.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S4QwWJuMDYI/AAAAAAAAAC8/aZsk7t8Fv3s/s72-c/50cent+draw.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1520790686752633268</id><published>2010-02-22T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T14:11:14.399-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Normal as Fuck</title><content type='html'>After working into the late evening hours on Friday night and not being wealthy in any way, my weekend was slooow. Woke up late Saturday, cleaned, rode my bike around the grid, did laundry, blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;I have recently become concerned about my time I have been spending in front of the television monitor. As I stand my ground as corporate rapist, I usually lounge on my couch and get up to move about every 10 minutes or so. I was starting to become concerned until I visited my friend Hidasa this weekend. She is the roommate of my homegirl Melissa from Modesto. As Mel and I ventured up her apartment steps, she bet me Hidasa would be on the couch watching comedy central. Very close prediction but Hidasa had fucked up their DVR menu so it was on a music channel.  Hidasa herself even said that when she is not working- she flops in front of the tv to escape. This is where I step in and say I feel more normal because witnessing someone be weirder than you is always an ego boost. I mean, this girl is pretty, happy, and seems like a cool person. Her inkling towards sloth-like living allows me to laze about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the only way I will compare myself to her as later in the evening after she at McDonalds and had some of the pizza we ordered, I heard her go bulemic all over herself. When I glanced at my homegirl, she said "This happens a bit." Fucking gross. Isn't that shit for 13 year olds and models?? Ah I can't hate- its a disease. Just because I won't go there...if I did Taco Bell would line my stomach every day, but vomit is especially gross if you are sober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't hurt you, nachos bel grande.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-1520790686752633268?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1520790686752633268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/normal-as-fuck.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1520790686752633268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1520790686752633268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/normal-as-fuck.html' title='Normal as Fuck'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3810872256964995694</id><published>2010-02-18T11:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T11:29:14.245-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it Spring yet?</title><content type='html'>This week's Thursday was greeted with surprise. I had an intense discussion, or a yearly review, really, with my supervisor. I complained that I am not involved in enough meetings that I fell I deserve to be in. She broke down my performance of the last year and highlighted areas for improvement. I understand- I have so much shit on my plate I forget to follow up with phone calls or informing her of meetings. I get it. So this week I went "I Love Work" crazy. I write her morning and evening reviews of my day, keep a legal pad to track my tasks and not forget who called or whatever, and I can say I am sleeping better and am not so stressed after work about things I 'think' I may have forgotten.  Also, instead of waiting around until 6pm to brief her like the other staffer, I have the freedom of knowing I wrapped up my daily communications within the office. Damn this post is turning out boring. I'm just excited to be more professional because I always feel like a damn kid around the grown-ups. No more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend presents itself with no solid plans. Probably an evening with Mike (MB-he drove me to Taco Bell with a serious case of the giggles and after his cousin saw my Facebook pics she said "Damn, you really love Taco Bell") Last weekend my internet boyfriend was to visit but I did not receive any communication from him. The only person to text me about VDay was Adrian, and last year all he got me was a 40. Fucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, after the vday text, he called me at 3am last night and miraculously left a message. What did he have to say to me after all our shit? "Call me back". Nope. How about " I have your Ipod, camera, and a new cell phone for you. I have $1,000 that I stole from you, and I want to give you these things before I move to Antarctica to yell at penguins for the rest of my miserable life". I would have liked that one better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait until I have hours after work to go out and ride the trails and grid and log in the hours on my bike like I used to. Most likely I will be riding to Pops house on Sunday for laundry and family dinner. Cross your fingers and wish me the best because Arden Arcade is a BITCH.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3810872256964995694?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3810872256964995694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/is-it-spring-yet.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3810872256964995694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3810872256964995694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/is-it-spring-yet.html' title='Is it Spring yet?'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2161369020887627047</id><published>2010-02-09T11:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T11:57:10.590-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday is the new Monday</title><content type='html'>FML.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a catch-22.  It's they type of day where I am working so much I feel suffocated. Plus people be asking me how to do computer shit when my mind needs to remain focused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I saw my ex parking his ride at the LOB. Haven't seen him in months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FML.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2161369020887627047?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2161369020887627047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/tuesday-is-new-monday.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2161369020887627047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2161369020887627047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/tuesday-is-new-monday.html' title='Tuesday is the new Monday'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8658397517158900877</id><published>2010-02-08T10:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T10:41:43.480-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick of Hearts</title><content type='html'>Already! Yes, while visiting Safeway this morning to pick up something for lunch for under $5, I was bombarded by this ridiculous tent they have constructed to create Valentine's monstrocities(sp??) Immediately my week was deflated. Yeah, first time in like 4 years that someone wasn't around to give me shit. However, none of the tools before ever gave me anything. I think I got flowers one year? Whatever. It's not like the Christmas invasion that starts waaaayyyy to early for comfort, but the presence of the frilly and fancy just serves as a glittery gleeful reminder of how fucking lonely it is up in my apartment. I am still on relationship probation so this should be expected as I gave myself 6 months from the last time I saw Asshole until I thought I would be ready to find someone but I have personally extended my probation as I still feel like a fucking idiot whenever I see those spokes and tatts upon the grid.....MUST STOP!! On Saturday night I even ignored a date invite from this hot guy whose name I always forget- I shall omit it for privacy. Besides the fact that I will not ride my bike in shitty weather, it's just not the time to enter into a dating scheme with some dude that is obviously not gonna be it for me....yeah, tatts, piercings, and my general disinterest in figuring out his name or remembering what he does for a living also raises a few flags...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My valentines weekend will be comprised of thrift shopping as I scopered a few new places this weekend within walking distance. So probably wine-feuled mayhem followed by at least a day of sleeping that shit off...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8658397517158900877?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8658397517158900877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/sick-of-hearts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8658397517158900877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8658397517158900877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/sick-of-hearts.html' title='Sick of Hearts'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2788436466208582731</id><published>2010-02-04T10:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T10:59:36.245-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Thy Neighbor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S2sYyDVc_SI/AAAAAAAAAC0/jTj1JyUIjHU/s1600-h/talking.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434464623520447778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S2sYyDVc_SI/AAAAAAAAAC0/jTj1JyUIjHU/s320/talking.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nope, not a neighbor hook up story! I am just super excited that as my homegirl Melissa dropped by my apartment yesterday she called our friend John. He had allegedly moved behind Starbucks, which is where I live. So we called him out and he lives across the street! We immediately went over there and met like 6 people. The best part? When we left they walked us to the street where all the guys flipped that they could see my window from their sidewalk. Yeah, sight is crazy maaaan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, I have spread my neighborly love across P Street, and I look forward to random shenanigans. This in addition to my fucking awesome neigbor Mike! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bobbers of the Block Unite! Yeah Mandi- Bobbers!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2788436466208582731?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2788436466208582731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/love-thy-neighbor.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2788436466208582731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2788436466208582731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/love-thy-neighbor.html' title='Love Thy Neighbor'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S2sYyDVc_SI/AAAAAAAAAC0/jTj1JyUIjHU/s72-c/talking.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4127186947880539416</id><published>2010-02-03T11:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T11:37:36.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Craigslist Love, Part Deux</title><content type='html'>Well well well look how this cookie has crumbled...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ended up writing to me again, but definately less than he did before. The lack of enthusiasm is quite deflating when I thought things went so well.  This experience is panning out to be more of training with patience. Any girl whose dated their share of tools know that nobody wants to be labeled as 'pushy' or 'desperate' so early in a potential pairing. So, guess he gets the balls in this court battle. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;Really, this craigslist romance was an expiriment. Can I actually involve myself in the normal timeline of dating? First dates without kisses, getting to know someone in and out before meeting them...I guess I can but the fact remains that our meeting may have frustrated the both of us that we could find someone decent but yet having the person live so far away..and one doesn't have a car!&lt;br /&gt;Restraint is championing over heart. I want to keep writing those soul-filled letters and tell him about my day and the things I interpret-the things he said he liked to hear. But, alas, why fall into something when the guy just doesn't to seem to be all jazzed about you...at least some evidence  to prove my point!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued? Who the fuck knows, but I am not signing myself out of any future expiriments with different variables...Fucking nerd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4127186947880539416?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4127186947880539416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/craigslist-love-part-deux.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4127186947880539416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4127186947880539416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/craigslist-love-part-deux.html' title='Craigslist Love, Part Deux'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-246950353930742204</id><published>2010-02-01T13:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T14:27:43.949-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Craigslist Love</title><content type='html'>Is it possible that one could find a normal, decent fella on this hooker and scam infested site? Kinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His name is Aaron. I am a Craigslist fan and all, but those missed connections and MforW ads I looked at were for pure enjoyment. That is, until a guy found an achilles: Vonnegut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, good ol' Kurt brought me and stranger together. He liked the same books, the same movies, the same political views. Finally, a smart guy who just might not be socially challenged like the last few idiots. We emailed back and forth many times during each day over the course of a few months. Unreal. This guy was so interesting and funny and really liked most of the things I did. A week ago, we asked the question: Do we meet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I broke my internet dating cherry on Saturday. He drove down from Truckee and picked me up to take me to dinner. I chose Suzy's Burgers at 28th and P for some casual grub. C'mon, he's a mountain guy-no fancy place where we'd both feel awkward. I had a good time. He was way cuter than I had planned, so after dinner we went back to my place for Bob and a movie. He brought his personal Bobber, so that alone was pretty cool. I chose True Romance with Christian Slater that was directed by Tarantino-whom we both love. As I started the movie, he handed me a lighter. Holy shit, its the same frog with a crown bic that I have! He found this interesting as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During earlier conversations, I had told him about my crazy ass cat and warned him that he can be out of control. Nope. Reggie walked right over to him and turned into LoveCat. The entire time he was there. So i kinda looked like a drama queen-but Aaron wasn't there when Reg tried to stone me to death militant-style. I guess the Reg just likes attractive men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the movie we hung out and talked some more. He had to leave around midnight as he lives more than an hour away. We hugged and he promised to come visit me again soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And besides a few texts, we haven't emailed since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Craigslist. Like a box of chocolates.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-246950353930742204?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/246950353930742204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/craigslist-love.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/246950353930742204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/246950353930742204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/02/craigslist-love.html' title='Craigslist Love'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2152358956846085888</id><published>2010-01-21T15:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T15:15:43.112-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yiggity Yo Strange Love</title><content type='html'>Today I cancelleed my car insurance! Hoorah! Chad the phone guy was just as friendly as Flo is in the commercials. When I explained that I sold my car because I could no longer afford the bills, he let out a long "Awwwwwwwww..." No man, I just want to be able to save money for the first time. And buy clothes cause half the ones I have are from 2005 and riddled with holes. I need to stay sharp!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, my wonderful pretend boyfriend from Starbucks and I have separated. He likes little hipster chicks and that is gross. Enjoy your little night terrors, Marshall ( I got his name through stalking). We will never ride our cool bikes together, I can never try to get you to quit smoking. Your beard will remain unloved.  Ass staring still applicable. I even stopped going in to the 'bucks after I mistakenly called you a douche when you cut me off on my bike.  I felt so bad. You almost memorized my drink until I decided that we had gotten too close so I started ordering tea in various forms. You could have imagined the shock and amazement when on one smoky night when I ventured to the RedBox at Safeway, you were buying hella beer and proceeded to walk by me to MY OTHER PRETEND BOYFRIEND. You guys are roommates! Imagine my delight if shit had worked out with either of you. Naked parties-your place...&lt;br /&gt;So we aren't a thing anymore. I now have to re-socialize myself downtown to scope out my next vict-er, boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told my buddy Syl about the situation, she asked "Is this like that Zach Morris guy you loved in Rosemont Safeway?" Hell to the fucking YES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should speak to high school kids about abstinence. The best method is to fall in love with strangers and stalk them from a distance. Expand your imagination to create the relationship-the way you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have kids they may be placed on some sort of state list...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2152358956846085888?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2152358956846085888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/yiggity-yo-strange-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2152358956846085888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2152358956846085888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/yiggity-yo-strange-love.html' title='Yiggity Yo Strange Love'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-6841285219303384010</id><published>2010-01-15T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T14:13:34.095-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Subweigh! Eat Fresh...In the AM</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S1DmbpXEvLI/AAAAAAAAACk/lVvEap4CVW4/s1600-h/subweigh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427090913614937266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S1DmbpXEvLI/AAAAAAAAACk/lVvEap4CVW4/s320/subweigh.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A breakfast deal oh my!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yes yes Subway is now offering breakfast. Ms. Mandi and I discovered this beautiful deal while enjoying another wonderful deal while visiting the establishment today. For 2-3 bucks, you can get an english muffin breakfast sandwich-all of them below 300 calories! The omlet sandwich racks in a few hundred more calories- but Jared &amp;amp; Co upped the ante by serving it ALL DAY LONG. I big heart eggs! They open at 8:30am on K Street, and I plan on visiting much more this year. Ms. Mandi and her Rosemontian crew have a proper model that abstains from all fast food except Subway. Judging by the menu addition, they picked the right place. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wish I wasn't so full of lunch cause I'd hella grub that sando in a second...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-6841285219303384010?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/6841285219303384010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/subweigh-eat-freshin-am.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6841285219303384010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6841285219303384010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/subweigh-eat-freshin-am.html' title='Subweigh! Eat Fresh...In the AM'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/S1DmbpXEvLI/AAAAAAAAACk/lVvEap4CVW4/s72-c/subweigh.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1282594827431798323</id><published>2010-01-14T13:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T13:53:08.160-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Way to go Sicko</title><content type='html'>I didn't think this was going to be an issue, but I already got sick. After New Years, I developed a cough that I just couldn't tame. After my office kicked me out to go see a doctor, I dragged myself to Kaiser to deal with the asshole who had time to see me on short notice. Dr. Sheen told me that with bronchitis, which he apparently knew I had without looking at my sinuses or checking my stats, one should just 'ride it out.' WTF are you kidding me? I came to the doctor's office because it's my last resort before I have to be hospitalized with pnuemonia. After a tear or two he asked me if I thought medicine would work for me. I AM NOT A DOCTOR. You, sir, should be telling me how you fix this shit. After I said yes, he said "OK, how about three medicines. Will that be what you want?" No, asshole, I want what you usually prescribe people for nasty ass bronchitis coughs.  My dad said I should have told him 800 pills of vicodin usually do the trick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after two and a half days of rest, I am back at work to let everyone in my office know that yes, I am still sick and I am not afraid of hacking a lung in the pblic sector. Shit, I like my sick days but I do not like the time spent at home without tasks to accomplish. Well, I snuck in one bike ride but I reaaallly had to  move my ass around. Too much sleep makes me feel like a slug.  My dad also told me I need to work on sleeping during appropriate hours in 2010. I stay up late mut still rise at 6am every damn day. Thanks, hungry wildabeast. No matter how sick I am, he will not be deterred from jumping and grunting on my chest until I feed him. He wakes at 5am and pesters until fed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medicine is making me ramble. I am so stoked for the three day weekend, so I am on high health alert for the next few days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-1282594827431798323?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1282594827431798323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/way-to-go-sicko.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1282594827431798323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1282594827431798323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/way-to-go-sicko.html' title='Way to go Sicko'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-668998985805698191</id><published>2010-01-12T10:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T10:26:14.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vroom</title><content type='html'>Baby sold her car!!! No more r-tard parking fees for a car I never drive. All of the money is going to my credit card that I can't ever move below  the limit. I do plan on purchasing a new bike to replace the wheels... I sold it to trustworthy people-a woman from SOMS who needed the car so her son can start his career as a massage therapist. I am all for the advancement of youth. Plus the guy was stoked the beater had an Omaba sticker on it. I do plan on picking up on the distance rides to Rosemont and Carmichael once the weather clears for spring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tiny portion of the proceeds will immediately go towards vintage items from Bows and Arrows and the Vintage store on 12th and J.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take that carbon footprint. All you gots now is bike tire treads...WOHOOOOOOOO!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-668998985805698191?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/668998985805698191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/vroom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/668998985805698191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/668998985805698191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/vroom.html' title='Vroom'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4662732922678551977</id><published>2010-01-07T10:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T10:43:38.002-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A week into TwentyTen</title><content type='html'>So far, this year has been pretty cool. I have been able to  focus away from unneeded stress. I can't fix money problems until the 15th of any month anyway. Just this morning I had a prayer session Mandi-style when I started pacing and thinking about my Macy's account that they continually screw up. I send checks and they go into the wrong account. Fuck it. I realized that I am missing a DVD from Blockbuster. Fuck it, I'll just clean my apartment and tell Blockbuster on the 15th. Someone at work seemed mad at me. Fuck it, I wrote them a letter clearing up misinformation they based their frustration on. There isn't a reason to really trip on the uncontrollable elements of one's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night at the store I was in a rush to get cat food and substance for myself when I ran into a neighbor. Now, this lady is super nice and watches my cat when I go out of town. Although I was planning to meet someone at 6pm and it was already 5:45, I took the time to talk to her becasue she seemed like she wanted to talk to someone. I didn't have too much patience last year. Probably because I was in fight or flight the entire time. Ha. I listened to my neighbor even as she explained how relationships should be run. Yeah-not in one so not really interested, but I still listened and digested the information. I consider this a positive step towards my personal mental health.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-4662732922678551977?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4662732922678551977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/week-into-twentyten.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4662732922678551977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4662732922678551977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/week-into-twentyten.html' title='A week into TwentyTen'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5411230116936316234</id><published>2010-01-06T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T12:23:39.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one.</title><content type='html'>Ah 2010( I call it twenty-ten.) As muttered throughout December, I hated 2009. The year was an asshole. Although I could take that lonely road and just bitch about stuff, I guess its time to look forward. This year I will not be living day by day without hope for the next. Not that I was suicidal, just mad at the world and unable to be confident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like Mandi, I want to worry less. I'm starting this by selling my car. I have someone checking it out soon, but I just don't want the car in my life. It came from an ex and I taught another ex how to drive in it. It is a sad reminder of bad decisions, and someone else needs to take it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I am a fucktard when it comes to lovers. I kept horrible secrets all year. Boy who shall not be named anymore did some scary shit to me. I also continually let him back in my life. Yeah, I was too embarassed to admit how weak he made me. This is not the situation for 2010. I already said things to him to make him not want me anymore. Things that made him mad. But a year of his shit and its about time I hurt his feelings. This year I don't want love. I have a cat, I don't need the stress of pleasing some jerk. Obviously I cannot....fuck it. I don't want to talk about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mandi, if you want to 'pray' together soon let me know. BYW- I consider you my smartest AND funniest friend. Put that in yo pipe, girrrl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5411230116936316234?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5411230116936316234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-got-99-problems-but-bitch-aint-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5411230116936316234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5411230116936316234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-got-99-problems-but-bitch-aint-one.html' title='I got 99 problems but a bitch ain&apos;t one.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-8191196296048266328</id><published>2009-12-30T11:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T11:44:10.848-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Money Grubbing Whores, now on a station near you!"</title><content type='html'>I recently acquired the beauty of cable television. I took a day off on Friday the 18th and had the link established by 9am. I spent the remainder of the day in my recliner ABSORBING everything with fervor. The constant images and conversations blew my mind.&lt;br /&gt;Now, it may seem weird that I'm all antsy pants for the tube, but I really tried to not watch tv for a year. I would watch some sporting events ( I hate dudes) and a random show or what not, but nothing like i had growing up. Free access to a remote is a privelage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, with such a spanse between turning off the brain, I wondered what type of programming would pique my interest.  It's all about informercials and shows where they just talk about facts. Histroy, Documentary, Animal, and news channels. I love that I learn more by doing nothing.  I learned I have a cat that came over on a Viking boat. He kills too. Jeopardy makes me crazy as I eagerly attempt to answer the questions out lound and in time. If Jeopardy was graded, though, I would have repeated last nights grade level.   : (&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I definately and more than ever fucking hate stupid bitches that go on those reality shows and demean themselves to appear to be the dumbest, sluttiest, prettiest, and most agreeable whore on the show. The prize? A fucking marriage, or at least a date with Ray J. Thanks, but we could talk if the whores were gunning for heart surgery for their dad or helping needy families stay fed.  But they aren't. The are money grubbing whores. Actually, that should be the new category for reality programming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what the eff is up with New Years. I am definately too old and too foreign to this city to know of a rager or whatnot. I find more comfort in being safe and stable. And drunk. Since I have moved here to Sac, I have had shitty new years. Every year I was with Sean I spent them alone casue he was a bartender so I would get in prom dresses and go to one of his friend's houses and get plastered until he picked me up after his shift. I'm sorry, but it is seriously hard for me to continually drink and stay up past 12. I like herb better, but NYE calls for some dranks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Sylvia is trying to make it up here for the evening. I hope she likes Mandi! Fuck that. She will love Mandi. Fuck people who don't like her. Fuck people that don't like Sylvia too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-8191196296048266328?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/8191196296048266328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/12/money-grubbing-whores-now-on-station.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8191196296048266328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/8191196296048266328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/12/money-grubbing-whores-now-on-station.html' title='&quot;Money Grubbing Whores, now on a station near you!&quot;'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-283474073864181927</id><published>2009-12-17T11:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T11:14:06.145-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Craigslist</title><content type='html'>Being that its cold and I  am alone, I persue Craigslist from time to time, er, everyday to see just what lies beyond the confining walls of work. After all, if I am going out on the town, I like to see what the single guy population is up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOL-Y-SHIT. Ok, first thing that stikes me is the unreal requests these average dudes have for their lady. Be hot, but not whorish. Be thin, like to cook, has money for Daddy, laughs at their jokes, cleans their filth. Sorry boys, the girl you are looking for is available at any major retailer for like $15 and you can get her and all her friends who wont talk back. You know, girls with voices are often times referrred to as their 'crazy bitch' experience. Whatever. You just couldn't handle the intelligence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, its either I Heart Relationship pushovers who just want someone for their motherly issues, or a I Heart Pussy kind of guy that may give you the undie itches or at least the awareness that you are replacable and kind of a skank for being with Captain Freedom Pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nerds, the dorks, the weirdos who I like, who can spell marginally close to their age-level, who like fiesty women, who are respectable and perhaps not seeking internet girlfriends are hiding.  I hope its on a sick-ass bike that leads to their own apartment where they do normal and not-normal things and don't bug the shit out of me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Staying single......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-283474073864181927?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/283474073864181927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/12/oh-craigslist.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/283474073864181927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/283474073864181927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/12/oh-craigslist.html' title='Oh Craigslist'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5884844226065991090</id><published>2009-12-09T12:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T13:17:22.065-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life as we know it in 2009</title><content type='html'>What a fucking year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those that miss my shenanigans, here is a summary and explanation on why I am so looking forward to 2010. FML was the word of the year, and poverty was the lifestyle choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We start in January. I began the year by walking out on my boyfriend of three years. No hanky panky makes a sane girl sad.  I had garnered interest in other individuals, and besides my living situation sucked and I hated that I was relied upon for responsibilities that were not to be mine. It was a sad break up, but once it was done I felt like I was recapturing the happy version of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lived at my dad's place for a month or so. This was a good time because I got to reconnect to my father, who walked out on my mom in '03.  Yay for role models. This move prompted me to get my ass back on Light Rail. Score one for acquiring pretend boyfriends and endless entertainment. However, this marks the downturn in fortune. As I began relations with my bike messenger, I left my car at the station overnight and my window was smashed. They didn't take anything, but this did remind me that I have nothing of serious worth to take. And the fuckers smashed my Fleetwood Mac tape. Yeah, the car has a tape deck. I had to pay for a new window, I cut my hand on the glass, and we had a random storm that left a puddle in my car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adrian. Or better spelled: A drain. A drain on my morals. A drain on my finances. A drain on my self worth. A drain on my life. Also the love of my life. As you can tell, is where I lost my control of my life. Love is blind and this fucker tied the bandana over my eyes.  True, I thought he was gorgeous, smart, sexy, great libido, and mostly a friend. We had something together that was amazing. I felt giddy and lovely at first. Then I moved downtown in February. This is when my first apartment was taken hostage by his low-life friends and random ass coke dealers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The slummers slept over, spilled food on my furniture and my floor, kept me up with their loud ass conversations, ate my food, stole my phone, stole my bob supply once, and generally pissed off my new neighbors by hopping the fence and looking like felons. Actually, two were felons. A-drain struggled with alcohol abuse before, but my new apartment gave him free reign to act as an idiot and drink copious amounts of booze and shop up at my place when he was done squandering his money on dive bars. Hooray. He started hitting me in May. I cannot describe the months between February and May because the shit was the same every day. Work, come home to the apartment filled with assholes, try to protect my food suply, get yelled at for trying to protect my shit, cry, drink, fuck, go to sleep. Well, I din't drink every day but it helped with my situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The abuse was the worst part of '09. There were 4 or 5 incidents where A-drain would 'black out' and hit me, push me, scream at me, throw me to the ground, or tell me about girls he thought were attractive. He also told me he would always want to be with black girls more than a white chick. Fucker. This all culminated with the big fight in June. This one ended with me in the hospital and him in jail. After inviting strangers into my home to eat my food, I flipped out and told A-drain they had to leave because they were not invited nor welcome in my home. As I attempted to call the police he grabbed my phone and snapped it in half. I turned red and began Lisa Simpson-style hitting him (swirling your arms in a circular motion to inflict multiple slaps) and his buddies saw this and booked. He took off and I locked the door. He returned some time later and entered, took his shit, and tried to leave. I blocked the door and demanded an apology and money for my broken phone. He grabbed me and threw me to the gound, causing me to smack my head on the floor. The bump was huge an visible through my hair. The next moments were a blur. Security, police, paramedics, hospital, police again, and the call I had to make to my dad at 4am telling him that my boyfriend had been beating me. Shitty. My Uncle Bob died two days later. We were close. Because I was still in recovery, I was able to be by his side as he took his last breath. It was an honor to be the one holding him as he left his body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By my birthday A-drain and I were seeing each other. He quit drinking and left his circle of friends. Turns out although many aspects of his flaws were solved with these changes, he still was an asshole at heart. He had saved my name as "Crazy Bitch" in his phone, he texted black chicks all the time, and still asked me to buy him food and cater to his needs. Fuck that. We ain't together any more. I'd rather be alone than with someone like him. I still yearn for his company, but I remind myself that I am a great person who will find someone else who will actually love me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September, October, November I worked. I rode my bike around town and added a few men to my list of pretend boyfriends. Sylvia visited me more to monitor my progress from escaping an abusive relationship and to get me to laugh again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year has placed the darkest clouds in my mind that I haven't seen since my boyfriend killed himself in high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FML. Hurry the fuck up, 2010. When those bells ring, let me be in an amazing place with hot naked men and champagne to envy Diddy. A girl can dream when life is a nightmare.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5884844226065991090?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5884844226065991090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/12/life-as-we-know-it-in-2009.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5884844226065991090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5884844226065991090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/12/life-as-we-know-it-in-2009.html' title='Life as we know it in 2009'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-6157250303497421372</id><published>2009-11-19T11:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T11:34:50.922-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Craigslist</title><content type='html'>One of the favorite websites that I visit is the infaous Craigslist. A wealth or strangers, dangers, and sales, I peruse the bikes, pets, apartments, missed connections, you name it. Being a recovering girlfriend, I look for what kind of guy is left out there that I haven't met. I mean, my options should be open based on what I settled for last time. However, all the men for women ads I viewed were filled with tools and losers. I may not have luck on that site, but I did think of fun things to narrow my search for the 'perfect' mate (side note: does not exist.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Cannot wear football jerseys.&lt;br /&gt;2. Must not pick nose in public.&lt;br /&gt;3. Can handle alcohol to the point that no one ever can tell when you are actually drunk.&lt;br /&gt;4. Can spell decently enough not to drive me crazy.&lt;br /&gt;5. Must love Mom.&lt;br /&gt;6. Offers to buy food, especially if he eats a lot.&lt;br /&gt;7. Does not have crazy skank notches on his belt.&lt;br /&gt;8. Not a former criminal.&lt;br /&gt;9. His friends must be reasonably attractive and driven. Your friends make you.&lt;br /&gt;10. The kind that surprises me at work.&lt;br /&gt;11. No bad breath. Sorry, mine smells good.&lt;br /&gt;12. Can't smokey the ciggs routinely- I quit!!!&lt;br /&gt;13. Must look good naked.&lt;br /&gt;14. Does not avoid locations because he has an ex there, got kicked out, etc.&lt;br /&gt;15. Is nice to anyone with a service job.&lt;br /&gt;16. Stands up for me when I get scared.&lt;br /&gt;17. Laughs all the time.&lt;br /&gt;18. Preferably does not owe big debts.&lt;br /&gt;19. Does not obsess with looks.&lt;br /&gt;20. Likes being barefoot with nice feet.&lt;br /&gt;21. Mild criminal record ok, as long as no one was hurt.&lt;br /&gt;22. My dad must like him. Hasn't happened yet!&lt;br /&gt;23.  Responsible enough to have his name attachd to a car, or a rental, something.&lt;br /&gt;24. Interested in improving his life.&lt;br /&gt;25. Eats healthy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-6157250303497421372?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/6157250303497421372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/craigslist.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6157250303497421372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6157250303497421372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/craigslist.html' title='Craigslist'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-7581297346843823163</id><published>2009-11-17T13:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T13:53:43.674-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Cats ond Others</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwMbVDXALkI/AAAAAAAAACY/OxkFiYJsGlE/s1600/pandora.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405194026267717186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 287px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwMbVDXALkI/AAAAAAAAACY/OxkFiYJsGlE/s320/pandora.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwMbUlDkqcI/AAAAAAAAACQ/QYv52GHn2Lk/s1600/ass.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405194018133158338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwMbUlDkqcI/AAAAAAAAACQ/QYv52GHn2Lk/s320/ass.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/6347902308686870179-7581297346843823163?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/7581297346843823163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/funny-cats-ond-others.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/7581297346843823163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/7581297346843823163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/funny-cats-ond-others.html' title='Funny Cats ond Others'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwMbVDXALkI/AAAAAAAAACY/OxkFiYJsGlE/s72-c/pandora.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-9172050994702305308</id><published>2009-11-16T12:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T12:50:48.199-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Ginger.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwG6Jzfpa0I/AAAAAAAAACI/k8jS49f6Scw/s1600/gingeryuck.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404805705425840962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 223px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwG6Jzfpa0I/AAAAAAAAACI/k8jS49f6Scw/s320/gingeryuck.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwG6JgxpKPI/AAAAAAAAACA/cnnlmDdHOxw/s1600/gingergreen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404805700401047794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwG6JgxpKPI/AAAAAAAAACA/cnnlmDdHOxw/s320/gingergreen.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just wanted to tell you Irishmen and women that should you be of the ginger variety-green is terrible on you. You earn negative points creeping people out with your transparent skin and unholy hair anyway. Green accentuates these features and you need to   tone   it    down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hey, I am Irish too. At least part. But even as a child, seeing these combinations was never enjoyable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, you fair-skinned mavens look unbelievable in white and other more angelic and softer colors. Expand your color palate and learn where not to go. I will not be wearing capris or high-waisted tees, so we are even.&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/6347902308686870179-9172050994702305308?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/9172050994702305308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/bad-ginger.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/9172050994702305308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/9172050994702305308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/bad-ginger.html' title='Bad Ginger.'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SwG6Jzfpa0I/AAAAAAAAACI/k8jS49f6Scw/s72-c/gingeryuck.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-1914483597577799432</id><published>2009-11-12T15:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T15:56:37.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wine for Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvyfY6CgPZI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Wj8sq4rrhGA/s1600-h/detail_bottle_louis_mel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403368903183187346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvyfY6CgPZI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Wj8sq4rrhGA/s320/detail_bottle_louis_mel.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was an ordinary evening for me. I rode my bike to Blockbuster to pick up some movies to pass time, rolled through K Street to check out what was going on in the streets, and seeing nothing in particular, I decided to stop by Safeway for some dinner and perhaps some wine. Now, I am not a fan of strolling through the three aisles of fancy ass wine and trying to pick out a winner without getting something that tastes like batteries or MD 20/20. I spied this bottle and so many images and thoughts flooded my brain I somewhat destined this bottle to be my own favorite. Move over, Franzia. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why should I like this Sauv Blanc? Pinot Noir is my favorite type of wine to drink, anyway. It was the Louis Mel. Even the way they scripted the name onto the bottle. Not only does it say Mel on the bottle, but Louis would have been my middle name should the man added an e at the end of his name. I love the cursive L and M. The color is enticing. Drinking it was ok, but since I have quit smoking and think I could appreciate the complexity a bit more the next round. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next issue: getting the money to find a few bottles for my solos. Countdown to the 15th resuming....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-1914483597577799432?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/1914483597577799432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/wine-for-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1914483597577799432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/1914483597577799432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/wine-for-me.html' title='Wine for Me'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvyfY6CgPZI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Wj8sq4rrhGA/s72-c/detail_bottle_louis_mel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-5576132031747883233</id><published>2009-11-05T11:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T11:26:09.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Agoraphobia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvMlEzMbSBI/AAAAAAAAABw/5PMFXX6X074/s1600-h/agoraphobia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400701142539388946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvMlEzMbSBI/AAAAAAAAABw/5PMFXX6X074/s200/agoraphobia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Agoraphobia is a very complex phobia. It usually manifests as a collection of inter-linked phobias. For example, many agoraphobics fear being left alone (monophobia), dislike being in any situation where they feel trapped (exhibiting claustrophobia type tendencies), and fear travel away from their "safe" place, usually home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I seem to think I may have the unusual fear as defined above. My family has been bringing my absence to my attention more and more, and I just can't explain. That is, until I realized that all I want to do is stay in my apartment and have people leave me alone. Now, I do go out at everey chance if I can walk of ride my bike there. When someone mentions a car ride that I have to take, I just lose the interest.  In recollection I think this is a symptom of recovery for abuse victims. I never pursued any therapy after the incident, instead relying on friends and family to be there as I opened up about what went on with Adrian. After I went back to him and he still remained incompetent and evil, the recovery process appears to have taken a step to the side instead of forward. I can't see my mom or my dad or my friends because there is so much comfort in my apartment now that the evil has amicably left. I feel like that girl in the picture. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Luckily, I have my Sylvia who will be visiting me on Sunday with a shampoo kit I ordered. I hope to get her on the bike again!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-5576132031747883233?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/5576132031747883233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/agoraphobia.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5576132031747883233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/5576132031747883233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/agoraphobia.html' title='Agoraphobia'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvMlEzMbSBI/AAAAAAAAABw/5PMFXX6X074/s72-c/agoraphobia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3926359366204694177</id><published>2009-11-03T13:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T14:19:28.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>General Melismo</title><content type='html'>WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The Lucifer Effect by Philip Zombardo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT TIME IS IT NOW? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;1:50pm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;My hand and a dirty mouse &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE BOARD GAME? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Risk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE MAGAZINE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Old style Rolling Stone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SMELL? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Honeysuckle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Loss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIRST THING YOU THINK OF IN THE MORNING?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;What time is it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Two.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE COLOUR? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT IN YOUR LIFE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Peace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE FOOD! &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Taco Bell, baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU COULD PLAY AN INSTRUMENT, WHAT WOULD IT BE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Piano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU LIKE TO DRIVE FAST? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;If it ain't my car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I did before I got a cat and he ate it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;1989 Dodge Raider. Tin box on wheels.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHO IS THE PERSON FROM YOUR PAST YOU WISH YOU COULD GO BACK AND TALK TO? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;My pretend boyfriends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVOURITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Vodka and juice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S IN THE BOOT OF YOUR CAR? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Scarves, shoes, repair kit...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WANTED WHAT WOULD IT BE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Freelance Consultant to the Governor of Hawai'i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVER BEEN IN LOVE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Unfortunately, cause now I'm still single...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVOURITE MOVIE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Stand By Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COMEDY OR HORROR? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Both. Match my mood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVOURITE PHYSICAL FEATURE OF THE OPPOSITE SEX? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Torso or ass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE LAST CD YOU BOUGHT? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I imagined buying Lady Gaga&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE TO BE MASSAGED? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Back or feet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S MOST IMPORTANT, STRONG IN MIND OR STRONG IN BODY? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT TIME DO YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;6am usually&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S YOUR FAVOURITE KITCHEN ITEM? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Cupcake molds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT MAKES YOU REALLY ANGRY? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Disrespect&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHICH DO YOU PREFER, SPORTS CAR OR SUV? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Sports car for efficiency.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU BELIEVE IN AFTERLIFE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Somewhat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SEASON?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Spring. It even sounds happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU COULD HAVE ONE SUPER POWER, WHAT WOULD IT BE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Flying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU HAVE A TATTOO, WHAT IS IT? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I have 3, and they are sun, moon, star, waves in black.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE DAY? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHICH DO YOU PREFER SUSHI OR HAMBURGER? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;A good hamburger that isn't huge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S YOUR FAVOURITE SOAP? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Irish Spring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE MEAL? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Spaghetti with meatballs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU COULD TAKE A VACATION ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD,WHERE WOULD IT BE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I would go back to Croatia and live there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Melissa Sue Anderson/Allman Bros. Sweet Melissa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED AND WHY?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Movies are my only pain these days...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;It's awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Bologna.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; DO YOU HAVE KIDS?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Momma didn't raise no fool...wait, there is my brother...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Hell yeah. I'm pretty nice and at least I would understand why im so weird.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;No way, I hate heights.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Quaker Oat Squares&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;No. I prefer sandals so its their fault for having laces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Freakishly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Rocky Road, but I just don't prefer a flavor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE ? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Demeanor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RED OR PINK? &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Red.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Sylvia Coey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I am wearing black long johns and a grey sweater dress. My pants look like leggings but are sooo much more comfortable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE ? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Jalapeno pizza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Click click click of the keyboards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Sienna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Southwest Airlines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Football. Ech I felt gross saying it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAIR COLOR?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Blondo Browno&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EYE COLOR? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Robert told me black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Do not like to. I wear glasses when chosen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;FAVORITE FOOD? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Chinese or Mexican&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Just make it worth my time, ok?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The Big Lebowski&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I said dress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE DESSERT?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Creme Brulee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT?  &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Assembly Water Legislation Session&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FAVORITE SOUND? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Water&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IS THE FURTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Auckland, New Zeland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; Fucking hella fast on bikes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHERE WERE YOU BORN? &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; Livermore, California at Valley Hospital&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THREE&lt;/strong&gt; NAMES YOU GO BY : &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Mel, Lizzie, Mesudy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Liz04, MrSPfan, Surfermel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Hair, eyes, abs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I like me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Black Irish, Scottish, Danish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Spiders, heights, pregnancy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Water, Bike ride, and Bob&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;CK Dress, longjohns, and ballet flats.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Counting Crows, Duffy, Tom Petty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Honesty, humor, love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I have died before, I have a twin, and I love morphine (allergic).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Biking, reading, swimming&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Sleep, stretch, #2.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING/YOU'VE CONSIDERED: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Who cares- I got my cool job now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL (or guy): &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I fuss, I can cook, and nothing makes me more crazy than glitter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-3926359366204694177?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3926359366204694177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/general-melismo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3926359366204694177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3926359366204694177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/general-melismo.html' title='General Melismo'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-4729735943026425324</id><published>2009-11-03T13:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T13:11:05.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Wish List</title><content type='html'>Nicer, smarter (minus mustache) bipedalist:&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCbpLrLHFI/AAAAAAAAABo/v9R49v-xztk/s1600-h/grotesks_the_wannabe_bike_messenger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399987085028039762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCbpLrLHFI/AAAAAAAAABo/v9R49v-xztk/s320/grotesks_the_wannabe_bike_messenger.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCbo_-bp2I/AAAAAAAAABg/lZTsWaUoIRc/s1600-h/chrome.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399987081887590242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCbo_-bp2I/AAAAAAAAABg/lZTsWaUoIRc/s320/chrome.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Look at this essential- a girlie Chrome bag. ^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCboTgxg5I/AAAAAAAAABY/toNtpt53afc/s1600-h/tuxedo+cyclist.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399987069952033682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCboTgxg5I/AAAAAAAAABY/toNtpt53afc/s320/tuxedo+cyclist.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my new cat to go on a ride, but looks like its only offered on the Rainbow Bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCboAYTVaI/AAAAAAAAABQ/hgoqgX2dAoU/s1600-h/ninjaVSpirate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399987064816227746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCboAYTVaI/AAAAAAAAABQ/hgoqgX2dAoU/s320/ninjaVSpirate.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; As always, I want more ninja skills to conquer the streets...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCbnztm_aI/AAAAAAAAABI/gYjupmm5rmw/s1600-h/fixieblack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399987061415935394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCbnztm_aI/AAAAAAAAABI/gYjupmm5rmw/s320/fixieblack.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, a single speed with brakes to enhance ninja transportation. Current road bike is bright yellow, ya know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/6347902308686870179-4729735943026425324?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/4729735943026425324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-wish-list.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4729735943026425324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/4729735943026425324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-wish-list.html' title='Christmas Wish List'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCbpLrLHFI/AAAAAAAAABo/v9R49v-xztk/s72-c/grotesks_the_wannabe_bike_messenger.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-2102797226951242640</id><published>2009-11-03T12:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T13:01:20.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuxedos Noir</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCYDImhOZI/AAAAAAAAABA/l--k_vv6et0/s1600-h/Bandit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399983132833298834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCYDImhOZI/AAAAAAAAABA/l--k_vv6et0/s320/Bandit.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Meet Reggie. He is a year old and hides a secret skill. He kills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think that a tuxedo would be much different from any other cat. My last beast, Rocket, died a few winters ago and I did not have any driveto go out and find a new cat  anytime soon. However, I met Reggie on Craigslist from a girl named Reggie. He's so pretty and fluffy and sweet, but when the sun sets this little adorabeast turns into a caffeine-driven maniac who has a fetish for blind adjustors and movable heavy objects to potentially use as weapons. I'm not even going to discuss the fact that my phone was missing this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reggie greets me as I get out of the shower by treating my toes like fire roasted hot dogs. He dives and chomps and walks on my chest to get across the bed. I can't sleep with my hand out of the blankets because he uses his tiny inscissors to dig deep into my skin, causing me to swat the angelic devil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To wind him down I found the brilliant laser pointer for $3.00 at WalMart. A few laps and not only can I trick him to shut the cabinets, but he pants like a fat kid and that is hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still is better than my useless asshole of an ex.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-2102797226951242640?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/2102797226951242640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/tuxedos-noir.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2102797226951242640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/2102797226951242640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/11/tuxedos-noir.html' title='Tuxedos Noir'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SvCYDImhOZI/AAAAAAAAABA/l--k_vv6et0/s72-c/Bandit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-3072048183333442334</id><published>2009-10-28T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T14:24:08.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LOLz at the Office</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/Sui2FDkX41I/AAAAAAAAAA4/V4EUdYETvfU/s1600-h/Ammiano.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397764351377007442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/Sui2FDkX41I/AAAAAAAAAA4/V4EUdYETvfU/s320/Ammiano.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The trickery and hilarity involved in this veto message must run so deep that Press Secretary McLear had no clue or is now proven as a habitual liar when questioned about the "coincidence"&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/6347902308686870179-3072048183333442334?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/3072048183333442334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/10/lolz-at-office.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3072048183333442334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/3072048183333442334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/10/lolz-at-office.html' title='LOLz at the Office'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/Sui2FDkX41I/AAAAAAAAAA4/V4EUdYETvfU/s72-c/Ammiano.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-274840173143411928</id><published>2009-10-28T14:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T14:15:26.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bay Bridge, Why So Silent?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SuizBd8Z68I/AAAAAAAAAAM/LrlK3mm2oFA/s1600-h/mn-bridge28_252__0500771534.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397760991202765762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SuizBd8Z68I/AAAAAAAAAAM/LrlK3mm2oFA/s320/mn-bridge28_252__0500771534.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A vision that should inspire the state in so many ways. I would love to take a ride along the bridge without traffic. This is just a dream as the likelyhood that the bridge will kill me has increased thanks to shoddy craftmanship. There are two notches on this steel beast, and adventure has entered the lives of thousands of commuters as they embark on they joy many call public transit. The last time I rode the SF bus, though, my buddy had random junk rubbed into her face for 10 minutes before walking gained popularity. I do love BART though, and platform-level entries are such a huge step up (haha) from SacRT trains. They both share fun things like proposing bums and lethargic juvenile delinquents. Bring an umbrella, there could be rain or a mugging, and you'll need the expandable protection for both.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-274840173143411928?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/274840173143411928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/10/bay-bridge-why-so-silent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/274840173143411928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/274840173143411928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/10/bay-bridge-why-so-silent.html' title='Bay Bridge, Why So Silent?'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/SuizBd8Z68I/AAAAAAAAAAM/LrlK3mm2oFA/s72-c/mn-bridge28_252__0500771534.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6347902308686870179.post-6350659970728087964</id><published>2009-10-28T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T13:54:09.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Creation</title><content type='html'>In an attempt to say "Screw You social networks", I create this blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6347902308686870179-6350659970728087964?l=fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/feeds/6350659970728087964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/10/creation.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6350659970728087964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6347902308686870179/posts/default/6350659970728087964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fasterwithoutcupcakes.blogspot.com/2009/10/creation.html' title='Creation'/><author><name>Melly Sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05355510044317113686</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_libbs2bIsm0/THxTuT6WisI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8U6TDvtybPw/S220/momo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
