<?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-16776271</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:19:01.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>absolutely...exactly</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-113077450363754668</id><published>2005-10-31T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T08:27:19.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>its been a while</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;okay i've been away for a while, partially dealing with those damn 26 year old man boys.... but here we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 favorites....&lt;br /&gt;FAV SEASON: fall. definately&lt;br /&gt;FAV SPORT: to watch? gymnastics and football. to play cheerleading. and yes, when it's competitive cheerleading, it's a sport.&lt;br /&gt;FAV TIME: that five mintues of sleep between the snooze button on your alarm&lt;br /&gt;FAV ACTOR: Jake Gyllenhal&lt;br /&gt;FAV ACTRESS: Hilary Swank&lt;br /&gt;FAV ICECREAM: chocolate and vanilla swirl&lt;br /&gt;FAV FOOD: french fries!&lt;br /&gt;FAV DRINK: coke icee&lt;br /&gt;FAV PLACE: don't really have one... but i really like the mall when i have money&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 currents....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT FEELING: anticiption...i'm waiting on a call about a job&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT O/S: i don't know ...what that is&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT WINDOWS OPEN: blog spot&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT DRINK: none. but i'm thirsty&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT TIME: 11:09 am&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT MOBILE: verizon&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT SHOW ON TV: Maury Povich&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT THOUGHT: wow my pants are tight i need to lose weight&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT CLOTHES: jeans, Justin boots, pink and yellow striped socks, long sleeve white t- shirt with a UGA logo on it. i'm a GA fan for halloween&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 firsts....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIRST NICK NAME: lollie&lt;br /&gt;FIRST KISS: in the woods behind my house when i was 9 with the boy who lived down the street.&lt;br /&gt;FIRST CRUSH: Jonathan Taylor Thomas. and the boy who lived down the street&lt;br /&gt;FIRST COMPUTER: i don't know....&lt;br /&gt;FIRST VEHICLE: 98 ford explorer...it was great. i cried when i killed it upside down in the ditch.&lt;br /&gt;FIRST JOB: blimpies. i thought it was great at the time, i love sandwiches.&lt;br /&gt;FIRST MOVIE: i don't remeber the name but it had a boy in it and it was a disney movie that wasn't animated&lt;br /&gt;FIRST PET: a black lab named Ben.&lt;br /&gt;FIRST SHAVE: some time in fourth grade. i swear i hit a main artery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 lasts....&lt;br /&gt;LAST CHAI (TEA): probably a year ago&lt;br /&gt;LAST MOVIE: saw 2&lt;br /&gt;LAST TIME DROVE: about an hour ago. to katies house.&lt;br /&gt;LAST TIME SHAVED: this morning. well at least my armpits.&lt;br /&gt;LAST WEBSITE VISITED: spinsterwardiaries&lt;br /&gt;LAST SOFTWARE: i don't know, who cares&lt;br /&gt;LAST PILL: i don't know i hate medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 have you evers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN THE LAW? yes. but does it count if you didn't get caught?&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER BEEN DRUNK? yes. lots&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER CLIMBED A TREE? of course! wouldn't the better question be have you ever fallen out of a tree? (yes)&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER KISSED SOMEONE YOU DON'T KNOW? yes...see the second  "?" in this section&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THE MIDDLE/CLOSE TO GUNFIRE OR A BOMB BLAST? yes, the school i went to had one of those shootings. it was a month after columbine.&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN ANYONE'S HEART? yea i think so. i'll never forget the look on his face and what he said before i left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 things...&lt;br /&gt;YOU HEAR RIGHT NOW: the spinning wheel on the price is right, katie laughing, cobly hollering, bob barker, and comercial music&lt;br /&gt;ON YOUR BED: sheets, pillows, remote control, last nights pj's&lt;br /&gt;YOU ATE TODAY: a biscuit and jelly...that's it&lt;br /&gt;IN MIND: why haven't they called me back for an interview? why don't i get paid more at work? i really want to go shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 places you have been today....&lt;br /&gt;WORK,&lt;br /&gt;in the CAR, over to KATIE'S and ......the bathroom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 things on your desk right now.&lt;br /&gt;a plate, paper and a printer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 choices:&lt;br /&gt;BLACK OR WHITE? black&lt;br /&gt;HOT OR COLD? cold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 thing you want to do before you die&lt;br /&gt;become successful...business and in life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-113077450363754668?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/113077450363754668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=113077450363754668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/113077450363754668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/113077450363754668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/its-been-while.html' title='its been a while'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112959290076793105</id><published>2005-10-17T16:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-17T16:48:20.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>damn the 26 year old menboys.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;i as a human being have done many fucked up things in my life and yet it seems i have learned absolutely nothing from it.  for instance, my ex boyfriend is more than likely one of my bigger fuck ups. he is by far the most childish, selfish, ignorant person i've believe i have ever come into contact with.  and for reasons i don't know i think that was part of what attracted me to him in the beginning. its almost like i saw him as a project. something i could fix.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt; a work in progress if you will.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;about 3 months into it i learned that you should never go into a relationship thinking anything about this person should change.  it never will change, and if it does, it's most definately not for the better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;he will never stop putting things before you, if he never did to begin with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;he will never do those few little things you ask him to do, if he never did to begin with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;and nothing will make him do that. nothing. not asking nicely, not threatening to leave.... most certainly not threatening to leave. but at least i had the balls to stay gone...the last time. or so it seemed until  friday night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;you see, i moved in with him, to quickly i might add, and i was using his address for everything. my bank, my insurance, my credit cards my phone bill my car note and the list goes on. when i left i made every effort to make sure those bills would not be sent to his house anymore.  i must have forgotten one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;he called me to tell me i had gotten some mail at his house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;so i went over. I KNEW i shouldn't, but i did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt; he then decided to tell me that he still loved me and that it hurt him to see me with out him blah  blah  blah...and i ended up staying over there. not in the way you think. we stayed up all night talking and me telling him how it would never work and why...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;but it was like i was trying to convince myself.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;why do i fall for these losers? he knows i'm seeing some one else, he knows that i'm doing my very best to avoid seeing him so something like this wouldn't happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;i'll be damned if it didn't.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;to top it all off, he's got a  four year old who is the most precious thing ever that is so confused by all of this. i don't want to keep confusing this innocent child.  ]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;i know what i need to do....the question is... is it what i want to do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt; jesus christ. i need therapy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112959290076793105?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112959290076793105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112959290076793105' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112959290076793105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112959290076793105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/damn-26-year-old-menboys.html' title='damn the 26 year old menboys.'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112924188365363310</id><published>2005-10-13T14:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T15:18:03.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm totally unoriginal right now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;1. name some one with the same birthday as you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wayne brady from "who's line is it anyway?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. where was your first kiss?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lying in a bed at a party with some guy i could care less about. it was absolutely the worst kiss ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. have you ever seriously vandalized some one's property?:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes. it involved eggs, toilet paper and bologna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, some old man grabbed my ass at music midtown and i turned around and decked him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. have you ever sung in front of a large group of people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, drunk kareokee. the clapped though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. what's the first thing you notice about the preferred sex?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmmm...teeth. and hands. and eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. what do you order at the coffee bean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;coffee. one cream and lots of sugar. but there's not one near by, so i'd have to drive an hour out of the way to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. have you ever hurt yourself on purpse?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes. i had some what of a hard childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. say something totally random about yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate my nose but i love my boobs lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. has anyone ever said you look like a celebrity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, ashlee simpson. and elaine from seinfeld&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. do you still watch kiddie movies or tv shows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a little bit, but for the most part, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. did you ever have braces?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes. and i lost my retainer so i bet i could use them again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. are you comfortable with your height?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yup. 5' 7. not to short, not to tall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. what is the most romantic thing someone has ever done for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i used to date this guy named shane...and he was kind of in between a long term ex that i had...one day he brought me flowers to work. a few days later i told him i wasn't over my ex and i couldn't be with him. the next day he called me and wanted me to come to his house. he said " i can't let you just walk out of my life. i want you here with me so much" i basically told him i'm sorry, but you don't have a choice. sometimes i regret that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. when do you know it's love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you can roll over after a long night and tell the one your with that his breath smells like a cat shit in it. if that's not love, its damn close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you trust him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. do you speak any other languages?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a little bit of german. "du bist meine hunde" that means you're my bitch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. have you ever been to a tanning salon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah, but it never does much good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. what magazines do you read?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a lot. us weekly, cosmo, glamour, jane, maxim, star...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. have you ever ridden in a limo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a few times, it's cool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. has anyone you were really close to passed away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not really. when i was 15 my great grandmother died, but i wouldn't say we were close...she wasn't all there at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. do you watch mtv?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yup. i used to want to be on the real world and then i realized my parents would see it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. what's something that really annoys you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people who get in my business and try to create drama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. what's something you really like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shopping. its theraputic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. do you like michael jackson?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nope. i think he's a perv&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. can you dance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yea, i was a cheerleader for 8 years, it comes with the territory&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. what's the latest you ever stayed up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i stayed up for 3 days...i think. i was doing some stupid illegal substances then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. have you ever been rushed by an ambulance to the emergancy room?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nope. i'm careful :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. do you actually read these when people fill them out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yup. i like reading about people...i'm nosy :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112924188365363310?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112924188365363310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112924188365363310' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112924188365363310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112924188365363310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/im-totally-unoriginal-right-now.html' title='i&apos;m totally unoriginal right now'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112923085181570103</id><published>2005-10-13T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T12:28:22.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>its just a ring...or is it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;what is it that we find so important about being engaged? besides the fact that you found the person you're gonna spend the rest of your life with, blah blah blah....is half the excitment a ring? i have a very good friend of mine who's life revolved around getting her ring for like a year.  and when she finally got it, it didn't really get much better. don't get me wrong, the ring is pretty, i just don't see what makes her and her man so much different or better now. they were pretty happy before, what about putting that ring on her finger made it any different? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;that being said, i want a ring really bad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;i know i know, i just got done saying that it shouldn't make a difference and what not, but don't you think maybe we're conditioned as little girls to  make that one specific thing so important?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;i won't lie,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;i sport a fake one. (ring)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;all the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;and it's not just an engagement ring, it's a set. it's worn in part because some times it will keep unwanted attention away, part because i want other girls to see it and think that i'm happily married and be jealous that they're still having to look and i'm not  (but really i am)  and part because well, its pretty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;ive decided it might not be the best idea in the world though, because sometimes you run into people you haven't seen in a while, and you're feeling stupid when they ask you about it because it's fake, so you don't tell them its fake, you just go along with it and then rumors get started, people start calling and wondering why you didn't invite them to you wedding, or why you haven't introduced him when really there is no one to fucking introduce! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;i'm tellin ya, the things girls do to make other girls jealous. girls we don't even know!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;but when you're sporting the ring its an unspoken truth that it means you won. you beat all those other lonely girls to the punch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;and i won't lie. when i see girls looking at my fake ring, i get a sense of pride. i think to myself, &lt;em&gt;they think i'm married and happy with a great guy and they're not. if they only knew&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt; anyway, i don't wear it all the time, just sometimes when i'm feeling especially lonely or if i go out looking like shit. if i have that ring on, it doesn't matter that i look like shit because to everyone else it looks like some one loves me and doesn't care if  i look like a bag lady. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;its a sick side of women that little ring will bring out.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;don't lie, it's gotten to you a couple of times. i bet you've got a fake one to lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112923085181570103?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112923085181570103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112923085181570103' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112923085181570103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112923085181570103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/its-just-ringor-is-it.html' title='its just a ring...or is it?'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112923082575286830</id><published>2005-10-13T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T12:13:45.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hiccup....hiccup</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt; this morning at 3:00,  i woke up, rolled over and looked at the clock and though &lt;em&gt;why the fuck am i awake?&lt;/em&gt; and then it happened. &lt;em&gt;hiccup&lt;/em&gt; i kind of looked around my bedroom like maybe some one else did it. it caught me off guard! &lt;em&gt;hiccup&lt;/em&gt; i tried to fall back asl &lt;em&gt;hiccup&lt;/em&gt; eep, but i just couldn't. i s-&lt;em&gt;hiccup- &lt;/em&gt;at in bed for thirty min-&lt;em&gt;hiccup-&lt;/em&gt;utes HICCUPING! what the hell. needless to say, im sl-&lt;em&gt;hiccup&lt;/em&gt;-eepy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112923082575286830?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112923082575286830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112923082575286830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112923082575286830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112923082575286830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/hiccuphiccup.html' title='hiccup....hiccup'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112914919265046978</id><published>2005-10-12T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-12T13:33:12.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i need an opinion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;okay, this weekend was ridiculous, as i've already posted. the date thing that was supposed to happen tuesday (last night) was with the matt that i've been seeing. at about 4 yesterday he sends me a text message that says "i don't know if i'm gonna be able to do anything tonight, i've still got a lot of work to do"  initially i was pissed, but i understand that he's a working man and he has deadlines and all that bull shit. a few hours later i get another text message that says " i've had 4 meetings to day so i didn't get shit done at work" i'm thinking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why is he telling me this?&lt;/span&gt; and then i try to rationalize by saying it's because he doesn't want me to think he's blowing me off. he calls me at about 8:30 and says that he can't talk long but he's really sorry about not being able to go out tonight. blah blah blah. i tell him it's no big deal that i've got plans now anyway and not to worry about it. so THEN he calls me at 11:30 or so and i'm feeling pretty tipsy because i drank a few (4) long island ice teas while i went out with friends. when i answer he gets a few words out and i tell him "i'm tired of talking on the phone. i wanted to see you tonight and that got fucked and i was pissed when i found out. i just wanted you to know that" he agrees and says he will call me today and figure out when we can go out again. should i even agree to see him? i haven't in almost 2 and 1/2 weeks and i feel like maybe he should make more of an effort. tell me something. anything. i'm in desperate need of guidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112914919265046978?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112914919265046978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112914919265046978' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112914919265046978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112914919265046978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-need-opinion.html' title='i need an opinion'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112878063688939206</id><published>2005-10-08T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-08T07:10:36.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>drunk ass</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;i was a drunk ass last night. like any normal working adult, i look forward to the weekend because it means no work. (well for me, every other week end) so i got FUCKED up. i'm talking about can't stand, don't want to stand because if i do my head would be to far away from the toilet kind of fucked up. i of course drunk dialed matt, and right as we were starting to talk about the next time we were gonna go out, three of my guy friends started yelling at me to get off the phone and come take a shot of vodka. matt was like " i'm gonna let you go." i think maybe he felt a little threatened. (good) i hate getting so drunk like that. i mean, i go over just to have a few drinks after work and it turns into total college-like party. liquor every where, people getting naked. (not i) i woke up this morning and it looked like a person bomb exploded on the living room floor. they were every where, propped up against the wall, under the coffee talbe, on the kitchen counter, i found some one in the garage... i, luckily, found a bed to pass out in. the beauty of being me right now is that i don't get hung over. the first thing i did this morning was stop and get breakfast. i'm pretty sure i have a date for tuesday...with matt... i think matt. there was another matt at the party...i don't think it's him...i don't remember. damn those vodka black outs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112878063688939206?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112878063688939206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112878063688939206' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112878063688939206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112878063688939206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/drunk-ass.html' title='drunk ass'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112864837596134934</id><published>2005-10-06T18:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-06T18:26:15.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>11-20 of the 101 things about me YAAAYYYYY</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;11. i have a sick obsession with plucking eyebrows. something about it is just satisfying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. i have my tongue pierced. it hurt like a motherfucker and if i had to do it again....i wouldn't. never mind. yes i would&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. i like guys with chest hair. weird huh? most girls aren't a big fan of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. i really, really like singing in the shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. i really, really hate math. numbers are strange to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. i know how to say curse words in german. i decided that i didn't want to learn spainish in high school because i think the mother fuckers should learn my language in my country. why German? the teacher was cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. i hate dating. the whole aukward conversation over bad food and beer just doesn't appeal to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. as much as i hate dating, i do it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. i love vodka. it turns me into fun lauren. and it turns other people, who would not normally be, interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. i also like jagger bombs. well really i like to drink. does that make me an alcoholic? i don't go to meetings....... so i'm a drunk, right? (im not a drunk, i just like to party and have fun)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112864837596134934?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112864837596134934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112864837596134934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112864837596134934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112864837596134934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/11-20-of-101-things-about-me-yaaayyyyy.html' title='11-20 of the 101 things about me YAAAYYYYY'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112864664863576762</id><published>2005-10-06T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-06T18:02:43.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DON'T BUY THE CHEESE DIP!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; don't buy the cheese dip from the grocery store. you know the kind you get at a mexican restaurant? well the stuff that  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;looks&lt;/span&gt; like it at the grocery store is NOT the same thing. it tasted like melted plastic...although i'm not entirely sure what melted plastic tastes like. so put some salt in it. no luck. i put some butter. still no luck. at that point i took the bowl to the trash can and turned it upside down. nothing came out. it was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;clump&lt;/span&gt; stuck to the bowl. it wasn't liquid-ee like the stuff at the mexican restaurant. i was really disappointed. i so wanted cheese dip, and now i'm gonna have to go the damn frontera and buy a little bowl of it for the same price as that fucking big chunk of stuff that i melted in the microwave. uh. now i'm hungry. and i want cheese dip. aggghhhhhl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112864664863576762?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112864664863576762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112864664863576762' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112864664863576762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112864664863576762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/dont-buy-cheese-dip.html' title='DON&apos;T BUY THE CHEESE DIP!'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112844223278511876</id><published>2005-10-04T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T09:10:32.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you try to do something nice....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;today is my friend katie's birthday. on my lunch break i wanted to get her lunch and bring it to her (she's at the house with a baby) but i'm broke. so i call my dad and ask him if i can borrow a few bucks and he WILL get paid back on thursday when my money comes. so he says yes and i go all the way to my parents house to pick it up. keep in mind i have hardly any gas in my car (gas prices are kicking my ass) so i get there and he's decided that i'm just using him and he changes his mind. i'm like  YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME THAT &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;BEFORE&lt;/span&gt; I DROVE ALL THE WAY TO YOUR HOUSE! so now i'm out like a quarter tank of gas, still no money, and no lunch for me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;or katie&lt;/span&gt; i'm just in pissy mood now and it's ruined my day. i know, you're thinking, how trivial. why let something like that bother you. well because it just does. damnit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112844223278511876?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112844223278511876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112844223278511876' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112844223278511876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112844223278511876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/you-try-to-do-something-nice.html' title='you try to do something nice....'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112838091114824193</id><published>2005-10-03T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-03T16:42:26.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i got tagged. yay.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;okay this is the list of 7 things....&lt;br /&gt;    7 THINGS TO DO BEFORE I DIE&lt;br /&gt;        1. become a successful fashion designer&lt;br /&gt;        2. meet the man i'm going to spend the rest of my life with.&lt;br /&gt;        3. have a child.&lt;br /&gt;        4. understand what truely being happy with myself is.&lt;br /&gt;        5. own a pair of manolo's and jimmy choo's :)&lt;br /&gt;       6. get my mother to understand that i'm not a bad person, i just do things differently than she does.&lt;br /&gt;        7. travel, at least to europe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    7 THINGS I CAN DO&lt;br /&gt;        1.i can sing, see "LAAA LA LEE LAAA"&lt;br /&gt;        2. stand up for myself        &lt;br /&gt;        3. tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue. i'm actually proud of that one.&lt;br /&gt;        4. draw&lt;br /&gt;        5.  read (hooked on phonics worked for me)&lt;br /&gt;        6. draw blood from a dog or a cat (working at a vets office)&lt;br /&gt;        7.  put a really cute outfit together for cheap(i'm on a budget)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    7 THINGS I CAN'T DO&lt;br /&gt;        1. say that i'm patient and mean it&lt;br /&gt;        2. put a diaper on a baby (i'll have to work on that if my future pans out the way i hope)&lt;br /&gt;        3. pick out a good movie to save my freakin life&lt;br /&gt;        4.  stop making smart ass comments&lt;br /&gt;        5.  quit smoking. i know i know, just quit. easier said than done, believe me.&lt;br /&gt;       6. take a shot of bicardi 151 and not puke. it was the first thing i ever got drunk off of, and to this day i just can't do it.&lt;br /&gt;       7. save money. i love spending it way to much. even if its just on that cheesy lighter at the gas station that says "i'm not as think as you drunk i am"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    7 THINGS THAT ATTRACT ME TO A MAN (this one is easy)&lt;br /&gt;        1. sense of humor! if you don't have that, you don't have anything.&lt;br /&gt;        2. teeth. the pretty, strait, white kind.&lt;br /&gt;        3. honesty. (although how do you really ever know if someone is telling the whole truth?)&lt;br /&gt;       4. eyes. i don't know what makes them pretty and what doesn't but if i like the way they look, that's a total turn on. i think i like the green ones the best.&lt;br /&gt;       5. muscular legs. i know, i know, a bit superficial, but who want's to have chicken legs wrapped around you?&lt;br /&gt;        6. dark hair. but you wonldn't be able to tell  by my ex boyfriends.&lt;br /&gt;       7. back muscles. nothing is more attractive than seeing a muscular upper back. think about it...while he's throwing a football, while he's trying to scratch that one place on his back that he can't get to.... heh ":)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    7 THINGS I SAY MOST OFTEN&lt;br /&gt;       1. "fuck" &lt;br /&gt;        2. "i have no gas money"&lt;br /&gt;        3. "i need a fucking cigarette"&lt;br /&gt;        4. "thank you for calling Banfield the Pet Hospital, this is Lauren may i help you?"&lt;br /&gt;        5. "apparently"&lt;br /&gt;        6. " where is newnan?"&lt;br /&gt;        7. " HORSE SHIT"&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;    7  CELEBRITY CRUSHES&lt;br /&gt;       1. Jake gyllenhal (how in the FUCK do you spell his last name. you know who i'm talking about).     &lt;br /&gt;        2. seann william scott aka stifler from american pie&lt;br /&gt;        3. michael vartan&lt;br /&gt;        4. lenny kravitz&lt;br /&gt;        5. the guy with the british accent on "House" i don't know his name, but whoo-ee!&lt;br /&gt;        6. dierks bentley&lt;br /&gt;       7. and of course, brad pitt. although he is recently pissing me off. i like angelina as an actress, but damn! who leaves jennifer anniston?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    7 PEOPLE I WOULD LIKE TO DO THIS WITH&lt;br /&gt;        1. KATIE MAE&lt;br /&gt;        2. KAYLIN            &lt;br /&gt;        3. CRYSTAL&lt;br /&gt;        4. MATT       &lt;br /&gt;        5. DANIEL       &lt;br /&gt;        6. MIKE   &lt;br /&gt;        7. NATHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112838091114824193?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112838091114824193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112838091114824193' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112838091114824193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112838091114824193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-got-tagged-yay.html' title='i got tagged. yay.'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112838026192852685</id><published>2005-10-03T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T17:48:10.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the first 10 of the 101 things about lollie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;i am a robber.&lt;br /&gt;i stole this idea from kt mae's site and i thought maybe it might be interesting to see if i can think of 101 things about myself. here goes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. i am horribly over analytical&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;2. i am a complete and total girly girl when it comes to fashion, after all, i went to college for fashion design.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;3. i have the ever so common female shoe obession&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;4. despite my girly girl side, i have some what of a potty mouth. my favorite word has got to be 'fuck'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;5. i have a bad habit of picking absolute losers to be my boyfriends, and i'm really not a bad catch...but we all say that, don't we?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;6. Georgia or Georgia Tech? Tech. eeeeecckkkk! don't hurt me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;7. i recently moved back to my parents house, and yes. it &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; as bad as it sounds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;8. i hate being alone. and by alone, i mean with out  a significant other. (which # 5 might be a result of)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;9. about 3 weeks ago, i ripped my nail almost completely off. the day before yesterday, there was no "almost" about it. it's gross&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;10.  i can't for the life of me figure out why anyone would wear black shoes with a brown belt or why people still wear "scrunchies" in their hair. (you know, those rubberbands with obnoxious colored cloth around them)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112838026192852685?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112838026192852685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112838026192852685' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112838026192852685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112838026192852685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/first-10-of-101-things-about-lollie.html' title='the first 10 of the 101 things about lollie'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112826869819092896</id><published>2005-10-02T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T09:03:25.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'>if you weren't aware</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;in case you were not aware, i erased all of my posts except the one. it occured to me that the people i was talking about might be closet case blogger junkies and would read some of the not so nice things i had been saying. so now i will keep it strictly ... uh...not quite so personal. this week has been a fairly sad one for the county that i live in. first a 10th grader who was running cross country got hit and killed by a truck. then a few days later a distant friend of mine was in a car accident and was killed. he was a month away from being married. its unfortunate the way things play out sometimes. oops, i have some where i have to go, i'll write more later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112826869819092896?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112826869819092896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112826869819092896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112826869819092896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112826869819092896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/10/if-you-werent-aware.html' title='if you weren&apos;t aware'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16776271.post-112783279588933970</id><published>2005-09-27T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-27T17:55:56.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>back to the gallery</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;last night i went back to the art gallery. okay, not the art gallery but the pub next door that only serves imported beer. disappointing, especially when all you really want at that particular moment is bud light. so like an idiot i told the lady that's what i wanted. she looked at me with her snooty little smile and said "we only carry imported beer." so i flashed her a grin that said &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sorry my friends are assholes and didn't tell me that this place was fucking ridiculous and doesn't carry bud light. &lt;/span&gt;so i just said "i'll have what they're having" when it gets to the table its half foam and it tastes like the inside of a my old cheerleading shoes smells. which is not good, if you needed clarification. so at this point we're sitting at the table shootin the shit and chris pig (the artist on display at the gallery) whips out a camera and starts taking snapshots of me smokin my ciggarette. or a fag as he called it (he's a the crazy british drunk with a cursing/smoking problem) he's walking around trying to get shots at all angles and the whole time he's shouting "act natural! pretend i'm not here!" and i'm thinking to myself, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;how in the fuck am i supposed to act natural with this middle aged drunk circling me like a vulture?  &lt;/span&gt;so none the less im smokin and i'm drinkin and i'm sure in at least one of his photographs there is a picture of me with a "fag" in one hand a "pint of lager" in the other and me making googly eyes at matt. ah, alas. the essence of lauren i captured. peace on earth at last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;speaking of peace on earth, i stayed at matts last night. once again i was a perfect angel...okay, not perfect but who is. but no, we have not done the deed which is suprisingly refreshing. he doesn't push it. he's respectful. its weird. okay, not weird, just not what im used to which come to think of it is rather unfortunate. any hoo, when we got to his house he, like any true dork, had to check the scores of his fantasy football team. he lost to a team called beer tits. we looked at some other stuff online for a little bit (no not porn) and decided it was boring. then we went to bed. then he woke me up at 6:00 in the morning wanting to make out. i'm like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who makes out in the morning? thats gross, with morning breath and what not. &lt;/span&gt;so i kissed him for a few minutes and fell back asleep.  i think i've decided i like him though. he just lives so damned far away...oh what to do, what to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16776271-112783279588933970?l=imustlauren.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/feeds/112783279588933970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16776271&amp;postID=112783279588933970' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112783279588933970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16776271/posts/default/112783279588933970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imustlauren.blogspot.com/2005/09/back-to-gallery.html' title='back to the gallery'/><author><name>lollie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05489257981350007663</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
