tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58616712802873694742024-03-05T03:45:25.397-07:00MeteoroflgyYou found the secret message! Good job!Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-45263046066061036202017-03-01T09:55:00.002-07:002017-03-01T09:55:07.199-07:00Something Something Politics.. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pNxhj4HuKEA4nG5FEMtATCpYJ2pIMsbslPQHjlyYPBwt8DI8zgN3drXAv4uKh4Tdyouldf235n2oaceoYmHC8tYKfhpQsTR7HuPMkWHZiVC9D7TAhNHoOWu40bcE3yGK6jrN5xzeEGQ/s1600/deportnik.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pNxhj4HuKEA4nG5FEMtATCpYJ2pIMsbslPQHjlyYPBwt8DI8zgN3drXAv4uKh4Tdyouldf235n2oaceoYmHC8tYKfhpQsTR7HuPMkWHZiVC9D7TAhNHoOWu40bcE3yGK6jrN5xzeEGQ/s640/deportnik.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posted without comment. <br />...Except for this comment.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-35982859391579693542015-07-01T07:01:00.000-07:002015-07-01T07:20:00.492-07:00I am not frequently asked for favors. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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At the end of the day, I sometimes do the right thing. Sometimes. </div>
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You got lucky this time, Jenna. </div>
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Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-81550444366731332752014-10-21T11:15:00.004-07:002014-10-21T11:15:56.983-07:00The Great Pumpkin's gon' shank yo bitch ass, Charlie Brown. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-82464813644668477442014-09-16T09:33:00.002-07:002014-09-16T12:36:43.640-07:00Frogmouth Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frogmouth" target="_blank">Frogmouths </a><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 10.4000005722046px;">≠ </span>owls. Educate yourself, fool. Anyway, I made this. </div>
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<a href="http://imgur.com/gallery/L1As6Zb" target="_blank">Imgur </a>inspired me. There might be more of these. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Trebuchet, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Want more Meaty goodness?</i></span></span></div>
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Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-59857583467467320932014-08-12T08:55:00.001-07:002014-08-13T14:49:18.681-07:00Godspeed, Robin Williams. Of all the hoaxes that ever were, I've never wished so deeply that this was one of them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.robinwilliams.com/</td></tr>
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I've wondered for a while now which celebrity I was sincerely attached to would pass away in my lifetime first. Philip Seymour Hoffman was halfway there. His acting was thoroughly impressive. I'd enjoyed his reemergence into my line of sight with The Hunger Games. Twister, in which he played the outlandish "Dusty" has always been one of my guilty pleasures. If I had a dime for every time I've watched that movie, I'd be retired, which would be slightly embarrassing, but it doesn't matter, because fuck you, I'm retired.<br />
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But Robin Williams.... Despite his struggles with addiction and depression, I think it was just something too sad for me to even imagine.<br />
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I avoid the evening news, because the world is sad enough without shoving its horrible violence down one's throat any more than you absolutely have to, which is what most mainstream media in America seems to pride itself on.<br />
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As a result, last night, while the world was mourning the loss of a brilliant actor and comedic legend, I was playing video games, brushing the cat, convincing myself that cheese cubes and cranberry juice were a sufficient dinner, and watching Hook for at least the 100th time. This is probably literal. In my varying states of depression or anxiety, I find repetition very soothing, and tend to watch the same movies over and over, for the background noise and familiarity.<br />
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Hook was one I never became tired of, because it changed with me as I grew older.<br />
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As a child, it was simply and naively a movie about Peter Pan. The food fight was, of course, the best part of the movie, and I watched it with extreme envy every single time. I loved Captain Hook and his fabulous, curly locks, the majesty of which were surpassed only by his larger-than-life personality. He was everything I loved, and still love, in a good villain. Even now, I would argue that he outshone even Peter Pan himself, driving the plot with his passionate agenda, and forcing Peter Pan back into the world he'd long forgotten.<br />
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Tink growing in size and kissing Peter Pan, the death of Rufio, the entire first half hour or so of the movie- these were just transitional, unimportant filler scenes to me. Potty breaks. Snack times. My childhood self knew where the <i>real </i>story was, and it wasn't in these boring, confusing moments.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Childhood wonder, manifest. </td></tr>
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Of course, when I grew older and began to re-watch my childhood favorites, I began to see things in a new light, as we all do. But Hook stood out for me among the rest. Hook was one of a very finite number whose meaning and entire story line did a complete 180. I felt almost betrayed by Peter and by the Lost Boys as I realized just how sad the plot actually was for a majority of the film.<br />
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Peter Pan wasn't glad to be back in Neverland at all. The place he had lived and loved for so many years had turned into a frightening and dangerous obstacle course. He had no playful vendetta against Captain Hook, no desire to tease and torment and humiliate him, and worse than that, was now at his mercy. The Lost Boys had looked up to him as their leader, and he had deserted them. He deserted his people, his paradise, his Neverland, only to come to earth, become an adult, ignore his own children, abandon his beloved Wendy for decades at a time, and obsess over money. As Dame Maggie summarized it best in the film, "Peter... You've become a pirate."<br />
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The movie ends well enough, but it's still very, very bittersweet. Tink and the Lost Boys have lost their leader once again. Peter Pan will live with the memory of his beautiful, magical Neverland, as well as the curse of never returning to it. Captain Hook, the great villain, is dead.<br />
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It's a poignant and heart-wrenching analogy for truly growing up. Neverland is the light inside us that the world will do it's level best to extinguish. We abandon our dreams, and our inner children. We forget our own brilliance and let our hearts take a back seat to simply surviving.<br />
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It's so hard to imagine a man like Robin Williams forgetting his brilliance. It's unfathomable. When I was young, he was my genie and my Peter Pan, my friend trapped in the jungle and my cross-dressing British nanny. As an adult, he was my bearded mentor and my tour guide through the hell, my inappropriately-mourning father and my captain. Even what some would consider his lesser films seemed to shine just for the mere fact that he was in them.<br />
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In his dramatic roles, Robin Williams would smile this smile... It's the kind of teary, wincing smile you wear when smiling is the last thing you want to do. It was so sincere. It was sincere in a way that only someone who regularly made the world laugh through extreme inner turmoil could portray. I think he so excelled in those cinematic moments, because he felt it in his own life. Maybe, in those moments, he wasn't even acting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI3XnTMgonr3rSGnggFAdG-lqZ3tyqwSsvwqY2uKCMDbsxhWhwsia1rABPWmECHGKYdUm9J0xzttjKOiC36dbxKgNhAqxuNs-82UictjeT4sWyUctLMZab8TS6UPwTM3vzccRTuBwbB38/s1600/smile2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI3XnTMgonr3rSGnggFAdG-lqZ3tyqwSsvwqY2uKCMDbsxhWhwsia1rABPWmECHGKYdUm9J0xzttjKOiC36dbxKgNhAqxuNs-82UictjeT4sWyUctLMZab8TS6UPwTM3vzccRTuBwbB38/s1600/smile2.JPG" height="400" width="336" /></a></div>
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For however much I noticed it before, I know I'll never be able to see these moments the same way again.<br />
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I feel it appropriate to mention that Kevin Pollak is currently post production with a documentary called <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3132632/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">Misery Loves Comedy</a>, which I'm sad to see does not list Robin Williams among the cast members. He summarizes his film as follows:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #121a0d; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"If you’re a fan of stand-up comedy, and those who perform it, you’re no doubt aware that a staggering percentage are truly miserable. We’ve lost number of great comedians to drugs, alcohol, and suicide. How can they be so entertaining to strangers and so filled with sadness and/or rage with family and friends? The main goal of this film is to shed extensive light on this bizarre dichotomy.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #121a0d; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>... It’s gonna be a hoot."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #121a0d; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>-</i>Kevin Pollak</span></span><br />
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I wish Robin Williams had been interviewed. I hope he knew he wasn't alone. I wish he'd been able to find some sort of relief for himself that involved breathing, and I know it wasn't for lack of trying that he never did. He smiled as long as he could. Maybe for some people, anything is better than living with the extinguished flame of Neverland.<br />
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For my own sense of coping, I choose to believe that Robin Williams, heartbreaking as it is for those left behind, has found relief. He deserves relief. I choose to envision him in beautiful fields of painted flowers, enjoying his own laughter as much as the we did, in a place that will bring him more peace and happiness than he found here with us... somewhere past that second star on the right.<br />
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Rest in peace, Robin Williams. Your legacy will outlast us all.<br />
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<span style="color: white;">.........</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-75841704934560856272014-05-22T13:11:00.000-07:002014-05-22T13:11:01.302-07:00I've devised a simple yet efficient device.<span style="font-size: large;">It gives those around you a heads-up on your disposition for the day.<br /><br />Spoiler alert: I'm in the danger zone. Not quite a code Busey, but close. </span><div>
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Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-9026805753616170852014-03-06T07:23:00.000-07:002014-03-06T08:46:10.577-07:00The next morning...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvi3Coq0LOOMJXDdNitLfsanlY553qMAEMccDkxqc1bEO-ydjBnLR6wn9dB454eCS_dbLVBzQhXP-cU4l0h6xZFMSVEoYeR27cN_2w4TcNs6cjcvzUmTmXlcsEXnMgkwh3Ye7qUw_-F3M/s1600/1898249_10151927805891615_602503666_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvi3Coq0LOOMJXDdNitLfsanlY553qMAEMccDkxqc1bEO-ydjBnLR6wn9dB454eCS_dbLVBzQhXP-cU4l0h6xZFMSVEoYeR27cN_2w4TcNs6cjcvzUmTmXlcsEXnMgkwh3Ye7qUw_-F3M/s1600/1898249_10151927805891615_602503666_n.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kelly <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I</span> would never live <a href="http://meteoroflgy.blogspot.com/2014/03/this-does-not-go-on-facebook-im-dead.html" target="_blank">that fateful day</a> down. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Everyone else lived happily ever after. </span></div>
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<br />Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-77536579870980669082014-03-05T14:01:00.001-07:002014-03-06T07:24:02.499-07:00"This does not go on Facebook. I'm dead serious."<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was helping my mom post some pictures to her Facebook account earlier, <br />when I noticed my sister was online. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I decided to have a little fun.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.....</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-2361926125523892592014-02-24T15:59:00.001-07:002014-02-25T07:25:46.730-07:00Valentine (f)Arts and CraftsOops, I forgot about Valentines Day. Well, online, anyway. In real life, however, I made several lovely cards for my coworkers, which I'd like to share with you. Vulgarity and puns run rampant in our day to day; I thought it only appropriate to use both in my craftsmanship.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhznNC3rnB9r9tt9T50n-M7vbaG6MTnB3-Vx1GINfGKIlf-GrJqq1w0518vltOGzVa7bdVVckMDZFSZdINgJGYK0Qnd9EN8YGzj7H5UJgEMqiTjoYvQPo7iA15E6hgvu7QHUcY2SeBpAY/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhznNC3rnB9r9tt9T50n-M7vbaG6MTnB3-Vx1GINfGKIlf-GrJqq1w0518vltOGzVa7bdVVckMDZFSZdINgJGYK0Qnd9EN8YGzj7H5UJgEMqiTjoYvQPo7iA15E6hgvu7QHUcY2SeBpAY/s1600/2.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, it's not <i>not</i> true. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwfiQfbn7XvGqij-dL2r0H6wAn8k2sUVX8OYUvgQ02n7Ao2jbUCHDdWDHr14cp9Fewlx_j9bBFvnPetI-rXsHQtYjar0YA1yH21OS3aThQy4COr27WBSm4UwqlfNAJ46UpH0P88D3FiA/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwfiQfbn7XvGqij-dL2r0H6wAn8k2sUVX8OYUvgQ02n7Ao2jbUCHDdWDHr14cp9Fewlx_j9bBFvnPetI-rXsHQtYjar0YA1yH21OS3aThQy4COr27WBSm4UwqlfNAJ46UpH0P88D3FiA/s1600/3.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one was for my boss. Hi, Kacey!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH2Uuwzx_YalsmKOg-ta8ljSt36cJp4r72xjI6BuFo8D19alhs2-DEllYC1P6gRGSN2FyLi6u_AGPdHNToohiQD3Ji1YT1GYcd4ZHu1g2rPQYEeyI-3-idPFQfkcGZbSAZl2cChR8l38Q/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH2Uuwzx_YalsmKOg-ta8ljSt36cJp4r72xjI6BuFo8D19alhs2-DEllYC1P6gRGSN2FyLi6u_AGPdHNToohiQD3Ji1YT1GYcd4ZHu1g2rPQYEeyI-3-idPFQfkcGZbSAZl2cChR8l38Q/s1600/4.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmm... sushi...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjulfsCtUUJitYrehyphenhyphen3ob28XXPXjWeXTQosGpavml0L0IdgnZoxJXO8g2shh0eZS02SmS2gqKXMbYkQzFRul9eOhyK7SpTnZqErigaFvp7s8-KEkSt0fm4PIhVI-N8bnRQ-tfG37aoNvQc/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjulfsCtUUJitYrehyphenhyphen3ob28XXPXjWeXTQosGpavml0L0IdgnZoxJXO8g2shh0eZS02SmS2gqKXMbYkQzFRul9eOhyK7SpTnZqErigaFvp7s8-KEkSt0fm4PIhVI-N8bnRQ-tfG37aoNvQc/s1600/5.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My personal fave.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjNMMjLGplDlgOc2aaeRpYKFS8FkjbZO-_bNbDJaSTyzkGX-Ip1qD-ZVCDtVH2t_XKd77R0YKTl_6U4yS99CNge2W1vJtwqjFzjv3_4hnH-mq9tzdaHnkyObxdm49CVvTtl-17AO8WSU/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjNMMjLGplDlgOc2aaeRpYKFS8FkjbZO-_bNbDJaSTyzkGX-Ip1qD-ZVCDtVH2t_XKd77R0YKTl_6U4yS99CNge2W1vJtwqjFzjv3_4hnH-mq9tzdaHnkyObxdm49CVvTtl-17AO8WSU/s1600/6.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was for the older gent notorious for horrible puns and dad jokes. <br />
He enjoyed it. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCriKbTK9zsEg1IPMl863KADAnksl3_lvmhla-M11h2Ths14G4LVE1fCLJFypVHcsE4iOOFD8fDQqUZStSPUdmFVMGUbhOkWRKj2NC3tnS3SezGpLEkiH7uOtnfGCBh3Z3nh6_Vq6rvw/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCriKbTK9zsEg1IPMl863KADAnksl3_lvmhla-M11h2Ths14G4LVE1fCLJFypVHcsE4iOOFD8fDQqUZStSPUdmFVMGUbhOkWRKj2NC3tnS3SezGpLEkiH7uOtnfGCBh3Z3nh6_Vq6rvw/s1600/7.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Señor Penis - Born in high school, thriving well into adulthood.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjaZtk3wmrrQ89qkPms0R-dCA3DUWfOU3i9nhgti9YysMRBBIkE2i07rM6vhPfJfezdq3xOrFV8MVrADXuGvGiq9DBeVkmp9deseLfYfwD8yYUzu1dVjCfGyPnfP5PhxifxPrRWH_nKE/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjaZtk3wmrrQ89qkPms0R-dCA3DUWfOU3i9nhgti9YysMRBBIkE2i07rM6vhPfJfezdq3xOrFV8MVrADXuGvGiq9DBeVkmp9deseLfYfwD8yYUzu1dVjCfGyPnfP5PhxifxPrRWH_nKE/s1600/8.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No comment. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVzrSZ3wrl7J1IkD-we_TGZzuPkciFeQqk7ZfITmylLkEnvSY-5_2-xgsf7g2mSMgR0nuRSpime9AMhm97gnR-J-0mpXW2p00J8QmXo7Jz8qjaldoxLJXWup8t66Zvod9cvUMXttUsgI/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVzrSZ3wrl7J1IkD-we_TGZzuPkciFeQqk7ZfITmylLkEnvSY-5_2-xgsf7g2mSMgR0nuRSpime9AMhm97gnR-J-0mpXW2p00J8QmXo7Jz8qjaldoxLJXWup8t66Zvod9cvUMXttUsgI/s1600/9.jpg" height="320" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This made more sense than "I'd Avada <i>your</i> Kedavra."</td></tr>
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That's all. ♥<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: white;">....</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-72149388420737620532014-01-10T09:26:00.001-07:002014-01-10T09:27:33.624-07:00Kebert Xela Sah Sinep Sregnif<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2s1cGdaWqt8rM1MBGooHjeGzTK-ZisVV6YNIGKwSmmqGY7knGlu6RPm89-rHPJ01OrZu4-zx1vDLzCiDBlP45go2EggxIqSpKEkcaMVONfBgVReKgC7HVchnXUzIQRDaZUrCet5COb0/s1600/Alex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2s1cGdaWqt8rM1MBGooHjeGzTK-ZisVV6YNIGKwSmmqGY7knGlu6RPm89-rHPJ01OrZu4-zx1vDLzCiDBlP45go2EggxIqSpKEkcaMVONfBgVReKgC7HVchnXUzIQRDaZUrCet5COb0/s1600/Alex.jpg" /></a></div>
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This is truth. This is fact. Can't handle it? Gtfo my blog.<br />
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(No, please stay. I'm lonely.)<br />
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No, but seriously.... were you ready for this?<br />
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......I can't hear you.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.......</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OXMPPTSzBpwKC2bDg7s9Ln8rtM7HLwdEpwlymH1ukOeUCQuK4id7SkgjSoFRxFXmp-Sil6bkfJADaxgKyJ6E7ILdBI_r2iuBfSmzSjdrj8mdi0REyEdiuBjObzH4CWgeMuGLHD4tZd4/s1600/alex1+copy+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OXMPPTSzBpwKC2bDg7s9Ln8rtM7HLwdEpwlymH1ukOeUCQuK4id7SkgjSoFRxFXmp-Sil6bkfJADaxgKyJ6E7ILdBI_r2iuBfSmzSjdrj8mdi0REyEdiuBjObzH4CWgeMuGLHD4tZd4/s1600/alex1+copy+copy.JPG" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.jeopardy.com/beacontestant/contestantsearches/">http://www.jeopardy.com/beacontestant/contestantsearches/</a>
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You brought this on yourself, Trebek.
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Trebuchet, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Want more Meaty goodness?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.......</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-80537700074911093002014-01-09T13:49:00.003-07:002014-01-09T14:13:50.462-07:00The Worst $25 I've Spent In 2014 (So Far)See what I did there? It's only the 9th of January, but I'm making jokes like "worst blah blah in 2014 ever lolol." It's such a fresh, funny joke. Have a chuckle with me, won't you?<br />
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If you're reading this blog, it means that my brain has been successfully transplanted into my new host body, and that the old one, ravaged by frostbite and severe hypothermia, has (hopefully) been properly discarded.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6sWaI9rgeH6l3JOhVSxRdr2AXhM8z9eaMC5mYepNu3OCZZCZZNdTUiP3Qdbae0b5MxWny8Sj-E7kwHLRofLH_MjRv6MoOsvtRNTAqHGwVcfLIVrobm8E4db4F_oexN-xQGqapF73gEM8/s1600/soylent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6sWaI9rgeH6l3JOhVSxRdr2AXhM8z9eaMC5mYepNu3OCZZCZZNdTUiP3Qdbae0b5MxWny8Sj-E7kwHLRofLH_MjRv6MoOsvtRNTAqHGwVcfLIVrobm8E4db4F_oexN-xQGqapF73gEM8/s1600/soylent.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: <a href="http://www.ironicsans.com/2011/02/its_people.html" target="_blank">Ironic Sans</a></td></tr>
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<span id="goog_59280082"></span><span id="goog_59280083"></span><br />
As you may recall, I live in Indiana, which was recently fucked by the long, cold dick of winter. In preparation for what I assume were record-breaking low temperatures in the Hoosier State (don't correct me if I'm wrong, you nerd,) I set out like any typical American preparing for a natural disaster: I stocked up enough food to survive for a month, then consumed as much of it as possible during the 3-4 day blizzard conditions in order to build my bulk and prepare for possible hibernation. I mowed down no less than 3 women and children with my cart in the dairy section to get a small container of sour cream. I took it upon myself to direct traffic and idiots in the parking lot, because that's what good citizens do.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSstICDBC_J7D8FEMHdlV_1wYmrZQzN3Ah4iX9O7Q236pYAFuVR6LGpd_0FYsb6loDZxqLq29ijxbGKEjLy806UY-cmX8gs0Ah2SY63TLuA0JD45Tp7n9UIdyKXIjV89z7nPG3PFWgmY4/s1600/fb1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSstICDBC_J7D8FEMHdlV_1wYmrZQzN3Ah4iX9O7Q236pYAFuVR6LGpd_0FYsb6loDZxqLq29ijxbGKEjLy806UY-cmX8gs0Ah2SY63TLuA0JD45Tp7n9UIdyKXIjV89z7nPG3PFWgmY4/s1600/fb1.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: A tangent. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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But this year, I decided to take it a step further. I absolutely loathe scraping my car windows in winter. You think that's ice? That's not ice. That's Jack Butt-Fucking Frost getting off on our misery, and jizzing all over our vehicles. He gets hard again as we struggle in vain to to scrape the outer ice so we can see, only to have our breath create inner ice inside the car. When we inevitably fly into a ditch or wrap ourselves around a telephone pole, it's like filthy bukake porn for him. And we're the bitches.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-8FWS_a0B93SuYe0azd8yOqoq3hz0E6jEjyoVpbAIeodcK9ijVTus5AnfjeAVAmCoMFaO632isBJh7_Ffa74hNcZO-I9qXij8T2QlUHcSQ33zyPs32QXWxDlPkcohn6LtefBNAqh_Lk/s1600/snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo-8FWS_a0B93SuYe0azd8yOqoq3hz0E6jEjyoVpbAIeodcK9ijVTus5AnfjeAVAmCoMFaO632isBJh7_Ffa74hNcZO-I9qXij8T2QlUHcSQ33zyPs32QXWxDlPkcohn6LtefBNAqh_Lk/s1600/snow.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Does anyone else feel like the amount of porn I have to watch for this blog is getting out of hand?<br />
Oh god.... the puns... =(</td></tr>
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But I digress.<br />
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I hate scraping windows like I hate bills, dead puppies, and being told repeatedly that I need to watch (whatever) television series. So I decided to thwart Jack Frost and make him <i>my</i> bitch this winter. I went out and bought myself a lovely, grey, impermeable car cover, so that when the snow hit, I could simply whisk the cover off my away from my Camry, give it a shake-a-roosky, and store it in the handy carrying case it came in. Considering how effortlessly I was able to cover my car, I was very hopeful that these plans were completely impermeable, just like my car cover.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9oWgQc96nQUygyyNefdKAECIPVS86Qjx8Nqtx4GnDmJz2RAybMKCNU2EemfFbvq2kkMIio-LIdEd1l-vKbouVBvjbOM-92_GkJMHre39GK_1ga9azUPnDJQlxVFjfSMyklhgGL91f7e0/s1600/magic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9oWgQc96nQUygyyNefdKAECIPVS86Qjx8Nqtx4GnDmJz2RAybMKCNU2EemfFbvq2kkMIio-LIdEd1l-vKbouVBvjbOM-92_GkJMHre39GK_1ga9azUPnDJQlxVFjfSMyklhgGL91f7e0/s1600/magic.jpg" /></a></div>
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Well, as usual in Indiana, the trouble started with the forecasters shitting all over our expectations. Instead of a foot of snow, we got what I believe to be 3+ inches of slush (followed by maybe five inches or less of snow,) which of course turned entirely into pure ice in the -40°f windchill conditions. No, unfortunately, that's not a goddamned typo. It actually felt like -40°f during this <strike>snow </strike>shit storm.<br />
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Side note: I had always kind of wanted to experience temperatures of that degree, because I assumed my nose-cicles would turn me into a lovable walrus, and I could build igloos and shit. It turns out, however, that those temperatures are so cold that you can't even piss yourself in misery, because your wiener is frozen shut with ice. I don't have a wiener, but I assume that's how it went down for all your poor sons of bitches who had to be out and about in that nonsense.<br />
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The change in weather didn't really phase me, because I'm a cocky piece of shit. I figured hey, if the roads are bad, I'll stay home, and when the roads are cleared, why, with all this preparation, it's just a matter of a simple swoosh, and my car will be free from its ice prison. I actually smirked a little as I saw all the other cars getting covered, while my impermeable fortress of magic material kept the Camry nice and dry.<br />
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There were a few little things the manufacturers neglected to put on the box:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ051q_A9j6IdBBVZqye9ZQuXbunUK32aUfjkgysEIOeyd_JFV2vX_RX6evG-fpSHhZnuM8I-1mQyfAydhtPTTuP2R_mYzBWLUrZDxlmoXWMT221ownFRoyrSeVpvBOJJOv2GpFS-9dXc/s1600/LIES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ051q_A9j6IdBBVZqye9ZQuXbunUK32aUfjkgysEIOeyd_JFV2vX_RX6evG-fpSHhZnuM8I-1mQyfAydhtPTTuP2R_mYzBWLUrZDxlmoXWMT221ownFRoyrSeVpvBOJJOv2GpFS-9dXc/s1600/LIES.jpg" /></a></div>
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1) Their definition of "impermeable" actually means "quite permeable, you naive fool."<br />
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2) The quite permeable material will allow water to seep through to the car, then freeze to adhere itself, like crazy winter super glue from super-hell, which is like normal hell, except the total opposite and made of ice. I bet there are lots of these car covers in super-hell. Maybe the super-devil even hands them out as welcome gifts, I don't fucking know.<br />
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3) When you do finally manage to free your car from this super awesome amazing so-ahead-of-the-game purchase you've made, take the "Free, convenient storage bag!" and light it on fire, and then light yourself on fire, because I assure you that's more of a fulfilling endeavor than trying to store this thing properly. Houdini would have been like, "aw shit, son" and just punched himself in the stomach before attempting to store this cover. It was like trying to shove squares into circles, or pairing chocolate pudding with corn and tonic water to make soup. It simply didn't work. For one disgusting, unfortunate, brief moment in my life, I knew what it felt like to be Ron Jeremy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpanFXob5vHoZMBA988vXcHkzx8k_PPbykx98xOr7HdhU28FO1Hr7Zgzdb0kiObbu5RuqUcxOJTmXhZLHTgcOgndLbdFjzmlHvNgpUYnnCjV6c19LeWvcOw4LQ9x959V7eoXIPGtbBss/s1600/ron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpanFXob5vHoZMBA988vXcHkzx8k_PPbykx98xOr7HdhU28FO1Hr7Zgzdb0kiObbu5RuqUcxOJTmXhZLHTgcOgndLbdFjzmlHvNgpUYnnCjV6c19LeWvcOw4LQ9x959V7eoXIPGtbBss/s1600/ron.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, definitely out of hand.<br />
....shut up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Would it have been easier for me to just bend over and take it from Jack Frost? It's hard to say. All I know is that I left the car cover bunched up on the car over night in defeat, and would not have been devastated to find it stolen the next morning. It might have even been worth paying an extra $25 to pay someone to come steal it, just so I didn't have to struggle with my failed plan the next day.<br />
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I did eventually get the car cover off of my vehicle. It is now "conveniently stored" in my trunk, probably melting all over whatever Island of Misfit Auto-parts dwells within. This is a fair trade in lieu of lighting myself on fire. I guess.<br />
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Seriously, fuck that storage bag, even if the color is lovely. Maybe I can use it as a coin purse or to store my cold, dead dreams of an easy winter, but of the very few things on this earth which I know in my heart to be true, that bag will never, <i>ever</i>, house my car cover properly.<br />
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They really ought to just sky-drop these car covers into bad neighborhoods to stomp out rampant prostitution. $25 for a thorough butt-fucking seems like a pretty good deal to me.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk79clHdIK8BCTYwmVKsQRXbWxiQ2p5vbM6kvnrfu7mgoNiYEbnEpTnOTe23fq1YUipieYrys7GGJEDp6PBfU9FQmwDiIeMT9fy2OsNltdV24qLvE9HKgp0QgCxbtkjAHfSLX0e2LasiA/s1600/detroit+wut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk79clHdIK8BCTYwmVKsQRXbWxiQ2p5vbM6kvnrfu7mgoNiYEbnEpTnOTe23fq1YUipieYrys7GGJEDp6PBfU9FQmwDiIeMT9fy2OsNltdV24qLvE9HKgp0QgCxbtkjAHfSLX0e2LasiA/s1600/detroit+wut.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Detroit Wut</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Trebuchet, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Want more Meaty goodness?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">...</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-24901950640927689212013-10-04T12:29:00.003-07:002013-10-04T13:05:53.806-07:00In Which I Summarize Movies You Can't Believe I Haven't Seen"Whaaaaa?? How have you NOT seen The Shawshank Redemption?! It's the greatest movie of all time, and it's so right up your alley!!"<br />
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We've all been on the receiving end of that one. Substitute Shawshank for whatever your little hearts desire, but the simple fact remains: Somewhere, someone can't believe you haven't seen something. (Side note: You really should see Shawshank.)<br />
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I thought I'd take a few of the ones I get a lot, and guess how the movies go, since honestly, I probably won't watch any of them. I'm cinematically lazy like that. I'll be combining the few facts I do know about these movies, and using Google image search and context clues to fill in the gaps.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">#1:</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHN-l35HOHKpys6WA_jT0gqG43HXb7vsnTMOZfoN2cmkMVC_roBpGteGc1jxTlaVFULQYmvT4Asl-KOdmO0r_eVcIfF8QNujrSNXxTGjdfYsCmKl5k2vMvEXRYSX0f3fNCyShjcHrg3hE/s1600/title.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHN-l35HOHKpys6WA_jT0gqG43HXb7vsnTMOZfoN2cmkMVC_roBpGteGc1jxTlaVFULQYmvT4Asl-KOdmO0r_eVcIfF8QNujrSNXxTGjdfYsCmKl5k2vMvEXRYSX0f3fNCyShjcHrg3hE/s640/title.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Most of the movie takes place in the title guy's office. At least that's what I assume, since any time I've seen a snippet on TV, people are always sitting and talking to him there. I'm also going to go ahead and assume that he is The Godfather, but that "godfather" doesn't mean what it traditionally means in this context. It probably means close to the opposite of its textbook definition.<br />
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He is a very powerful mobster, but will only do favors for people when one of his relatives gets married. This is because it provides cover for his shady dealings, and also because he is an introvert and hates big parties and crowds.<br />
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Someone needs a super DUPER favor when his daughter gets married, so he <b>makes an offer (the favor-asker) can't refuse</b>. (Yay, pop culture!) I'm pretty sure it's this guy. I'm going to call him "Doug," because "this guy" and "that guy" will get confusing.<br />
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Doug is fighting with an old man who keeps lots of expensive horses as pets. We're just going to call him Skeeter, because consistency is important with story telling.<br />
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Skeeter owes Doug a great deal of money, and has missed his deadline. Everyone who knows Skeeter also knows that Patty Mayonnaise is his prized and most favorite horse. So when Doug asks The Godfather to help him show Skeeter that he is no longer fucking around, The Godfather knows exactly how to deliver that message.<br />
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With his beloved Patty Mayonnaise decapitated, and nothing left to live for, Skeeter continues to refuse paying Doug, knowing that The Godfather will murder him, which he does. The ending is bitter-sweet though, because Skeeter and Patty get to be together again in Horse/Mobster heaven.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">#2:</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmX9_QCdrEDTo1VQduR65CWp02Xif-AOGY-jRBugbyVqbOXbWYHrzIo5Mhj3Q_mJtcGr1D43LvhRGKvUGUzPNeD_BiQJUWVSINNj0kQwECQc9WRhOG8vxgDQ9N1smaod0RTQdACL5pVWs/s1600/title.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmX9_QCdrEDTo1VQduR65CWp02Xif-AOGY-jRBugbyVqbOXbWYHrzIo5Mhj3Q_mJtcGr1D43LvhRGKvUGUzPNeD_BiQJUWVSINNj0kQwECQc9WRhOG8vxgDQ9N1smaod0RTQdACL5pVWs/s640/title.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I feel like this one is kind of like the Matrix, except with less computers and more dreams. Are we dreaming? Is this real life? Why is the world tilting at a 45 degree angle? Haha, isn't this a hoot?!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJ_2zp0MM6wX4fHUDZLXfZojqd1RaMYmuX78kPuHcIlLwBt8PVNO4tyxWJzpKU_FMELhDpYaC4Z74AudexUvuiQdCwrtBpMmbR9kwHCjNS80wAU_OddvSGiGIKy56V89a9JqgxmWv_BA/s1600/tag.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJ_2zp0MM6wX4fHUDZLXfZojqd1RaMYmuX78kPuHcIlLwBt8PVNO4tyxWJzpKU_FMELhDpYaC4Z74AudexUvuiQdCwrtBpMmbR9kwHCjNS80wAU_OddvSGiGIKy56V89a9JqgxmWv_BA/s640/tag.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Inception takes place in a world where a handful of people have the ability to dream the world into a state that better suits them. Leo and Juno and their friends find a way to infiltrate this dreaming world, and are trying to find ways to stop the evil-doer from bending reality. The evil-doer is really good at controlling the dream world, though, and that's why this shit is always happening:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA16NvOUYfHbdNBk1NbN9GWVkNNeygT3hRSEl-3xc-ZDMNA17QnMxVcUYZadcY8ykWZp8NkcPRAEJutiSZasl6JCAu8fi-z76sfZuV174PmqfVUEmkBTC6LtuzNY0JYOTW2_8ZR2joMzc/s1600/shit2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA16NvOUYfHbdNBk1NbN9GWVkNNeygT3hRSEl-3xc-ZDMNA17QnMxVcUYZadcY8ykWZp8NkcPRAEJutiSZasl6JCAu8fi-z76sfZuV174PmqfVUEmkBTC6LtuzNY0JYOTW2_8ZR2joMzc/s640/shit2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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and this shit:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2SeAghgnDELKB5Au-vTbFBzX4hKanRn49YlKnW4164LAgcW3JLYvUo3e3yKsPKLUnUuP5e_bOSvxSWqqH1kjsDmbXNxNk8SRRGUtiV2wEdA4_W7qjepAqrSPWHf39kneKElxkJMBeG4/s1600/shit1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2SeAghgnDELKB5Au-vTbFBzX4hKanRn49YlKnW4164LAgcW3JLYvUo3e3yKsPKLUnUuP5e_bOSvxSWqqH1kjsDmbXNxNk8SRRGUtiV2wEdA4_W7qjepAqrSPWHf39kneKElxkJMBeG4/s640/shit1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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and also this shit:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1lEFQmjGin3YkPVCmqABGWX9hyphenhyphent3B4EAzNWhWu33b9KQU5oN8G2JBXK10n46Xol4XiHn6zaG59AJT_yoDwxjyLya4QWXdyUHNW2OVnQYsHZaxL_P808R5yzNdbLsA6LRPackowhTPHQ/s1600/shit+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1lEFQmjGin3YkPVCmqABGWX9hyphenhyphent3B4EAzNWhWu33b9KQU5oN8G2JBXK10n46Xol4XiHn6zaG59AJT_yoDwxjyLya4QWXdyUHNW2OVnQYsHZaxL_P808R5yzNdbLsA6LRPackowhTPHQ/s640/shit+3.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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Spoiler alert: At least half of the main characters in this movie die, because come on. Look at that shit. Ain't nobody going to survive buildings flipping over and fizzy lifting drinks. Leo and Juno definitely survive and definitely get their bone on. But not before finding some stupid lever or button that forces the bad guy to lose his ability to control the world with his mind.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">#3:</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQop9H12w5RMGDYQNOcBsoAOs0Vyf0LODxpuS2_OZK2jCR47WhbfSSZs-wNgTlmc54gE_YMvp4xC9IMxYHsqXOsROmWQw8YuJQiUmnVdLRDAtUZDoqoLFvXXtAQPhoTVGBDaW5g_iRE4/s1600/title.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQop9H12w5RMGDYQNOcBsoAOs0Vyf0LODxpuS2_OZK2jCR47WhbfSSZs-wNgTlmc54gE_YMvp4xC9IMxYHsqXOsROmWQw8YuJQiUmnVdLRDAtUZDoqoLFvXXtAQPhoTVGBDaW5g_iRE4/s640/title.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Admittedly, I wasn't even sure that I hadn't seen this movie until a couple weeks ago, when I discovered that <i>Labyrinth </i>and <i>Pan's Labyrinth</i> were actually two separate movies. In my defense, the latter definitely looks like something in which David Bowie would participate as well. It looks creepy and scary, the two key things I associate with him.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVouWf8abfkQkRxGDHWiL56OBFmil2rfh-iU9KJWeuj80qmc8Zl-mgYyKopOe6akaAK7kiwUuFH63vyG5aqxgAOOKfRZhQDuBSPIy5MAOkuYy4dyt6U0TnU59scUpGlb1UimghU1zHOY/s1600/MAZED+BOWIE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVouWf8abfkQkRxGDHWiL56OBFmil2rfh-iU9KJWeuj80qmc8Zl-mgYyKopOe6akaAK7kiwUuFH63vyG5aqxgAOOKfRZhQDuBSPIy5MAOkuYy4dyt6U0TnU59scUpGlb1UimghU1zHOY/s640/MAZED+BOWIE.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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*shudders*<br />
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Anyway, in this Spanish Alice in Wonderland, the little girl (who we'll call Alice) climbs underneath the scariest fucking tree she can find, and lands herself in a bizarre underworld of mazes and puzzles she must solve in order to return home.<br />
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Of course, there are those who would rather keep her prisoner. The main villain - a goat man named Pan, sends his right-hand man to ensure she can't find her way out of the many puzzles and tasks he sets before her.<br />
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If this movie has a douchebag who is always making horrible puns, you know it's this asshole. "Oh, <b>eye</b>'d love to give you a <b>hand</b> with that, Alice, but as you can <b>see</b>, it might be a bit of a <b>palmblem</b>. Hor hor hor hor!"<br />
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Despite being fully-equipped for villainy, what with his wrinkly naked-mole rat skin, Voldemort non-nose, and desperate need for a manicure, this guy is quite the bumbling idiot, which allows Alice to navigate Pan's Labyrinth quite easily. Ultimately he takes maters into his own hands, and they have a big spooky show-down. At this point in the movie, Alice realizes how ludicrous and impossible everything happening is, and realizes she's dreaming. She thusly imagines a bed, and one materializes right there in the labyrinth (because, you know, dreamin' magics,) and she tucks herself in. Because just as sleep leads to dreams in the waking world, sleep leads to waking in the dreaming world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYdV7gmb2b4ay-43ZKFGGrWrcrx1pB7eTLQioVpQ7KHZJpkggkKx1hHmvBKVRVgiDcMBtCVHRr3Kbu5nc4CDdNeOzTbLEZMGYJnu-b_6CzPFFDVYu9LF1AfwJVa1wpgdbIN4oygs4BZKQ/s1600/cheating.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYdV7gmb2b4ay-43ZKFGGrWrcrx1pB7eTLQioVpQ7KHZJpkggkKx1hHmvBKVRVgiDcMBtCVHRr3Kbu5nc4CDdNeOzTbLEZMGYJnu-b_6CzPFFDVYu9LF1AfwJVa1wpgdbIN4oygs4BZKQ/s1600/cheating.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">#4:</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgysZGRavNkk40KY54n8RkUQRsHK-zklvytGuTTEjW7RtV9t_9mMR0SKgQFM3BdX9coXrISWSBmUQXg0fhAwUPEO_BuiI-YjmoXm9L0kbBoNa73fdMsAwLWAwG7zTvyH_xRrSZ70P_V3vM/s1600/title.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgysZGRavNkk40KY54n8RkUQRsHK-zklvytGuTTEjW7RtV9t_9mMR0SKgQFM3BdX9coXrISWSBmUQXg0fhAwUPEO_BuiI-YjmoXm9L0kbBoNa73fdMsAwLWAwG7zTvyH_xRrSZ70P_V3vM/s640/title.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Jesus, it took me like five minutes to even find this picture on Google, because I can barely spell the title.<br />
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I really don't understand why this movie is cute. Basically, it's about a chef who finds a rat in his restaurant, and instead of, you know, making it leave, he decides to let him help out in the kitchen, which leads me to believe he's probably the shittiest chef on the planet. How else could unexpected vermin in the kitchen possibly turn out to be a good thing?<br />
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He lets the rat take a huge shit in the gumbo, and starts winning awards for it. It's like Sweeney Todd, except instead of bodies, there's rat shit. What's more heart-warming and appetizing than that?<br />
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Anything. The answer you are looking for is <i>anything</i>. Take away the Pixar animation, and see how adorable this becomes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1aeA_uawq3i8f4unfWaTDezNs_elAjUz3QEOTSnVOcnbOanJJ7YW171iZeWPuAotv9Myogr12UQJBL1RmKCEhHuUyi3ycxnHENFsJyrriCSYgBR0xOo4lKhBM7aVnv3EXOIRddJHx6o/s1600/real+rat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1aeA_uawq3i8f4unfWaTDezNs_elAjUz3QEOTSnVOcnbOanJJ7YW171iZeWPuAotv9Myogr12UQJBL1RmKCEhHuUyi3ycxnHENFsJyrriCSYgBR0xOo4lKhBM7aVnv3EXOIRddJHx6o/s1600/real+rat.jpg" /></a></div>
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I rest my case.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">#5:</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4Lu3Q5FiCFzbUUcNWxBWDIXwdW5UuAxMDNjn_UotYihYBxibyNIENvPwdCgyrthU83WniaUOw8qK1plOC7-oOpDoRG8JxfGfUbh9v7x3XUTZKMZQ18S2Y7l9vyPPJEYLGpcoCErkPMY/s1600/title.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4Lu3Q5FiCFzbUUcNWxBWDIXwdW5UuAxMDNjn_UotYihYBxibyNIENvPwdCgyrthU83WniaUOw8qK1plOC7-oOpDoRG8JxfGfUbh9v7x3XUTZKMZQ18S2Y7l9vyPPJEYLGpcoCErkPMY/s1600/title.JPG" /></a></div>
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I'm confused about the time period in which this movie takes place. On the one hand, I feel like there's a chubby kid watching television. On the other, I know there are pirates involved. (There are, right? Christ, I hope so, or I'm really not going to come close with this synopsis. You know. Unlike the other ones.)<br />
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A group of ragtag misfits go looking for a pirate treasure, and have all sorts of wacky encounters along the way. I seriously doubt they find the treasure. I bed someone finds a big ol' treasure chest, opens it, and discovers only a scrap of paper with the word "friendship" written on. It's one of those stories where at the end, the adventure itself was the <i>real</i> treasure. Which is all fine and good, but, you know...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-xxBrfrlaXqrRx10bEu-IvCkwZoWmG_DWkpIuAvhMpuwc5Dc-WTCpR8j4mVJo_cL4IkVEdfaNpHnl1KCCBmX1d-Cuzm9raNmTZHkwkrCUWjEGfA405kJUyzQuqdpR25FPh8Ui2iCRdY/s1600/surgery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-xxBrfrlaXqrRx10bEu-IvCkwZoWmG_DWkpIuAvhMpuwc5Dc-WTCpR8j4mVJo_cL4IkVEdfaNpHnl1KCCBmX1d-Cuzm9raNmTZHkwkrCUWjEGfA405kJUyzQuqdpR25FPh8Ui2iCRdY/s640/surgery.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I think this guy's name is Sloth, and that he eats nothing but Baby Ruth candy bars, but I could be wrong. He lives in the cave where the misfits go to search for the treasure. I don't think he's a villain, but the kids spend half the movie running from him anyway, because look at that shit. What is going on up there? It's some sort of weird combination of Elephantiasis, male pattern baldness, and just a touch of bad dental hygiene.<br />
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I wish I could tell you that the fat kid who does the Truffle Shuffle adopts this little critter so that he can live out the rest of his days comfortably, but in all honesty, the kids probably stone him to death out of rage after they discover they're not going home with a fat sack of doubloons.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOzQGG6FJ750m4QBVGN84HKst7FirlJyRG7UF8VwZi5MzPwUTnppczUvLxTHW1tn5Ke01S0-qlw2X9faCBHrrZ5iYblpQ5u3vw3EK-ylcBOTr2L4TGVp6YqM5K5uJQBGJaZ7YfjfzXVg/s1600/fin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOzQGG6FJ750m4QBVGN84HKst7FirlJyRG7UF8VwZi5MzPwUTnppczUvLxTHW1tn5Ke01S0-qlw2X9faCBHrrZ5iYblpQ5u3vw3EK-ylcBOTr2L4TGVp6YqM5K5uJQBGJaZ7YfjfzXVg/s200/fin.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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There are tons of other movies that I'm apparently supposed to have seen. Maybe I'll touch on the others some other time. In the meantime, I hope you found this as noneducational as possible, because, per tradition, I am talking directly out of my anus. <br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Trebuchet, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Want more Meaty goodness?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Trebuchet, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Follow me on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/meteoroflgy" target="_blank">Facebook </a>or <a href="https://twitter.com/meteoroflgy" target="_blank">Twitter</a>!</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.....</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-40756052942918596782013-08-15T08:12:00.000-07:002017-03-20T08:57:52.494-07:00Cleaning out my closetYeah, that's right. Eminem ain't got shit on me.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9lVy4Qq65yMo0SVi7Dm3MMUgsq4hUTov5xwfnr6MzotXqX75PA-yx1exRNWqb8N0eWSzoNR5IKhtAByWALvG6OnDphvEa1eoH2q4IlNdNAkH0toB4CidX5Jf8r6edBDvzizPkRTJWK4/s1600/CHUMP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9lVy4Qq65yMo0SVi7Dm3MMUgsq4hUTov5xwfnr6MzotXqX75PA-yx1exRNWqb8N0eWSzoNR5IKhtAByWALvG6OnDphvEa1eoH2q4IlNdNAkH0toB4CidX5Jf8r6edBDvzizPkRTJWK4/s1600/CHUMP.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just kidding, Mr. Nem. Please don't shoot me. </td></tr>
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In my last update, I mentioned that I had a few posts which I never got around to completing. I thought it might be cathartic for me, and amusing for you, for me to touch upon the two I liked the best, but realistically will probably never finish. Maybe if I feel like I have a clean slate in regards to creative failures, new creativity can start breeding like rabbits inside my noggin. (Note to self: Advance science; replace brain with bunnies.)<br />
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So! Let's get these sad, neglected posts out in the open, shall we? It'll be just like <a href="http://meteoroflgy.blogspot.com/2012/08/forgive-me-interwebs-for-i-have-sinned.html" target="_blank">confession </a>all over again, except a bit more random, if that's even possible.<br />
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For the first of the two posts, I'd like to preface by saying I would never actually do meth. But I did draw a picture of me contemplating it. I had some brain issues earlier this year. Yes, legitimate, medical brain issues, not "you drew a picture of Hitler banging my mom, what is wrong with you" brain issues. It turned out to be <a href="http://www.webmd.com/migraines-headaches/hemiplegic-migraine-headaches-symptoms-causes-treatments" target="_blank">hemiplegic migraines</a>, which suck every dick in the land. But considering the scary bullshit we ruled out, I'll bend over and take it any day.<br />
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Anyway, while we were trying to figure out why the fuck I was limping around like a stroke patient and unable to form three-word sentences, I was trying other things, such as vitamins, diet change, a slew of expensive tests, and worst of all, eliminating caffeine, in an attempt to understand and control what was happening.<br />
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As you may or may not know, I don't actually have blood coursing through my veins, but rather a frothy mixture of Mountain Dew and coffee. This is beneficial because I don't sleep well and because the carbonation tickles my heart valves. So when I was without caffeine for those horrible few weeks, I was desperately jonesing for something to keep my unhappy ass awake. I started making a list of comparable substitutes in a failed post called "Being Proactive," which included items such as duct-taping a bullhorn to my forehead (for when I slumped over at my desk) and lighting myself on fire (self explanatory,) but the only item on the list I ever got around to illustrating was Meth.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTruTzEAtdjHOmMt3JdhekmOZs4Pj39Q-UQw1KsUjC9WUo8_kfADFuTy9CnTfCwXPXR5zX5826us1WO1vANJS27c_8qvKeFNc7TDWiklTT9cMSPhHVTnwsf_yMoY6yaYYnsAAWKeAdUs/s1600/meth+copy+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTruTzEAtdjHOmMt3JdhekmOZs4Pj39Q-UQw1KsUjC9WUo8_kfADFuTy9CnTfCwXPXR5zX5826us1WO1vANJS27c_8qvKeFNc7TDWiklTT9cMSPhHVTnwsf_yMoY6yaYYnsAAWKeAdUs/s1600/meth+copy+copy.JPG" /></a></div>
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The hemiplegic migraines are under control now, and I did not have to resort to ingesting happy little meth crystals to make it happen. I'd call that a success.<br />
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The second post which deserved its day in the sun was about an awesomely terrible idea I once had involving Coca Cola, Bill Cosby, and fourteen pounds of pudding. Rather than try to explain the post, I'm just going to give you what I had accomplished so far. Heads up: I left it at a real cliff-hanger, as far as the pictures go.<br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">This may come as a shock to all long-time readers, but occasionally, I've been known to make very stupid decisions. This is one such story.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">I know not everyone who reads will know what Sam's Club is, and frankly, I'm not sure how to describe it in a way that will do it justice. Sam's is an exclusive treasure trove of goods, accessible for members only. It's grocery store on steroids. It's a beautiful, in-bulk wonderland of superfluous spending. They sell everything you could ever want, in quantities no normal human being should even imagine, let alone need. In a way, it's everything America stands for.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8njE1GDqPqvewidFaQRVf71VpNsongUhBmJTYMTzN870B4uycw4mgmeX7pRzt9IwQPZ8TvWlnqWCPR6DhQgzHPQAxp6i8fYvTh4EvHfxC8eUWjEee13r9WWTRvb3-ejFFxrkwIxSjEs/s1600/USE_Copy+(2)+of+my+face+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8njE1GDqPqvewidFaQRVf71VpNsongUhBmJTYMTzN870B4uycw4mgmeX7pRzt9IwQPZ8TvWlnqWCPR6DhQgzHPQAxp6i8fYvTh4EvHfxC8eUWjEee13r9WWTRvb3-ejFFxrkwIxSjEs/s1600/USE_Copy+(2)+of+my+face+copy.JPG" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d;">A few years ago, my friends Brian and Paul, who were living together (platonically, as far as I know) decided to obtain a membership to Sam's Club, in an attempt to buy in bulk once in a great while, and then go months without grocery shopping. This served not only their benefit, but my own, as members of Sam's Club were allowed to bring one non-member with them. I was lucky enough, on several occasions, to be their +1. I still remember being wrapped in a warm, fluorescent blanket of wonder as I stepped through those automatic doors and feasted my eyes around the dozens of rows, not knowing where to start.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">One day, while tagging along in Sam's with my friend Brian, something caught my eye. I mean, everything in this store is <i>huge</i>, don't get me wrong. But this.... this was a thing of pure beauty. I felt like I was looking, for a brief, fleeting moment, into the very eyes of god.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja54NIOGLtvjbyycnq7phquwdG9SamQZBaBzI84v5J5M8itU0rfEVyhQSVBD1eiqiOMG9lo65J3tlw0SQs2aWz7R7r-umFbhsvgc1064pRFFrAsK3sZCBu4KjiVl0NQfS9eDd2T7q63U0/s1600/display+copy+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja54NIOGLtvjbyycnq7phquwdG9SamQZBaBzI84v5J5M8itU0rfEVyhQSVBD1eiqiOMG9lo65J3tlw0SQs2aWz7R7r-umFbhsvgc1064pRFFrAsK3sZCBu4KjiVl0NQfS9eDd2T7q63U0/s1600/display+copy+copy.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d;">....The god of pudding.</span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1hKl5bNZTmsqZapgq68ffORWAy_PSktJlXX6-mu7hqjS5a4uelxZ62ZQBBdXpuEpwcZPlClAWOMwLhcSfWQPUcs7Y3MEAKfBqSHEiDMf30Nx0JvpQVRD6EMGlAx88h8Od64q19aUty0/s1600/cosbygod.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1hKl5bNZTmsqZapgq68ffORWAy_PSktJlXX6-mu7hqjS5a4uelxZ62ZQBBdXpuEpwcZPlClAWOMwLhcSfWQPUcs7Y3MEAKfBqSHEiDMf30Nx0JvpQVRD6EMGlAx88h8Od64q19aUty0/s1600/cosbygod.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bippin' and the boppin' and the boooooooooooo....</td></tr>
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And that's where the post stopped. "What happened? WHAT HAPPENED? Did you buy the fucking pudding? Did you wrestle in it? Tell me!" scream the masses of readers at this point. Well, I'll tell you.<br />
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Being the genius I was, I reasoned that because "my stomach was about the size of this can," (Aka, my torso was, and I really had no idea what the fuck I was talking about,) that I could easily devour this monstrosity in one sitting. I begged Brian for a while, and he eventually obliged. "Okay, so we'll get a can," he conceded.<br />
"We'll get a can <i>each,</i>" I corrected.<br />
"Each??"<br />
"Yeah, each! Look!" *holds 7 lbs of pudding to my stomach "It should totally fit in there."<br />
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I don't know how or why I convinced him that this was the best course of action, but as a public service announcement: <b>Friends don't let friends attempt to eat seven fucking pounds of pudding</b>. I don't care how much you think you love it, it simply cannot be done. And by god, we certainly gave it the old college try.<br />
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We got to the check out with 14 pounds of pudding and a 24pack of glass bottles of Coke (Because, you know, fizzy carbonation + excessive dairy product = a good idea, always.) The check out lady just kind of looked at us for a minute, and eventually asked "...Big night ahead?" No, bitch, we're buying this because we're playing it safe.<br />
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We sat down with our Coca Cola, cans of pudding, and Bill Cosby stand-up. We got about twenty minutes in before we realized we had made a horrible, horrible mistake. We had foregone a party that evening just to devour pudding, and were now wishing we hadn't. The compromise was that we would abandon our plans and go to the party, <i>but</i>, we had to take the pudding with us and finish it there.<br />
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There is one known photograph of this night in existence, taken at said party.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLedvl7vHr_5T_9Oy4lgO-MoCVRLFsznhOdCu2rqL55ji98Un_3oalOISTOvmlJlJGmaYZvJ-d_REhjRMtvl8jCIfr73-cIK4fJpMSpwKY6G0FTWSYf9MVHVTl8RDO5i1Ev-EpZBp_hMw/s1600/dddddddddddddddddddddddddd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLedvl7vHr_5T_9Oy4lgO-MoCVRLFsznhOdCu2rqL55ji98Un_3oalOISTOvmlJlJGmaYZvJ-d_REhjRMtvl8jCIfr73-cIK4fJpMSpwKY6G0FTWSYf9MVHVTl8RDO5i1Ev-EpZBp_hMw/s640/dddddddddddddddddddddddddd.jpg" width="586" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, I know, the outfit was hideous. I was going through a phase. Leave me alone.</td></tr>
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What actually happened instead of finishing the pudding at the party was that we tried to eat as much as possible over the next week, but with every passing day, every spoonful of increasingly-hateful chocolate death that passed our lips, the task grew more and more impossible. Eventually it got all watery and gross, and we probably tossed out at least 10-12 pounds of it.<br />
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I have not been to Sam's Club since.<br />
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So there you have it - my two biggest regrets, as far as failed posts. I have a few other pictures that didn't even make it into failed-post form, and have no idea what I might have wanted to use them for.<br />
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There's this one:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuIDPc5t-NOS0GxK76DhR78kpXDyg9oIRxuwqW6g3BU7i5f4-QG6kKnZzagf74KDZJYw8pWnkF7P3NxM58jwTUH0EFzfhcOCdAKv7rBGhzq3dROzQyT_1XjHLpGxhhHCMViTkQw6dspU/s1600/SCIENCE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuIDPc5t-NOS0GxK76DhR78kpXDyg9oIRxuwqW6g3BU7i5f4-QG6kKnZzagf74KDZJYw8pWnkF7P3NxM58jwTUH0EFzfhcOCdAKv7rBGhzq3dROzQyT_1XjHLpGxhhHCMViTkQw6dspU/s1600/SCIENCE.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was likely for some religious debate.</td></tr>
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And then there's this one I drew of Nicki Minaj at some point:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQxVPmd1_36SDbQDWsU1E1nBLjjOhKjTEHF_OsNn7GN7asXQydSxXsN4vCqa3qh5AUOlIxTnbpiJHrzrS5jcjxlQadqOmSAT2MujSApuARC9Jq1PfAr0tcdkZmcjqEiaR_dXr4NvC2HM/s1600/nicki1+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQxVPmd1_36SDbQDWsU1E1nBLjjOhKjTEHF_OsNn7GN7asXQydSxXsN4vCqa3qh5AUOlIxTnbpiJHrzrS5jcjxlQadqOmSAT2MujSApuARC9Jq1PfAr0tcdkZmcjqEiaR_dXr4NvC2HM/s1600/nicki1+copy.JPG" /></a></div>
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And then there's this one, which I obviously can't take credit for, but that is hysterical to me, so I'm throwing it in here anyway:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNSePFnruafpElOwCSJWcKjBPZtEDKkOShsgL6bDm6AX7cKIuxF1LQGJxUSmraXTUqxujG5rSRN1or3sRkIm8cCshDzEvPnXTttMDGL0RYkKgwGZE7OYje4ZwRcLPdYYPQocW0fgpIXOM/s1600/pokemon.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="537" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNSePFnruafpElOwCSJWcKjBPZtEDKkOShsgL6bDm6AX7cKIuxF1LQGJxUSmraXTUqxujG5rSRN1or3sRkIm8cCshDzEvPnXTttMDGL0RYkKgwGZE7OYje4ZwRcLPdYYPQocW0fgpIXOM/s640/pokemon.bmp" width="640" /></a></div>
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I love tacos.<br />
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Alright. *deep breath.* I feel absolved of my sins, and like my closet is sufficiently cleaned out, for now. Will this actually help my creative process and result in more regular posts? *shrugs.* One way to find out, bitches. Stay tuned!<br />
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<i>You can follow my happy ass<br />via <a href="https://twitter.com/meteoroflgy" target="_blank">Twitter </a>or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/meteoroflgy" target="_blank">Facebook</a>. </i></div>
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<br />Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-3478431975071508832013-08-07T11:07:00.001-07:002013-08-07T11:15:39.027-07:00My blog has a sad. My brain has a pbbbbtb. Sometimes, I feel sorry for my little blog, here. We started off so hopeful and energetic and eager to please the masses.<br />
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But, as life has a tendency to do, my ambitions became stifled over time with real-world business, obligations, illnesses, and all the other lovely things that make up life. And thus, my blog began accumulating cobwebs in the corner, crying out for love and attention, and adding to that ever-lengthening list of shit I'd rather be doing, and never have time or energy to actually do.<br />
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Everyone has their own burdens and issues, and I try to remind myself often that mine pale in comparison to so many. And for that reason, I did not (and do not, and will not ever) want my blog to become one of those poor-me, self-indulgent venues.<br />
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All of that said, however, it's hard to flip that switch. It's hard to want to sit down and be creative when one's mind is bogged down. And I feel like mine's been bogged down for a long time.<br />
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I have so many half-finished, half-written, half-illustrated, or otherwise half-assed posts that I've never published here. My creativity and brain in general feel like an ultra-tightly-tangled ball of yarn. Every once in a while, I'll find the end, start pulling, and get excited when I make a little headway. But an inch or two in (giggity,) it stops unraveling easily, and the string I thought might actually pull free with ease disappears into an indecipherable knot. Whatever it was that used to motivate me to keep unraveling it no longer finds me easily, assuming it does at all. It's very frustrating.<br />
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"Oh, just do it, you crybaby pussface," you may be thinking to yourself. It never ceases to amaze me that people think it's that simple for everyone. How is it that we can believe stupid cliches, like "Each snowflake is unique" or "No two Doritos have the same amount of seasoning," (mmm, Doritos...) and yet, when it comes to the inner workings of our brains - the most intricate, fascinating, mysterious, unique, indecipherable little fuckers on the planet - suddenly, everyone has the exact same ability to carry on as everyone else?<br />
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Spoiler alert: We don't. And I need to learn to stop beating myself up for it.<br />
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I don't have an endgame for this post, and there's no particular point I'm trying to make, really. But I wanted to throw this all out there. It's probably more for my own benefit than anything.<br />
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Maybe I'll be back soon, maybe not. Either way... I'm sorry for abandoning you for so long, Meteoroflgy. I'll try to do better. *hugs computer screen*<br />
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I'll try to do better.<br />
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<span style="color: white;">....</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-73918941938195461452013-06-12T09:47:00.000-07:002013-07-17T19:52:36.413-07:00Yeah, so this happened. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5B42r6_QRwuL7Oh6y730iWqbAmtfbctr1M0M9SmM4-sRdzA80tbOiSNncdTWBMrjiW7KPUCk_gplH17RfgAAvw8wnzrHLQz20Az_CZpQxElzb76XHpUS51QWxXCNEAvw4sDj_MtcFI7g/s1600/tooth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5B42r6_QRwuL7Oh6y730iWqbAmtfbctr1M0M9SmM4-sRdzA80tbOiSNncdTWBMrjiW7KPUCk_gplH17RfgAAvw8wnzrHLQz20Az_CZpQxElzb76XHpUS51QWxXCNEAvw4sDj_MtcFI7g/s1600/tooth.jpg" /></a></div>
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Anybody got $500 laying around they weren't using so I can buy this little asshat a crown? q___q<br />
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<b>Edit:</b> Apparently I need four additional crowns. Shoot me in the face, please.<br />
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<span style="color: white;">...</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-5508546329472671622013-05-15T13:25:00.003-07:002013-05-15T13:25:45.143-07:00This is not a real post. I have a couple posts written, and just haven't illustrated them yet. This is likely because all parts of my brain, including the creative part, are on strike. I've been having horrible migraines and headaches for the past several weeks, and it's hard to get motivated to use your brain when it's stabbing itself. Add in the chronic anxiety and insomnia, and that's basically why I never doodle anymore.<br /><br />I tried to start drawing today, and this is all that came out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLqnJRarAG3WDvBEapDjRVnIi800u8rjDWbl8BS3CjC9af447J0GaU6w-JpJHK6iJz4_o6U9i6SyQnjSBMaPPQpKv5HNxic-S364NxZPib5zyHuNH5gPf5QxU2z09ZBi_mlArHmlgdSY/s1600/1+copy+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLqnJRarAG3WDvBEapDjRVnIi800u8rjDWbl8BS3CjC9af447J0GaU6w-JpJHK6iJz4_o6U9i6SyQnjSBMaPPQpKv5HNxic-S364NxZPib5zyHuNH5gPf5QxU2z09ZBi_mlArHmlgdSY/s1600/1+copy+copy.JPG" /></a></div>
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So yeah. There's that. I achieved something. Huzzah. </div>
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Today I was told I'd have to see a neurologist, so maybe when I get in with a specialist and get my head under control, I'll be less of a ghostie. 'Til then, may my creepy-ass brain haunt your dreams. ♥</div>
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Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-83238138524632733322013-04-02T07:04:00.001-07:002013-04-02T07:58:12.428-07:00Easter ShameI'm usually pretty crafty with the Easter eggs, but I just could not get my shit together this year for some reason. My Marmie and I started off making an attempt, but as egg after egg kept looking like it fell directly out of a horse's asshole after said horse had been force-fed nothing but Taco Bell for three days straight, we just kind of gave up and made silly ones. I thought I'd share them with you lovely people.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5UrGpmnvQ5Uyo3CKeGQdTUI3v4-jKLixzbQwDgmc49SZXa1qMJKkGOIWcan5QcQMgcQXvM5fBlw8aMIt0Xt3Co1It6YTNIKkK2AJSQIN-VuGnhaf8s0TmPnX_cI4LTN8Mt3rTfU6ySXs/s1600/Picture+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5UrGpmnvQ5Uyo3CKeGQdTUI3v4-jKLixzbQwDgmc49SZXa1qMJKkGOIWcan5QcQMgcQXvM5fBlw8aMIt0Xt3Co1It6YTNIKkK2AJSQIN-VuGnhaf8s0TmPnX_cI4LTN8Mt3rTfU6ySXs/s640/Picture+005.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We'll start with someone of the ones that turned out alright. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5nu6FCX3Dg1p-L30Qby0h-JfqU9KhmV7vLzeLiXpR44oFDdu1vmENsLkfmNhaRDCLTmn7fQmVEbH7qtXjyTzPADbVkOhlRxKheOfidJgRdF35s_3SYSSsDGxTS711KM-9wrzYUGfqJI/s640/Picture+007.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Golden Egg Kit" my ass. Look at those streaky motherfuckers in front. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisBZa27JcPucVYTivlQ_Rxdn-wX3M0jIbvw7Qp4rluZA7lURJGjByx0rnuLk5wlM68nn5u9Lk3GmjyqM0YXWTQUwKhiajUrj1DavNqZwSXTazKrURkVViTBgb3OdrSauMoQhNrlXCT3dQ/s1600/Picture+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisBZa27JcPucVYTivlQ_Rxdn-wX3M0jIbvw7Qp4rluZA7lURJGjByx0rnuLk5wlM68nn5u9Lk3GmjyqM0YXWTQUwKhiajUrj1DavNqZwSXTazKrURkVViTBgb3OdrSauMoQhNrlXCT3dQ/s640/Picture+006.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think ol' Orangie on the right there is when I started to give up hope. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8O1FAYLYbkdxrAlHuQqTRDHy9XesakuJ8i8RTuMGh-OE3_5bd0lO68g8XNn7PnDQkKSV30GvAumx4ST7hZX-6i2LVTy9NM0ZNLio969MdvB1sueeAzRzqlBr0GlNFei6drcQboCkwgYc/s1600/Picture+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8O1FAYLYbkdxrAlHuQqTRDHy9XesakuJ8i8RTuMGh-OE3_5bd0lO68g8XNn7PnDQkKSV30GvAumx4ST7hZX-6i2LVTy9NM0ZNLio969MdvB1sueeAzRzqlBr0GlNFei6drcQboCkwgYc/s640/Picture+008.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aaaand... here are some of the others. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwbhgBEHPYYs63FO3y3DDGBO7qTaFf6ZgDCUzBelhdLhR9vPW4_UJFP4DOHkZZS5PafuIyO3Ds5Wnb9D8Pwu0dd-uC5VuvCECeP04BVCNwNJyF2wem4xfQ_rlh-F_cQ2wxb8wdrnmVIRM/s1600/Picture+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwbhgBEHPYYs63FO3y3DDGBO7qTaFf6ZgDCUzBelhdLhR9vPW4_UJFP4DOHkZZS5PafuIyO3Ds5Wnb9D8Pwu0dd-uC5VuvCECeP04BVCNwNJyF2wem4xfQ_rlh-F_cQ2wxb8wdrnmVIRM/s640/Picture+009.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marmieduke proudly showing off her masterpiece(ofshit)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5jHKt-0QvZuapnEMWz5Y78Te4achXiYrPRiHFwmvAXnBk7Jw9ic7sp6PHkbJC9nRAcAoYFm35dNq5h1bJ-4de2gw53ObtYgk_AB5BN87T8EtB3N87uhQkgWi5n6-y93Zwxej97L3nSA/s1600/Picture+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5jHKt-0QvZuapnEMWz5Y78Te4achXiYrPRiHFwmvAXnBk7Jw9ic7sp6PHkbJC9nRAcAoYFm35dNq5h1bJ-4de2gw53ObtYgk_AB5BN87T8EtB3N87uhQkgWi5n6-y93Zwxej97L3nSA/s640/Picture+011.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hitler and Eggva</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQA3evSd0Zgd7E08MITfF0Fc7mijBdPzRflkMmN-N6WOJQScyMH4SdszhClIPLHVlyJQJENEbFdxA6I9j8lg5Tb65tKX1MI8_uvxeJXoIFTvtldxrx2XAcE45J_QxIvRuh-7Krqw6zY5g/s1600/Picture+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQA3evSd0Zgd7E08MITfF0Fc7mijBdPzRflkMmN-N6WOJQScyMH4SdszhClIPLHVlyJQJENEbFdxA6I9j8lg5Tb65tKX1MI8_uvxeJXoIFTvtldxrx2XAcE45J_QxIvRuh-7Krqw6zY5g/s640/Picture+010.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just... I don't even. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqn8XVXLmeBPWaPI5Fm0n3wtEHeNyxr94rGPR4TX-71vBeKWNtg2-W8m-AzwJIAE5F1V5aZSIBT-4JwaxdxYfoewiFet1Ek0yItZYWutzT2Qr-fXfXhH2-YW0QzLhRNL2Ec_o1joGbCLQ/s1600/Picture+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqn8XVXLmeBPWaPI5Fm0n3wtEHeNyxr94rGPR4TX-71vBeKWNtg2-W8m-AzwJIAE5F1V5aZSIBT-4JwaxdxYfoewiFet1Ek0yItZYWutzT2Qr-fXfXhH2-YW0QzLhRNL2Ec_o1joGbCLQ/s640/Picture+013.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My painted boat melted into a fucking demon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMftj7NoO2wY3qUtplcvYflbsNvXJUjouvlIzlCQzQO9x6734mNgyoAwqVZcJIVDDWYGsuH64O6NoGxGKv4vj6Tiy18SYm8TgJjH4EFivlYfV3CmpO5NxW5EQAq5IUdkJM2fEj5Rooy_g/s1600/Picture+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMftj7NoO2wY3qUtplcvYflbsNvXJUjouvlIzlCQzQO9x6734mNgyoAwqVZcJIVDDWYGsuH64O6NoGxGKv4vj6Tiy18SYm8TgJjH4EFivlYfV3CmpO5NxW5EQAq5IUdkJM2fEj5Rooy_g/s640/Picture+016.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hitler's backside. I put flowers around it, so it's okay. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHvGdxngyJexuyZ0qqpmC-m4En9eR_zU-OOjgZgRllyJKUpRd1D7sVhe3qZ83y2wqJDzOWG6p66O6REovVQcot_AN7WTRMTBiUA7l_T6KrgZNbCWozLuvGiXKKdKz1eLQSQnqcGRNadig/s1600/Picture+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHvGdxngyJexuyZ0qqpmC-m4En9eR_zU-OOjgZgRllyJKUpRd1D7sVhe3qZ83y2wqJDzOWG6p66O6REovVQcot_AN7WTRMTBiUA7l_T6KrgZNbCWozLuvGiXKKdKz1eLQSQnqcGRNadig/s640/Picture+017.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Derp the Ogre Easy might be my favorite. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELGNc_mjNzX-LQkmWo0_TgGXezPLBms5WWD8GaLg-qv8_qBcXV6xozKzfgbin2O8qRZgVFiD8txKiUDvTyztXrjtiS4L7CTo3uqVqG8jvybXA-0P94fospNtLxbmCbV6P6nH0YZUihxI/s1600/Picture+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELGNc_mjNzX-LQkmWo0_TgGXezPLBms5WWD8GaLg-qv8_qBcXV6xozKzfgbin2O8qRZgVFiD8txKiUDvTyztXrjtiS4L7CTo3uqVqG8jvybXA-0P94fospNtLxbmCbV6P6nH0YZUihxI/s640/Picture+018.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like Halloween, so fuck off. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7Ic-KdF4PWgyF16hTOkLX2f80Kya6iNutGNS1wElcsC0QrFvTTYFAIdnHA_Q9y-UHXBkuxHPTxx7iZS3tncVwFtpU95m5q6ThPnYLHMcViOLW_JGKkuZk5Q73CpEPI1XmMv7vSU1pbE/s1600/Picture+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7Ic-KdF4PWgyF16hTOkLX2f80Kya6iNutGNS1wElcsC0QrFvTTYFAIdnHA_Q9y-UHXBkuxHPTxx7iZS3tncVwFtpU95m5q6ThPnYLHMcViOLW_JGKkuZk5Q73CpEPI1XmMv7vSU1pbE/s640/Picture+019.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zombie Boat thinks it's a train. Choo choo, motherfuckers. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMws_x9UBHcfNngM_HMzBf7_lo9Wl11kVJUo8YdpgqgX3xopE0dgNPCybkrgaDPo3kw43is8EFOMiFW3WneXX-rKqy4VdK-glNzM4eVUm25UG2aRBdKBtpWJikVWkOXqrw6t20yn2wxc/s1600/Picture+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMws_x9UBHcfNngM_HMzBf7_lo9Wl11kVJUo8YdpgqgX3xopE0dgNPCybkrgaDPo3kw43is8EFOMiFW3WneXX-rKqy4VdK-glNzM4eVUm25UG2aRBdKBtpWJikVWkOXqrw6t20yn2wxc/s640/Picture+020.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the less shameful shots</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhib5N4cz4dMfN-WuaICVAzsiA-QcyMDE-AkVkAn_dT0o1EvqA9kk9nUMCMQfi2hhRR58WY7yfdKVBBY6iCt9xaMS0YIN9AiHuqB62x06zMVU62o8DdmtFMFm6pz6cpEHZx9YRIa78U_ac/s1600/Picture+021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhib5N4cz4dMfN-WuaICVAzsiA-QcyMDE-AkVkAn_dT0o1EvqA9kk9nUMCMQfi2hhRR58WY7yfdKVBBY6iCt9xaMS0YIN9AiHuqB62x06zMVU62o8DdmtFMFm6pz6cpEHZx9YRIa78U_ac/s640/Picture+021.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the more shameful shots</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKkKnIPTpzwcW728GXHp4kLBb9c1KuE0jqiNgH7568vF7Y5Lvr73Nf0gH4RE5qcb7B1OLo4LFqtY6Pq0481TgqWq2gHr2QpL9tPQJVHfGYndRoeBYIfRy4P2LAdt7Ernz9KTR2tKkLzg/s1600/Picture+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKkKnIPTpzwcW728GXHp4kLBb9c1KuE0jqiNgH7568vF7Y5Lvr73Nf0gH4RE5qcb7B1OLo4LFqtY6Pq0481TgqWq2gHr2QpL9tPQJVHfGYndRoeBYIfRy4P2LAdt7Ernz9KTR2tKkLzg/s640/Picture+022.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most of these are shameful shots</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyToDWMVtXDvBn8GbKmJShWjOvKPSpn7AO6qGxJSaWY8ZQl_p3SkuKlTrHH5XafrUMITAJhQTVZeLuQTmkl1Qe0jmf2swZtc8D6MH7pIQLcHDtnWPk3QKy9ftdimnjuYqVLh6eJrNdMH8/s1600/Picture+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyToDWMVtXDvBn8GbKmJShWjOvKPSpn7AO6qGxJSaWY8ZQl_p3SkuKlTrHH5XafrUMITAJhQTVZeLuQTmkl1Qe0jmf2swZtc8D6MH7pIQLcHDtnWPk3QKy9ftdimnjuYqVLh6eJrNdMH8/s640/Picture+025.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh hai!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPQJitCOedgHVxL5qRmekWEbCkZnR0DN85RxE6IZ8V8tj1vrWgFDYruN43HYeNWBqnWb4SF3rOaUN6ys2VNfbooJug9EgCmy52q29TNJ-ko7HF995NA7fAVswh0FZaJTyAjdAf7kpDOM/s1600/Picture+027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPQJitCOedgHVxL5qRmekWEbCkZnR0DN85RxE6IZ8V8tj1vrWgFDYruN43HYeNWBqnWb4SF3rOaUN6ys2VNfbooJug9EgCmy52q29TNJ-ko7HF995NA7fAVswh0FZaJTyAjdAf7kpDOM/s640/Picture+027.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're special in your own way, little egg. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1s0z2HkLV17Mfu7TuCVWjbK1lW6UXQvl8hXhgU6F1VXRo06As28f2_lFggEFHxE46wYuYmHZO_lKQv9Aow-qDaGpvEo3wgSmkYurnB9L-mia-HrpQPIHQls_vtef1K8vng_MC02O_OiM/s1600/Picture+028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1s0z2HkLV17Mfu7TuCVWjbK1lW6UXQvl8hXhgU6F1VXRo06As28f2_lFggEFHxE46wYuYmHZO_lKQv9Aow-qDaGpvEo3wgSmkYurnB9L-mia-HrpQPIHQls_vtef1K8vng_MC02O_OiM/s640/Picture+028.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We wanted to be beautiful," they cried out in vain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Last but not least, because I'm an asshole, and because my Marm told me I had a flat tire on April Fool's and made me shit my pants, here's a video of my mom's very best Ed Wynn impression.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/WzE2cEV9LSU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"You'll delete that video, won't you?"<br />"Of course, mother. Of course."</span></div>
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What do you think, Ed?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgriVvZHDVI6sGM4oGRsm2sPes67WcY0QsPGrKAh2iiRrH8qjnPkZhlRr43KNQ3fBh5bc5ViJR7RwaiKRf5rm8fO7F4O0NWchyphenhyphendqhO1elfWmAp4Pi2dE12D8fpTtxw4j1hIUivWL82vA/s1600/ed+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgriVvZHDVI6sGM4oGRsm2sPes67WcY0QsPGrKAh2iiRrH8qjnPkZhlRr43KNQ3fBh5bc5ViJR7RwaiKRf5rm8fO7F4O0NWchyphenhyphendqhO1elfWmAp4Pi2dE12D8fpTtxw4j1hIUivWL82vA/s640/ed+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Well alright, then.<br />
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<span style="color: white;">....</span><br />
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<br />Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-61983188548380901722013-03-26T06:42:00.002-07:002013-03-26T06:42:27.678-07:00A daily ritual<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQilIATRRrj6-CLU_NRwSsZEWDVY6tH8ndDLH46VSwW-llh37TspuO4RotF6KqdDfOJRYJq6OnSTCtFuz0RUS3l9Y4PRRrEYV3dqsGiF7XC8l8ZjnqflMWwwiQoF1fXg-kCrHrCRL3BY/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQilIATRRrj6-CLU_NRwSsZEWDVY6tH8ndDLH46VSwW-llh37TspuO4RotF6KqdDfOJRYJq6OnSTCtFuz0RUS3l9Y4PRRrEYV3dqsGiF7XC8l8ZjnqflMWwwiQoF1fXg-kCrHrCRL3BY/s640/Untitled-1.jpg" width="464" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: white;">...</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-21387328570331744022013-03-25T07:56:00.003-07:002013-03-25T07:56:46.625-07:00He lied. He lied to us all. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqoPpKm_bCB_qWeVp6MZfDGaYxK6hm0cmdcEqfq4pL-OXa6YsNhelWhTA4Pdd_to1-DSB-WhHhV6vCttZ0oVYdFcD6JieQvo-12oqbnAmrgDgL96BEEob4qwQWoC6bzoKzC0S9WCl6CI/s1600/die.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqoPpKm_bCB_qWeVp6MZfDGaYxK6hm0cmdcEqfq4pL-OXa6YsNhelWhTA4Pdd_to1-DSB-WhHhV6vCttZ0oVYdFcD6JieQvo-12oqbnAmrgDgL96BEEob4qwQWoC6bzoKzC0S9WCl6CI/s1600/die.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: white;">...</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-18571916942456396742013-03-16T03:48:00.000-07:002013-03-16T03:48:00.289-07:006:00am Netflix Insomnia Funtime<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrER8i2d7gu79BM7GKjhEOpyoFIr2V8oe3qh205rio4VZAFRe3EG7su8VgyEAXqZ651yihpKIxnHkpqS_l-9dW3OJWFNAzoPQ-NormAnVOM5ko1Y8ipe57N5WscrM3doUZTPYSkfgyNM/s1600/autobots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrER8i2d7gu79BM7GKjhEOpyoFIr2V8oe3qh205rio4VZAFRe3EG7su8VgyEAXqZ651yihpKIxnHkpqS_l-9dW3OJWFNAzoPQ-NormAnVOM5ko1Y8ipe57N5WscrM3doUZTPYSkfgyNM/s1600/autobots.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-87068087615929938402013-02-05T13:29:00.000-07:002013-02-05T17:23:57.494-07:00You're doing it wrong, Howard. If you came to this post looking for cohesion, you get the fuck out right now. I have no story, and no endgame. I'm just here to lay some truths on you lovely bitches and bastards.<br />
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<b>Truth one: </b>Giving inanimate objects personalities gets real creepy, real fast.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SmWVV9nQPsKQznC1Qn4gZTt9wolgafSUwqNV6cSZ_zVX5x9Y9PFl3xu2B2J44zAsy-39wwMV01P3WZfP9Q3BmjDiz1y4mmlkr0mznQ-irK0TuemBkBDqMrXL_GcgAkDUIlggZmFhtXk/s1600/mustard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SmWVV9nQPsKQznC1Qn4gZTt9wolgafSUwqNV6cSZ_zVX5x9Y9PFl3xu2B2J44zAsy-39wwMV01P3WZfP9Q3BmjDiz1y4mmlkr0mznQ-irK0TuemBkBDqMrXL_GcgAkDUIlggZmFhtXk/s1600/mustard.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b>Truth two:</b> I still think about Richard Karn sometimes, enough so that this thought ran through my head.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36vIKmD-TJ-dAgtH8TnaCCqQDnDv1QTwpiwPaUyosIRgyaVBxtDp0A7ObCDMbP9BqFbZ-9FLqAcV1hhidwearw7LSA3lL3NPvMlHhxSGh0YqD8rl1JFuJ16DM95c8XoOy7bRTy_S4vjQ/s1600/karn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36vIKmD-TJ-dAgtH8TnaCCqQDnDv1QTwpiwPaUyosIRgyaVBxtDp0A7ObCDMbP9BqFbZ-9FLqAcV1hhidwearw7LSA3lL3NPvMlHhxSGh0YqD8rl1JFuJ16DM95c8XoOy7bRTy_S4vjQ/s1600/karn.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b>Truth three:</b> Richard Karn needs to keep his shirt on.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisNtw7BSSH6tWbuc6lTvww9bnCuBcBzEBUsN7NncEmabo2LOJAQnT5AQDBhw_1H2GTkar0LLcLnKKDnJc1YL95OosUAvodDlYZQnOlhUbV0D45wBrU7-Ddyps2piUMTO6q6cvA0EwF2Tw/s1600/karngoogs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisNtw7BSSH6tWbuc6lTvww9bnCuBcBzEBUsN7NncEmabo2LOJAQnT5AQDBhw_1H2GTkar0LLcLnKKDnJc1YL95OosUAvodDlYZQnOlhUbV0D45wBrU7-Ddyps2piUMTO6q6cvA0EwF2Tw/s1600/karngoogs.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, I'm seriously not. Don't even ask. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Truth four:</b> I make fancy Facebook timeline photos.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6hVxQVlUYFOyDLcuhY19kk8IHVbPPzCAKuts6M0HNGnX6P2Dwp53Ycr8qPJP_W_Loxflh3L_HrGex1ce4hcYJBwC3LdDLA55Zutk1KLITF_QfwS_8MsCmX46ARX-o3-Y_kS_-H7-xv0/s1600/kayleigh+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6hVxQVlUYFOyDLcuhY19kk8IHVbPPzCAKuts6M0HNGnX6P2Dwp53Ycr8qPJP_W_Loxflh3L_HrGex1ce4hcYJBwC3LdDLA55Zutk1KLITF_QfwS_8MsCmX46ARX-o3-Y_kS_-H7-xv0/s640/kayleigh+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my friend's guinea pig, if he were an astronaut. Related: I need a hobby. YES, I CHANGED THE WORD"HAMSTER" TO "GUINEA PIG" YOU FUCKING MAMMAL NAZIS. FUCK.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Truth five: </b>This is how you get tips.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuNNO1PkAL_D1FllTHgBCJnpMloJ9LpQmj5gU83dyYtNRVHWY2fsqAHzk6s9jJlbhLVX2ijtgeatlZNkVFKHASF0iQzB69D5bMlNJFaMtBF9OvqOSd4rsfm1Xw6OE7upVYXNQAwJV41w/s1600/tips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuNNO1PkAL_D1FllTHgBCJnpMloJ9LpQmj5gU83dyYtNRVHWY2fsqAHzk6s9jJlbhLVX2ijtgeatlZNkVFKHASF0iQzB69D5bMlNJFaMtBF9OvqOSd4rsfm1Xw6OE7upVYXNQAwJV41w/s640/tips.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guess which jar ol' Meaty used...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
And lastly,<br />
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<b>Truth six:</b> Applebee's needs to stop encouraging me.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRfw0_k6h2Nc5_zPcv2roUvz2YSozT_hCCasdQXF10O0HyhdgWWDT_DPVtuMS55UXbqPgw14zYZkSlxzPLWZJbu0HckYhA7ohH75Gu6dTmY7hnbLJ87xewKt9iJWP5oUOVjBcQis9gCg/s1600/applebees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRfw0_k6h2Nc5_zPcv2roUvz2YSozT_hCCasdQXF10O0HyhdgWWDT_DPVtuMS55UXbqPgw14zYZkSlxzPLWZJbu0HckYhA7ohH75Gu6dTmY7hnbLJ87xewKt9iJWP5oUOVjBcQis9gCg/s1600/applebees.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Truth 6.5: Howard is doing it wrong. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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That is all.<br />
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<span style="color: white;">...</span>Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-71871446132239995902013-01-31T17:13:00.000-07:002013-02-01T07:28:39.154-07:00Wieners for JusticeI really don't know how to start this post.<br />
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I'd like to preface by saying that, while I've had some racier moments and swear like a goddamned sailor, this particular post is <span style="color: red;"><b><u>NOT SAFE FOR WORK</u></b></span>. Or children. Or even me, really. My mind is numb with cocks at this point. Not cartoon cocks. I'm talking porn cocks. Juicy porn cocks, to be precise.<br />
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I'm getting ahead of myself.<br />
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Did you happen to <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/01/31/applebees-waitress-fired-god-tip-receipt_n_2591794.html" target="_blank">read the story</a> that's taking over the internet today, regarding the Applebee's waitress who was fired for her post on <a href="http://www.reddit.com/r/atheism/comments/17i382/my_mistake_sir_im_sure_jesus_will_pay_for_my_rent/" target="_blank">Reddit</a>? Well, I did. And I think it's absolute horseshit. If you're too lazy, the short version is that some bitch, a <i>pastor</i>, no less, went to Applebees to gorge herself on sizzling shrimp or some shit. Despite the fact she had no complaints about the service she received, this is the receipt received by the waitress:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uCw3DudyxvlVxadeFB9TXFEF6Nvt_CEq7JwRNbG9vEmvBA491Iq6697QfFkqKUaa185fciQBfuSoiKSTE01R6d8LuuJvsXrM8MGGQU9JNq6gJrRJ8-D8ezjYvK98QFs1pUM6yp3rik0/s1600/o-I-GIVE-GOD-10-PERCENT-TIP-570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uCw3DudyxvlVxadeFB9TXFEF6Nvt_CEq7JwRNbG9vEmvBA491Iq6697QfFkqKUaa185fciQBfuSoiKSTE01R6d8LuuJvsXrM8MGGQU9JNq6gJrRJ8-D8ezjYvK98QFs1pUM6yp3rik0/s1600/o-I-GIVE-GOD-10-PERCENT-TIP-570.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(above: Christian values)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I'd start to list the infinite reasons that this woman's hypocrisy and douchebaggery fill me with rage, but I'm pretty sure my skull would explode. After my coworkers and I had a nice ranting sesh, I decided to go sass the Applebee's Facebook page in retaliation. (Because, come on. What else can you really do with this kind of injustice when a million-dollar corporation is involved?)<br />
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I left a couple witty jabs here and there (that'll show 'em,) and was getting ready to return to my home page, when what to my wondering eyes should appear?<br />
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Five people...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVPawyJwpI09xXqA7dUEAFN4GPhNeCsS7H3GGdyrmAa_UMnxiFmnlO9sQA7z35tnNa3eccHqnwtobydJ-LG3QNtvAEJZ90ZQstNkvc-mgN_hhBtKGIl42D_QDoE0clW4nAU2WUO6ue7I/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVPawyJwpI09xXqA7dUEAFN4GPhNeCsS7H3GGdyrmAa_UMnxiFmnlO9sQA7z35tnNa3eccHqnwtobydJ-LG3QNtvAEJZ90ZQstNkvc-mgN_hhBtKGIl42D_QDoE0clW4nAU2WUO6ue7I/s640/1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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in the Applebee's banner...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQpSdxWWjw0n241QrYZgXP__F8NsyvAsAo_594yMBR22QRqK-dxw_MxT0avn2FTlkiaaxKEPNwnj04hevWIPTMNvTn0fJk9wJNnvayCnv5hUTmLXQCFxzFc-TBu02QtYzxolSpNAii0o/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQpSdxWWjw0n241QrYZgXP__F8NsyvAsAo_594yMBR22QRqK-dxw_MxT0avn2FTlkiaaxKEPNwnj04hevWIPTMNvTn0fJk9wJNnvayCnv5hUTmLXQCFxzFc-TBu02QtYzxolSpNAii0o/s640/2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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choking down some invisible wang.<br />
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My mission was clear.<br />
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Can I just say, it should <i>not</i> be as hard as it was to find adequate love-sausage via Google? I initially typed in "wieners," thinking that would yield enough results, and was disappointed severely. "Alright, Meaty... I guess we're going to do this the hard way." Hur hur. Get it? Hard? Like cock? Yeah. But even when I'd resigned myself to using more.. <i>direct</i> terminology... searches for the likes of "wang" "dicks" "cocks" and even good ol' fashioned "penis" didn't give me a lot to work with. In a frustrated frenzy, I typed in "juicy porn cock."<br />
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The flood gates opened.<br />
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Everything I type sounds like an innuendo now.<br />
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I can't see anything without realizing how it could be transformed into a phallus.<br />
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You know how if you say a word a lot, eventually you get to a point where you're like, "Wait, is this a word? Is this still right?" That happens when you stare at high-res cocks up close in photoshop long enough, too. Just so you're aware. When you stare into the cock-filled abyss, the cock-filled abyss stares right the fuck back atcha, kiddo.<br />
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Honestly, it was so disturbing that I almost gave up after five minutes, but then I remembered that I had promised some people on Facebook that I would do this horrible deed. And I am one OP who always delivers.<br />
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So... I'll just let the pictures tell the rest of this story, because my fucking brain and soul hurt. And then I'm going to go take a shower and try to ignore the fact that my sister, cousin, mother, boss, and god knows who else all read this blog.<br />
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You know what the sickest fucking part of this blog post is? As I read and proofread, and get down to the bottom... when I finally get to this last image, I'm like, "where are the dicks?" The subtlety is lost on me after staring at them for the past hour, I guess. There's six fucking shlongs in that image, and that's not enough?<br />
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I have some soul searching to do.<br />
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<i>You can follow my happy ass<br />via <a href="https://twitter.com/meteoroflgy" target="_blank">Twitter </a>or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/meteoroflgy" target="_blank">Facebook</a>. </i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: white;">...</span></span><br />
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<br />Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-53496711768058565092013-01-30T09:00:00.003-07:002013-01-30T09:00:51.714-07:00Always check Urban Dictionary before naming your pets. Apparently, Mr. Biffles' name isn't as adorable as I thought it was....<br />
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<a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Biffle&defid=4227463">http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Biffle&defid=4227463</a>
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<tr><td class="word" style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;">Biffle</td><td class="tools" id="tools_4227463" style="line-height: 20px; text-align: right; vertical-align: top; white-space: nowrap;"><span class="status"><a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Biffle&defid=4227463#" style="color: black; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><b>66</b> up</a>, <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Biffle&defid=4227463#" style="color: black; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><b>39</b> down</a></span><span class="thumbs"><a class="thumbs_down" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Biffle&defid=4227463#" id="thumbs_down_4227463" style="background-image: url(http://static3.urbandictionary.com/images/embed/thumbsdown.gif); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; color: #6586a7; display: block; float: right; height: 19px; margin-left: 4px; width: 19px;"></a><a class="thumbs_up" href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Biffle&defid=4227463#" id="thumbs_up_4227463" style="background-image: url(http://static3.urbandictionary.com/images/embed/thumbsup.gif); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; color: #6586a7; display: block; float: right; height: 19px; margin-left: 4px; width: 19px;"></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td style="vertical-align: top;"></td><td class="text" colspan="2" id="entry_4227463" style="line-height: 1.8; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-right: 15px; vertical-align: top;"><div class="definition">
Pronounced "BEA-fle"<br /><br />French word for dong slap.<br />composed of the words "Bite" (french slang for penis) and "Giffle" (french for slap).<br /><br />The biffle is used on highly inebriated frenchmen as a show of male dominance always against the one receiving (le bifflé). The one initiating the dong slap is known as "le bifflard"</div>
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je lui ai mis une de ses biffles! elle s'en rappellera jusqu'à sa mort !<br /><br />I gave her such a dong slap! She's going to remember it for the rest of her days!</div>
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<i>He's coming for you.</i></div>
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<br />Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-66826681354383683002013-01-21T13:22:00.002-07:002013-01-23T12:18:59.415-07:00Catching UpWell hello, happy readers!<br />
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It's been a while since I've dumped my brain poop on you lovely folk, and I figure it's time for some updates. Here's what ol' Meaty's been up to: (I call myself "Meaty" in my head sometimes... Meteoroflgy... Meaty.... when you say it out loud, it makes sense. Or not. I don't have to fucking impress you.)<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Christmas:</span></u></b><br />
Biffles and I had an absolutely delightful Christmas. I didn't even have to drug his fwuffy face during the commute! Please don't misunderstand this to mean that he wasn't a holly jolly asshole, because he totally was. But a more well-behaved holly jolly asshole nonetheless. Biffles received an electronic drinking fountain for Christmas, too, which he enjoys splashing in and emptying on a regular basis. It sounds like a toddler in a wading pool. I'd try to discipline him not to, but honestly, he wears the pants in that apartment. I'm just the maid.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you want to fuck with this, be my guest, but I know better.</td></tr>
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Speaking of Mr. Biffles, one present I received in particular had a large amount of time, thoughtfulness, and love poured into it, and I must give a shout-out to the aforementioned prezzy. (Though this should not diminish the awesomeness of the down comforter, TV, and various other prezzies. No idea why I'm calling them "prezzies," either. I'll stop that.) But this one... this one had a lot of heart and soul, folks. Mr. Biffles has been immortalized in a beautiful oil painting by my friend <a href="https://www.facebook.com/klwbworks" target="_blank">Kayleigh</a>, whose name you should totally click on and admire her other works. Look at this masterpiece:<br />
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Beautiful.<br />
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In short, I received lots of wonderful things from lots of wonderful people, had a great time with my family, got to catch up with a good friend, and even got back in town before the Snowpacalypse.<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Snowpacalypse:</span></u></b><br />
The only downside of Christmas this year was the need to cut my visit an evening short, which put me back in Bloomington on the evening of the 25th. The reason for this abrupt departure was the impending Snowpacalypse. There are many things to love about large quantities of snow in Indiana: Wet shoes and pants legs, frozen pipes, car accidents; but the thing I think I admire most is the way our state (and this is doubly true for the city of Bloomington) decides to (not) handle adverse weather situations, with (no) efficiency and (zero fucking) intelligence. Let's run through the procedure, shall we?<br />
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<li>Become aware of impending blizzard conditions, including high wind gusts, snow drifts, and a good foot and a half of snow and ice. </li>
<li>DO NOT, under any circumstances, pre-treat the roads. For the love of god, we cannot let the snow know we are afraid of it. </li>
<li>Contemplate the fact that, although the roads are passable at the morning commute hour, allowing people to get on the roads will leave them stranded at their destinations by early afternoon. </li>
<li>Ignore the ever-living fuck out of step three. </li>
<li>Declare snow emergency around noon, when everyone has already trekked it into work, and make it illegal to be on the road except for emergencies. </li>
<li>Chuckle. Chuckle like a motherfucker. </li>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Sickpacalypse and the Stink Bug Shuffle:</span></b></div>
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In the grand tradition of being me during the winter months, I have been bed/couchridden for the past 11 days and counting. I finally hauled ass into work today because I've managed to burn through an entire year's worth of sick days in the first part of January. I do believe it's some sort of cold/sinus infection/throaty hybrid of pain and fuckery. </div>
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I think the novelty of having me around all day, every day, wore off for Biffles around day 4 or 5. You know how some animals have that instinct of knowing when you're upset, or sick, and tend to be extra comforting souls? No? Yeah, neither does Biffles. He spent the whole time clawing any dangling limbs as I slept, using me as a trampoline, and begging for treats.<br />
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We did finally team up on Sunday evening, though, to face the mightiest of foes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG7_az4JzBIHt49198Z2Dk9J5dCCI5rVby6czmmOwQ9z4Evuu-biyo-cXfvADVaWZoPpqpWspF7dBCxGus4DAhPd1oU8chA4SZXZD0V4cLYBoUt3rpJ6SCUu2l-Nc0o_kmtfCyCbI4NfY/s1600/stink1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG7_az4JzBIHt49198Z2Dk9J5dCCI5rVby6czmmOwQ9z4Evuu-biyo-cXfvADVaWZoPpqpWspF7dBCxGus4DAhPd1oU8chA4SZXZD0V4cLYBoUt3rpJ6SCUu2l-Nc0o_kmtfCyCbI4NfY/s1600/stink1.jpg" /></a></div>
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Or, you know.... a stink bug. >_><br />
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Don't you fucking judge me. Stink bugs are disgusting. All bugs are disgusting, but the stink bug has that extra special air of terror about it. What the fuck are you? Are you a beetle? Do you bite? Why are you shaped like that? Why are you called "stink" bug? Are you going to perfume my house with something awful?<br />
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If you're still laughing at me, let me just break this shit down for you:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbnz9hswSkwKQ0y9Ve12vXOZWgWrKcF-fgLCy3O5yJ_9by0zJpNyo19aExIQCqcraw1jws4hA0ux-VhgBlhuKByLHG3ZyfC01Au1pXc2LEWGQJ7vJmY_3RQGF3pgtJxa1fxOuEdSXsTc/s1600/anatomy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="576" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbnz9hswSkwKQ0y9Ve12vXOZWgWrKcF-fgLCy3O5yJ_9by0zJpNyo19aExIQCqcraw1jws4hA0ux-VhgBlhuKByLHG3ZyfC01Au1pXc2LEWGQJ7vJmY_3RQGF3pgtJxa1fxOuEdSXsTc/s640/anatomy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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They're pure, concentrated, sticky-footed evil. Period. Why are the sticky feet worth noting, you ask? Because when those motherfuckers land on you, and you find yourself shrieking "GET OFF ME! GET THE FUCK OFF ME! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!" you will find the answer in three simple words: sticky fucking feet. Where's your God now?<br />
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Anyway, Biffles thought he was going to befriend it, but once that thing got airborne, he wanted nothing else to do with it. I decided to get in the shower, in the hopes that he'd man-up and kill the little beast for me. When I first got out, all seemed well. But then, out of nowhere.... the flapping of wing and the smell of hate returned. That thing flew right over my head and landed on the wall above the couch. After the initial shock of this near-death experience wore off, we regrouped and came up with a plan.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1bF60-MbZyB3eGBqQsHQ6c9_aBGIXKxDIdYmbkHaSo_-hTcFVfo-Wg6zjbpmFiAIhyN6FL1xS-6Qoi0dvrHaPnlSiZomA48hcHB1td8C2m1a7GH_FuGTvU4ROn19wLepji4lvaxHirEY/s1600/whatareyou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1bF60-MbZyB3eGBqQsHQ6c9_aBGIXKxDIdYmbkHaSo_-hTcFVfo-Wg6zjbpmFiAIhyN6FL1xS-6Qoi0dvrHaPnlSiZomA48hcHB1td8C2m1a7GH_FuGTvU4ROn19wLepji4lvaxHirEY/s400/whatareyou.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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By that, I mean he meowed at it for a bit, and I watched. Eventually, it flew up to a light fixture, and when it did, Biffles and I sprinted away from it like the helpless little girls we'd become. It landed, and I grabbed the nearest weapon available: Febreeze air freshener. (Interjection: I don't know why the first instinct when encountering insects has always been to grab the nearest aerosol, but it has yet to prove effective. It usually just pisses them off and makes them fly around even more erratically. I don't recommend it, though admittedly, I'll probably keep doing it.) Eventually, blinded by the musky, delightful scent of Moroccan Bazaar, he made the fatal error of landing in my bedroom door frame. I sprinted into the room - as did Biffles - and slammed it shut.<br />
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The battle was finally won, and the peasants rejoiced with Spaghetti-Os and Cinderella. <i>Fin</i><b>.</b><br />
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This concludes today's catching-up session. Even when I'm on sabbatical from blogging, I am occasionally known to say humorous things on <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/meteoroflgy" target="_blank">Facebook </a></b>and <b><a href="https://twitter.com/meteoroflgy" target="_blank">Twitter</a></b>, should you feel like befriending me. And if you don't, fine. May a thousand stink bugs visit you in your sleep.<br />
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Just kidding. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Except maybe Snookie.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkL3J2heG9CbDjGcJRpVLATQJeu832FIFZmDxqgwN6r4mGAn1hhoofd1j2RN1JDYjqi3XkVUtOz9mCOk6C5euWpLUc_bwd5kn9P0CX_dK7LYG1atEWlCgAQSVwG3q1P8TD1A1-PFBr7pE/s1600/snookie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkL3J2heG9CbDjGcJRpVLATQJeu832FIFZmDxqgwN6r4mGAn1hhoofd1j2RN1JDYjqi3XkVUtOz9mCOk6C5euWpLUc_bwd5kn9P0CX_dK7LYG1atEWlCgAQSVwG3q1P8TD1A1-PFBr7pE/s200/snookie.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<br />Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5861671280287369474.post-24076374444627814222012-11-16T21:18:00.000-07:002012-11-16T21:18:12.229-07:00Sleep Deprivation + Boredom = Dogbama<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1VA6WRcD1okR4onB6h9pPvVXHKoEXQZvZ2v9r9RUS-slif1O7CWvKQM8en26dPp9L2w9RNaXs34tXfGmpTf14z0FNJVIwZwbDlgZwF0sNd9XsuvI1NP00sHSWTUQiyMGzRZWms9MEEs/s1600/obamog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1VA6WRcD1okR4onB6h9pPvVXHKoEXQZvZ2v9r9RUS-slif1O7CWvKQM8en26dPp9L2w9RNaXs34tXfGmpTf14z0FNJVIwZwbDlgZwF0sNd9XsuvI1NP00sHSWTUQiyMGzRZWms9MEEs/s1600/obamog.jpg" /></a></div>
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Don't worry; I don't understand it, either. <3</div>
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Amanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02631914956761069975noreply@blogger.com1