<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:40:34.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The script keeps changing..</title><subtitle type='html'>Boy in the beginning.. In the beginning it me and you. I Bonny, You were Clyde. We we were running..
We were running for the end. But then in the middle you went and changed the script. Took a pencil and erased my happy ending, instead of loving you I feel so sick.
I know you directed it
I'm sure I produced a bit
So why's that chick stealing my show?
Roll the credits</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-40231899588155052</id><published>2009-05-21T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T06:52:46.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The night after prom...</title><content type='html'>Later that night around 8 Bethany picked me and Brittany up to take us to a bonfire at her boyfriend Rj's house. When we got there I just had a really long talk with Rj's family, and met everyone, and it was interesting. About 11 I started talking to Trask, til like 1 in the morning... First words out of his mouth were, "so you and Jake are together." I was confused how he of all people knew, since it happened like 5 hours before.... Ike told him. That kid kills me, every time we say anything to each other, Trask just has to update me on his life. Like everything I could have missed. Its ridiuclous. Long story short I ended up falling asleep in the camper with Brittany..&lt;br /&gt;Now I could get into this whole thing more, but I have no time, and somethings are just too personal!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-40231899588155052?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/40231899588155052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=40231899588155052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/40231899588155052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/40231899588155052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/05/night-after-prom.html' title='The night after prom...'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-7209197168476745992</id><published>2009-05-21T06:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T06:47:56.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waking up after prom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/ShVba6JvWJI/AAAAAAAAAG0/2V_W6iFjTZk/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338273451162425490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 149px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/ShVba6JvWJI/AAAAAAAAAG0/2V_W6iFjTZk/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I woke up about 1 and it was beautiful outside. And both Bethany and Brittany wanted me to hang out with them. So I ended up hanging out with Dustin and Brittany at Britt's for a grill out, where I fond out that Brittany lost Precious, cuz she opened the door, and Precious (the dog) ran out. I was very upset and went looking for her, but couldn't find her. And Jake told me he was going to come, but then when Brittany came and got me, he told me he couldn't come, I got really sad. So while I'm inside Brittany runs in and grabs me telling me she found Precious :) So she puts her hand over my eyes and leads me outside, and she was like look what she looks like, I was scared that she had been ran over or something. So we make it half way down the drive way, and Jake picked me up and swung me around in his arms... Scared the hell out of me! But I couldn't stop smiling, because I'm a loser. So we all hung out for a bit, then Jake had to leave at like seven. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He asked me to walk him to his car, and he like grabbed my hand, and said "do you remember last night when you told me to make a wish," and I said "yeah?" He was like, "okayy, so will you go out with me?" I said "yes." Then he was like, "Thanks for making my wish come true babe!" I couldn't stop smiling, then he hugged me, we did the kiss thing, and then he went on his way! Good times!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-7209197168476745992?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/7209197168476745992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=7209197168476745992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/7209197168476745992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/7209197168476745992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/05/waking-up-after-prom.html' title='Waking up after prom'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/ShVba6JvWJI/AAAAAAAAAG0/2V_W6iFjTZk/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-4649950738508763081</id><published>2009-05-19T06:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T06:35:34.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Amazing Night</title><content type='html'>So Saturday was amazing :) I got my hair done at 9 in the morning, and then went home, got on some face book, just chill until like 11, and then Ike called me, and I talked to him for like an hour, it was so funny he didn't want to go to prom with Brittnee at all. And he was dreading it so much. And then at like 12:15 or so I got ready, and Jake came got me at like 12:45... He looked gorgeous!!!! Like the second I opened the door, we both got the biggest smiles :) My flower was beautiful! So we got in his car, and went to Hy-Vee, and Keil wanted to see me so I switched into my sneakers and ran into see him quick. Then I went to his house and took some photos for his mom and then we stopped back at my house to grab my cash. After Taran called m e and told me to come over, so of course I did! Toni and Taran just told me how pretty I looked and talked to them with Jake for a bit. Then as we were leaving Charlie texted me asking me when he got to see me, so since we were on his street I was like right now, and so I stopped by his house, and Charlie, Alyssa and Will came out, and we all talked and had fun, then Alyssa left, and so Charlie and Will came over to my house, after the beat up Blue (the cat.) When I got to my house Bethany, Rj, Brandi, Alexa and Mitch, and Bethany's dad were already there, I laughed! Then we went out and took some super cute pictures, and then they all left. So I waited for Leah and Dallas with Will, Charlie and Jake. So they came and we took some cute pictures and hung out for a bit. Then we dropped Charlie and Will off, and headed to grand march with Bethany and Rj. We were like the 4th or 5th to go, and I lifted up my dress when we walked down, to show off the sneaks. We got a aloud applause followed by alot of laughs :) I am the kind of person that likes to be crazy, and not be average, and I loved my shoes! FOR SURE! After Bethany and Rj got done, we took pictures with his mom, and then took off to Elm Crest, where me and Jake took our pictures, and just chilled until everyone else got there so we could take our group picture. After it was dinner time.... Right after dinner Kayleigh stopped by to take pictures with me! Then we danced, I was so sore when left :p &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After prom, we went to Bethany's moms house to get changed and sat down for a second. Then to Sonic, and just chilled where I fell asleep lol. But I made it to 11:11 where I notified Jake to make a wish (THIS PLAYS A BIG PART.) Then on the way to post prom we almost died. A car like majorly cut us off while it was trying to race Jake while he was doing about 80 down Edge wood. To save us and the car, he swerved into a median. I'm usually not scared in cars, even though I believe that I will die in a car, I've always had that feeling. But that got to me, I was more worried about Jake though, because he does have an anger problem. But he was so pissed, he was like shaking, and that's what scared me. He like completely changed. I felt terrible. We eventually made it to post prom where he took a deep breath in and tried to relax. We got in, and Leah and Dallas already had a bowling lane for us to join. So we all got settled, grabbed some food and just relaxed, 5 minutes after that, I won a digital camera :) woot woot! So I gave my old one to Rj! He was pretty excited lol. So then we bowled and ate food till 2 in the morning. Well then Justine showed up "feeling different" so I took the camera and went around the bowling alley taking pictures for year book, where Brooke grabbed me and gave me a hug telling me how sorry she was and hoping we could just be happy, and friends and everything, where I was like sure! Then they hypnotist started. It was so funny. Basically Ike ditched Michaela, Cody and Brittnee, came sat with us. Cody Lewis and Jake about killed Ike he was laughing so hard. Dez almost beat the crap out of basically everyone, and Jake and Cody were so obnoxious, I loved it :) So I made it home about 5, and then I fell asleep till one in the afternoon :) That was my amazing night!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-4649950738508763081?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/4649950738508763081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=4649950738508763081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4649950738508763081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4649950738508763081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/05/amazing-night.html' title='An Amazing Night'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-4813460281946325983</id><published>2009-05-15T09:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T10:00:23.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sg2eQeYzG0I/AAAAAAAAAGs/4yzKeAXgB58/s1600-h/1_100145_FS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336095139376077634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sg2eQeYzG0I/AAAAAAAAAGs/4yzKeAXgB58/s200/1_100145_FS.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tomorrow is prom..omgoooosh :0 its almost here! I am so excited and nervous and just ugh I want it to come lol. At first it fet like it was taking forever to come, and now its come so quickly lol. Once I leave I'm gonna pick up my sneakers. The picture is not the best, but thats them and they really do look sick in person! For sure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this is m plans for today, leave here, go to the police station with my friend Mike to press charges aganist his ex-girl friend Emilky (WHO IS INSANE) and then pick up Charlie and Alyssa, and then meet Malorie at the mall. Get my shoes :) Then chill, and probablly tan, then I gotta pick Taran up at school at 3 and then take her home, meet up with Shelby at like 4, and then I work at 5:15, where I have to make $50 so I can get my hair done for prom tomorrow... Then Brittany wants me to go camping tonight when I get off in her back yard with her and Curtis in a camper, but I don't seeing that work out too well, seeing as how I need to be up at 8 the next morning so lol... We shall se what actually happens!! OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG PROM DUDE!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am for sure so excited to see everyone done up and beautiful! Its like just abot to make my life and I hope its worth how much I've gone through to get to this point. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-4813460281946325983?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/4813460281946325983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=4813460281946325983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4813460281946325983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4813460281946325983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/05/tomorrow-is-prom.html' title=''/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sg2eQeYzG0I/AAAAAAAAAGs/4yzKeAXgB58/s72-c/1_100145_FS.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-6540619717539212171</id><published>2009-05-15T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T09:50:41.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thirsty Thursday...</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was alright, like I had a good afternoon, I picked up my cute little friend Miranda and we drove around, got something to eat and went to the mall. Honestly whenI first met her, I thought she was the most annoying thing I've ever met, and I told her that! But as time moves on, I get why she tries to make friends, and honestly she is such a freaking sweet heart and has such a huge heart its ridiculous, I just like her alot lol. Then we dropped her off, and went to pick up Taran, where I then had an hour conversation with her, that basically broke my heart. Taran is my family and I am so protective of her its ridiculous, I just cant even explain it. There was a situation with her and someone else, and thats all I can say. Well I made her tell Trask, becuase she made me promise not to tell him, beucase there re just somethings that will never change about me and him... And she told him, and he called me freaking out... It was a long conversation, this all happened while I was getting my nails done for prom lol.&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to work, where I screwed up someone's bill, so they basically left without out paying a $42 bill... Which of course means that it came out of my pocket, so I walked away with two bucks at the end of the night. I was just in a bad mood, because I had so much on my mind, and then all this, it just ughh.. My night remotely got better, becuase towards the end of my shift, Jake randomly started texting me, and then out of no where I get the text, "I miss you." I had like a ten minute smile, not gonna lie. Then he kept telling me how much he wanted to see me, so the second I got off work, I drove to go see him, and out 5 minute thing, turned into like an hour something :) He was sick and sore and tired as hell, but he wouldn't let me leave!!! I loved it... FOR SURE! ba ha ha ha&lt;br /&gt;And then when I got home I called Taran and talked to her for like and hour, and then I fell asleep.. It was an alright ending..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-6540619717539212171?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/6540619717539212171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=6540619717539212171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6540619717539212171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6540619717539212171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/05/thirsty-thursday.html' title='Thirsty Thursday...'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-2237676031050546109</id><published>2009-05-15T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T09:37:17.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Continuing the craziniess...</title><content type='html'>On top of the fun past few days, there are the simple things that annoy me... Like people who think they can talk to me, but can't.. Wednesday, I was feeling crappy, and Jake came over and hung out with me, and then I find out about all these girls who hit on him and talk to him all the time and when he denies them, they make up stuff about him and doing stuff with them... That's pretty annoying. Like the reason me and Jake broke up, were because girls from his past started calling me and made up crap about him to me. So when I told him about it, he freaked out, because he had previously had to deal with a situation like that, and it got way outta hand, and the girl was crazy.. So he ended it, before it would/could get to that point again.. And I really don't like hearing all this stuff about other girls, but I love that he is being honest about it. One more thing that makes him completely different from Trask.. And I really can't get mad at him, because guys hit on me too. Like way more then I realized, and I am a huge flirt, and I know Jake gets pissed when other guys try to talk to me or touch or hit me... So I kinda feel bad about the situation. So me and Jake had long talk, and we got into talking about my birth family, and why I have been acting odd lately which would go into that. and he felt so bad, and he just gave me like a 20 minute hug  and just told e everything would be okayy.. And like something that has been on my mind is that I really don't want to see any of them especially on my prom night, but I can't tell Rj and Bethany that their families can't experience this moment with them, which is why Jake told me, that the second I feel uncomfortable, he will matturely take care of it, because no one or nothing will ruin this nihgt for me. This made me cry. Jake does not like it when I cry, at all. And then he left eventually and I just went on a walk and tried to think before I had to go to work. And thats all I remember about Wednesday...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-2237676031050546109?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/2237676031050546109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=2237676031050546109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/2237676031050546109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/2237676031050546109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/05/continuing-craziniess.html' title='Continuing the craziniess...'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-1026474010509727528</id><published>2009-05-14T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T06:52:38.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Craziness.. those cats and dogs living together!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SgxN_GIt4fI/AAAAAAAAAGk/MK1msXVois0/s1600-h/high-school.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335725404901466610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SgxN_GIt4fI/AAAAAAAAAGk/MK1msXVois0/s200/high-school.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the past week has been nothing less, but interesting. Sunday was great... after I got off work. I went to see Jake, and spent some amazing time with him. Then later that night me and Ike finally had a conversation, and me and him are finally on track again :) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;woot&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;woot&lt;/span&gt; ya know!!! Monday I was having a darn good day, and later that night &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Trask&lt;/span&gt; popped into my head, and I hadn't talked to him in a while so I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;texted&lt;/span&gt; him saying"hey hope life is going good," and of course, he responds, "It is." I say "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; good" he says, "how about you?" I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;told&lt;/span&gt; him, "I am pretty darn happy right now actually." He said, "I'm glad." I said, "any thing new with you?" He then sent me a text Becca had sent him earlier saying that "I've never been happier with anyone.. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; new" I said "oh, did you send that to her?" He said, "no tiff, she sent that to me!" I said, well do you feel the same?" He then said, " &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;idkk&lt;/span&gt;... I love her, and yeah, but earlier tonight she was looking at all my old pictures on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;face book&lt;/span&gt; of you and me, and she didn't like them, so I told her that I wanted to get rid of them I just don't know how, so then she showed me how to start &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;untagging&lt;/span&gt; myself in them and did a bunch for me. Then when I got home, I looked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; them all again, and then did the rest myself, and it was really hard. After I got done, Becca &lt;em&gt;didn't &lt;/em&gt;feel special anymore." I had nothing to say.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Curious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;why the hell does he say stuff like that to me?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He ended up calling me, and just updated me on his life, without end... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Ughh&lt;/span&gt; it was making my stomach sick to be honest, and don't ask me why!! Tuesday was Mike's 20&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday, damn he is getting old ;) And me and Brittany went out to eat at the Olive Garden with him. Where Bethany started talking to me about my birth family, because her boyfriend is my biological cousin, so he knows stuff about me.. I have six mixed brothers and sisters, and I just have to stop, it all really gets to me.. Then later on we picked up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Taran&lt;/span&gt; and had some fun with my cute little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Roo&lt;/span&gt;, then picked up Brittany's bike at Curtis's where we found the cutest dog ever, of which the owner let us keep, its like a mini &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Pomeranian&lt;/span&gt;-which goes for like $500. Then we drove it to Kennedy, to see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Draik&lt;/span&gt; and Charlie, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Trask&lt;/span&gt; and Ike were playing keeper in his soccer game, I sat by Ty and Toni (his parents) and Ike's mom and Grandpa, and we were all talking then I realized that Becca was a couple of the stands away from me, wearing the sweat shirt I bought him, I chuckled. And then I had to leave, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Trask&lt;/span&gt; kept &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;starring&lt;/span&gt; at me, and then when Toni realized everyone was talking shit about Becca she got up and went to talk to her ;) Then we took off and went to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Curtis's&lt;/span&gt; where Brittany and I took "mr. all state wrestling champion," and I basically beat up Curtis. Then Jake picked me up, where I just sat there thinking about the whole "birth family thing." And he could instanly tell something was bothering me... He just thought it was him. And he got really upset.. Then we started talking about that where I got the text, "I'm sorry.. I just like you......ALOT!!!" And that he basically thinks he's not good enough for me, and that I am not interested in him, because he knows other guys like me. He doesn't get how much he means to me. I honestly didn't think I could look at another guy like I looked at Trask, but I do. Everytime I hear a love song, for once, Trask doesn't come into my mind. I get butterflies around him, he is always on my mind, when he hugs me, I never want to let go of him, he is like my ugh I don't even know... But I like it :) And then the night ended with Michaela ha ha ha.... Dumbie freaked out on me, and said some stupid stuff acting like her words hurt me!! But they don't, I'm done letting her or anyone else in my life hurt me. I dont deserve it. And that was my super fantastic Tuesday..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-1026474010509727528?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/1026474010509727528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=1026474010509727528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1026474010509727528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1026474010509727528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/05/craziness-those-cats-and-dogs-living.html' title='Craziness.. those cats and dogs living together!'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SgxN_GIt4fI/AAAAAAAAAGk/MK1msXVois0/s72-c/high-school.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-3966603694646079804</id><published>2009-05-14T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T09:55:52.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not alot of time left..</title><content type='html'>So the clock is officially ticking.... The time is almost up and coming down on us. Seniors are ya ready? Because the real life is coming whether we want it to or not!! Its so weird to think that it was just 4 years ago we walked into school as FRESHMEN!! Its funny to remember those days, and see me now.&lt;br /&gt;I was this super fat ugly gross looking girl, who didn't stand up to anyone, and didn't have the best people as friends. The only reason I wasn't a &lt;em&gt;dirty&lt;/em&gt; was because I simply took showers. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;. And then today, trust me, I'm completely different. I now am the girl, that if you say something I don't like, I'm pretty blunt about it. I don't back down, you think your tough, I'll show you how weak you are. Sometimes my bark is bigger then my bite, until you force me to bring it out. Like I wont start something out of thin air for no reason, most of the time, I have one. Which is why I am hated by most. I'm honestly your best friend, or a huge problem for you. You disrespect me or loose my trust, your done. And it takes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; for me to stop respecting someone. Which i why I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;basically&lt;/span&gt; say your screwed. I forgive anything, and when you show me I can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;trust&lt;/span&gt; you, I go all the way. if you find a way to loose that, then well I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what to tell you! Thinking about how much I've changed has just made me think of the people that I kicked out of my life, which is kind of frustrating me, which would explain me ranting like this.... But basically &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; whats up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-3966603694646079804?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/3966603694646079804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=3966603694646079804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/3966603694646079804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/3966603694646079804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/05/not-alot-of-time-left.html' title='Not alot of time left..'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-201425437858622167</id><published>2009-04-30T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T09:50:41.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Cute&lt;3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SfnZAOvLZUI/AAAAAAAAAGc/65TGTd3rHfs/s1600-h/love.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330530231948895554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SfnZAOvLZUI/AAAAAAAAAGc/65TGTd3rHfs/s200/love.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So I've got some pretty cute news!!!!!! Are you ready for this????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'M ALMOST DONE WITH SCHOOL! BA HA HA HA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just a few days left and we are so outta here! Gosh I remember how big thsi school used to look to me, and now I can't even imagine why I used to be so scared? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think the biggest thing I want to get away from is the drama, but I will miss my friends and the people I love so much its ridiculous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-201425437858622167?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/201425437858622167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=201425437858622167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/201425437858622167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/201425437858622167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-cute3.html' title='Its Cute&lt;3'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SfnZAOvLZUI/AAAAAAAAAGc/65TGTd3rHfs/s72-c/love.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-974935420327959944</id><published>2009-04-23T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T09:46:56.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prom:)</title><content type='html'>SO &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'M&lt;/span&gt; FREAKING EXCITED FOR PROM!!!!&lt;br /&gt;My date loves my dress, and I'm finally starting to like it. Well like i love it. We've finally started making &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;preparations&lt;/span&gt; and everything is just falling into place and I'm pretty excited about the situation. My dress is white and I'm going with Jake &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bruner&lt;/span&gt; :) :)&lt;br /&gt;I am so excited its ridiculous! So I am rocking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Osiris's&lt;/span&gt; high tops at Grand March!!! Pretty excited, and my mom is not! It happens though &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;. They are so ridiculous, oh &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt; :) They are white, white neon yellow, blue, and red stripes. I just ugh they made my life! And Jake got like a guy version of them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here the plans:&lt;br /&gt;Hair appointment at 9&lt;br /&gt;Jake's picking me up at 1 for pictures with his mom&lt;br /&gt;Stop by to see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Taran&lt;/span&gt; White, show off :)&lt;br /&gt;Back to my house for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Draik&lt;/span&gt; and Charlie to see me&lt;br /&gt;Ty stops by for me and him Pictures&lt;br /&gt;Pictures with the group at my house at 3&lt;br /&gt;(Me, Jake, Bethany, Rodney, Kendra, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Jebril&lt;/span&gt;, Leah, Dallas, Brandi, Shawna, Tabitha and Corey)&lt;br /&gt;Grand March at 4:30&lt;br /&gt;(gonna go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Genghis&lt;/span&gt; Grill at one point to see my cousin &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Kayleigh&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Professional Pictures at 6 or so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Dinner&lt;/span&gt; at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Elm crest&lt;/span&gt; at 6:45&lt;br /&gt;Dance at 8&lt;br /&gt;Leave to change for post prom at 11 or so&lt;br /&gt;Post Prom 1-4&lt;br /&gt;Perkins at 4:30 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Possible&lt;/span&gt; sleeping? ....not likely :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This for sure is going to be an amazing night! I can't wait. I am gonna be with some of my closest friends, then Brittany is coming to Grand March, I'm so excited!!! I can't wait to see Jake in a tuxedo. Oh I think the funniest part of getting ready would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; be picking flowers! We got this lily that was like half dark blue and half dark purple, so pretty! With a bunch of diamonds, and feathers, and this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;insanely&lt;/span&gt; huge &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;bracelet&lt;/span&gt; that of course Brittany chose. I didn't choose one thing that went on mine, it was Jake and Brittany. Well hell, Britt would have added a bird to it if she could have. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;. But the whole thing was too funny! OH MY GOSH &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;I'M&lt;/span&gt; SO EXCITED &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;WOOT&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;WOOT&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-974935420327959944?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/974935420327959944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=974935420327959944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/974935420327959944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/974935420327959944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/prom.html' title='Prom:)'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-7455683005340813637</id><published>2009-04-16T09:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T09:56:46.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fun times, found them on my computer:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjJyUWJhI/AAAAAAAAAGU/fjgYNOwf4Jc/s1600-h/WPA+Group.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325334104165983762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 285px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjJyUWJhI/AAAAAAAAAGU/fjgYNOwf4Jc/s400/WPA+Group.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjG7XEwZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_VVlKgDbEF0/s1600-h/Britt,+Patrick,+Jake,+Tiff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325334055053738386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjG7XEwZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/_VVlKgDbEF0/s400/Britt,+Patrick,+Jake,+Tiff.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjDe7OfeI/AAAAAAAAAGE/vCJ6DIeh8jc/s1600-h/20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325333995881135586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 350px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjDe7OfeI/AAAAAAAAAGE/vCJ6DIeh8jc/s400/20.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjAm6qHUI/AAAAAAAAAF8/5JZ5AGXVuPY/s1600-h/19.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325333946486627650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjAm6qHUI/AAAAAAAAAF8/5JZ5AGXVuPY/s400/19.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedi9unR6BI/AAAAAAAAAF0/1O3HASrZdIA/s1600-h/17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325333897013225490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedi9unR6BI/AAAAAAAAAF0/1O3HASrZdIA/s400/17.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedi1z3XF0I/AAAAAAAAAFs/yC0_lJGBcp4/s1600-h/15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325333760983897922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedi1z3XF0I/AAAAAAAAAFs/yC0_lJGBcp4/s400/15.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedizKthNiI/AAAAAAAAAFk/puHoTA3nDlQ/s1600-h/05.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325333715577026082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedizKthNiI/AAAAAAAAAFk/puHoTA3nDlQ/s400/05.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedivCyvdrI/AAAAAAAAAFc/MHHuPk4pGYI/s1600-h/05.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-7455683005340813637?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/7455683005340813637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=7455683005340813637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/7455683005340813637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/7455683005340813637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/random-pictures.html' title='Random Pictures'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SedjJyUWJhI/AAAAAAAAAGU/fjgYNOwf4Jc/s72-c/WPA+Group.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-6467142927492256218</id><published>2009-04-16T09:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T10:01:10.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trusting Him or Myself...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sede52uYqQI/AAAAAAAAAEs/-V-Iv58S8iw/s1600-h/trust.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325329432424524034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sede52uYqQI/AAAAAAAAAEs/-V-Iv58S8iw/s200/trust.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm a very trusting person. Call me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;naive&lt;/span&gt;. But I am someone who has just been left behind, forgotten, given up on so much, that I refuse to do that to people. I can't give up, I can never give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So theres where I get in trouble, a guy gives me an inch, then I give him a mile. Not smart. I just see so much potenital in poeple that sometimes I go blind to what they do or who they really are. Hense I get hurt more often then I'd like. Which sucks, but you know what thats life. I think parts of me love the fact that I care so much about people. Another part of me thinks its a curse. I just wish that I could just find a happy merdium, you know what, I like that I trust people so forget that. I just wish I could find a guy worth trusting. Yeah, thats much better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've recently decided to add on to my tattoo. I have a T-it needs to be something different. I hate what it stands for, so I am adding "rust" so it will read &lt;span &gt;&lt;em&gt;Trust.&lt;/em&gt; I want to mean something, and inorder for me trust people correctly, I must trust myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-6467142927492256218?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/6467142927492256218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=6467142927492256218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6467142927492256218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6467142927492256218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/trusting-him-or-myself.html' title='Trusting Him or Myself...'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sede52uYqQI/AAAAAAAAAEs/-V-Iv58S8iw/s72-c/trust.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-6621342719907998301</id><published>2009-04-15T10:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T09:34:22.668-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rolling the Credits..</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was not the best morning of my life. I have insomnia, so I never sleep. And I woke up after about an hour of sleep to start my day... And all I could replay in my head was "worst mistake of my life." Thats what Trask said to his friends about me. I try so hard not to cry when it comes to him or anything, because for some odd reason people get really upset when it comes to me crying. I was having a bad day, and while I was dealing with this, I was actually saving Trask from getting his ass kicked. I should completely hate him. But I don't. I mean I honestly do not want him back, but I feel like I still just need him in my life. So I put up with his shit and let him disrespect me to his friends, and then be a completely different person when we are alone. It hurt like a dagger to hear him say something so heartless. Because I know even though both of us have regreted our reletionship, he loved it and me. We'd break up, and he was the one that always came back. Not me. Doesn't sound like you regret it that much? But ah well, shit happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-6621342719907998301?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/6621342719907998301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=6621342719907998301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6621342719907998301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6621342719907998301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/rolling-credits.html' title='Rolling the Credits..'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-5182702318462286303</id><published>2009-04-14T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:06:43.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"life is too &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;short&lt;/span&gt; to wake up in the morning with &lt;em&gt;regrets.&lt;/em&gt; so&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; the people who treat you &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, forget about the ones who &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and believe that everything &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;happens for a reason&lt;/span&gt;. if you get a chance, &lt;em&gt;take it&lt;/em&gt;. if it changes your life, &lt;em&gt;let it.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;nobody&lt;/strong&gt; said that it'd be easy, they just &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;promised &lt;/span&gt;it would be &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;worth it&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-5182702318462286303?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/5182702318462286303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=5182702318462286303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/5182702318462286303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/5182702318462286303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/life-is-too-short-to-wake-up-in-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-9215932831546612700</id><published>2009-04-14T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:13:01.518-07:00</updated><title type='text'>story of my life right at the moment</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SeS88qa0_iI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Lfl1BM4bKPM/s1600-h/sad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324588409823755810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 382px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SeS88qa0_iI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Lfl1BM4bKPM/s400/sad.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i remember,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and i wanna know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Where were you, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when I said I loved you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And where were you, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when I cried at night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Waiting up, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;couldn't sleep without you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thinking of, all the times we shared I remember when my heart broke&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I gave up loving you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My heart couldn't take no more of you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was sad and lonelyI remember when I walked out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I screamed I hated youBut somehow deep inside, still loving you, sad and lonely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No one knew, all the pain I went through&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the love, I saved deep in my heart for you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Didn't know, where I would go, where I would be&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But you made me leave, and plus my heart it just&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It just kept telling me so&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when my heart broke&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I gave up loving you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My heart couldn't take no more of you, I was sad and lonely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I walked out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I said I hated you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But somehow deep inside, still loving you, so sad and lonely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was nowhere else to go, nobody else, to turn to, no&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the rest of my life, I promise myself I will love me first, genuinely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when my heart broke&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I gave up loving you&lt;br /&gt;My heart couldn't take no more of you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was sad and lonely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I walked out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I said I hated you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But somehow deep inside, still loving you, sad and lonely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I walked out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I gave up loving you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My heart couldn't take no more of you, so sad and lonely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I stormed out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember when I gave up loving you, I was sad and lonely &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Okay, so let him go.  It's up to you how long you let his memory stay, and do you really want to carry on this way?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-9215932831546612700?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/9215932831546612700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=9215932831546612700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/9215932831546612700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/9215932831546612700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/story-of-my-life-right-at-moment.html' title='story of my life right at the moment'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SeS88qa0_iI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Lfl1BM4bKPM/s72-c/sad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-6970236932310887084</id><published>2009-04-13T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T09:34:46.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dumb People</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SeNyjh2IMsI/AAAAAAAAAEI/dgxB-F2n0EI/s1600-h/angrykid.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So i have just a list of people I'm not too happy with. Like I just dont like them, or they ticked me off, or something, regardless, they upset me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Like I can take alot, but really just like really, my biggest pet peeves, besides drivers who think they are BA, would be back stabbers, sluts, liars, two faced people, and just fun stuff like that. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am someone who is just able to forgive everyone for anyhting, but if you keep using the "sorry" button evenutally it doesn't work anymore you know? I am so sick and tired of having to please everyone. I am so sick of walking on egg shells for everyones feeligs. Im sick of feeling like crap. I try to make everyone so happy, and completely put my feelings a side for them, then for once I try to get something I want. And I loose. I've had to go throough so much pain and suffering in my life. And to watch people I care about suffer. I've lost everyhting, I've had to be 30 since I was 3. I've taken in more in 18 years, then most people do in a life time. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;this is a song my aunt told me remind her of my and life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I will not make the same mistakes that you did&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I will not let myself&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cause my heart so much misery&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I will not break the way you did,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You fell so hard&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've learned the hard way&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To never let it get that far&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I never stray too far from the sidewalk&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of youI am afraidI lose my way&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And it's not too long before you point it out&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I cannot cry&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because I know that's weakness in your eyes&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm forced to fakeA smile, a laugh everyday of my life&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My heart can't possibly break&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When it wasn't even whole to start with&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I never stray too far from the sidewalk&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of youI am afraid&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I watched you die&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I heard you cry every night in your sleep&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was so young&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You should have known better than to lean on me&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You never thought of anyone else&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You just saw your pain&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And now I cry in the middle of the night&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For the same damn thing&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I never stray too far from the sidewalk&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I try my hardest just to forget everything&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't know how to let anyone else in&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am afraid&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because of you...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-6970236932310887084?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/6970236932310887084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=6970236932310887084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6970236932310887084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6970236932310887084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/dumb-people.html' title='Dumb People'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-1770753529709866994</id><published>2009-04-13T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T09:41:59.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guys Suck</title><content type='html'>So I just keep hearing more and more high school drama, and bull crap! I really think that Trask needs to not be such a loser. Grow up a little bit and stop being so two-faced and dumb and urg he just annoys the hell out of me. It only makes me more and more disgusted how he can sit there when no one is around and tell me how much he cares and wants us to be friends and any time he is upset I'm the one he calls, even before Becca. Then, when he is around his friends, he talks crap about me! Tells people I was the worst mistake of his life, then an hour later, tells me he's still in love with me.. How does this work?&lt;br /&gt;Funny stuff I tell you. And just so your know Becca Vogl has never had cancer. She lied to everyone because of what a screw up she is, so her parents got pissed and put her with the kids she belongs with. I told Trask this, after I called her dad Saturday night. I asked him what kind of cancer she had, and he asked me if I was playing a sick joke. How do you lie about that crap? How do you tell someone "your in love with" that you have cancer, and then not have it. Just like she told everyone her freshman year that she was going to die by the end of the year from it, um its two years passed D-day.&lt;br /&gt;For anyone that reads this, you shouldn't treat people like crap, karma sucks. It will only come back to haunt you. I promise you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-1770753529709866994?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/1770753529709866994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=1770753529709866994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1770753529709866994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1770753529709866994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/guys-suck.html' title='Guys Suck'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-415382677828968584</id><published>2009-04-10T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T09:32:27.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anger</title><content type='html'>So yesterday I almost got in a fight with some girl that I have never had a civilized conversation with. I "quote" "unquote" called her a slut which gave her permission to try to fight me! How dumb is that. My personality is I dont back down from people. I dont like being disrespected and told off when I've done nothing wrong. I just have a natural tendancy to never back down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its something inside me from my past, that has just made me have a rough aggressive side. Ususally, if someone says something to me, I'm ready with my fists up, but yesterday this chick caught me off guard, and all I wanted was for her to go away, like by no means was I scared, but it just wasn't worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-415382677828968584?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/415382677828968584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=415382677828968584' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/415382677828968584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/415382677828968584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/anger.html' title='Anger'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-190311481904564489</id><published>2009-04-10T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T09:40:28.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Old Me is Dead and Gone..</title><content type='html'>So I've come to the conclusion that I;ve changed quite a bit in the last month, in quite a bit of ways. I've started to not care about as much, like in general. This has both good and bad consequences. I think I deffenitly changed over Spring Break. I am way more relaxed about crap, but way more confused about the guy department. I have a told new view on how I look at guys, because to be honest I've been screwed over one too many times and now I am just not as trusting. I just have been looking around mroe lately and seeing how I am not where most of the people in my life are and I guess I don't care to be where they are or what they think anymore, Im just like in the mood of wanting something new, and different not the same old dramatic crap. I'm just of my own person.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just dont care anymore, about much, butI'm worried its coming to school with me, as in my work, whihc would not be the best thing ever, so I need to start cracking down on it. I have like 2 months left of high school, so I really need to work on that lol.&lt;br /&gt;I've just been out of it, like just sompletely ugh I'm not sure how to explain it, because its unlike my normal self therefore its unfamiliar to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-190311481904564489?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/190311481904564489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=190311481904564489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/190311481904564489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/190311481904564489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/old-me-is-dead-and-gone.html' title='The Old Me is Dead and Gone..'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-8860659655486715126</id><published>2009-03-30T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T18:25:14.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Essay for a potential scholarship</title><content type='html'>My Essay Question: Who has been your mentor or role model? Why does this person play that role for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I’ve grown up, there have been several people I have admired or looked up to, but there is one person that has constantly been there, and influencing my life. Although it’s a common answer, it is more the truth then one could expect.&lt;br /&gt;My mom is unlike any person you’d meet. And until I started growing I never realized the person she truly is. She is the kind of woman who doesn’t given up on anyone, she constantly does what ever she can to make everyone in her life happy. With me, she has helped me since I was a little girl tell me right from wrong, and how to find the right amount of both to have a good life, which have helped develop the skills I will need to truly succeed in life. Everything truly good in me, is due to her. I learnt how to care for people, and their needs, by watching her take care of every one around me single-handedly. She is the strongest person I’ve ever met, even when she’s been at her weakest.&lt;br /&gt;Since I was little my mom has forced me towards greatness. Her biggest goal for me, is to succeed and have the most amazing life possible, not just to prove to others who have doubted me in my life, but just so I can enjoy pure happiness. My mom has always been tougher on me, and more strict with me, then most parents have been with their kids. And now looking back ,and remembering at the time how much I didn’t like it, and looking at who I am and where I am in my life, I truly appreciate it. I know what makes me happy, and what I don’t need to be happy. I have respect for myself, and I love the traits that I have, because of her, besides how stubborn I am, which I completely think is her fault.&lt;br /&gt;My mom is someone that most everyone feel they can go to and trust without being judged. She can give them advice that makes them want to be better, the fact that she has just made such an affect on me, makes to strive to be like her, so someone may possibly feel that way about me one day and pass it on. I owe who I am to her. There’s nothing else I can say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-8860659655486715126?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/8860659655486715126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=8860659655486715126' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/8860659655486715126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/8860659655486715126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/03/essay-for-potential-scholarship.html' title='Essay for a potential scholarship'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-6131638269077754735</id><published>2009-03-30T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T09:41:09.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Break is no more... School Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SediWTGVXMI/AAAAAAAAAFU/iSF64RTI3EM/s1600-h/20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325333219612384450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 175px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SediWTGVXMI/AAAAAAAAAFU/iSF64RTI3EM/s200/20.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I honestly have become so hung up on leaving that I'm starting to hate school, like I just dread it. Spring break was wonderful, and I loved it, but it was just too darn short I'm not gonna lie about it. I hung out with old friends, and met some really good new ones!&lt;br /&gt;I just lived up, I was just way relexed and just had fun and it was great, until the guys thing got complicated :/ But I still just kept trying to keep high school out of it, cuz I just hate this school, and honestly I think I hate school because of Trask, like I just want out of it, cuz there's nothing here holding me back anymore. I just want prom to get here, then ten days after that I am walking across the stage and then Im done for good.&lt;br /&gt;Unless you know I dont have my classes, then FML.&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;So I just found out what the rapper TI's sentence was for his gun charge, he got a year in federal prison. I know he will get out, but it still bummed me out. But he could have gotten a max of 35 years, so that is really good I guess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-6131638269077754735?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/6131638269077754735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=6131638269077754735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6131638269077754735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6131638269077754735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/04/spring-break-is-no-more-school-again.html' title='Spring Break is no more... School Again'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SediWTGVXMI/AAAAAAAAAFU/iSF64RTI3EM/s72-c/20.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-4724234892236754274</id><published>2009-03-19T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T09:33:44.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes :)</title><content type='html'>So lately things have been good. I've been enjoying my time and trying to live it up. Trying to spend my last few moments of high school, being a kid, taking chances and just going crazy. I just think that its about time for some changes and the more and more that come, the more and more I realize I needed them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-4724234892236754274?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/4724234892236754274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=4724234892236754274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4724234892236754274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4724234892236754274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/03/changes.html' title='Changes :)'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-7321284980361882476</id><published>2009-03-12T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T10:04:54.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New chapter of my life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SblArNX2i5I/AAAAAAAAAEA/X_Ky_KP2DyQ/s1600-h/cute-quotes_966982410_55.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312348346528467858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SblArNX2i5I/AAAAAAAAAEA/X_Ky_KP2DyQ/s400/cute-quotes_966982410_55.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here begins my new chapter. After 15 months, I am single. As of exactly two weeks ago today actually. He asked me out on a Thursday, and broke up with me on one. To be honest, I don't know my current status. To be honest and sum everything up, my heart got broken and I'm working on the damages. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is the point where I say it. Two weeks ago &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Trask&lt;/span&gt; cheated on me with Becca &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Vogl&lt;/span&gt;. He broke up with me because his feelings changed. The Friday after, his best friends told me the truth. Monday I found out at the beginning of our relationship, he cheated on me with Emily W&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;rider&lt;/span&gt;, but deep down I knew that one. But it pissed me off enough to go to the cafeteria and hit him for it. Then when I knew I couldn't hit him like I wanted to, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;walked&lt;/span&gt; outside, punched a brick wall, and about broke my hand. It was sick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have my good moments... Then I chill even for a split second, then the moments fall into my head. The first kiss, the waking up on his chest seeing him smiling at me, all the pictures of us EVERY WHERE, all the cute songs, the moments, special places, everything that was TNT... Then I think what makes her so much better then me, all that crap that just tears into you... It could be so easy to talk shit, or hurt her, and him, and just tell all the stuff I know.. But I can't. Don't have it in me, I just want to let go. Which hurts but eh...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I forgave him cheating. I don't have enough energy to hate him to be honest. Not that kind of person. I don't hate Becca either. Its not worth it. Honestly, even though he has royally fucked me over and hurt me to a point I could stand, eat or sleep, I still want his friendship. Because even though he was never a friend to be, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; was his friend. We were each others everything ya know, so I've felt lost with out him. But I;m starting to get up and just brush off. I've had some "hook ups" but then, when it comes to the point where the guy wants more... I say, even though I'm super &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;vulnerable&lt;/span&gt; right now, that doesn't change the girl I am, and "hook ups" are not me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have come to a point where it hurt and pissed me off, and still does from time to time, but its not my everything anymore.. He's had Becca to distract him from the actual break up, where as I just got through it. Its weird, but still.. Actually while going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; this, I opened my eyes to see other people.. And in the process, a really good friend, turned into something more :) I think I needed something to just change my train of thought, and last weekend did :) I got happy. And stayed that way.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also thank you for all the kindness I really apprecaite all of the support:)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm not over it, and deep down I never will be completely.. But I'm getting so over it.. I'm moving on..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I'm over your lies and I'm over your games.I'm over you asking me,when you know I'm not okay. You call me at night, and I pick up the phone. And though you've been telling me, I know you're not alone. That's why (your eyes) I'm over it (your smile) I'm over it (realize) I'm over..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wanting you,to be wanting me. No that ain't no way to be. How I feel, read my lips, because I'm so over.. Moving on, it's my time, you never were a friend of mine. Hurt at first, a little bit, but now I'm so over it...I'm over your hands, and I'm over your mouth. Trying to drag me down, and fill me with self-doubt. I'm Moving on, it's my time, you never were a friend of mine. Hurt at first, quite a bit...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Don't call, don't come by, ain't no use, don't ask me why, you'll never change,t&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;here'll&lt;/span&gt; be no more crying in the rain. How I feel, read my lips,because I'm so over.. Moving on, it's my time, you never were a friend of mine. Hurt at first, a little bit, but now I'm so over. I'm so over it.."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-7321284980361882476?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/7321284980361882476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=7321284980361882476' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/7321284980361882476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/7321284980361882476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-chapter-of-my-life.html' title='New chapter of my life'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SblArNX2i5I/AAAAAAAAAEA/X_Ky_KP2DyQ/s72-c/cute-quotes_966982410_55.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-3162003410535575928</id><published>2009-02-18T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T08:07:04.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging</title><content type='html'>So it has come to the point where we are towards the end of the term. I think through out any of the things we’ve done this term in perspectives, I’ve enjoyed blogging the best. I think it is interesting reading other peoples blogs and their interests. I learn a lot about the people I go to school with.&lt;br /&gt;I think that this idea, writing blogs, was a very good idea. It got me writing more, which is a good skill to have you know, and plus it’s about things that go with ourselves so it helps make it easier to write.&lt;br /&gt;I think out of anything I have ever seen, my friend Josh Erceg has the most amazing site. His blogs are just so IN DEPTH and when I first started reading I was blown away. He is an amazing person, with amazing thoughts and ideas, and I am so impressed and inspired by him, it’s amazing. &lt;br /&gt;I like writing about my thoughts, my feelings and what ever pops in my head, and I’m not going to lie I never expected to be a “blogger” but after this, I am not going to lie, I like it a lot. So personally, I hope we continue to do it during next trimester.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-3162003410535575928?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/3162003410535575928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=3162003410535575928' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/3162003410535575928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/3162003410535575928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/02/blogging.html' title='Blogging'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-1526823617523390525</id><published>2009-02-05T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T09:40:30.407-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Future.. Where do I go from here?</title><content type='html'>So I have officially been accepted to both Mount Mercy, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Coe&lt;/span&gt;. And not going to lie about it, but I am pretty excited about the situation. At the beginning of the year, I had no idea that I would be sitting here having to choose between two amazing schools. Honestly I think I will most likely end up going to Mount Mercy.&lt;br /&gt;Friday the 13&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, I have a campus tour of Mount Mercy after I get the staples removed from my head. Yeah Friday night I was ice skating and I split and fell, and I cracked my head open. Yeah it was pretty cute, not gonna lie. And then shortly after that I am going to set up a campus visit to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Coe&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Right now my thinking is, if I want to go to a school, where I know I can get a job right after &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;graduation&lt;/span&gt;, both are great, but Mount Mercy is the preferred teaching school, even over over University of Northern Iowa.  And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; what I want to do, is to be a teacher. A high school government teacher to be exact.&lt;br /&gt;I think that if I choose &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Coe&lt;/span&gt; it would be because its more of a school experience, with the football team, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;cheer leading&lt;/span&gt;, and stuff like that. I also know that one of the biggest reasons &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt; I would choose &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Coe&lt;/span&gt; over Mount Mercy, would be because of my best friend Michaela. I know she wants me to go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Coe&lt;/span&gt;, which makes me want to go even more. And honestly I shouldn't base that big of a life decision on that alone. So I will keep you posted on my decision.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-1526823617523390525?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/1526823617523390525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=1526823617523390525' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1526823617523390525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1526823617523390525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/02/bethany-michelle-landn-heinbuch.html' title='My Future.. Where do I go from here?'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-1241574859874595466</id><published>2009-01-27T12:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T07:32:08.355-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dumb Teachers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SX9q3ysXoKI/AAAAAAAAADw/Iq4QfQyM8So/s1600-h/grin565l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296069193544212642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 306px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SX9q3ysXoKI/AAAAAAAAADw/Iq4QfQyM8So/s320/grin565l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Today has just been bundles of fun. Get to school late, but shockingly my mom called it in, had to deal with stupid people and then on top of that, I get called into the office by a man I truly hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Teachers sit there and talk about how much respect they deserve, but you know what its hard to respect to someone, who treats you like crap, and doesn't show you respect only authority. I just ugh he makes he cringe.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love it when students can't be right, I mean there are 28 people (students) with the same story, and then the teacher with a different, yet you take their side, and then expect us to give you respect, really now?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You know what, teachers are gonna hate the day it blows up in their faces. I can honestly only name a few teachers, who actually care about their students... When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Maxey&lt;/span&gt; leaves once us seniors graduate, the students are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; screwed!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-1241574859874595466?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/1241574859874595466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=1241574859874595466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1241574859874595466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1241574859874595466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/dumb-teachers.html' title='Dumb Teachers'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SX9q3ysXoKI/AAAAAAAAADw/Iq4QfQyM8So/s72-c/grin565l.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-4573714072309238159</id><published>2009-01-26T14:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T16:00:35.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What an Einstein</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SX5B4SpgS6I/AAAAAAAAADo/9i8JZ7LyL44/s1600-h/You+expect+alot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295742647168682914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SX5B4SpgS6I/AAAAAAAAADo/9i8JZ7LyL44/s320/You+expect+alot.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Einstein was the most brilliant man I've ever heard of. The things he came up with, the things he said, everything. The world owes so much to a man, not a lot of people had faith in the beginning. He was even able to inspire people hundreds of years after his life. Recently his words have inspired me with things that have been making me think about my own life recently...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.”- Einstein &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had a bad weekend. Friday, a huge group of people got together and we all went ice skating. My boyfriend had never done it before so I was so excited to see him do it, and hold his hand as he learned. He was dead set against it. Off and on things were good, then things got bad then back at forth.. Got in a fight with my best friend, and a huge fight with my boy friend, over his problems.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saturday was a bad day, that turned into a bad night. After working 11 hours, with rude customers, I got off just wanting to relax with my boyfriend, then find out we are going to some party with a bunch of drunk high people.. Literally had to watch one of my good friends drive a bunch of pot heads while he had been drinking and I am the only one who tried to stop him.. Then one of my best friends got high for the first time, I could barely look at her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sunday was one crap storm after another, got in s huge fight with my mom over nothing but her not trusting the daughter she raised (whats new) then having to be late on top of that, I was in the weeds all morning.. I just shouldn't stay a float, I was heart broken all day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later that night I had to deal with a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;coe&lt;/span&gt; worker and his psychotic girl friends bull crap for like three hours which was ridiculous. It was just a bad weekend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was just stress and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;immaturity&lt;/span&gt; and I can't wait for it to be over honest to god.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-4573714072309238159?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/4573714072309238159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=4573714072309238159' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4573714072309238159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4573714072309238159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-einstein.html' title='What an Einstein'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SX5B4SpgS6I/AAAAAAAAADo/9i8JZ7LyL44/s72-c/You+expect+alot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-5100554521285842311</id><published>2009-01-23T10:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T10:11:34.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Possiblites</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXoGrlDiTDI/AAAAAAAAACs/q91QMCtqWG8/s1600-h/eye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294551657678523442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 198px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXoGrlDiTDI/AAAAAAAAACs/q91QMCtqWG8/s200/eye.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I just got done talking to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;counselor&lt;/span&gt;, who told me that the vice &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;president&lt;/span&gt; of the bored of admissions from Mount Mercy College called her the other day and that they had a conversation about me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;They just talked about how she knows me, and my home life, and how much I've grown in the last four years, and that I am a really good person. Just talked about all my strengths and struggles, and everything they could possibly think of. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She now thinks after the letter I wrote them, that I have a very good chance of getting into Mount Mercy, which makes me so happy I want to cry. I honestly really didn't think that I would have a shot to get into the college I want, but just hearing some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;reassurance&lt;/span&gt; that I have a chance, it makes me eyes glow, and opens my eyes to new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;opportunities&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;possibilities&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Honestly, I care so much about school because I want to go to school to become a teacher in the high school area, as a government teacher. When I graduate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; gonna have like 6 or 7 years of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;social&lt;/span&gt; studies, I love this area of school more then any school. My teachers in this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;department&lt;/span&gt;, have always made me feel that way. I love it! And I would love to have that feeling, to have a student tell me, that they want to learn or want to be a teacher, because of me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-5100554521285842311?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/5100554521285842311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=5100554521285842311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/5100554521285842311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/5100554521285842311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/possiblites.html' title='Possiblites'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXoGrlDiTDI/AAAAAAAAACs/q91QMCtqWG8/s72-c/eye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-8304350733887959926</id><published>2009-01-23T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T10:02:46.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She's Just Like Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXoDsGPn7mI/AAAAAAAAACk/D52IQjgn32E/s1600-h/mt168r_%5BDesktop_Resolution%5D%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294548368052711010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 144px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXoDsGPn7mI/AAAAAAAAACk/D52IQjgn32E/s200/mt168r_%5BDesktop_Resolution%5D%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So the other day I was just sitting around thinking about how amazing my life is right now, and I started thinking about my past. That's when one of my best friends popped into my head. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I met Michaela our sophomore year, in Mr. Evans World History class. I was considered the class clown in that hour. My first impression was that she was a cheerleader, I remember, that the day I met her, she was wearing a pink Roxy jacket, and she had a pink ribbon in her hair, in a pony tail. Yeah I know, funny how I remember that, but I do. I remember the stupid stuff that went on, like the stupid way I  would say parenthesis. God I could keep her laughing so hard all hour, every day. We instantly had a connection with each other, and then as the year ended I got her a job at my work at Sonic. That was an amazing summer, we made such a bond, we were so the same, she is just like me, and I'm just like her. We are so goofy, and happy, and don't care about anything when we are together.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We are the ones that have songs in our head and start break dancing in the hallways, we are losers I know. We have modeled in magazines, done the most amazingly crazy stuff together, the girl is  amazing. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Last year, we had a huge falling out, like we literally weren't allowed to look at each other, but that bond we have that no one has been able to explain, prevailed. We couldn't hate each other, it was like we hating a huge part of ourselves, and now I know it sounds like we are like a couple, but we have a bond like that...no homo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-8304350733887959926?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/8304350733887959926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=8304350733887959926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/8304350733887959926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/8304350733887959926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/shes-just-like-me.html' title='She&apos;s Just Like Me'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXoDsGPn7mI/AAAAAAAAACk/D52IQjgn32E/s72-c/mt168r_%5BDesktop_Resolution%5D%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-3577603208109324368</id><published>2009-01-22T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T11:40:56.288-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My college essay</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXjLvaJ0_DI/AAAAAAAAACc/1XAQzAMZqdM/s1600-h/coe_logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294205377308851250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXjLvaJ0_DI/AAAAAAAAACc/1XAQzAMZqdM/s200/coe_logo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay well I just finished my essay to Coe College, the question asked me why humor is so important to have in life, and to give a personal experience, I figured this would fit into my blog.&lt;br /&gt;Humor is one of the best things a person can have in their life. I believe this because I am a very humorous, goofy person. I love making people laugh, turning ones frown upside down you could say. I’ve been like that since I was a little girl. I just have realized that the more I laugh, and the more people around me I make smile, the easier life seems to be. I by no means have had an easy life; I believe that humor has gotten me through it.&lt;br /&gt;When I was three years old, I got taken away from my birth mother. She didn’t take care of me, or do anything that a nurturing mother should. When I was taken away from her, I spent the next two years of life, being thrown from one foster family to the next, each one getting attached to, each one having to leave. During this crazy transition in my life, I went through eight different foster homes.&lt;br /&gt;I remember once when I was four I was leaving one of my foster homes, and my foster mom started crying, and you have no idea how much I hate watching people cry, so I ran over and started dancing silly and making goofy faces, doing what ever I could to make her smile or laugh. It worked incase you were wondering. Even at a young age, I knew people, including myself were better off smiling as opposed to frowning or being sad. It’s just how I have always been.&lt;br /&gt;Once I had turned five, the court asked my birth mother to give up parental rights of me so I could actually be adopted instead of being moved constantly. My mother replied that if I was put with a blood relative, and they consented to adopt me, she would give up her parental rights. Her request was granted. Of course at the age of five, I had no clue what was going on or what any of this meant, because every where I went there was a new mommy and daddy you know?&lt;br /&gt;I then began my journey back to my first family. I was reunited with my birth mom’s brother, and his family. I remember what a big beautiful yellow house they had. I was so excited. Automatically I could have every one in the house laughing, whether it was exactly intentional or not. We had an amazing Weeping Willow tree in my front yard, I loved it. It was so pretty and unique, plus I had never seen one like it before, so I just thought it was amazing, something more then just an ordinary tree, I thought it had super powers or something you know; I was five, what can I say? Well anyways, I was talking to my aunt about what kind of tree it was, because like I said it was the first one of its kind to my knowledge, and she told me it was called a Weeping Willow. I automatically got very upset, and ran out the door to the front yard. I spent the next half hour or so sitting outside talking to the tree, dancing, telling it my favorite jokes ex: how do you make a tissue dance? You know-the basics. My uncle came out, asking me what I was doing, and I bursted out into tears. He got worried and asked me what happened thinking I must have gotten hurt of something, but no my dorky self was just upset that I couldn’t make the tree stop crying. This would be an example of unintentionally making people laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Today I am in a different home. To be technical, it is my tenth. I got adopted again to, who I call my birth mom, even though by law she is not. I moved in with her the day after my seventh birthday, and have been here ever since. The journey to finally find a home was difficult, very bumpy, and not so pleasant. But I made it. Had I have not relied on myself to be happy, I don’t think I would have made it. I have used and needed humor forever; personally I think it has kept me as healthy as I am.&lt;br /&gt;Today, I am known as a goof ball, a dork. I am the first person to start making weird faces, or start cracking jokes. I’m the girl who always has a song stuck in my head, and then in random moments when I am walking down the halls of Kennedy, and I just start busting out some crazy dance moves, plus I am the girl who will end up and does fall down flat on her face. This would be another unintentional moment of entertainment for others, but I always just get up, brush off, and laugh my butt off too. That’s just how I have always been.&lt;br /&gt;I’m the one that can sense someone is not happy, and it really doesn’t matter whether I know them or not, I will go sit next to them, and tell them a joke, a funny story, or just do something or say anything random enough to crack a smile or a laugh. That’s who I am known as, and I hear it all the time. I get told by teachers, students, co-works, random people that I am like one of the happiest people they know. And honestly I totally love that feeling. It makes me smile. Because I love humor, it makes me laugh. Always has, it always will.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-3577603208109324368?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/3577603208109324368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=3577603208109324368' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/3577603208109324368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/3577603208109324368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-college-essay.html' title='My college essay'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXjLvaJ0_DI/AAAAAAAAACc/1XAQzAMZqdM/s72-c/coe_logo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-1212989857902349187</id><published>2009-01-22T11:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T11:39:29.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXjJ7_jpcHI/AAAAAAAAACU/92FXAvWx3Fs/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294203394484433010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXjJ7_jpcHI/AAAAAAAAACU/92FXAvWx3Fs/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So lately I've just been thinking about life. About me. My life, and the changes I've been making over the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;past&lt;/span&gt; two years. I almost talk to no one I used to, personally I think my life started to get worse with the people I used to surround myself by for the longest time. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My junior is when I started to try to get away from them. I went down a bad path last year, there I refuse to go back down. I hated myself for the longest time because of it. I have done a 360 since then.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lately from how much I have been stressing myself out, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; different, quiet, not happy, just not.. I hate life half the time, but I suck it up, because things can only get better, I hope. Once I straighten things out, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hopefully&lt;/span&gt; I will go back to normal. My boyfriend is the one that suffers the most, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; he knows &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not happy anymore and for once, he can't be my knight in shining armour. I hate hurting him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-1212989857902349187?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/1212989857902349187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=1212989857902349187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1212989857902349187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/1212989857902349187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/bored.html' title='Bored'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXjJ7_jpcHI/AAAAAAAAACU/92FXAvWx3Fs/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-4576841360778477646</id><published>2009-01-22T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T11:27:52.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Girls</title><content type='html'>So lately a lot of girls have had naked pictures they take of them selves sent out to students across Cedar Rapids. Usually, a guy asked for a girl to send him pictures so he can "get off" and most of the time the girl is dumb enough to do it. But the guy never keeps it to just himself, then it goes out to every guy in his phone book, and then they continue to forwards it from there. First off guys are jerks and dumb as hell, but the fact that a girl is dumb enough to send a nude picture to someone and expect it not to get out is ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;Some of these girls are good girls, they aren't the average "slut" but once a picture gets out, your reputation is ruined. Do you really think anyone is gonna respect you? And guess what guys think of you as? A hook up, nothing more nothing less. Why would you do that to yourself?&lt;br /&gt;A big one would be a few weeks ago, this very pretty girl on dance team, sent a nude picture of herself to someone along with an "x" rated video of herself, and guess what happened? A very polite sweet person, got destroyed. That picture was sent out across the school instantly. So was the video. How terrible is that? A parent found out, and sent it to the school, she of course was called to the office, how miserable!!&lt;br /&gt;Just for the creeps who think its cool to do this to girls, its called child pornography. Whether your 18, or younger, its against the law. Its wrong. And although I don't condone girls doing something as disgusting as this, and even though most of the girls that do it, like when guys start wanting to talk to them, its wrong, and illegal. And dumb.&lt;br /&gt;There really is no excuse for that crap, on either side. Today, a bunch of guys I know got sent a nude picture of a girl I know, and she goes to Xavier. I wouldn't even be able to try to tell her, I'm not that close to her, plus that's so much drama I would not let myself get thrown under a bus like that.&lt;br /&gt;Girls seriously grow up, and be so freaking dumb, eventually your parents will find out.. No wonder guys look at girls like they are only sex objects, thanks to you, thats all we are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-4576841360778477646?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/4576841360778477646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=4576841360778477646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4576841360778477646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4576841360778477646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/stupid-girls.html' title='Stupid Girls'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-4842939141128469894</id><published>2009-01-22T09:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T10:12:47.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXi0Y-RXXpI/AAAAAAAAACM/BhxwANlgX5E/s1600-h/vote-for-barack-obama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294179703099711122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXi0Y-RXXpI/AAAAAAAAACM/BhxwANlgX5E/s320/vote-for-barack-obama.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As of yesterday morning, our 44th president, is a black man by the names of Barack Obama, and our first lady is Michelle Obama. They have two beautiful little girls. This is the first person I have ever voted for, and I think he was a hell of a choice. I think his inauguration speech was amazing, but to be honest I have never not been impressed when I hear this man talk. I have so much respect for him, even though I don't like that he wants to keep the war going and relocate it, and his choice on vice president. Although I do like Biden, and I have nothing against him, I just don't like how the Hillary Clinton thing played out. But honestly, I wanted her as president, more then him. But I also do understand his reasoning. Honestly there really isn't anything bad I can say about him as a person, I just hope I'm not disappointed in him, but honestly he can never be worse then George W. Bush. I hate him with a passion to be honest. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think he has a lot to fix in honestly half the time. A big fear I have right now, is that possibly him dying in office. All the good ones die in office, I see him making such a difference. He is a wonderful man, and to think of how racist people can be and are, it scares the hell out of me. Think of one of the reasons Lincoln was shot, as well as JFK? Its so dumb, and it truly scares me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;People have their own opnions, and of which they are completely allowed to. All I know is that Im very opinionated, Im very democratic, and people can't win when they politics to me. I know what I am talking about whenI open my mouth, most of the time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;GOOD LUCK OBAMA FAMILY!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-4842939141128469894?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/4842939141128469894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=4842939141128469894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4842939141128469894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4842939141128469894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/obama-obama-obama.html' title='OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXi0Y-RXXpI/AAAAAAAAACM/BhxwANlgX5E/s72-c/vote-for-barack-obama.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-4632656552769967213</id><published>2009-01-22T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T09:59:13.542-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happiness with Stressful times</title><content type='html'>A year later..&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXitdi6QJtI/AAAAAAAAACE/9tLd1RN8OS0/s1600-h/tnt"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294172085072963282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 237px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXitdi6QJtI/AAAAAAAAACE/9tLd1RN8OS0/s320/tnt" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My boyfriend and I together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Trask&lt;/span&gt; asked me out on Thursday, January 10&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; 2008, today is Thursday, January 22&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; 2009. This passed year has been the most difficult, but most amazing and life opening experiences I have ever been through. I've had boyfriends, but they have never worked out.&lt;br /&gt;I am a year almost two years older then him. I am 18 and he is 16. For the longest time I have gotten a lot of criticism for dating him by a lot of people who don't like us nor know us. things like it was wrong or gross, but we made it. It pisses me off when I hear gross, acting like I do crap with him. I'm not the normal high school whore, who just to screw every guy I talk to. A virgin thank you :) I met him about four months before we started dating. He knows every secret I've ever had, The funny thing is, if you asked one of us, we could tell you each others life stories. We know each other like the back of our hands, and we are literally the same person in guy and girl form. I think that's what connected us so well. He's just like me, good and bad. that also causes a lot of issues and problems. But it saves me when I am a bitch for no reason to him.He gets me. We're not just dating, we have a bond and friendship first.&lt;br /&gt;My mom was never okay with how much younger he was, at one point in time I had to pretend I wasn't even talking to him. I hated lying because of how important my mom was to me, but my life was hell, and he was the only thing that kept me stable. He was there when my aunt died, when my grandma got sick, when I went to the hospital, when I almost got kicked out, when i lied and got in trouble, when I did a lot of stupid crap. He straightened me out, and I fixed him. He's just like me, and the negative we saw in each other, we've fixed in our selves. I could care less anymore what other people think of us, I am happy with him, some times.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I think about college and how he will still be in high school. The maturity thing gets in the way a lot and I hate it, and it makes me want to brake up, but then he does something to show how mature he really can be, plus I can be one of the most immature people in the world.&lt;br /&gt;His mom has had issues with our age difference, and use to try to take me away, to punish him, because as time grew on, he cared more and more for me. She could see that. She could see, taking away the stupid crap that she used, meant nothing, it was no big deal, if she took me out of the picture, she literally ended up taking away his world, and he freaked out. That's scares her so much, he is in love with me. And he is so happy and proud to be with me. Who doesn't love that feeling, to feel like they are someones world? It is an amazing feeling, and he knows that I look at him like he has stars in his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Corny? High school? Wont last? I agree. Something special? Real love? Who knows. but we are happy, so happy together. And people who he us, and learn about our relationship, get jealous. I would be too. I have no idea what is going to happen in the future, all I know is right now, I am happy, and if and when things get bad, we've promised to be mature, because its possible, and our friendship means more then the relationship we have and hope to keep as long as we both stay happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-4632656552769967213?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/4632656552769967213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=4632656552769967213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4632656552769967213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4632656552769967213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/happiness-with-stressful-times.html' title='Happiness with Stressful times'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SXitdi6QJtI/AAAAAAAAACE/9tLd1RN8OS0/s72-c/tnt' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-6632533727495121231</id><published>2009-01-12T10:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T10:26:00.094-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Facts so sum up last weeks posts..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SWuLLiQBrII/AAAAAAAAAB8/QqNPmrU7nFo/s1600-h/kennedy_jf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290475217565625474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SWuLLiQBrII/AAAAAAAAAB8/QqNPmrU7nFo/s320/kennedy_jf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SWuLHfC6nDI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Q4iVbjxWyEU/s1600-h/abraham-lincoln-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290475147985853490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SWuLHfC6nDI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Q4iVbjxWyEU/s320/abraham-lincoln-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Strange coincidences &amp;amp; Amazing Facts between Abraham Lincoln and John F Kennedy&lt;br /&gt;Abraham Lincoln was elected to Congress in 1846.John F. Kennedy was elected to Congress in 1946.&lt;br /&gt;Abraham Lincoln was elected President in 1860.John F. Kennedy was elected President in 1960.&lt;br /&gt;The names Lincoln and Kennedy each contain seven letters.&lt;br /&gt;Both were particularly concerned with civil rights.&lt;br /&gt;Both of their wives lost their children while living in the White House.&lt;br /&gt;Both Presidents were shot on a Friday.&lt;br /&gt;Both were shot in the head.&lt;br /&gt;Both were shot with one bullet.&lt;br /&gt;Both were rumored to be killed in a conspiracy. Neither was confirmed to be a conspiracy.&lt;br /&gt;Lincoln was shot in the Ford Theater.Kennedy was shot in a card made by the Ford Motor Company (a Lincoln no less)&lt;br /&gt;Lincoln’s secretary was named Kennedy.Kennedy’s secretary was named Lincoln.&lt;br /&gt;Both were assassinated by Southerners.&lt;br /&gt;Both were succeeded by Southerners.&lt;br /&gt;Both successors were named Johnson.&lt;br /&gt;Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln, was born in 1808.Lyndon Johnson, who succeeded Kennedy, was born in 1908.&lt;br /&gt;Their first names both contain six letters.&lt;br /&gt;John Wilkes Booth, who assassinated Lincoln, was born in 1839.Lee Harvey Oswald, who assassinated Kennedy, was born in 1939.&lt;br /&gt;Both assassins were known by their three names.&lt;br /&gt;Both names comprise fifteen letters.&lt;br /&gt;Booth ran from the theater and was caught in a warehouse.Oswald ran from a warehouse and was caught in a theater.&lt;br /&gt;Both assassins were assassinated before their trials.&lt;br /&gt;The only complete filming of Kennedy’s assassination was shot by Abraham Zapruder.The only complete account of Lincoln’s assassination was written by John Zelfindorfer.&lt;br /&gt;A week before Lincoln was shot, he was with friends in Monroe, Maryland.A week before Kennedy was shot, he was with his friend Marilyn Monroe.&lt;br /&gt;Lincoln’s last child, Tad, had his funeral held on July 16, 1871. Later he was exhumed and moved to a different grave site.Kennedy’s son JFK Jr. was lost at sea on July 16, 1999. Later he was found, brought up, and then re-burried at sea.&lt;br /&gt;Note: 1 Note: It is an urban myth that Lincoln had a secretary named Kennedy. There is no record of that.&lt;br /&gt;2 Note: There is no record whether or not Kennedy’s secretary warned him.&lt;br /&gt;3 Note: Booth actually fled to a farm and was killed in a tobacco barn. It might be a stretch to call it a warehouse.&lt;br /&gt;But two years after his death, Booth’s body was temporarily moved to a warehouse. Also, after the assassination, the government closed the Ford Theatre and turned it into a warehouse.&lt;br /&gt;Other interesting facts:Apparently Lincoln had a dream several days before the assassination that he had been killed.He told his wife that he had seen himself in a casket.&lt;br /&gt;Also, Lincoln’s son Tad had a pet turkey named Jack. Tad asked his father not to kill the turkey for Thanksgiving.Although Harry S Truman started the official tradition, Lincoln was the first to “pardon” a Thanksgiving turkey.&lt;br /&gt;Now what would be real interesting is if Kennedy had a pet named Abe or had pardoned someone by that name. Thus far, I haven’t heard of that. Skeptics disagree&lt;br /&gt;Some skeptics say that you could take any two famous people and find a number of similar-type coincidences between them.The only problem with that theory is that there really haven’t been any listings of such comparisons.And certainly none has been as extensive as the Lincoln-Kennedy similarities.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-6632533727495121231?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/6632533727495121231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=6632533727495121231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6632533727495121231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6632533727495121231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/random-facts-so-sum-up-last-weeks-posts.html' title='Random Facts so sum up last weeks posts..'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SWuLLiQBrII/AAAAAAAAAB8/QqNPmrU7nFo/s72-c/kennedy_jf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-6292339815069133063</id><published>2009-01-12T10:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T10:22:15.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whens it going to stop?</title><content type='html'>I was watching the history channel the other day, and it was just talking about stuff that I already know, and have figured out completely on my own. It was talking about how history is like a circle, it was repeating itself continuously. Thigns such as how the earth died the first time.. It will happen again. An Asteroid will hit the earth, and everytghing will die, and have to start over again.&lt;br /&gt;America will recieve another terrorist attack, pearl harbor, 9/11, ???&lt;br /&gt;Theres just so much wrong with the world, and I hope Obama can help fix some of it. But I also see a great man in Obama, and I see an amazing presdient. which scares me, because all of the good ones get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;Random thoughts...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-6292339815069133063?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/6292339815069133063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=6292339815069133063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6292339815069133063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6292339815069133063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/whens-it-going-to-stop.html' title='Whens it going to stop?'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-2771787056280610380</id><published>2009-01-08T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T09:38:40.747-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Senor worries...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Lately colleges have been on my mind like crazy. My family is officially considered poverty. I have never gotten amazing grades by any means, and our family obviously doesn't have the money to pay for college. But because of my ACT scores, it opens a lot of doors. Plus because of my family income, I am in line for grants, scholarships and what not. But that doesn't mean that I have college on lock down. I have to get in to one first. I figured I would just go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kirkwood&lt;/span&gt;, ya know. I mean that's all I could get into, but I guess I was wrong, I have more opportunities then I thought.&lt;br /&gt;I really want to go to Mount Mercy. I don't want to leave every thing I know. Plus its a really good school. I am also looking at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Coe&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;which&lt;/span&gt; I am actually about to apply to once I finish this blog. All I know is college is important to me. Making something of myself, is important to me. Having something good in life, means something to me. I by no means had a good childhood. It was full of foster care, adoption, abuse, moving, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;unhappiness&lt;/span&gt;, and a lot of people who had no faith. Who told me I would end up as the people in my past, and that I wasn't worth anything. This is my motivation.&lt;br /&gt;TO the people who used to take care of me, if I was with them right now, I wouldn't be in high school right now, I would have dropped out by now, be a drunk, a pot head, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;pregnant&lt;/span&gt;, I'd have nothing. And because I had people to tell me I'd be nothing, I now have everything. So all I have is a thanks for them. Look who is standing tall now!&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SWY58rWmgJI/AAAAAAAAABs/-3hCGd0mxt8/s1600-h/class_of_2009_hg_clr.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288978526985683090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SWY58rWmgJI/AAAAAAAAABs/-3hCGd0mxt8/s320/class_of_2009_hg_clr.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-2771787056280610380?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/2771787056280610380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=2771787056280610380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/2771787056280610380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/2771787056280610380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2009/01/senoritous.html' title='Senor worries...'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SWY58rWmgJI/AAAAAAAAABs/-3hCGd0mxt8/s72-c/class_of_2009_hg_clr.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-5931108633379465972</id><published>2008-12-17T09:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T10:07:41.868-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Start of a new week, new updates</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SUk_51_JKEI/AAAAAAAAABk/1Hon9CQa12I/s1600-h/caylee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280822301045631042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SUk_51_JKEI/AAAAAAAAABk/1Hon9CQa12I/s320/caylee.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today in this day in age, it’s hard to find kids or people for that matter who really give a shit about anyone or anything. So I’m here to show you that it’s a good idea to open your eyes and look around you and find out what’s going around in the world.&lt;br /&gt;I read the news papers yesterday, and there was a nine year old girl in Texas who wrote a letter to Santa through her school, begging Santa to get her relative to stop touching her and her sister. The school of course turned the letter in to the police and the man ended up getting arrested. Police believe the sexual abuse had been occurring over the last four years. How sick is that? And the worst part is that it happens every day, and goes unreported.&lt;br /&gt;The murder of six year old Adam Welsh that happened in 1981 was solved. The serial killer Ottis Tolle admitted on his death bed, that he kidnapped the child from a mall, and murdered him then decapitated him. The little boys head was found two weeks later, the body was never recovered. This man killed hundreds of people in his life time, and had been in prison over a decade, before recently dying. They’ve known for a long that it was him; he had been currently serving five life sentences, when he died. He had admitted to killing the boy twice before.&lt;br /&gt;On a remotely positive note, Caylee Anthony’s body has been recently discovered, about a half of a mile from her home. When the police picked up the trash bag filled with the little girls body, her skull fell out of her bag. For those who do not her story, Caylee Anthony was a cute three year old girl when she was first reported missing by her grandmother. She lived with her Grandparents, because her whore of a mother didn’t take of her. Casey Anthony is 22 years old right now. When Caylee first went missing in June, Casey told her family that she dropped Caylee off at the babysitters, and hadn’t seen her since. Funny how she didn’t even know the babysitters name, or where she lived. When asked why she never reported her daughter missing, she had nothing to say.&lt;br /&gt;Casey took her daughter away from her parents because her parents wanted to try to get custody of Caylee. Her grandparents tried to get their daughter on the right track, but every time they pissed her off, she took Caylee away from them. Caylee’s grandma was the one who turned her granddaughter in as a missing child; about a month after she went missing. Casey was charged for first degree murder before they found the little girls body. She has been in jail since. When Casey’s parents found her car, they both said it smelled like a dead body had been rotting in there. Police began to investigate. Casey literally fits the definition of a slut. And honestly I hope she dies. To kill her baby, because her parents pissed her off, sorry for the harshness, but I hope the bitch gets hung.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back next time….&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-5931108633379465972?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/5931108633379465972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=5931108633379465972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/5931108633379465972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/5931108633379465972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2008/12/start-of-new-week-new-updates.html' title='Start of a new week, new updates'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/SUk_51_JKEI/AAAAAAAAABk/1Hon9CQa12I/s72-c/caylee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-4904332607364503484</id><published>2008-12-17T09:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T09:43:30.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Sorry</title><content type='html'>Sorry it took so long for me to write back. But to be honest I think people think all we do is go home with nothing to do. Each teacher seems to forget that we have more then one class a day, and we get more then one thing of homework a day.Not to mention we have lives beyond school. I work every single night, to help my family, and five hours each night, then come home and do homework, that I can’t do on the computer by that time, because it’s in my mom’s room. It’s like *&amp;amp;@# I can’t help it sometimes that not everything is perfect I'm sorry. And because things have been crazy and chaotic lately its like Mr. Ayers forgets that I held the highest grade in his class all term. I will do it, I can do it, it just takes time, and sorry this class is not completely my life.I'm sorry Mr. Ayers but the way you have been looking and acting towards me, its not like I don’t give a shit about this class or school; it means a hell of a lot to me, but I’m sorry things get pretty damn crazy sometimes, especially this time of the month. There are a lot of things going on in and around my life right now, that don’t have a clear grasp on everything. Geezers, even God got seven days.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I had to vent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-4904332607364503484?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/4904332607364503484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=4904332607364503484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4904332607364503484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/4904332607364503484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-sorry.html' title='I&apos;m Sorry'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-3211448412934962730</id><published>2008-12-03T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T10:02:18.184-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate this part</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/STbI1n3jajI/AAAAAAAAABU/FLFLPFWV-e4/s1600-h/depressed_teen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275624837071727154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 208px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/STbI1n3jajI/AAAAAAAAABU/FLFLPFWV-e4/s320/depressed_teen.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is the part in my life where I wish I wasn't me. I wish I wasn't so stressed out in school, from work, from home, for money problems, my personal life. When I'm not at school, trying to do the best I can so my mom wont be mad at me, even though I don't understand most of the crap, I just cant comprehend.&lt;br /&gt;I'm at work making money to support my family and myself. I have to make money, to give money to my mom, to help her with our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;expense's&lt;/span&gt;, and then on top of that, I have to spend a ton of money on them for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Christmas&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Every time&lt;/span&gt; I save a little, my mom needs it, or my sister needs money to live. I have to pay my BIG sister to live, or for what ever she needs. Have to get my grandma &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;expensive&lt;/span&gt; food daily, because everything we have at home isn't quite good enough. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On top of all that fun, I have to walk on my tip toes to make sure, no one is freaking out, or crying or sad, or pissed off to the point they want to just throw me down the stairs. I take emotional blow after emotional blow, and they never stop. I'm sick of being a grown up, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;technically&lt;/span&gt; I have only been a legal adult for three months. I've had to be a grown up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;literally&lt;/span&gt; since I was three.&lt;br /&gt;On top of all this little stuff, I have college's and college applications on top of everything to worry about. I have to apply to three universities and two other colleges very soon, I just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have the money to apply right now. Its terrible, I cant catch a break. Honestly, I don't know what the hell I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;possibly&lt;/span&gt; going to do. I can't ask anyone for money, because my mom doesn't have any, plus I'm too proud to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;High school&lt;/span&gt; is supposed to prepare us for real life, but I've lived in the real world since day one. And lord knows I'm not the only one. This is the part where I want to play "poor picked on me,"&lt;br /&gt;because I just can't catch a break. I just want to be mad at everything and everyone, because life is not fair. But I can't. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; just so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;immature&lt;/span&gt; of me honestly. Everyone tells me that I deserve to be upset, I have a right to vent, but the second I do, I feel so terrible. I feel so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;immature&lt;/span&gt; and I feel like I am being disrespectful to my mom, because she can't help it, and she would give me every cent she owned if I really needed her to. Like I just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;recently&lt;/span&gt; got my senior pictures taken and the total is about $550, because my mom wants a big thing they give me, and she can't pay a penny. Its all me, with no money in the bank or savings. This is the season where the bills start to add up. This is the part I hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; feel bad for me, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; give &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;pity&lt;/span&gt;, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want or need it. I'm too much of a proud person for it. I just hate when people get pissed because their parents wont buy them a new pair of jeans from American Eagle. I say this only because, I hate when people &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; see the other side of things, or the spoiled. Again this is just me venting. I wish people could see the real world some times, and get pushed off that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;cozy&lt;/span&gt; couch their on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-3211448412934962730?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/3211448412934962730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=3211448412934962730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/3211448412934962730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/3211448412934962730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-hate-this-part.html' title='I hate this part'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/STbI1n3jajI/AAAAAAAAABU/FLFLPFWV-e4/s72-c/depressed_teen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7314432091137670095.post-6746513570242489145</id><published>2008-12-02T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T09:52:30.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging v-card</title><content type='html'>testing testing....can you see me? I can't see you much, because I'm pretty much blind. But its okayy sunshine:) I'm pretty much listening to the best day by taylor swift, yeah its pretty cute:)&lt;br /&gt;God Bless:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7314432091137670095-6746513570242489145?l=skuttles-says.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/feeds/6746513570242489145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7314432091137670095&amp;postID=6746513570242489145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6746513570242489145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7314432091137670095/posts/default/6746513570242489145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://skuttles-says.blogspot.com/2008/12/blogging-v-card.html' title='Blogging v-card'/><author><name>Tiffany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15778048696943776628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-dizDF08p3Q/Sedh_dTIMHI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OrlartQ8nk8/S220/Picture+071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
