<?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-5675506530580470141</id><updated>2011-07-08T02:30:48.142-07:00</updated><category term='Friends'/><title type='text'>Diva Diaries from the Life of a Restaurant Manager</title><subtitle type='html'>Thirty is just a number.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>50</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6431218039158586486</id><published>2010-06-22T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T21:45:27.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Mess</title><content type='html'>We decided to crate train Pete. I have to say he was potty trained faster than any other puppy I've ever had. However, I would like to move him from leaving him in a crate when we're gone to letting him chill like my Boston Terrier does when we leave. First, we decided to do an hour long test run to see how he would do. My sis and I left and went to lunch and when we came back it appeared that he had been a good puppy, other than getting into some trash in the laundry room, &lt;em&gt;until&lt;/em&gt; we noticed that he chewed on the corner of my wall! Just chewed the crap out of it! So my question is, &lt;em&gt;how do you move the dog from the crate to being great without the crate&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6431218039158586486?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6431218039158586486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6431218039158586486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6431218039158586486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6431218039158586486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2010/06/what-mess.html' title='What a Mess'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-8251151789918293344</id><published>2010-02-23T10:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T10:35:38.709-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somebody Needs to Re-Think Their Website!</title><content type='html'>I am searching for cake toppers and just wanted to share something with you. I am looking for some elegant brooches or our inititals to put on top of our beautiful 3 tier cake and this is the first page I opened. &lt;a href="http://www.efavormart.com/monogramcaketopper-setof3.aspx?referral=adwords&amp;amp;kw=monogram_cake_topper&amp;amp;gclid=CP3L3uKSiJwCFRJexwodZwNCSw&amp;amp;gclid=CIPK8tSKiaACFRFbagodwH7elw"&gt;http://www.efavormart.com/monogramcaketopper-setof3.aspx?referral=adwords&amp;amp;kw=monogram_cake_topper&amp;amp;gclid=CP3L3uKSiJwCFRJexwodZwNCSw&amp;amp;gclid=CIPK8tSKiaACFRFbagodwH7elw&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-8251151789918293344?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/8251151789918293344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=8251151789918293344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/8251151789918293344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/8251151789918293344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2010/02/somebody-needs-to-re-think-their.html' title='Somebody Needs to Re-Think Their Website!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-4329517831431402676</id><published>2010-02-11T08:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T08:12:26.768-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Really Pete!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/S3QsRl2LhPI/AAAAAAAAAG0/GV4OFvZ3uLk/s1600-h/Christmas+2009+blizzard+016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437019330871788786" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/S3QsRl2LhPI/AAAAAAAAAG0/GV4OFvZ3uLk/s320/Christmas+2009+blizzard+016.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kevin has been wanting a puppy for a long time. He was spending all his free time searching on websites for the perfect puppy. We decided one day to go to a local shelter and fell in love with our adorable Pete. We named him after Pistol Pete, because we are an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OSU&lt;/span&gt; family. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the other night we are laying in bed with the lights off just about to go to sleep and Pete is snuggling all over me and giving me kisses when I feel something on my legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: "Kevin is why is our bed wet?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kevin: "What?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I'm asking this question I am rubbing my legs across the bed trying to figure out if it is just a cold spot or if it was really wet. I jumped up flipped the lights on and sure enough Pete had peed all over us in bed. Not just one spot, but all over our legs and stuff. Whose idea was it to get a puppy anyways??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-4329517831431402676?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/4329517831431402676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=4329517831431402676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4329517831431402676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4329517831431402676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2010/02/really-pete.html' title='Really Pete!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/S3QsRl2LhPI/AAAAAAAAAG0/GV4OFvZ3uLk/s72-c/Christmas+2009+blizzard+016.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6785882151749828513</id><published>2009-09-18T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T10:25:37.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Staycation</title><content type='html'>So, we are closing on our house on October 5th. I can not wait! The sad part is I will be using my vacation time to get moved in. That's right folks -  a staycation. Lucky me. Since we will have just dropped our large down payment on our house I need some good ideas for things to do on my staycation that isn't too expensive. Please help!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6785882151749828513?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6785882151749828513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6785882151749828513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6785882151749828513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6785882151749828513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/09/staycation.html' title='Staycation'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-4258624601687562044</id><published>2009-08-31T17:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T18:07:18.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Kids Get to Go Out</title><content type='html'>At work we had a contest that ran three months long. The kids who sold the most margaritas got to go on an outing. My boss and other managers were cool enough to elect me to get to take them. At first I was going to take them to do Laser Tag. However, laser tag and dinner gets pretty expensive very quickly. I found a great deal at this place called Incredible Pizza. It's a kid's pizza place that also has games we can play. This one has a Christian owner, so sometimes it a little weird. We bowled in a bowling alley that was playing Christian rock videos, which would be great for a youth group, but these are waiters/waitresses. So anyway, the kids are like &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yah&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yah&lt;/span&gt;, we're going to a Christian &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;pizza&lt;/span&gt; place, but little did they know that I had a huge &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;surprise&lt;/span&gt; for them. I kept them guessing all night. After dinner, I piled them all in to my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Xl&lt;/span&gt;-7 (it seats 7 comfortably) and drove them to the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Spiritbank&lt;/span&gt; event center where I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; them with John Legend tickets! It was so fun. Some lady just dropped by the restaurant and handed them to me. Maybe God was really happy I was taking the kids to a Christian pizza place. I don't know, but it happened just as I was getting ready to walk out the door, so it was perfect timing and everything.&lt;br /&gt;John Legend was awesome! If you haven't heard of him, you have to listen to him. His music is what I like to refer to as "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;panty&lt;/span&gt; dropping" music. He's got a super sexy voice and sings about making love, being in love and heartbreak. His entrance was my favorite part. First, there was this guy that was standing down in the sound booth who looked just like him. People were gathering around taking pictures of him and staring at him. We were totally thinking it was him, but then the guy just leaves and goes somewhere else. While we are standing there feeling stupid the lights go down and someone starts singing. He had been sitting in the audience and sang most of his first song IN the audience. It was pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;Check him out for yourself at &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnZkVOtFAiI"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnZkVOtFAiI&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-4258624601687562044?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/4258624601687562044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=4258624601687562044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4258624601687562044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4258624601687562044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/08/kids-get-to-go-out.html' title='The Kids Get to Go Out'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-4357264367110841650</id><published>2009-08-04T18:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T18:52:02.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's on the Phone?</title><content type='html'>Is it just me or shouldn't your fiance/husband/boyfriend always warn you when the mother-in-law is on the phone?  I've told Kevin this time and time again and he never does it. I don't know about you all, but the stuff that comes flying out of my mouth when I think nobody is listening isn't the type of stuff I want my mother-in-law to hear. If you know me, then you know I talk a lot and most of what I say is supposed to be a joke. I am sarcastic and obnoxious, but I am only saying it to be funny. Anyways, he just did it to me again tonight. I was in here griping out this lady on TV (not seeing the phone) and I mean just letting this lady have it! Then I hear Kevin say, "Oh that's Sara. She griping at this lady on the TV because...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-4357264367110841650?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/4357264367110841650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=4357264367110841650' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4357264367110841650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4357264367110841650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/08/whos-on-phone.html' title='Who&apos;s on the Phone?'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-8589135967076300884</id><published>2009-08-01T07:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T07:18:18.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Engagement</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SnROiezkDXI/AAAAAAAAAGs/HJtmi4FXAb0/s1600-h/Cancun+036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364999410396958066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 112px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SnROiezkDXI/AAAAAAAAAGs/HJtmi4FXAb0/s200/Cancun+036.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SnROh0Z06yI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Nsxt0KtOBc8/s1600-h/Cancun+064.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364999399014722338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 112px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SnROh0Z06yI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Nsxt0KtOBc8/s200/Cancun+064.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SnROhiBz1hI/AAAAAAAAAGc/pMNOb8HMHLc/s1600-h/Cancun+096.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364999394082149906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 112px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SnROhiBz1hI/AAAAAAAAAGc/pMNOb8HMHLc/s200/Cancun+096.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So people want to know how it happened. We were vacationing just south of Cancun, Mexico. We had been there three days, so an engagement was far from my mind. We had taken sailing lessons the day before and decided to try out what we had learned. I started driving and freaked out. We had seen a giant jelly fish the day before and I just kept picturing us tipping over and me getting attacked by the jelly fish. I was very upset and said, "I am done. Just get me out of here. I just want to go back to shore." I probably threw a few curse words in there too. I was terified. Kevin takes over and gets us going towards shore and says, "Can you hold this for me?" as he is reaching in his pocket. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Hold what?" I say. "You're the one with the pockets." I am holding on the the sailboat so tight my fingers are changing colors. I wasn't about to let go to hold something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He pulls a box out of his pocket and says, "Will you marry me?" Suddenly I wasn't so scared of jelly fish anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/5675506530580470141-8589135967076300884?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/8589135967076300884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=8589135967076300884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/8589135967076300884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/8589135967076300884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/08/engagement.html' title='The Engagement'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SnROiezkDXI/AAAAAAAAAGs/HJtmi4FXAb0/s72-c/Cancun+036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-1010603206724610275</id><published>2009-07-13T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T20:18:25.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>House Shopping</title><content type='html'>Kevin and I went house shopping today for the first time. It was very fun, but in 103 degrees it was at times miserable. Here's how hot it is here. We stopped to get gas and I ran inside with my debit card to grab us some drinks. I didn't have cash on me. After I got inside I saw a sign that 32oz drinks were only .52 cents. As I sat our drinks on the counter I told the guy I was just going to run to my car to grab some change so I didn't have to put it on my card. Two different people &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;inside&lt;/span&gt; the store offered to give me money so I didn't have to run back outside in this godawful heat. You've gotta love Oklahomans sometimes. They can be backwoods hicks, but they can also be very sweet.&lt;br /&gt;Wish us luck at we continue to search for the place to raise our four children. For those of you living in other states, we can purchase a 1500-2000 square foot house for less than $140,000 WITH granite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;counter tops&lt;/span&gt; and raised ceilings. Crazy, huh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-1010603206724610275?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/1010603206724610275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=1010603206724610275' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/1010603206724610275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/1010603206724610275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/07/house-shopping.html' title='House Shopping'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-5348422853477163815</id><published>2009-07-07T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T09:17:46.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Getting What?!</title><content type='html'>Yes, I'm getting married. However, I can't seem to make a single decision about the wedding. For instance, "Where should we get married?" Well, where we get married depends on &lt;em&gt;When &lt;/em&gt;we get married, and &lt;em&gt;when&lt;/em&gt; we get married depends on how much money we can muster up. How much money we can save on depends on if we can buy a house before November. You getting the picture? I am very excited to get married, but honestly I could bring my immediate family, 4 of my closest friends together and do it tomorrow. I don't really need all the stress of planning a wedding to make me happy. I just want the vacation that follows the wedding. Oh ya, but that depends on &lt;em&gt;where&lt;/em&gt; we decide to have the wedding. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-5348422853477163815?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/5348422853477163815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=5348422853477163815' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5348422853477163815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5348422853477163815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/07/im-getting-what.html' title='I&apos;m Getting What?!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-5396449466762319531</id><published>2009-03-27T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T20:53:07.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's 20 F*#@*ing Items or LESS People</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sc2ecmgVkoI/AAAAAAAAAGU/6Ou8wBBgVm0/s1600-h/Life+is+crap.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318080949204128386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sc2ecmgVkoI/AAAAAAAAAGU/6Ou8wBBgVm0/s320/Life+is+crap.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I absolutely can not stand rude people. So here's how extremely annoying people somehow managed to make it into my day and piss me off. After enjoying my much needed Vegas vacation I came home to my restaurant changing the menu. In layman's terms that means "making-my-job-effing-harder-for-about-a-month - and then starting all over a few months later." Unless you have managed a restaurant that constantly changes the menu you can not understand how troubling these times can be. Somebody is going to yell at me next week because we just took off their favorite food in the whole wide world so that we could add something that might or might now still be around in a few months when the chefs in Neverland, who no one ever sees or hears from, decide to rip it off the menu, but someone else has decided that it was THEIR favorite, AND the cycle continues forever. Where was I? Oh yea, sorry got lost in the rant on my way to rant about something else. I've been working my ass off basically. Going into work early every day and staying late. Tonight around six o'clock I had been there about 11 hours when a co-worker needed me to run to Wal-Mart to grab something he needed to run his shift. He can't go because he can't leave, so really I'm the only option. What I haven't got to tell you yet is that yesterday my power steering decided it didn't want to work anymore. To turn my car I have to first grab the steering wheel with both hands and squeeze until my hands turn white and then pull as hard as I can (and grunt excessively) while punching the gas to get the BEAST (it's a beast now that it doesn't have power steering) to slightly turn in one direction, then I repeat the cycle several times until I finally am able to clear the parking lot without hitting another car. Seriously, I look like one of those 90 year old ladies who refuse to give up their right to drive even though they can't see a damn thing and think that their 1970's boat is still a perfectly good car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I grumble as I hop in the beast on this cold, wet, rainy-about-to-turn-into-snow Oklahoma day and head over to any one's favorite spot on a Friday evening during peak time - Wal-Mart. In, out, in, out, grunt, pull harder, gun it, sigh, in, out, in, out, &lt;em&gt;wait I almost got it&lt;/em&gt;, in, out. The beast is parked. I'm annoyed. I'm tired and hungry and I just want to get in and get out so that I can finish up what I need to finish up at work and go home. I grab what I needed, which was a Scrabble game. Yes, my restaurant could not function without a game of Scrabble on this Friday evening (long story). I'm thinking at least I can go through the 20 items or less lane and get out of this place. But, OH NO there they were fatsy mcbutter butt and mcfrizzy puff hogging the only two 20 items or less lanes on this entire side of the store. I'm looking at the signs making sure I'm in the right place, I'm looking at them, actually I'm staring the bitches down, but they refuse to make eye contact with me. I'm looking down the endless rows of cash registers. WTH? Only about 6 of them I think were open in the whole store. I can't even read the writing on the lanes on the other side because they are so far away&lt;em&gt;. Maybe I should just go down to one of those. No, if I do that someone else will be there doing the same thing and I am parked on this side. I had better stay here. Ugh! I'm tired and I just want to go home!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I sigh and tap my foot trying to get the attention of the lady in front of me, but she is too busy keeping track of her four children and peeling their dirty, little, whiny fingers off all the candy in the aisle&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; You know, I understand that sometimes you just gotta do something shitty, but it would have been nice if she would have just looked up from her 120 items and said, "I'm sorry," but instead she refused to make eye contact with me. You know what her total was? $189.00! Does that sound like an efffing 20 Items or Less purchase to you?! It's not enough to these people that we've upped the express aisle from 10 items to 20 items. It's not enough that we look the other way when they have 23 or 24, but come on $189.00!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In closing, if you are one of these people who decides to torture those of us who obey the rules out of kindness for humanity, then screw you. That is 10 minutes longer I could have been cuddled up on my couch with my soft blanket bitching about you on this blog. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-5396449466762319531?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/5396449466762319531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=5396449466762319531' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5396449466762319531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5396449466762319531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/03/its-20-fing-items-or-less-people.html' title='It&apos;s 20 F*#@*ing Items or LESS People'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sc2ecmgVkoI/AAAAAAAAAGU/6Ou8wBBgVm0/s72-c/Life+is+crap.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-980901551563682105</id><published>2009-03-26T00:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T00:57:14.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Was That You?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;About 5 o'clock this morning I woke up to the loudest, most obnoxious snoring you can imagine. Imagine somebody clearing their sinuses and hacking a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;loogie&lt;/span&gt; all at the same time. I have no idea how to spell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;loogie&lt;/span&gt;. In fact, I just realized that is the first time I've ever written that word. Anyway, back to my story. I let out a big sigh. Then, I proceeded to roll over pretending my body was square in shape and top it off with a swift bed kick at the end just in case I hadn't already wiggled the bed enough. The snoring continues. I sigh again. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;GNGNNAHAHAHAHAAshshsshshsnghghghghshhh&lt;/span&gt;!!   I'm starting to get pretty annoyed by this point. Still not working. I sit up chug some water letting the glass slam down on the coaster on the nightstand and still I hear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;GNGNGNGHAHAHAHAHAHAH&lt;/span&gt;! Finally I had had enough! I reach over and calmly place my hand on my boyfriend's chest and wiggle it side to side to jolt him awake. To my surprise he began laughing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Sweetheart, that's not me! That's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Miha&lt;/span&gt; (our Boston Terrier sleeping in between us), but thanks for the love pat!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-980901551563682105?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/980901551563682105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=980901551563682105' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/980901551563682105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/980901551563682105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/03/was-that-you.html' title='Was That You?'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-3085589875173529695</id><published>2009-03-24T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T10:01:12.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Take That One Please</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The other day the boyfriend and I got to do something every girl loves - ring shopping. Oh the joy of walking into a jewelry store and answering to the snooty sales ladies that we are looking for "an engagement ring." The phrase is magical. It transforms the snooty ladies from looking down their nose at you to offering you a glass of champagne and listening intently to every word that you say. It's a beautiful scene. Straight out of Pretty Woman. Oh the magical feeling a girl gets when she's trying on ring after ring with beautiful sparkling, shining diamonds. I'm pretty sure I got high after about the 3rd store. I couldn't even feel my legs anymore. It was glorious! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One of my favorite things to do to people is to say something totally bizarre to get reactions out of people. It's quite amusing. Here are a few examples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Salesperson: When is  your special day?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Very soon. We are having a shotgun wedding. I gotta get him hitched before he backs out on me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Salesperson: We have this on in two sizes. Which one do you like better?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: Well, this one says, "He loves me" and this one says, "I'm spoiled rotten." I'll take the bigger one.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me (after browsing for a few): These all look so tiny, do you have anything bigger?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: He's only got a dollar, do you offer 100% financing? Can he make his first payment in 6 months?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Salesperson: How long have you two been seeing each other?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me: We just met downstairs. I just know he's the one.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-3085589875173529695?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/3085589875173529695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=3085589875173529695' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/3085589875173529695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/3085589875173529695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/03/ill-take-that-one-please.html' title='I&apos;ll Take That One Please'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-9030134119994511677</id><published>2009-03-23T22:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T23:19:50.671-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><title type='text'>My Unsurprise Surprise Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316631972764030210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4nEoVlQI/AAAAAAAAAF8/AErNYiYQUqU/s320/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+073.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316632618074068994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch5MomPWAI/AAAAAAAAAGM/nFzzTearxYk/s320/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+076.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4m7S9X5I/AAAAAAAAAF0/nTXoUZLmuAc/s1600-h/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+040.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316631970258444178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4m7S9X5I/AAAAAAAAAF0/nTXoUZLmuAc/s320/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+040.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/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4m1PPVgI/AAAAAAAAAFs/-2rJgPgha0c/s1600-h/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316631968632231426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 264px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4m1PPVgI/AAAAAAAAAFs/-2rJgPgha0c/s320/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+035.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/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4metYFcI/AAAAAAAAAFk/KDiigAbSYR0/s1600-h/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316631962584618434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4metYFcI/AAAAAAAAAFk/KDiigAbSYR0/s320/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+020.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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4mNWt19I/AAAAAAAAAFc/HAYqoQ6NLRw/s1600-h/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+030.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316631957926172626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 264px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4mNWt19I/AAAAAAAAAFc/HAYqoQ6NLRw/s320/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+030.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;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;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316629833615288706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch2qjriKYI/AAAAAAAAAFM/be18pSY4q9M/s400/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+009.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316629831718217058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 242px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch2qcnPJWI/AAAAAAAAAFE/-qPmbJPFico/s400/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+010.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316629839354376722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 195px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch2q5D1shI/AAAAAAAAAFU/oKzb75XIim8/s400/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+011.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh my God! I am totally thirty. I can't believe that the day I've been dreading has finally come and gone. I am happy to report that it was the most fabulous birthday I have had in a very long time. My favoritist friends got together and planned a surprise party for me. I got to pick the day, but they did everything else. I was not allowed to know where or what we were doing. It was so nice not having to plan a thing! It's pretty funny. Kevin told me the day of to pack an overnight bag because we "might" have to stay the night. On the way there I was trying to guess where we were headed. After a while I knew that the only thing left on Hwy 44 was the Cherokee Casino and Resort, so I am picturing this fabulous room in the casino. To my surprise we pulled into a much smaller not-so-fabulous Cherokee Inn next to the Waffle House. LOL. I was laughing hysterically (they told me later they had tried to book a fabulous room, but they were all booked up). Let me tell you though, they had decked out the room in pink roses, rose petals, pink candles and balloons. My favorite was my cake. Now that is a Diva cake if I've ever seen one. They filled the bathtub with ice, soda and champagne. LOL. They all hid behind the bed and jumped out and yelled, "Surprise!" and everything. After we "mingled" and sipped, or chugged (hee hee) champagne we headed over to the casino to check out in Tulsa's very own Ice Bar and try out my birthday luck on the Blackjack tables. It was lots of fun. I am so very grateful I have some of the sweetest friends ever. They really did make turning thirty a little bit easier. At least I had a good time getting old!&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/5675506530580470141-9030134119994511677?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/9030134119994511677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=9030134119994511677' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/9030134119994511677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/9030134119994511677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-unsurprise-surprise-party.html' title='My Unsurprise Surprise Party'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/Sch4nEoVlQI/AAAAAAAAAF8/AErNYiYQUqU/s72-c/Down+and+Dirty+Thirty+Party+073.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6559195899582401374</id><published>2009-03-09T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T10:16:37.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diva Dog Gone Wild!!!</title><content type='html'>Kevin and I were bored and decided to video tape ourselves playing with my crazy little Boston Terrier. She gets so wound up it's hysterical. The first video I'm posting because of Kevin's voice, LOL. He gets really high pitched when he's playing with Miha because she cowers down if his voice is too deep. She's a rescue dog, so I think she may have been abused by a male when she was in the puppy mill. Poor thing! The second one is just funny. For a tiny dog she has the jaws of a pitbull. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-abea7fefe5ddd349" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v9.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dabea7fefe5ddd349%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331284248%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D106318AF9842F1D7A6F20B08372C4C34C029263A.57A09D9052A66741AA0C2FB4106E2921C52C69E1%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dabea7fefe5ddd349%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DEKGBg8D8HdmIDNDHK61eUSXxEkw&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed 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name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v16.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3263ef9fd452cc02%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331284248%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D42B22516F6B19E0B16C31AB752D3EDD2B0C2EB4A.669D85C231C9D201CB5E6D865862F8FE7E5617C%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3263ef9fd452cc02%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DMhqmFnFRMb7Z_d5KYK6oou6WruM&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v16.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3263ef9fd452cc02%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331284248%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D42B22516F6B19E0B16C31AB752D3EDD2B0C2EB4A.669D85C231C9D201CB5E6D865862F8FE7E5617C%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3263ef9fd452cc02%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DMhqmFnFRMb7Z_d5KYK6oou6WruM&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6559195899582401374?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6559195899582401374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6559195899582401374' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6559195899582401374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6559195899582401374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/03/diva-dog-gone-wild.html' title='Diva Dog Gone Wild!!!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-2997597463018480796</id><published>2009-03-02T00:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T00:30:53.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pittser Reunion!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So, check it out (I've been watching too much American Idol I'm starting to sound like Randy). I'm packing up my cutest, sexiest outfits and heading to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Las&lt;/span&gt; Vegas on Friday the 13&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of March to begin the week and a half long celebration of my 30&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday. It's a big deal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt;. You only turn thirty once. My 20&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday blew because my family showed up the night before (when you go out at midnight) to tell me that my father had passed away. Thank God I was of legal drinking age, but let's face it. That 's enough bad news to ruin a whole decade of birthdays. So, this year, for my 30&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; I'm heading to Vegas to see the Vegas &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Pittsers&lt;/span&gt;. My sister, Tiffany, is taking me and my brother, Aaron, who I haven't seen in 6? years is meeting us there. I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; excited. I can not tell you how much fun we always have when we are together. Growing up with two brothers and two sisters all under one roof, you can imagine the kind of trouble that we got into. My favorite story is the time my mom and dad got us an RV and decided to travel the US in style. They took us on a leisurely drive through the mountains of Colorado to enjoy the fresh smell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;of&lt;/span&gt; Pine trees and enjoy the rushing waters of the Colorado river. All was well until my pet turtle died on the way. Trying to get me to stop crying (and maybe to prevent the smell of dead turtle from permeating the RV) my parents decide to pull over and let me choose the proper bury spot to lay my little friend to rest. I remember choosing a beautiful little nook next to the beautiful running water looking up over the most beautiful mountain peak tops. As I was finishing the burial, I hear loud cursing and smell something burning from a short distance. As I climb back on the road I notice my brother(s?) have caught the mountain on fire during my burial....we piled in and drove on.&lt;br /&gt;These are the moments I look back on and can't wait to start my own family. Sure we might catch a few mountains on fire along the way, but someday we will look back and wish we were there again.&lt;br /&gt;More to come on the Pittser Reunion! Hide your lighters and matches Tasha!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-2997597463018480796?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/2997597463018480796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=2997597463018480796' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/2997597463018480796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/2997597463018480796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/03/pittser-reunion.html' title='Pittser Reunion!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-5626752293475428681</id><published>2009-02-06T22:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T22:28:14.205-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Get a Room!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SY0p5HoZnWI/AAAAAAAAAE8/tDFNDevzQbk/s1600-h/feet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299938397762723170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 113px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SY0p5HoZnWI/AAAAAAAAAE8/tDFNDevzQbk/s400/feet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My sister and I decided to have a ladies' night tonight. We went out and had a nice dinner at Tei Kei's. I got my sister to try Sushi, which she didn't like, and afterwards we headed over to the movies to watch "Last Chance Harvey." So we're sitting there enjoying the movie when I notice something weird out of the corner of my eye. It was feet. Yes, the couple beside us had brought oil and this older man was massaging his older wife's wrinkly feet during the entire movie. I mean seriously, who gives hour and a half foot massages anyway! If that wasn't enough there was someone in the special section suffering from Turret's Syndrome blurting out nonsense every 15 minutes. The massaging went on during the entire movie. Seriously if your nasty, naked, wrinkly, lubed up feet are within inches of my popcorn, there's something wrong with your head. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-5626752293475428681?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/5626752293475428681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=5626752293475428681' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5626752293475428681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5626752293475428681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/02/get-room.html' title='Get a Room!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SY0p5HoZnWI/AAAAAAAAAE8/tDFNDevzQbk/s72-c/feet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-2375825751939531582</id><published>2009-02-03T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T11:02:44.820-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing...Tidbits From Miha the Dog!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SYiFmExoOMI/AAAAAAAAAEs/pxT4iNgnaio/s1600-h/DSC00213.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298631850764810434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SYiFmExoOMI/AAAAAAAAAEs/pxT4iNgnaio/s200/DSC00213.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have an adorable Boston Terrier. I had been wanting one for years and begging my ex-husband to get one, but he wouldn't let me because he thought they were ugly. After my divorce and losing my Siberian Husky, Anjing to my ex, who I miss sooo much (the dog, not the ex), I set out to find a Boston Terrier with the support of my loving boyfriend Kevin, who let's me have whatever makes me happy. She is so cute and adorable that Kevin is posting videos of her on YouTube. I decided what a cute idea for my blog. I am going to try to catch her doing some of the cute things she does on video and share them with you. The first one I'm going to share was taken on Christmas morning when we were opening all of our presents and Miha decides she wants to play with the toys too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-215d7e49308e40d0" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D215d7e49308e40d0%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331284248%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5B290F27BC71555FF2E5F4B3C02FDAEDD30A6AA6.6411D6AF928BE9E027BF6CAF8C377ADEC9CDE207%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D215d7e49308e40d0%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D8_0M1tpskjXTY2XaZHijeUDTjX8&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D215d7e49308e40d0%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331284248%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5B290F27BC71555FF2E5F4B3C02FDAEDD30A6AA6.6411D6AF928BE9E027BF6CAF8C377ADEC9CDE207%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D215d7e49308e40d0%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D8_0M1tpskjXTY2XaZHijeUDTjX8&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-2375825751939531582?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=215d7e49308e40d0&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/2375825751939531582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=2375825751939531582' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/2375825751939531582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/2375825751939531582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/02/introducingtidbits-from-miha-dog.html' title='Introducing...Tidbits From Miha the Dog!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SYiFmExoOMI/AAAAAAAAAEs/pxT4iNgnaio/s72-c/DSC00213.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-7325350927721015550</id><published>2009-02-01T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T11:16:58.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Superbowl Turkey Chili</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Superrific Superbowl Chili&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Okay, so today it the day where football fans gather around the TV and drink beer and eat yummy foods. So, in honor of the Superbowl I wanted to post one of my favorite new recipes for chili.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 lb ground turkey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1/2 bell pepper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 onion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1 can stewed tomatoes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1 can chili beans&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1 can red kidney beans&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1 teaspoon sugar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3/4 can of beer &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4 tablespoons tomato paste or ketchup&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;lots of paprika&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cumin&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;chili powder&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;lime zest&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2 cloves garlic&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Brown turkey meat add in grated or chopped garlic, then add lots of paprika and about two tablespoons of cumin and chili powder. Add onion and bell pepper saute until tender. Add beer and simmer for about 10 minutes. Add tomatoes, beans, tomato paste, lime zest and sugar. Simmer until yummy. Be sure to taste test during the cooking process. I serve it with sour cream on top.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I hope you try this recipe. It's delicious! Be sure to drink some beer with it too. ;)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-7325350927721015550?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/7325350927721015550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=7325350927721015550' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7325350927721015550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7325350927721015550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/02/superbowl-turkey-chili.html' title='Superbowl Turkey Chili'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-7781022111770628966</id><published>2009-01-04T19:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T19:44:47.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Did She Just.....?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Table visits. Oh how I love them. I just get so excited every time I hear the words, "I think they're pretty mad, you should go talk to them." If I had a tail it would tuck itself in between my legs as I slowly and reluctantly take the long steps to the mad guests who are dining in my restaurant. I've been cussed at, had things thrown at me, banned from tables and soooo much more. So, today the server tells me, "She's a sweet old lady, but she just isn't happy. She won't eat her food." At first I'm thinking &lt;em&gt;thank goodness she's a sweet old lady.&lt;/em&gt; I approach the table, "Hello ladies! How is every thing tasting today?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mean Old Lady's friend: She doesn't like her food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Me: I'm sorry. Can I get you something else? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mean Old Lady: No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Me: What's wrong with your food ma'm? (I have to ask these kinds of questions so that I can fix it or prevent it from happening more)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mean Old Lady: I'm from out of town and I usually go to the Chili's there, and this just doesn't taste right. I DON'T want to talk about it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Me: Ok, well can I just get you something else?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mean Old Lady: I said I don't want to talk about it!!!! Now just go away!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;While saying this she raises her hand, faces her palm towards me and waves her hand from side to side. And you wonder why I drink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-7781022111770628966?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/7781022111770628966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=7781022111770628966' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7781022111770628966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7781022111770628966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/01/did-she-just.html' title='Did She Just.....?'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-735733389560002773</id><published>2009-01-02T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T10:52:34.921-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Can Hear You!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SV5iW2QkyZI/AAAAAAAAAEU/5jHrB7Pfqw8/s1600-h/supr+sonic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286771157241219474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 84px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SV5iW2QkyZI/AAAAAAAAAEU/5jHrB7Pfqw8/s400/supr+sonic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This commercial always makes me die laughing. I can't help but picture somebody actually wearing this around. For all of you out there who need some spy tools this is for you. Watch and laugh my friend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;https://www.silversonicxl.com &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-735733389560002773?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/735733389560002773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=735733389560002773' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/735733389560002773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/735733389560002773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-can-hear-you.html' title='I Can Hear You!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SV5iW2QkyZI/AAAAAAAAAEU/5jHrB7Pfqw8/s72-c/supr+sonic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-2399399491791042976</id><published>2008-11-16T22:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T22:33:34.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not-So-Diva Budget Days...Continued</title><content type='html'>I've decided to make this a series, I participate in the fun on a tight budget game at least once a week, so I will probably always have material. This weekend I really wanted to have some fun and not spend a lot of money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday Night&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Have what I like to call my "Leftover Liquor Party" Have all your friends bring over their bottles of liquor with only a little bit of liquor left in them and mix and match. See how many creative &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;concoctions&lt;/span&gt; you can come up with and drink away. If you're lucky they will leave some bottles at your place and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Blam&lt;/span&gt;! You just scored yourself some free booze. Worried about entertainment? Once again break out the board games. Also, we borrowed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Desperate&lt;/span&gt; Housewives Season 3 from someone. That's 6 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DVD's&lt;/span&gt; of entertainment for free. Plus, the show is Amazing!  Hungry? No problem. Papa Johns remembers your credit card information online. Surely one of your friends is going through a divorce. Use her soon to be ex-husband's Papa John's account and order up!&lt;br /&gt;Money Spent: $0 (free booze and pizza!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Saturday Night&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Stay home and relax and make yourself some new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;CD's&lt;/span&gt; of your downloaded music, or in my case, have someone bring you a Flash drive loaded with 3 GB of tunes.&lt;br /&gt;Money Spent: $0 (I'm not sure how much 3 GB of tunes is worth, but I'd say a lot)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sunday Morning&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;. Time to repent of all the drinking, using soon to be ex-husbands credit cards, and possessing illegally obtained music and head to church. So, your sitting there in church and here comes that offering bucket. &lt;strong&gt;Oh no&lt;/strong&gt;! Don't panic. Here's what you're gonna do. First, pretend like you don't realize it's coming. When it gets about two people down from you start scrambling for your purse. Look like you are REALLY trying to hurry and grab that cash, fidget around like you can't find that $20 bill, maybe even mumble, "Where did I put that $20? I just had it!" Then just pass that bucket right along. I like to let out a sigh here for dramatic emphasis. I really wanted to put that $20 in there!&lt;br /&gt;Money Spent: $0 (you just enjoyed a live concert and speaker for free!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-2399399491791042976?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/2399399491791042976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=2399399491791042976' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/2399399491791042976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/2399399491791042976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/11/not-so-diva-budget-dayscontinued.html' title='Not-So-Diva Budget Days...Continued'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-1385938535512956853</id><published>2008-11-11T09:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T09:47:42.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Be a Diva on a Tight Budget</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Times are tough, but a true Diva must always be able to play like a Diva. I've come up with a few tips, based on my experiences on how one can still have fun on a not so Diva budget. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Have a friend who has access to company bought tickets. In my case it was hockey tickets. They were even located right behind all the players, so we were right in the middle of all the auction. Two things must be done to make this an even better experience. Invite your cute nephew who thinks the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;goalee's&lt;/span&gt; are Transformers and your sister to help you make fun of all the crazy people, and sneak left over candy from Halloween.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Money Spent: $0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267457282540280674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 127px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SRnEfYNbm2I/AAAAAAAAAD8/1r3Zpgh1T4s/s400/playing.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267457283734488466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 127px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SRnEfcqJxZI/AAAAAAAAAD0/kDaIQG3HVhI/s400/sis+oilers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. While at the free hockey game take advantage of the people passing out free $10 coupons to use at the nearby casino. The next day find a friend and head to the casino. Another very important thing to observe here. Most casinos have a Ladies' Night where you get $10 to play on just for showing up. Play the nickel machines on that $20 until you are in the positive and walk away ladies. Do enjoy free drinks provided by the casino while you are racking up those bucks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Money Spent:-$7. That's right ladies. I made $7 while having a great time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Don't throw away those coupons Victoria's Secret sends in the mail for free panties, because after a long morning at the Casino, shopping sounds fun. Take your coupon and head to Victoria's Secret. Freshen up your make up and get rid of the casino smell with all of their fun samples and make your self look beautiful. Next head over to the panties and grab your free pair. Not only do you get to walk away with free panties, but you also get to walk around the mall with an adorable pink bag &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;with&lt;/span&gt; a perfectly tied little pink ribbon to remind people you aren't just at the mall to look. You could totally buy $7.50 panties, if you felt like it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Money Spent: -$7.50. That's right ladies. I just made more money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. So you and your friend (a cute boy if you can find one) are hungry from all that shopping and are starving. You're smelling beautiful and all dolled up from the "play with me" items at Victoria's Secret. Take the money you earned at the casino and pair it with the money your friend made at the casino. Stop by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart for your favorite $5 pizza. Also stop at the liquor store and split a six pack of beer. We chose the around-the-world option so we could both get what we wanted. Head home and stick the pizza in the oven, drink your beer and get out those board games.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Money Spent: $6.50 (used casino earnings)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, there you have it ladies. An entire Diva day on a not-so-Diva budget. If you have any other ideas, I would love to hear them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-1385938535512956853?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/1385938535512956853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=1385938535512956853' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/1385938535512956853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/1385938535512956853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/11/how-to-be-diva-on-tight-budget.html' title='How to Be a Diva on a Tight Budget'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SRnEfYNbm2I/AAAAAAAAAD8/1r3Zpgh1T4s/s72-c/playing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-7954441587684369512</id><published>2008-10-25T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T21:47:27.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chub Tub</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SQP0JXbVxHI/AAAAAAAAADk/kS2GIxBWpeQ/s1600-h/fat.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, it's time to face the facts. I've put on a few pounds and the Holidays aren't even here yet. My tummy is constantly sticking out more than I would like to admit. I think I noticed it when I went to take a di&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SQP2HUMWnuI/AAAAAAAAADs/7xobPso7dZo/s1600-h/fat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261319395238911714" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 127px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SQP2HUMWnuI/AAAAAAAAADs/7xobPso7dZo/s400/fat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;uretic to get rid of the pooch and nothing happened. I'm looking for advice. I don't care whether it's work out tips, a liquid diet or eating nothing but green beans, I want know what you have tried that has worked for you. Please help. &lt;em&gt;I realize that eating raw cupcake dough like I am in this picture with my nephew is a no no, but I couldn't rob my nephew of this experience on his birthday! I also wanted to give you a visual of the pooch so you will be inspired to help me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&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/5675506530580470141-7954441587684369512?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/7954441587684369512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=7954441587684369512' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7954441587684369512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7954441587684369512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/10/chub-tub.html' title='Chub Tub'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SQP2HUMWnuI/AAAAAAAAADs/7xobPso7dZo/s72-c/fat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-8213174786686278506</id><published>2008-10-21T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T23:07:20.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrapped</title><content type='html'>I devoted my entire day today to my little nephew James. I must say the kid has got me wrapped around his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pinky&lt;/span&gt;. I took him to see Wall-E (I think this was his fifth time). He's at that age where it doesn't matter what he says it's the cutest thing ever when it comes out of his mouth. He spoke softly in the sweetest voice the whole time we were on our movie "date", so sweet that even people around us were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ooohing&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;aaahing&lt;/span&gt; at how precious this little boy is. Then he sat on my lap for all except maybe fifteen minutes of the entire movie. After the movie I take him back to my sister's where he not only uses the big boy potty, but right in the middle says, "Auntie can I have a sticker?" Then he says, "Okay, now it's your turn and you can have a sticker!" So I play hide and seek with him, but when I decide to leave he says, "Now you hide auntie. I want to find YOU auntie." I tell him, "Okay, just one more time" (for a few more times). My sister is laughing hysterically, "You can't say the word No to him." She's right. I beat around the bush, I distract him away from the subject, anything to keep from looking this adorable little two years old who's "birthday is coming up" as he says and holds out his pointer finger, ring finger and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pinky&lt;/span&gt; finger, "I'm going to be three (free)" and tell him no. I just can't do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-8213174786686278506?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/8213174786686278506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=8213174786686278506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/8213174786686278506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/8213174786686278506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/10/wrapped.html' title='Wrapped'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-7234087492891870770</id><published>2008-10-20T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T22:51:39.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation Days</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SP161NbHC_I/AAAAAAAAAC0/vLFY980D-aA/s1600-h/l_2ba796f1dc55756883115c16209b5262.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259494994393631730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SP161NbHC_I/AAAAAAAAAC0/vLFY980D-aA/s320/l_2ba796f1dc55756883115c16209b5262.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (My aunt's painting of the Canada Bay)&lt;br /&gt;Yippee! It's that time of year when I get to take a vacation. Unfortunately I don't have the funds to really do anything amazing, so I have decided to spend my days at home. By the time my vacation is over I expect that my home will be spotless and I will most likely be refreshed, but also bored out of my mind. I require much entertainment. To start my week off I spent two days at Oktoberfest which was a lot of fun. Today I spent my day getting some exercise, but also working on a puzzle which I have not done for years, but I used to do them all the time when I spent my summers in Canada as a little girl. I remember my Great Grandma would sit in the cabin and eat freshly grown tomatoes sprinkled with salt. We would talk about how wonderful the tomatoes tasted, but when we started working on the puzzle, we wouldn't speak much. Instead, we would watch as the boats would come in and out of the calm bay to do some bass fishing, or as the beautifully colored Hummingbirds would sip from the red colored sugar water she had made. If I was lucky that day we would get to go blueberry picking and I would find a soft moss bed to lie down in and feel the coolness of the moss against my back. It's my vacation. Since the cabin is such a distant memory, I want to remember what a real vacation feels like. No phones, minimal TV just my Great Grandma, my puzzle and me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-7234087492891870770?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/7234087492891870770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=7234087492891870770' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7234087492891870770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7234087492891870770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/10/vacation-days.html' title='Vacation Days'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SP161NbHC_I/AAAAAAAAAC0/vLFY980D-aA/s72-c/l_2ba796f1dc55756883115c16209b5262.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-782343163158355174</id><published>2008-09-24T11:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T12:03:59.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tulsa State Fair</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SNqPB_h6uPI/AAAAAAAAACs/EXIlVbtjID0/s1600-h/mullet3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249665580050069746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SNqPB_h6uPI/AAAAAAAAACs/EXIlVbtjID0/s320/mullet3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's that time of year again folks! It's time for the gathering of mullets, clowns and world's largest rats for the Tulsa State Fair. It's a time when we throw our diets aside and stuff our faces with corndogs, turkey legs, fudge, funnel cakes and yes, even fried snicker bars. We pay $6.00 for 12 ounce beers and walk around and laugh in disbelief that mullets still exist. If you would like more information you can visit &lt;a href="http://www.tulsastatefair.com/"&gt;http://www.tulsastatefair.com/&lt;/a&gt;. More to come! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-782343163158355174?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/782343163158355174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=782343163158355174' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/782343163158355174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/782343163158355174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/09/tulsa-state-fair.html' title='Tulsa State Fair'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SNqPB_h6uPI/AAAAAAAAACs/EXIlVbtjID0/s72-c/mullet3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-7151879831094431020</id><published>2008-09-21T00:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T22:37:45.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ABLE Mishaps</title><content type='html'>Tonight I had to deal with something that most resteraunt managers never really come face to face with...my bartender got hauled away in handcuffs. I'm depressed. Because I have vented and vented and still feel awful, I'm now going to tell you a few reasons why this sucks. First of all, it's cruel. The Bixby police sent an underage girl into my restaurant to carry out a "sting" operation and first hit up one of my servers. She laughed when she saw the girl was born in 1990 and said with a strong Oklahoman accent, "Honey, you're not old enough," and handed the girl's ID back to her. She responded in a bitchy high school girl tone, "Whatever!" and shoved her ID back into her purse. The server (we were EXTREMELY busy) went about going about her business while the underage approached our bartender and attempted the same routine. Now she did ID her, but served her anyway. Do I think she made the connection the girl was underage? No. Absolutely not. The poor girl and her fiance have both decided to take up second jobs on top of their day jobs to pay for their upcoming wedding. They both must work 70 hours a week. The poor girl was probably too tired to do the math. This girl saves people's lives during the day! I feel like I let her down. Did I tell her enough how dangerous not I.D.-ing can be? Did I tell her enough?&lt;br /&gt;It gets worse. While their hauling her off, I notice news crews chasing after her to get their money shot. Really?! You're luring people to do something against the law and then ruining their lives for it! At this moment I hate the po-lice. I don't always, I usually think they're pretty good people, but tonight I do, and blogging is all about being honest, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-7151879831094431020?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/7151879831094431020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=7151879831094431020' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7151879831094431020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7151879831094431020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/09/fuck-police.html' title='ABLE Mishaps'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-64349554656514757</id><published>2008-09-06T23:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T23:44:49.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Random Thoughts</title><content type='html'>typing from my phone excuse layout.&lt;br /&gt;1. Why do white people speak to Hispanics with a Mexican accent when they are speaking English?&lt;br /&gt;2. How come drunk people in the movies always have such smart lines?&lt;br /&gt;3. Why do people always ask what happened when you tell them you broke up with someone?&lt;br /&gt;4. When will people ever understand how a four way stop really works?&lt;br /&gt;To be continued....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-64349554656514757?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/64349554656514757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=64349554656514757' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/64349554656514757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/64349554656514757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-random-thoughts.html' title='My Random Thoughts'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-1606989024820327246</id><published>2008-08-09T20:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T20:50:03.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Home!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm finally unpacked and getting settled into my new place. My dog and cat are having some issues. It appears that they seem to be getting lonely while I am at work, so they have started a war with each other. The dog ate all of the cats food in his self feeder, then she chewed up his favorite toy and shredded it into tiny little pieces all over the floor. Since the cat didn't have any food, I gave him some treats to tie him over, and the dog ate those too. Only she didn't eat them right away, she waited until I had left the room and gobbled all of them up. The cat is now severely pissed. So, I'm doing laundry and cleaning out my closet when I hear the dog yelp. I call her and check on her, she seems fine, but terrified. I hang up more laundry, I hear the dog yelping again, I turn around to see my cat chasing my dog around the house pawing at her back legs! I think they might be even now. Here's a video of what they look like. Eventhough it's not my dog and cat, you get the picture. Ha ha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_KhtPAiUqm4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_KhtPAiUqm4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-1606989024820327246?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/1606989024820327246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=1606989024820327246' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/1606989024820327246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/1606989024820327246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-home.html' title='I&apos;m Home!'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6317640907193448899</id><published>2008-07-27T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T22:17:52.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have so much I want to write about today. I don't even know where to begin. For the sake of keeping this short, I will write only about my evening. I just spent the entire night going through my ex-boyfriend and my things to determine who will be keeping what. Ten spatulas and 35 forks later, I am left feeling totally exhausted and well, sad. It's never easy to say goodbye to something that was at one time so wonderful. He's asleep and I am sitting here thinking, &lt;em&gt;Oh my God this is really it!&lt;/em&gt; I'm not sure what I had imagined our last night being together would be like, but now that I'm actually here in the moment it is much sadder than I had pictured. I think perhaps I had romanticized it in my mind. Maybe in a way I had hoped we'd spend our last hanging out and being friends like we used to be. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's so strange how a house full of so many things can somehow feel so empty.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I will write more soon, but I am going to be moving the next couple of days, and he owns the computer so I'm S.O.L. there. Sniff Sniff. Goodbye my Blogger and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Myspace&lt;/span&gt; friends. Hold on to the memories and I will miss you while I am wondering around aimlessly without my daily &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cyber&lt;/span&gt; fix.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6317640907193448899?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6317640907193448899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6317640907193448899' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6317640907193448899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6317640907193448899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/07/moving.html' title='Moving'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6520158422089293751</id><published>2008-07-23T00:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T09:58:57.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bar Flies, Fly Away</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I've decided I'm sick of all men that I meet thinking either A. "I need a boyfriend right away, " or B. "I am just looking for a guy to take me home after the bar." One of my good friends had a very valid point which was, "Do you think you will actually find your future husband at the bar?" My answer was clearly, "No." However, when you don't want to go home because you are still living with your ex, or feel pathetic because you are all alone, the bar is a great place to go. I have many subjects on which to touch upon here, but for the sake of keeping it short, I am going to focus on one of the many issues with going to the bar single. My first is going to be this, why do all guys that I talk to think that I want to &lt;em&gt;immediately &lt;/em&gt;hang out after the bar? I want a guy who just wants my number so that he can arrange a better time to get to know me as a person.  That guy will shake my hand tell me it was nice to meet me and &lt;em&gt;leave it at that&lt;/em&gt;. He doesn't invite me to breakfast, or even worse an after party. I am talking about respect here. Respect a woman and she will have respect for you. Don't assume that I am a whore and looking to hook up with random guys at the bar, just because I let you buy me a drink.  So guys, save your money at the bar and buy a girl something meaningful like a movie ticket or dinner and get to know her as an individual. You will earn her respect and lay the grounds for a relationship that can truly be prosperous and successful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6520158422089293751?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6520158422089293751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6520158422089293751' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6520158422089293751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6520158422089293751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/07/bar-flies-fly-away.html' title='Bar Flies, Fly Away'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-4177155762413522804</id><published>2008-07-15T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T21:16:05.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Used to the Single Life</title><content type='html'>So it's been a few weeks and I am starting to miss a few things. I miss going out to dinner, the movies, cuddling on the couch and having an excuse when a guy I am totally not interested in asks me out. I'm not saying I hate it, but it is just strange not having someone to bring to my few and far between engagements. For tonight I have decided to rent the most girly movies I could find and eat fried, not baked, chips, and chocolate while I tear up when the romantic comedies I have decided to torture myself with live happily ever after.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-4177155762413522804?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/4177155762413522804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=4177155762413522804' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4177155762413522804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4177155762413522804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/07/getting-used-to-single-life.html' title='Getting Used to the Single Life'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-5524145348097364550</id><published>2008-07-07T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T21:10:12.717-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Following My Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I haven't written in a while. So much has been happening in my life. I've decided to end my two year relationship to my adoring, kind and caring boyfriend and listen to my heart. I just feel like something in my life is missing and I have to find it before I say "I do" to another. I ignored this voice the first time I got married and I ended up losing everything and having to start my whole life over. And so the stories of the single life will soon begin as I start my newly single life in my own apartment (I'm moving on 28th) and search to find what I'm missing in my life. It hurts like hell, but I know that I am following my heart. "&lt;em&gt;To thine own self be true&lt;/em&gt;." I'm sure I will be writing a lot more often when I'm sitting at home on a Friday night eating Chinese take out wondering what the hell I've done and searching for the answer to &lt;em&gt;is it true there's only one soulmate out there for each of us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aJUk5YVc-Gs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aJUk5YVc-Gs&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-5524145348097364550?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/5524145348097364550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=5524145348097364550' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5524145348097364550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5524145348097364550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/07/following-my-heart.html' title='Following My Heart'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-4684136334627172933</id><published>2008-06-28T16:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T16:41:20.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ladies Weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, I've had a rough week. I battled the flu. I've worked my ass off (even went to work WITH the FLU). To top it all off I got in a horrible fight with my boyfriend yesterday. Now he's out of town and I've been feeling down. So here's my plan for tonight. I bought myself a gorgeous pair of high heels, and after spending the evening giving myself a facial and spraying on the glitter and fake tan, I am heading out with the girls for a night of fun. I'm going to forget about my troubles and do some dancing and drinking with the girls who make me laugh until my cheeks and belly ache. Wish me luck!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-4684136334627172933?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/4684136334627172933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=4684136334627172933' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4684136334627172933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/4684136334627172933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/06/ladies-weekend.html' title='Ladies Weekend'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-3968417209084456289</id><published>2008-06-20T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T20:40:30.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Alien Has Taken Over My Body</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;OK. Don't read this if you are weak stomached, but I was changing my shirt today and looked down. I don't know if the light had hit them just right or if I had just not bothered to look down in a &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; long time, but my nipples have grown freakishly long hairs on them. Now I've always heard that this is something that is caused by pregnancy. So, since I am not pregnant, nor have I ever been, I thought my nipples were safe. Here's the deal. I quit smoking years ago. I eat healthy. I take vitamins. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WTH&lt;/span&gt; else do I need to do to keep my body from totally taking on a mind of its own and turning into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bigfoot&lt;/span&gt;. And yes, my feet have even grown a size in the last few years. I know your hips get a little wider to prepare you for your childbearing years, but mine have moved to opposite sides of the country. Their going to have to squeeze them together so my children don't get lost on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; way down, or slide out so fast they land on the ground. I hear your ears and your nose get bigger too. I already can't pin my hair back because my Kate Hudson ears stick too far out, and I'm already saving for my nose job and now you're telling me that they're going to get even bigger? I just had to share. I hate getting older sometimes. I was talking to a friend of mine today and he was telling me how his ex girlfriend (20) dated a 31 year old and it grossed him out. I was like, "Hello, I'm almost his age! Do you think I'm gross too?"&lt;br /&gt;I just had to get that off my chest, no pun intended. Actually, it kinda was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-3968417209084456289?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/3968417209084456289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=3968417209084456289' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/3968417209084456289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/3968417209084456289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/06/alien-has-taken-over-my-body.html' title='An Alien Has Taken Over My Body'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6199781573896625707</id><published>2008-06-13T14:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T21:12:29.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day One</title><content type='html'>Okay so I've now made it through half of a day with my nephew and so far we've only had a few casualties. I woke this morning to hearing my China break and James saying, "Uh oh Kevo I broke it." Still not sure what the boyfriend was thinking feeding a two year old cheerios out of my late Great Grandmother's China, but at least no one got hurt. That is my main concern. Keep the kid in one piece til his parents get home.&lt;br /&gt;Lessons I've learned today, if you step one Play-Doh it's harder to pick it out of the carpet.&lt;br /&gt;Black men with lisps can still have a rap career, thank you Yo Gabba Gabba for that. "K Kithdz lethz beat bokth together!"&lt;br /&gt;Some Gabba Gabba Fun:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ggrOcBWqHiU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ggrOcBWqHiU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/R9PqjMSNfkU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/R9PqjMSNfkU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6199781573896625707?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6199781573896625707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6199781573896625707' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6199781573896625707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6199781573896625707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/06/day-one.html' title='Day One'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6568063750291033685</id><published>2008-06-12T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T11:55:47.038-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm doing WHAT? for how long?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So my sister is leaving for Jamaica tomorrow, or for the purpose of not causing my little nephew great pain, we are going to call it "work". Starting tomorrow I will have a two year old running around my tiny lil apartment with my cat who runs and hides and won't come out until he's gone, and my dog who shakes but loves him anyways, and my boyfriend who forgets all about how old he is when it comes to playing with James. I have to warn you this kid has me so wrapped around his tiny little pinky this ought to be pretty fun, and fun to watch I'm sure. So stay tuned there is more to come, and most importantly wish me luck, pray for me! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6568063750291033685?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6568063750291033685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6568063750291033685' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6568063750291033685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6568063750291033685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-doing-what-for-how-long.html' title='I&apos;m doing WHAT? for how long?'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-5914485899708394989</id><published>2008-06-10T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T19:34:24.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>30 Questions</title><content type='html'>1. Favorite Person - Anyone who makes me laugh&lt;br /&gt;2. Favorite Food - Anything pasta and cheesy&lt;br /&gt;3. Quirks about you - I'm very weird about noises. I hate hearing people eat, clipping their toenails, scraping their teeth on their forks. I get goose bumps and I go crazy. No you don't understand. I go CRAZY.&lt;br /&gt;4. How would the person who loves you most describe you in ten words or less? - Strong willed, kind, hard-worker, neat freak, nutty, sarcastic and maybe even funny.&lt;br /&gt;5. Any regrets in life? - Marrying the wrong person :,(&lt;br /&gt;6. Favorite charity/cause - I raise money for St. Judes every year. I'm also interested in helping abused women, children who can't read and MS (my dad died from MS).&lt;br /&gt;7. Favorite Blog - My Sister-in-law Tasha's Housewife Diaries. It makes me feel closer to my family when they are so far away.&lt;br /&gt;8. Something you can't get enough of - Sleep.&lt;br /&gt;9. Worst job you ever had - I worked at a Vet Clinic, and yes Becky we expressed anal glands there. LOL.&lt;br /&gt;10. What job would you pay NOT to have - trash collection. EEEW.&lt;br /&gt;11. If you could be a fly on the wall anywhere, where would it be - in a greenhouse, because I think if I was a fly I would like flowers, wait that's bees. Flies like shit, so maybe a barn somewhere with lots of poo.&lt;br /&gt;12. ***Breaking News: My boss, who I think is awesome, just put in his notice. Sniff sniff.&lt;br /&gt;13. Guilty pleasure - Dessert. I have to have a dessert every night about 9:30. I try to keep low calorie desserts on hand because I know the craving will come.&lt;br /&gt;14. Got any confessions? - Not that I care to confess. I've only voted once. I know. It's awful and I'm ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;15. If you had $1000 to spend on YOURSELF, what would you spend it on - Down payment on my nose job.&lt;br /&gt;16. Favorite thing about your house - I don't have to mow the lawn and it is in the center of everything.&lt;br /&gt;17. Least favorite thing - It floods and I don't own it.&lt;br /&gt;18. One thing you are bad at - apologizing and pda.&lt;br /&gt;19. If you could change one thing about your current circumstances what would it be - I want to own my own house.&lt;br /&gt;20. Who would you like to meet someday - Ellen Degeneres. She makes me laugh everyday and I love her for that.&lt;br /&gt;21. What makes you feel sexy - high heels!&lt;br /&gt;22. Who is your real life hero - my sister.&lt;br /&gt;23. What is the hardest part of your job - not being able to be friends with anybody there and not getting too stressed out when I'm having a rough shift.&lt;br /&gt;24. When are you most relaxed - when I'm laying out by the pool.&lt;br /&gt;25. What stresses you out - money. It's always money.&lt;br /&gt;26. What can you NOT live without - lipgloss. I'm addicted.&lt;br /&gt;27. Do you agree or disagree with the recent article that reported that blogs are authored by narcissists - disagree, but I do also post a lot of pictures on my Myspace.&lt;br /&gt;28. Why do you blog - for fun. As an escape where I can get my feelings out.&lt;br /&gt;29. Who are you tagging - &lt;a href="http://floridammama.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://floridammama.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. What were you doing 10 years ago - Going to college, working 3 jobs to support myself and dating my future ex-husband and some other things I'm not so proud of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-5914485899708394989?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/5914485899708394989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=5914485899708394989' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5914485899708394989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5914485899708394989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/06/30-questions.html' title='30 Questions'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6232194321516700954</id><published>2008-06-08T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T22:39:54.885-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poolside Encounters with a Four Year Old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SEwGlbNrEwI/AAAAAAAAACU/lsaLL1LEzqk/s1600-h/June+2008+071.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SEwGBL2c9JI/AAAAAAAAACM/i5YEqYVxcZ4/s1600-h/June+2008+076.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209545486391637138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SEwGBL2c9JI/AAAAAAAAACM/i5YEqYVxcZ4/s200/June+2008+076.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (if you see this kid to the left-Mommies hide your snack bags!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My sister and I decide to have some summer fun and head out to the pool with my nephew to enjoy the beautiful, but windy weather we are having. Being the wonderful mother that she is my sister is armed with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ziplock&lt;/span&gt; baggies full of snacks, juice boxes, etc to tend to every need that James may have while we are at the pool. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Enter Eli. A four year old who is at the pool with his step-dad and step-dad's friend while they are "sneaking" beer in their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Whataburger&lt;/span&gt; cups. Eli &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;has this amazing talent of fitting three questions in just one breath. "What's your name? My name is Eli. What's his name? How old is he?" &lt;em&gt;(&lt;/em&gt;finally a breath). Continued by, "Is that what you're going to wear? Where did you get it? Is that your thingy, what is it called? Can I use it? (another breath). I feel awkward telling a four year old I got my swimsuit at Victoria Secret. I laugh when I tell him I got my "floaty" at Target and he asks, "Which Target?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyways, so we are enjoying our snacks after swimming for a while and over walks Eli. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Oooh&lt;/span&gt; grapes!! Can I have some? Can I have some Goldfish? Can I have some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Apple juice&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We let him have some, but to our surprise this isn't just any four year old. This is a STARVING four year old. He is stuffing grapes into his mouth four at a time. He knows how to take them off the vine two at a time! We laughed, but when another parent doesn't step in and take control of their kids, how do you politely tell someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; kid, "No," without being too offensive. BTW we did try, "No, no honey. These are for James."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6232194321516700954?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6232194321516700954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6232194321516700954' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6232194321516700954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6232194321516700954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/06/poolside-encounters-with-four-year-old.html' title='Poolside Encounters with a Four Year Old'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SEwGBL2c9JI/AAAAAAAAACM/i5YEqYVxcZ4/s72-c/June+2008+076.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-5473466844544824777</id><published>2008-06-03T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T09:57:36.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ServSafe Nightmares</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So part of the requirements for becoming a restaurant manager in my company is taking a course on food safety. The book is 12 chapters long and full of interesting and disgusting facts from what cockroach poop looks like (grains of black pepper) to bacteria that lives in human feces. Gross huh~&lt;br /&gt;I was so disgusted. I learned something interesting about hot dogs. As most women who have already had children know if you get a bacteria from hot dogs it can abort your fetus??? Are you kidding me? This same bacteria can also be found in deli meats. It also can lead to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Meningitis&lt;/span&gt; in children. So thank you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ServSafe&lt;/span&gt;. I will never be able to sit down and enjoy a hot dog or sandwich again. Gross. And heaven forbid what I will do if someone spills black pepper on my floor! Another interesting fact is that if your house has an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;oily&lt;/span&gt; smell then cockroaches are present, and if you see one in the daytime that is a true sign that your house is INFESTED!&lt;br /&gt;Good news is I made a 92 on my test!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-5473466844544824777?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/5473466844544824777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=5473466844544824777' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5473466844544824777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5473466844544824777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/06/servsafe-nightmares.html' title='ServSafe Nightmares'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-212700298086155441</id><published>2008-05-27T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T13:47:01.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Diva Must Never Show Her Underwear in Public</title><content type='html'>I have really bad luck with my undergarments. Particularly when there is a bag around, somehow my undergarments will find their way in there as if they are trying to humiliate me. Let me explain, rewind 10 years ago I'm taking a Psychology class with my boyfriend (future ex-husband) and he goes to pull out a book and my bra is hanging from it. I'm so embarrassed. Fast forward a few more years. I'm sitting at my ex husband's parents house and we are all gathered around on Christmas morning when a pair of panties drop out of my jeans. You know when you take them off as a single unit, but then decide the pants are still good, but the panties are changed daily. Please tell me you have all done this! The sad thing is it also happened to me at my family's house. My aunt asked, "What is that," pointing to something peaking out of my jeans. Again, Panties!&lt;br /&gt;So, it has been a few years and I'm thinking I have finally solved the Panty Problem. I spoke to soon. I'm in my manager training program right now, so I lug a bookbag to work everyday. Yes, a bookbag. I should have known better. Somebody asks me a question which I do not know the answer to, so I reach in to my bookbag and to my horror there's my newest Victoria Secret black lace bra just hanging out! What's even worse is I forgot about it and my boyfriend was getting my day planner out for me and finds it. I explain I have no idea how it ended up there. If I were him I don't think I would believe me either, but it really does happen. I have proof. Lots of proof.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-212700298086155441?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/212700298086155441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=212700298086155441' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/212700298086155441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/212700298086155441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/diva-must-never-show-her-underwear-in.html' title='A Diva Must Never Show Her Underwear in Public'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-7927089807689606611</id><published>2008-05-26T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T12:57:53.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial Day Tribute For My Dad</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;As you all know today is Memorial Day. I always try to do something for my dad on Memorial Day. His life was cut short by Multiple Sclerosis on March 21st about 8 years ago. My mother has this shed FULL of stuff from when they lived in their old house and was trying to figure out to do with all this stuff. I saw a peice of paper with his handwriting on it and this was a poem he had written about his memories of the Veitnam War:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Up before six every morn;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Feeling ever so forlorn,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Hating yourself forever being born&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;All for a golden bar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Run a mile for your chow &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Wiping sweat from your brow,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Never able to crack a smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;All for a golden bar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Carry a rifle at port arms,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Respond to even the slightest alarms,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;For six months miss her tender charms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;All for a golden bar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Head for Veitnam, one and all,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Never knowing when you'll fall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Heeding always duty's call&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;All for a golden bar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love you daddy. I would do anything to see your face again here on earth. RIP.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-7927089807689606611?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/7927089807689606611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=7927089807689606611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7927089807689606611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/7927089807689606611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/memorial-day-tribute-for-my-dad.html' title='Memorial Day Tribute For My Dad'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-375060537693042940</id><published>2008-05-24T12:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T12:41:12.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast Traditions</title><content type='html'>For the past year my sister and her family have started a tradition that is better than Christmas and Thanksgiving put together. Almost every Saturday or Sunday we have them over for breakfast. They  bring delicious Starbucks and I fry up eggs, bacon, biscuits, pancakes or whatever I have in the cupboard that day. We sit and talk and catch up on the last week and talk about how much my two year old nephew is growing. I get to hear all his new words and see his beautiful smile when he walks in the door and shouts, "Hi Auntie, Miha, Kevo!" I know what you are thinking, &lt;em&gt;Better than Christmas, are you sure? &lt;/em&gt;Yes, and I'll tell you why. There's absolutely no stress involved. Just quality time with my family and the best part is there are 52 opportunities to have our little breakfast get togethers. If you don't have any family in town, start it with your closest friends. Just do it. You will make memories you will treasure forever, and it is a great way to spend your weekend mornings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-375060537693042940?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/375060537693042940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=375060537693042940' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/375060537693042940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/375060537693042940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/breakfast-traditions.html' title='Breakfast Traditions'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-3765042880931952606</id><published>2008-05-24T07:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T07:17:25.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daytime TV</title><content type='html'>I have to vent about daytime TV and how bad it can be. The other day I had the pleasure of staying home, and when I do that I catch up on all my shows I have Tivo'd during the week. I tend to get busy cleaning and will let the show finish and it will default back to whatever channel it was on. So, I'm cleaning and I hear Jerry Springer come on, but I am really busy cleaning, so I allow it to stay on until I can't stand it anymore and I have to run in there and start another one of my shows. Later on that day I saw Maury. Now years ago Maury wasn't that bad, but it seems like he gets worse every year. I just have to say, why do people still watch these? They are trash. My favorite thing to do is check out the audience. Watch Ellen, &lt;em&gt;thank God for Ellen I love her, or Oprah&lt;/em&gt; and then watch Maury and look at the audience. Hmmmm I wonder &lt;em&gt;who&lt;/em&gt; watches this stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-3765042880931952606?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/3765042880931952606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=3765042880931952606' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/3765042880931952606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/3765042880931952606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/daytime-tv.html' title='Daytime TV'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-2365192940800238235</id><published>2008-05-22T09:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T22:39:55.184-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Customer Complaints-This is Only the Beginning</title><content type='html'>The other day I set out to visit a table with a complaint. I approach the table, "Hello, My name is Sara and I'm a manager here, how can I help you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I found a piece of bacon in my salsa," she complains with her mouth full of food. "My husband and I were celebrating and I am so grossed out I can't even eat." She is still eating. I look at the plates and I notice the two of them have shared a meal. They have ribs, shrimp, veggies, and our famous "loaded" mashed potatoes. Now you  don't have to eat at my restaurant to understand that "loaded" means piled high with cheese, parsley and bacon. Yes, bacon. As she is complaining the only thing she is eating is her loaded mashed potatoes covered in bacon. She is just too disgusted by the bacon to eat her ribs and shrimp. The only thing she can muster up the courage to eat is her bacon covered mashed potatoes! I try to explain to her that the bacon is kept above the salsa, and that they cut up the bacon fresh, so one piece could have easily fallen in, but she wouldn't hear it. So a stupid piece of bacon, which she liked anyways, cost me $20 in comps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cafepress.com/ilovemymlm"&gt;http://www.cafepress.com/ilovemymlm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203240691464739282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDWf10edGdI/AAAAAAAAABo/CGIUlpUjOvU/s200/80563909v9_150x150_Front.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-2365192940800238235?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/2365192940800238235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=2365192940800238235' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/2365192940800238235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/2365192940800238235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/customer-complaints-this-is-only.html' title='Customer Complaints-This is Only the Beginning'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDWf10edGdI/AAAAAAAAABo/CGIUlpUjOvU/s72-c/80563909v9_150x150_Front.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-5704705916877672004</id><published>2008-05-22T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T09:15:18.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lesbian Legends II</title><content type='html'>And the drama continues...&lt;br /&gt;So the other night when we went to Mayfest my friend swore to me that she would FINALLY spend some time with me and not bring her "friend" along. I wouldn't normally mind but her "friend" and I aren't exactly hitting it off. The whole time she was texting her and not paying any attention to what was going on around her. When the coast was clear, she headed down the street to find her. After telling me that she wouldn't come up to us before because I was there, you can imagine I was angry when she came back and brought her with. Maybe this was a failed attempt to get us to be friends, but it just made me more mad. I really needed this one night to clear the air so we could move on. I had a fun night, but deep down still hurting. This sucks. I know we will get through, because that's what best friends do, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-5704705916877672004?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/5704705916877672004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=5704705916877672004' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5704705916877672004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/5704705916877672004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/lesbian-legends-ii.html' title='Lesbian Legends II'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-1776572109503467626</id><published>2008-05-19T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T22:39:55.538-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cake Confusion</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDHFqZM9scI/AAAAAAAAABY/RSJ68aZplSw/s1600-h/P1010007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202156376700072386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDHFqZM9scI/AAAAAAAAABY/RSJ68aZplSw/s200/P1010007.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;So I have a little tradition that I make these homemade cakes for my boyfriend on his birthday. He make me the cutest little homemade cards all year long with little cartoon character versions of me and "the kids" as we call them. Our "kids" consist of my twelve year old cat, Simba and our recently adopted Boston Terrier, Miha. I can't draw very well, but I'm an alright cook. Last year I made him a lemon chiffon cake with strawberries as well as a pineppale upside down cake. He doesn't like chocolate, so strawberries are pretty and tasty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;This year I decided to make a very Strawberry cake. I worked on it for about three and a half hours. I hand dipped strawberries in melted white chocolate and hand shaved little white chocolate shavings all over the top in my attempt to make it pretty. I handmade the frosting from fresh strawberries and everything. A couple of problems here. One the frosting sagged a little big. So it looks a little drippy in places. The other is it turned out a little dry. Although, that hasn't stopped me from sneaking into the kitchen and eating the cake straight off the cake plate, I need to know what the secret is to make a cake moist. As I'm nearing my thirties I've learned that women can be amazing support systems for each other. Whether it is, how do I get my laundry to smell better or how do I save my marriage, women have this beautiful way of helping each other out. So please ladies, help me and my dry cakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202156870621311442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDHGHJM9sdI/AAAAAAAAABg/FrfZ7jvzIPM/s200/P1000130.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-1776572109503467626?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/1776572109503467626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=1776572109503467626' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/1776572109503467626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/1776572109503467626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/cake-confusion.html' title='Cake Confusion'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDHFqZM9scI/AAAAAAAAABY/RSJ68aZplSw/s72-c/P1010007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6006651272301568399</id><published>2008-05-19T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T10:51:10.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Samaritans Still Exist</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I have to tell you that there are still good people out there. After a long night of drinking and having a good time at Mayfest for my boyfriend's birthday, we got in the car and headed back across town to go home. I'm driving along the highway and suddenly my car starts pulling really hard. I start screaming, "Oh my God! Oh my God! I'm having a blowout! Oh my God."&lt;br /&gt;Kevin, my boyfriend who is always pretty calm, "Are you sure?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes I'm sure! What do I do? Oh my God what do I do? Kevin!! There's nowhere to pull over!" I'm basically panicked now.&lt;br /&gt;It happened at one of the worst spots. I was switching highways, so it was a long skinny road. I end up pulling over and we get out and start attempting to change the tire, but can not get the car to jack up. At this point I'm so scared I'm going to get a DUI if a cop decides to pull in behind to help us. I felt okay, but if I had to take a breathalyzer probably wouldn't have passed. I'm basically taking it out on Kevin at this point, "Kevin do you want me to get a DUI?" My boyfriend is not mechanically inclined, bless his little heart, but I have to admit I do get frustrated about it. I can't help it. I have three brothers and was raised by a very manly dad, I was taught men fix stuff.&lt;br /&gt;"No baby, of course not," he replies.&lt;br /&gt;"Well then get this thing jacked up," I say irritably.&lt;br /&gt;We are on the verge of a fight and some guy in his early twenties pulls in behind us and says, "Need some help?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh thank you, yes!" I'm so happy someone has come to rescue us and stop my from choking my poor unsuspecting boyfriend. He gets the thing done in about five minutes. The whole time I am freaking out because there are cockroaches the size of small mice crawling all over the sidewalk and I am terrified. I tell him about three times, "You are a God send!"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," he says.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to tell anyone who still does nice things for people, like opening the door for someone when their hands are full, letting someone go first in the grocery line when they don't have much and you do, picking something up for someone when they drop it, giving someone a ride when they run out of gas - YOU ARE AMAZING! I had to rescue some of my drunk friends on Cinco De Mayo and I was happy to do it. They were stranded for a few hours before they called me. We had them back on the road within thirty minutes. It felt good to know I was helping my friends and they felt like they could depend on me. I didn't do it expecting anything in return. I'm convinced Karma really does exist. So next time you see someone in a jam, just remember, next time that could be you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6006651272301568399?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6006651272301568399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6006651272301568399' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6006651272301568399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6006651272301568399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/good-samaritans-still-exist.html' title='Good Samaritans Still Exist'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-9133136399705112699</id><published>2008-05-16T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T16:57:43.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lesbian Legends</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I just found out one of my closest friends has decided to do the gay thing for a while. She texts me this and my reaction was weird. I got angry! Do I dislike gay people, no. I have no problem with that. Am I in love with her? No, not that way. So, why was my reaction anger? I'm still pondering this myself. My reply was &lt;em&gt;I feel like I've lost my best friend. &lt;/em&gt;First of all, I had a feeling something weird was going on. They were spending a lot of time together, but the first red flag was that she was lying about who she was with. Sometimes, she would confess. &lt;em&gt;I lied to you, I was really hanging out with ______. &lt;/em&gt;Why would someone need to lie about hanging out with a friend? That's just weird. Then more recently, we went to a party and the two of them rode together and left together, but still my friend seemed so distant. Her "friend" was watching us like a hawk, which I thought was weird because they've only been friends a few months and we've been friends for a few years now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Maybe I am a little jealous. How is she going to find time to spend with me when she's off doing here secret gay thing? Why did she hide it so long? I'm not judgemental in that way to my friends. I think that a friend is someone who loves you no matter what. I'm getting over the anger thing now, but today I feel something different - &lt;em&gt;Hurt&lt;/em&gt;. I can't talk about to anyone because I want to protect her identity. I just had to get it off my chest. I'm hurt and lonely and I want my friend back. I just don't understand why I feel this way when I've seen her with guys and it's never bothered me. What makes this different? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-9133136399705112699?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/9133136399705112699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=9133136399705112699' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/9133136399705112699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/9133136399705112699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/wth.html' title='Lesbian Legends'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5675506530580470141.post-6638365083246246317</id><published>2008-05-15T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T22:39:56.117-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Underwater Restaurant</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SCycsZM9sXI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ix7S5WG2SEY/s1600-h/underwater-restaurant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200703956199518578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="232" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SCycsZM9sXI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ix7S5WG2SEY/s320/underwater-restaurant.jpg" width="274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Did you know that there's an underwater restaurant? I was looking for some pictures and accidentally came across these.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;At first I thought these people were insane putting this little tube in the water for people to eat at. I can't even imagine running late for work but having to put my scuba gear on before I could go in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SCydGJM9sYI/AAAAAAAAAA4/1hswpgjsamI/s1600-h/underwater-restaurant-5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200704398581150082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="191" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SCydGJM9sYI/AAAAAAAAAA4/1hswpgjsamI/s320/underwater-restaurant-5.jpg" width="268" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#6666cc;"&gt;Then I saw this beautiful picture and I got it. I want to go to this crazy insane tube in the water now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SCyfdpM9saI/AAAAAAAAABI/G6_0UCwMMN4/s1600-h/underwater-restaurant-7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200707001331331490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="132" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SCyfdpM9saI/AAAAAAAAABI/G6_0UCwMMN4/s200/underwater-restaurant-7.jpg" width="226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love this last picture the most. Does he have his arms crossed? Is he mad that his wife drug him to this underwater tube to eat dinner? I wonder if they serve fish. Becuase that would just feel weird to me. If you want to read more about it you can go here &lt;a href="http://www.been-seen.com/article.cfm?id=10231"&gt;http://www.been-seen.com/article.cfm?id=10231&lt;/a&gt;. I just thought I would share.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5675506530580470141-6638365083246246317?l=divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/feeds/6638365083246246317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5675506530580470141&amp;postID=6638365083246246317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6638365083246246317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5675506530580470141/posts/default/6638365083246246317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://divadiaries-pittser79.blogspot.com/2008/05/underwater-restaurant.html' title='Underwater Restaurant'/><author><name>TTownDiva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11655538176948722221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SDW430edGgI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hvZfZDTIMgQ/S220/P1010034.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFVYiDd39IE/SCycsZM9sXI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ix7S5WG2SEY/s72-c/underwater-restaurant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
