<?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-7350070</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:16:22.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Come as I want you to be</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>shellster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02686888092307868027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7350070.post-108846263432545056</id><published>2004-06-17T19:42:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-28T15:43:54.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ughh</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Monday, June 28, 2004&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got a packet from the varsity coach for field hockey training for the rest of summer. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The family's going to Lake Arrowhead this weekend for 4th of July. Hopefully a good time, and I won't have to do my workouts-ha. right. I think Bonnie's coming over later, and I have to pick up the brother from camp and walk the dog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7350070-108846263432545056?l=comeasyouwere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/feeds/108846263432545056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7350070&amp;postID=108846263432545056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108846263432545056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108846263432545056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/2004/06/ughh.html' title='Ughh'/><author><name>shellster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02686888092307868027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7350070.post-108814142107081241</id><published>2004-06-17T19:42:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-24T22:30:21.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Attic always brings interesting things.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Thursday, June 24, 2004&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom took Michael to Garfield today, Manda was babysitting,and Daddy was at work. So I decided to go explore the attic. Now, I've been in there millions of times-me and Michael, me and Manda, we used to go up there and dress up, and play barbies up there-pretending they were 'skydiving'. At any rate, most things up there are all packed up in boxes by holiday and such. There's a whole section of the attic seperated for all my grandmother's stuff that we took out of her house, including all her scarfs, Dodger's posessions and chairs. I was lookiong around to see what was in all those boxes, and I saw a few old boxes of my dad's (and mom's, but mainly dad's). I opened them, and found old pictures, back when my dad had a &lt;em&gt;life&lt;/em&gt;. I found a bunch of old hats I might put to use, too :). But as I was putting boxes back, I found a small, pamphlet-like book. I looked at the title, and then had to do a double take. It said, &lt;strong&gt;"Saying Hello to Goodbye."&lt;/strong&gt; It was about preparing for still borns,miscarriages, or pregnancies gone wrong-that type of thing. That's not the thing you get handed at the grocery store, and if it was, wouldn't you throw it away? I was trying to convince myself otherwise, by looking at the date of when the books was created. Copyright 1981-1985. Right before my sister was born. It shook me to think that there could have been more than attempts, maybe even almost real kids born-that didn't make it. I just sat on the warm wood floor, in the middle of the boxes, in &lt;em&gt;shock&lt;/em&gt;. I mean, could I have not existed? What if they had another kid, what if the family had been completely different? Did my parents really try and fail, a few times, or even just one? Does my sister know? Is it even true? I guess I just need spome comfort here. What am I supposed to think? I don't want to ask my parents; it seems like an invasion of their privacy to ask-like if you were snooping in your older's sister's drawer and found black underwear. You don't want to ask her why she bought it-you weren't supposed to be even in there in the first place. The attic is free territory, but still. Any thoughts? Anyone? I'm so lost on what to believe now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7350070-108814142107081241?l=comeasyouwere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/feeds/108814142107081241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7350070&amp;postID=108814142107081241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108814142107081241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108814142107081241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/2004/06/attic-always-brings-interesting-things.html' title='The Attic always brings interesting things.'/><author><name>shellster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02686888092307868027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7350070.post-108785007807583732</id><published>2004-06-17T19:42:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-21T13:34:38.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bored+me= ridiculous surveys</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Monday, June 21, 2004&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name: Shelly&lt;br /&gt;Age: 15&lt;br /&gt;I AM: an athlete&lt;br /&gt;I WANT: to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;I HAVE: a family.&lt;br /&gt;I WISH: life was easy.&lt;br /&gt;I HATE: insensitivity&lt;br /&gt;I MISS: elementary school.&lt;br /&gt;I FEAR: death and bees. (I don't fear the death of bees, though:))&lt;br /&gt;I HEAR: what I want to hear.&lt;br /&gt;I SEARCH: for self confidence&lt;br /&gt;I WONDER: what I'll be when I grow up.:)&lt;br /&gt;I REGRET: who I was.&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE:everyone...i love?&lt;br /&gt;I ACHE: for better friendship with some people.&lt;br /&gt;I ALWAYS: am myself&lt;br /&gt;I AM NOT: a mean person.&lt;br /&gt;I DANCE: when no ones around.&lt;br /&gt;I SING: when the radios on.&lt;br /&gt;I CRY: because I am sensitive.&lt;br /&gt;I AM NOT ALWAYS: nice&lt;br /&gt;I WRITE: whatever comes to mind.&lt;br /&gt;I WIN: when I work hard at something.&lt;br /&gt;I LOSE: friendship&lt;br /&gt;I CONFUSE:the brake pad with the gas pedal :)&lt;br /&gt;I NEED: to not take things for granted.&lt;br /&gt;I SHOULD: not think about what other people are thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ Yes or No .. ] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you keep a diary: yes&lt;br /&gt;you like to cook:i don't cook. I create. Which &lt;em&gt;might&lt;/em&gt; be cooking, I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;you have a secret you have not shared with anyone: of course.&lt;br /&gt;you believe in love: yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Weirdest person you know: All my friends are weird. Lauren probably.&lt;br /&gt;The Loudest Person you Know:Oh look, it's the cheerleader. Juli.&lt;br /&gt;The Sexiest Person you Know: Juli-she wears MY jacket!&lt;br /&gt;The Cutest Person you Know: Bonnie. I love how she thought Led Zeppelin was a dude named Ned.&lt;br /&gt;Your closest friend: Ciera, Juli.&lt;br /&gt;The People that Know the Most about you: my sister. and Ciera.&lt;br /&gt;Your most overused phrase on IM: maybe 'what the hell?' but i don't have that much on IM. In person I say 'hardcore' alot though.&lt;br /&gt;The last image/thought you go to sleep with:Usually lyrics or pictures, or something completely random.&lt;br /&gt;Inside Jokes: There's too many...traveling whores, keep it on 'da low',merrrherr, you crazy mujumba!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ Do You .. ? ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a(any) crush(es): si, senor.&lt;br /&gt;Want to get married: Are you proposing?&lt;br /&gt;Get Emotion sickness: I'm not sure if that's a typo, or if you mean that after you feel a certain way you get sick. In that case, yes, after i'm mad, sad, or just plain sick, mi estomago se duele.&lt;br /&gt;Think you're a health freak: I don't eat like one, but I can't stand being exerciseless.&lt;br /&gt;Get along with your parents: Dad more than Mom, usually.&lt;br /&gt;Like thunderstorms: yeah, which is sad because we don't get that many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIGN: Gemini&lt;br /&gt;NATURAL HAIR COLOR: straight shot blonde.&lt;br /&gt;CURRENT HAIR COLOR: blonde. with natural higlights. (haha, when Joey first saw me, he goes, "Is your hair natural like that?" and I'm like, "yeah..." and he says, "Fuck you.")&lt;br /&gt;EYE COLOR: brown. (yes, Amanda, brown. It won't say on either of our driver's liscenses-brown with a little green.)&lt;br /&gt;BIRTHPLACE: La Mesa, CA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ Favorites ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NUMBER: 29&lt;br /&gt;COLOR: red&lt;br /&gt;DAY: Friday or Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;MONTH: May or July.&lt;br /&gt;SONG: hmm. "kryptonite' by 3 Doors Down. &lt;em&gt;classic.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOOD: type of food? mexican. just favorite &lt;em&gt;food?&lt;/em&gt; watermelon.&lt;br /&gt;SEASON: Spring.&lt;br /&gt;SPORT: softball. or soccer.&lt;br /&gt;DRINK: water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ Preferences ]&lt;br /&gt;CUDDLE OR MAKE OUT? both :)&lt;br /&gt;CHOCOLATE MILK, OR HOT CHOCOLATE? neither. I hate both.&lt;br /&gt;MILK, DARK, OR WHITE CHOCOLATE? milk chocolate (the only thing to do with milk that i like)&lt;br /&gt;VANILLA OR CHOCOLATE? chocolate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ In the last 24 hours have you .. ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CRIED? no, actually. holy crap!&lt;br /&gt;HELPED SOMEONE? i hope so.&lt;br /&gt;BOUGHT SOMETHING? yeah. chicle!&lt;br /&gt;GOTTEN SICK? lightly&lt;br /&gt;GONE TO THE MOVIES? yeahup.&lt;br /&gt;GONE OUT FOR DINNER? nooo.&lt;br /&gt;SAID "I LOVE YOU"? of course.&lt;br /&gt;WRITTEN A REAL LETTER? nooooo.&lt;br /&gt;TALKED TO AN EX? yes.&lt;br /&gt;MISSED AN EX? yes.&lt;br /&gt;WRITTEN IN A JOURNAL? yes&lt;br /&gt;HAD A SERIOUS TALK? i guess?&lt;br /&gt;MISSED SOMEONE? yeah&lt;br /&gt;HUGGED SOMEONE? yeahhhh&lt;br /&gt;FOUGHT WITH YOUR PARENTS? yeah, that's a given.&lt;br /&gt;FOUGHT WITH A FRIEND? of sorts, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;name 5 bands you listen to:&lt;br /&gt;easy- Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Green Day, RHCP, the Doors, Black Sabbath, that's already 6, I could go on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;name 7 things you hate:&lt;br /&gt;milk, brussel sprouts, arrogance,science fiction movies, oblivion, pimples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ Would you ever .. ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Eat a bug? hahah yeah.&lt;br /&gt;2. Bungee jump? I'm waiting til I'm old enough. Then, damn right I AM!&lt;br /&gt;3. Hang glide?yeah...i'm a mini adrenaline junkie.&lt;br /&gt;4. Kill someone? what the HELL?no!&lt;br /&gt;6. Kiss someone of the same sex? if i were drunk.&lt;br /&gt;7. Have sex with someone of the same sex? HELL no.&lt;br /&gt;8. Parachute from a plane? that's awesome! I want to try!&lt;br /&gt;9. Walk on hot coals? don't you have to have some inner spirit for that?&lt;br /&gt;10. Go out with someone for their looks? it'll happen, I'm sure..&lt;br /&gt;11. For their reputation? what, you mean like go out with a man-whore? or like, because theyre popular. Either way, probly not.&lt;br /&gt;12. Be a vegetarian? It's a definite possibility.&lt;br /&gt;13. Wear plaid with stripes? If it were mix-match day.&lt;br /&gt;14. IM a stranger: define stranger. If it it's like, cussing out someone for your friend,of course. Otherwise, I'm not sure about that one.&lt;br /&gt;15. Sing karaoke? yeahhhhhhhh&lt;br /&gt;16. Get drunk off your ass? it'd be fun at the time, until the next morning when I have a hangover the size of china.&lt;br /&gt;17. Shoplift? no thanks.&lt;br /&gt;18. Run a red light? On accident, yah.&lt;br /&gt;19. Star in a porn video? hahahahahahahahahhahahhahahaa!&lt;br /&gt;20. Dye your hair blue? sure.&lt;br /&gt;21. Be on Survivor? what, and make a fool of myself?of course!&lt;br /&gt;22. Wear makeup in public? always do.&lt;br /&gt;23. NOT wear makeup in public? i guess.&lt;br /&gt;24. Cheat on a test? no..&lt;br /&gt;25. Make someone cry? yes&lt;br /&gt;26. Call your math teacher a motherf*****? YES! I HATE MR KNAPIK! HE DESERVES THAT AND MORE!&lt;br /&gt;27. Kick a baby? that's awful! of course not!&lt;br /&gt;28. Date someone more than ten years older than you? hmm, who are we talking?  If it's like Orlando Bloom, duh. hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;29. Cuss out a priest? depends...what'd he do to me?&lt;br /&gt;30. Take a job as a janitor? cleaning up kid's puke and old rotten banana peels just discovered in the cabinet after like, 3 years? Oh yes, that's my DREAM job!&lt;br /&gt;32. Stay up all through the night? been there, done that.&lt;br /&gt;33. Drink straight espresso?I hate coffee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7350070-108785007807583732?l=comeasyouwere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/feeds/108785007807583732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7350070&amp;postID=108785007807583732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108785007807583732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108785007807583732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/2004/06/boredme-ridiculous-surveys.html' title='bored+me= ridiculous surveys'/><author><name>shellster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02686888092307868027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7350070.post-108777676751643822</id><published>2004-06-17T19:42:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-20T17:12:47.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the good ol' times.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sunday, June 20, 2004&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to post yesterday, but oh man. After me and Manda ran to Target, she took me to the Dailard parking lot, because I was talking about driving. She stopped the car and we switched seats. I drove in circles around the parking lot, and tried to park. I took up two spaces, but hey, at least I know how to! I learned which pedal is the brake :). At one point, if you know the Dailard parking lot, when I was by the gate, I saw two little heads. I kept driving, and I looked again. There they were. But everytime I looked at them, they'd pop back down. But they were LAUGHING at me! hmmf. No appreciation for driving, what little pieces of crap. Then we went home and took pictures of me in about 5 different random outfits-http://wwww.picturetrail.com/shelly29&lt;br /&gt;go there and see:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was strange, at Dailard.In the &lt;em&gt;driver's&lt;/em&gt; seat, able to see out and above the window. I saw the big ant tree, where me and my friends would sit sometimes, and try to climb to the highest branch, not having those ants crawl up our shorts. The sand box where our kindergarten teacher buried treasure for us. The place where I got in my first fight with my then best friend, Elise. That place, they had better &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; shut it down. NEVER. That place is full of memories,  those that I laugh about when I think of stupid things,old star pasted art projects, drooping in dismay, that I once had so much pride in, the first time I talked to a boy, and found it wasn't so bad. Girl scout meetings, assemblies where I'd get dressed up in my prettiest dress, and my prettiest shoes, and clutch this little piece of paper like that determined what I would do in the world. I wanted to go sit on the jungle gym, where I first asked someone, "Do you want to be my friend?", and remember all the good things. But if someone walked by, they wouldn't see that small little 5 year old with the bowl cut, knowing what she was going to do after recess. They'd just see a 15 year old no one, not knowing who or where she's going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How things will be diffent next year. The sister who once threw shoes at me, hating me and me hating her, will be gone. I'll be the 'oldest'. I'll miss her, but that's not the weirdest thing about going into 10th grade. I don't know who my friends will be anymore. Will things change that much that when I get there, everyone will have changed for the better, found their own pack? I was excited for 10th grade, but talking to other people, they have their own lives now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'll fade into my own life, strumming Jack Johnson on my guitar and humming to myself. Is this who I am? Guess so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7350070-108777676751643822?l=comeasyouwere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/feeds/108777676751643822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7350070&amp;postID=108777676751643822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108777676751643822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108777676751643822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/2004/06/good-ol-times.html' title='the good ol&apos; times.'/><author><name>shellster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02686888092307868027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7350070.post-108767372235656338</id><published>2004-06-17T19:42:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-19T12:35:22.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ehhh.</title><content type='html'>I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.STOP IT!!!!I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.I like him. He likes me not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that &lt;em&gt;that's&lt;/em&gt; out of my system. My stomach hurts from those ab machines yesterday. But by the end of the summer, I will have a 3-pack. OHHHH yeaaa. I'm sort of hungry. Maybe I'l go somewhere with Sissy. Right now I'm going to go eat and talk to Juli. Later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7350070-108767372235656338?l=comeasyouwere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/feeds/108767372235656338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7350070&amp;postID=108767372235656338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108767372235656338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108767372235656338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/2004/06/ehhh.html' title='ehhh.'/><author><name>shellster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02686888092307868027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7350070.post-108757970463655948</id><published>2004-06-17T19:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-18T10:28:24.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YAY!</title><content type='html'>I (well,Manda) have been working for awhile to make this little thing perfect. I have created comments, and Amanda changed the phrase. How do you guys like it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7350070-108757970463655948?l=comeasyouwere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/feeds/108757970463655948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7350070&amp;postID=108757970463655948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108757970463655948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108757970463655948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/2004/06/yay.html' title='YAY!'/><author><name>shellster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02686888092307868027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7350070.post-108753038005480798</id><published>2004-06-17T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T20:46:20.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'Tis the beginning of summer...</title><content type='html'>I created this thing. Well, actually, Manda did, muchas gracias to her. I don't think there's comments, so if there's anyway to do that, that would be great if someone could do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So summer so far. &lt;em&gt;Extremely&lt;/em&gt; sore, because on Sunday we had a friendly. The bases were loaded, the infield was in(I was playing 2nd) and this freakin 6'2, 200+ chick comes up, hits this freakin ball right at me, and it hits me right on the toe. So now it's swollen purple, and held by Medical tape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Monday. I don't remember anything really..oh yeah, I went to Meek's game, and then Ciera called to see if I wanted to come over. I went over. Layne, Nicki, Sara, Corrine and her BF, and Kerry, Ciera's bf, were there. We went to the park, and then watched movies, and then had to take Kerry home. In RT's truck. In the back. Sara got a black eye, and i thought I broke my nose. great stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday (skipping Tuesday)I went to the movies with Lex,Juli, and Mallory. we saw Raising Helen, and shopped some. the MOST FUN I've had in awhile. we all tried on this tan corset, which fell off me and Juli's small boobs. Then I threw it at Juli. We all bought ugly belts and I bought a new halter top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I cleaned my closet. I need to get together with people more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have feelings for someone I don't know if I should (don't worry, it's a guy)..Not mutual, I'm sure, but I don't know what will happen...hmm. Tell me if there's no comments, or HELP me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lateeeeeeeeeer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7350070-108753038005480798?l=comeasyouwere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/feeds/108753038005480798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7350070&amp;postID=108753038005480798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108753038005480798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7350070/posts/default/108753038005480798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://comeasyouwere.blogspot.com/2004/06/tis-beginning-of-summer.html' title='&apos;Tis the beginning of summer...'/><author><name>shellster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02686888092307868027</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
