tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3362081428614700962024-03-13T11:19:54.346-04:00The Date ExperimentFunny advice and stories told by me and others who were willing to share...Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-43064854535243444862011-01-11T21:25:00.000-05:002011-01-11T21:25:36.663-05:00Relaunch...I kind of missed this shit<div style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-size: large;">I know. I know.</span></div><div style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-size: large;">But, oh do I have some shit to tell you guys...</span></div><div style="color: #674ea7;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-size: large;">Stay tuned.</span></div>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-37688598104577825392010-09-14T14:35:00.001-04:002010-09-14T14:36:32.199-04:00NO, I'm NOT Dead... A Very Merry UN-Birthday and a GIVEAWAY!<span style="font-size: large;">Before I get to the GIVEAWAY...you have to read this shit...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I AM completely having like a Mid-<em>Mid</em> (New Psychological Term?) Life Crisis...</span><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:JAwNiyofKW0r9M:http://www.freefoto.com/images/1007/03/1007_03_22---Happy-Birthday-Sign_web.jpg%3F%26k%3DHappy%2BBirthday%2BSign" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:JAwNiyofKW0r9M:http://www.freefoto.com/images/1007/03/1007_03_22---Happy-Birthday-Sign_web.jpg%3F%26k%3DHappy%2BBirthday%2BSign" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">I will be 25 on the 30th of this month. That's right I was born in 1985 on the 30th of September and I am FREAKING out. Where have the last 25 years gone?</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I mean, I am nowhere near where I dreamed I was supposed to be at 25. I have an Associates and working on my BA... I'm literally one class and one internship away, BUT I'm not sure if it's what I want to do anymore. I can't really start over because I'm DAMN near 30 AND I'm already ass deep in student loans. Like, to the point where when I graduate, I should just work <em>for </em>SALLIE MAE (that BITCH) and Direct Loans.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I completely and utterly hate my job, to the point where people at my job are starting to realize that I JUST DON'T GIVE A FUCK via the hypnotized dude from "<em>Office Space</em>". <<< Great movie...if you have never seen it, you're insane, especially if you work in a cage (cubicle) like I do. You need to rent it.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_E53zmtToPak/R0TppJNh5QI/AAAAAAAAAu0/gmwaio9mvwY/100_0360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" qx="true" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_E53zmtToPak/R0TppJNh5QI/AAAAAAAAAu0/gmwaio9mvwY/100_0360.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have a tattoo that says, "Free Spirit", but I am completely NOT living up to it. I feel like my wings have been clipped. *Picture me rocking back and forth in my cube biting my nails.*</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I am not celebrating my Birthday this year, because, I don't fuckin' want to BUT, I <em>am</em> going to have a Giveaway. What better way to NOT celebrate than give something away to someone else?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What is the prize? Something <em>every</em>one could use of course! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">*Drum Roll Puuhhlease!*</span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:LVmnTfGVU_gpeM:http://www.topnews.in/files/Amazon-Logo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:LVmnTfGVU_gpeM:http://www.topnews.in/files/Amazon-Logo1.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;">An Amazon.com Gift Card in the amount of $20!</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, celebrate, because Amazon is internet shopping heaven. You didn't know? There's not one thing that I have looked for on Amazon.com that I couldn't find</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It ain't much, but it's $20 that you didn't have before biatches!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here are the rules:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>1.</strong></span> You have to be a follower: yes, I AM bribing you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>2.</strong></span> I want you to E-mail (thedateexperiment(at) gmail (dot) com) me a "Bucket List"...my list will be things that I need to do before I'm 30, it can be a list of things you should do before whatever age that you think is a milestone (30, 40, 50 etc.) or before you die, before you finish school...you get the idea; things to do before you have reached some milestone that you feel is important in your life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>3.</strong></span> At LEAST 10 things on the list SLACKERS.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>4.</strong></span> You have until <strong><span style="color: #741b47;">Monday, the 27th of September</span></strong>! I will post the winner's List on my blog with a link to your blog or website on <span style="color: #741b47;"><strong>Wednesday the 29th of September</strong></span>, if you have one...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>5.</strong></span> In your submission E-mail, please include:</span><br />
<ul><li><span style="font-size: large;">Your name and age </span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">The email address that you want the Amazon Gift Card sent to, in the event that you win.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">The link and name of the blog or page that you want posted on my page if you win</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Don't forget to title your list. Example: "My list of things to do before I go insane in my cubicle one day" or "My list of things I should do before I turn 90/Die"</span></li>
</ul><span style="font-size: large;">So, there you have it folks. I'm posting my list sometime this week, so check back. I hope to receive lots of entries!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Remember, send them to <a href="mailto:thedateexperiment@gmail.com">thedateexperiment@gmail.com</a>! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Good luck!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Questions? Drop them in the comments and I'll get back to you ASAP! AND it would be <em>awful </em>helpful if you spread the word about the GIVEAWAY!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-52649800810758167672010-08-31T08:03:00.001-04:002010-08-31T21:27:36.299-04:00I Thought I Knew You... (Caribana Part 4)<span style="font-size: large;">I know I've been MIA...School, work, and I'm getting ready for another adventure...maybe...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">BUT...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is the last part! I didn't realize how long this story would be until I wrote it out. Funny thing is, there is so much more that happened. I guess that will have to wait for my book that I'll write one day. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you missed: <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/08/caribana-part-1.html">Part 1</a>, <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/08/chicks-before-dicks-caribana-part-2.html">Part 2</a>, or <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/08/do-you-believe-in-magic-caribana-part-3.html">Part 3</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/40/82522011_ce8545f0d9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/40/82522011_ce8545f0d9.jpg" width="171" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">We now had a mystery on our hands: Where the fuck was Jacky? Dee and I couldn't reach her and admittedly hadn't tried since Caribana. I called, sent texts and got nothing. I was no Nancy Drew, Damien could have sold her off to slavery by now...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There was nothing else to do, but wait for a reasonable hour and then try to get in touch with her. If she was OK, she obviously wasn't worried about us. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">TJ was the perfect host. He never made Dee feel like the third wheel and he <i>could</i> have been hanging out with his friends on the craziest weekend of the year in Toronto, but he was being a tour guide for two abandoned tourists. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He stayed in the room that night with Dee and I and we all went down to the lobby and had an amazing breakfast the next day. As we wobbled our full selves towards the elevator, I see Damien and Jacky coming towards us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I pushed the "UP" button and we all stood there quietly, staring straight ahead. As we rode up to our room, you could actually feel the tension on the elevator. I turned to TJ and said, "This might get ugly..." and he just replied, "I got that feeling too." The other passengers were anxious to get off. We all stepped off the elevator and walked towards our room, stepped inside, and watched as the door clicked closed. That's when all hell broke loose:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dee</b>: Really Bitch? You bring us up here and ditch us BOTH. I DROVE all the way from Ohio to kick it with you and I've seen you <i>one </i>time in 2 days. I want the money for the rental. I could have stayed at home for this shit!</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: And how do you leave her and I together? It just so happens that we get along. What if we didn't? You just didn't give a fuck. You lied about this whole trip!</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: I don't have time for this right now. Damien and I have plans today.</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me </b>and<b> Dee</b>: FUCK Damien!</span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dee</b>: He's not even cute. You got me bent! Have you been brainwashed?</span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Damien</b>: Why are you yelling at her like this? You are so disrespectful to your friend. You're not treating her like a friend.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;">I stood up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: You, sir, should shut the fuck up and stay out of this or get out of MY hotel room!</span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Damien</b>: I don't have to go anywhere. What are you going to do? Move me?</span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TJ</b>: She doesn't have to move anybody. I'll gladly do it for her.</span></span> <i><br />
</i></blockquote><i><span style="font-size: large;">I couldn't help but think that he was even HOTT-ER when he was angry...GRRRR! OK...wrong time, I KNOW, but he was MAN-Candy!</span></i> <br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Jazz, don't talk to him like that, he doesn't have to go anywhere.</span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Damien</b>: *Looking at TJ* And <i>who</i> the fuck are you?</span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TJ</b>: I....</span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: <i>TJ</i>...doesn't have to explain <i>ANY</i>thing. AND he is correct. I don't have to move anybody and neither does he. I don't know if YOU forgot BITCH, but this hotel room is in MY NAME. I will happily call security on both of you. So tread lightly DA-MI-EN.</span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Neither Jacky nor Damien had anything to say at that point.</span><br />
<br />
</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dee</b>: But like I said, I want the money for the rental, before I leave tonight. I don't care if it comes from the BUM or YOU, but it better come from someone.</span></span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: I don't have to give you anything!</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jacky and Dee were nose to nose at this point.</span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dee</b>: Really Jacky, you would fight me over HIM? He lives in Toronto. What the hell are you going to do when we get back to Ohio?</span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: What do you mean?</span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: It means that we're not even friends. At this point, we're enemies.</span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: You guys would stop being my friend over something so stupid?</span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Stupid? You tricked me! You tricked me for 6 years...I don't even know you. You let this lame ass come in here and chose him over US? Your Friends??? You should have come by yourself if you were that thirsty for affection. I mean you can't get a man in Ohio, so you have to travel all the way to Toronto? Is your self esteem really that low? Where did you meet him anyway...on Facebook? WOW.</span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dee</b>: And you're sleeping over his <i>parents</i> house? Nasty bitch, what THEY must think of you...</span></span></span></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/145/402725350_72c28b37e8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/145/402725350_72c28b37e8.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hotel security knocked on the door a some point during this argument. You should have seen the fear on Damien's face. I should have had both of their asses dragged out of my room, but I needed to finish yelling at Jacky...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We all just stood there in silence staring at each other for what seemed like the longest time. There was really nothing else to say. Our friendship was over. Jacky grabbed up enough things to stay the night at Damien's but left her suitcase. I asked for her key so I could give it to Dee and she refused to give it up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I let her leave and then marched right down to the front desk to get the other keys cancelled and get two new ones. If Jacky wanted to come back in that room, she was going to have to go through ME!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">TJ actually had a whole list of things that we could do that day and Dee was all for it, until the guy she met the day before called her and wanted to meet up. We agreed to split up for the day and meet back at the hotel around 8PM for the Gyptian concert. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">TJ took me everywhere! We went on the subway to a flea market and they had roasted corn dripping with butter. Mmmmm, my fat man personality,<i> Grisham</i>, was truly on cloud nine! We then took a trolley to another flea market that sold mostly music. He bought me a bunch of mixed CDs so I could listen to REAL music, as he called it. We took the subway and walked all over downtown.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We stopped by his house and he made me traditional Trini food for lunch. It was too spicy, but I still ate it with my eyes watering and him laughing at me. I wanted to detach my lips from my face and sit them in ice water, that shit was so damn HOT! I had to prove that I wasn't a punk, but I would have tapped out under normal circumstances.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eight came <i>way </i>to fast, especially since I was leaving the next day. Dee, her <i>new</i> friend, TJ and I met up at the hotel as planned and Dee drove us to the outdoor concert.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Gyptian gave an amazing performance (he sounds <i>EXACTLY</i> like he does on the radio...posted his newest song below) and we made our way back to the hotel at around 1 in the morning. Dee had to leave that night to get the rental back, so we said our goodbyes and traded numbers.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And then there were 2...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">TJ and I stayed up until 5 in the morning talking until we finally just passed out only to wake up 4 hours later to get all my stuff packed up. Jacky did come back that morning to get her suitcase...with Damien. I admit, I let her struggle with the door for about a good five minutes before I let her in. *Evil Smile Here*</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I got everything together and TJ got us a cab to the bus station. He waited with me until it was time for me to leave. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Right when I was about to get on the bus, he grabbed my hand, spun me around and kissed me. He told me that I had to come back soon and he missed me already. I <i>SO </i>did not want to leave!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I got on the bus and put on my Mp3 player to drown out all the sounds and listen to tunes on the ride home. All was good, until I got to Buffalo, NY and our freakin' bus was an hour late because we got held up at the border, so I missed the bus back to Cleveland. I had to wait 5 hours for the next bus!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, Jacky, was nowhere to be found. I soon figured out when were boarding the bus to Cleveland that she knew someone in Buffalo and she went and got something to eat and sat at their house, while I was sitting at the bus station by myself. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And that bus station was scary...OK?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I put out a PSA on Facebook to tell all my friends where I was, just in case something happened to me...I still hate Facebook, but it sure came in handy that day! I was also texting TJ the whole time I was there, which helped keep me calm.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I saw a man get tackled by the police and this other guy was walking around telling everyone that he knew how to fix the BP oil spill. Not to mention, the woman that was asking for money for Similac...while smoking a cigarette.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Creepazoids...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">After all this, Jacky had nerve enough to offer me food on the bus. I wanted to cram the bag down her throat. I told her to go fuck herself and turned my music back up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I finally made it home at about 12 in the morning, I was <i>supposed</i> to have gotten home by 6 PM! And I had to go to work the next day...UGH!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, that's all folks! No, I don't talk to Jacky anymore. Yes, I still talk to TJ...a lot actually. Almost everyday since I left... I am actually packing for another trip...but that's another story!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span><br />
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</span></span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-91653537140292678652010-08-31T07:28:00.000-04:002010-08-31T07:28:47.216-04:00They Really Like Me!<span style="font-size: large;">Hey!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Guess what? I got another award!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This "Blog of Substance" award is from Jess at <a href="http://bigdealtome.blogspot.com/">It is a Big Deal, It is to Me!</a></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtkbJTjGIFZFBD-dqGqbU9bbjbLsY6vb0LRhplnZLkF56wAjHphJo2mFRimRbkVdjZC0G28fgfvICmP-9wChVf89OfrQ0V1-6t-0INlaeimGcPWGnQEioR_A1RXV6CPSTQJZ8cPflGSB9/s1600/blog+with+substance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtkbJTjGIFZFBD-dqGqbU9bbjbLsY6vb0LRhplnZLkF56wAjHphJo2mFRimRbkVdjZC0G28fgfvICmP-9wChVf89OfrQ0V1-6t-0INlaeimGcPWGnQEioR_A1RXV6CPSTQJZ8cPflGSB9/s320/blog+with+substance.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In order to accept the award I have to: </span><br />
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<ul><li><span style="font-size: large;">Thank the blogger who awarded it to you.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Sum up your blogging philosophy, motivation, and experience using five (5) words.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Pass it on to 10 other blogs which you feel have real substance.</span></li>
</ul><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;">First of all... Thank you Jess! I'm glad people actually read my ramblings and think them entertaining...</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Blogging philosophy, motivation, and history in 5 words: Laughter, Expression, Frustration, Entertainment and Relationship-Assistance....</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The last one <i>is </i>one word...whatever!</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;">10 Blogs that I feel have real substance:</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://tjlubrano.blogspot.com/">A Look In a Creative Mind</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://arousingphonesex.blogspot.com/">Get Aroused?</a></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://rantingaboutrelationships.blogspot.com/">Relationship Rant</a></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://watercoolerthe.blogspot.com/">Water Cooler, The</a></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://kaiphoenix.blogspot.com/">Intimate Memoirs of a Modern Girl</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://kaiphoenix.blogspot.com/">Free Your Giggle</a></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://crpitt.blogspot.com/">A little piece of me</a> </span><br />
<a href="http://queenofrelationships.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">The Queen of Relationships</span></a> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://undermyfitted.blogspot.com/">Under My Fitted</a></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://womaninternational.blogspot.com/">An International Affair</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, I have to actually tell these people I gave them an award...sheesh! A blogger's work is NEVER done!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-25486849402675591812010-08-24T08:10:00.000-04:002010-08-24T08:10:55.125-04:00Party Girl Plus One: Episode 6, One Big Squeeze<span style="font-size: large;">Sheesh, it's only Tuesday and I am having one of those weeks. How about my supervisor gave us scheduled lunches. I haven't had a fuckin' scheduled lunch since High School. Hell, I hardly had it then...I was a cheerleader and self-proclaimed Mean Girl--I did what I wanted. So, it's not bad enough that I'm in a square cube for eight hours, they have to tell me when I'm hungry too! What if I don't want to eat at 12:30??? I HATE this JOB!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sorry for that, but I needed to get that out...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyways...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yay for Video Day! Another great Party Girl Plus One installement from Jen Dawson! You know what to do: Watch, Laugh, and Comment!</span><br />
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<object height="371" width="600"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1PUlzZfxuNo?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1PUlzZfxuNo?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="600" height="371"></embed></object><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My Thoughts: I actually think this is one of my favorite in the video series. This dude NEVER stopped talking! I mean, since when does a guy come over to watch a movie and the movie is ACTUALLY watched? BO-RING... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I think Jen's got some great flexibility..</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, any of you been on an extremely boring date? What did you do to get out of it? Crawl out the bathroom window, play sick? Drop me a comment!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For more about Jen and her video series, visit </span><a href="http://www.partygirlpplusone.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">www.partygirlpplusone.com</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-88427440031023445742010-08-23T11:26:00.000-04:002010-08-23T11:26:07.619-04:00Waiting for the "Fake Emergency Phone Call"<span style="font-size: large;">The Blog Catalog members came through yet again and helped me out! This time it was, "What NOT to say on a First Date." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I picked 10 from all the entries to post here. I also added a link to each persons blog. So, laugh, comment, and go check out their awesomeness!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">1. </span></b>Wow, what a great date. I had an awesome time and my kid's will be psyched. You possess 8 out of the 10 attributes they want in "New Mommy." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--BiggJ (<a href="http://youthjerseys.org/">Youth Jerseys Blog</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">2.</span></b> "My wife and I have and open marriage." </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/155/377561098_4eadcc3486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/155/377561098_4eadcc3486.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">--Diana (<a href="http://thehiddenfaceofthemoon.blogspot.com/">The Hidden Face of the Moon</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">3.</span></b> "I think I'm falling in love with you."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Konway East (<a href="http://watercoolerthe.blogspot.com/">Water Cooler, The</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">4.</span></b> "When I look into your eyes I can see our unborn children." </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--FreakSmack (<a href="http://www.freaksmack.com/">Funny Mugshots</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">5.</span></b> "What happened to the girl in your photo?"</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Derek Bowles (<a href="http://www.tmoderekbowles.com/">The Mind of Derek Bowles</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">6.</span></b> *Phone rings .... index finger being held up in a hold-on a minute would you?* ... "Hello, darling .. I've missed you, too." </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Theresa (<a href="http://skdd.wordpress.com/">Sleeping Kitten- Dancing Dog!</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">7.</span></b> "I don't even really like you, I just haven't gotten laid in a while." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> -The Boo (<a href="http://thebooreport.wordpress.com/">The Boo Report</a>)</span><br />
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</span><br />
<a href="http://www.worldlymind.org/shovel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.worldlymind.org/shovel.jpg" width="169" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">8.</span></b> "The shovel is there in case I hit a deer, the plastic bags because I was moving, the lime is for a friend."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Hank (<a href="http://www.blog.hankplumley.com/">Photography by Hank Plumley</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>9. </b></span>"Whaddaya mean, 'No'? Get in the back seat like a good girl."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Mel (<a href="http://not-pop-jukebox.com/">The Not-Pop Jukebox</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>10.</b></span> "My house ain't been cleaned good since my first wife..." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--AJ (<a href="http://undermyfitted.blogspot.com/">Under My Fitted</a>) </span><br />
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<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:CtT8gUz7su0JUM:http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/82/Red_flag_icon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:CtT8gUz7su0JUM:http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/82/Red_flag_icon.gif" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Definitely all First Date <span style="color: red;">RED</span> Flags!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks again, Blog Catalog members you're the SHIT!</span><br />
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Has anyone ever said something heinous to you on a first date? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. Did I make you smile today?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Like me on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Date-Experiment/139757829385041">Facebook</a>!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
Follow my ass on <a href="http://twitter.com/JazzStanton">Twitter</a>!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Follow this <a href="http://www.google.com/friendconnect/signin/home?st=e%3DAOG8GaAFFE3VwTa128iHeXhadoS5%252BnXWE83ysDeUDKeQ9npt%252FzciYyepM3JiQ2CphBmHNp8am%252B4bJtzybFuTWfMC2lUzMR3%252BydYDSWgBMKktHu%252BG6Zc%252BIKOe76tTNZYTchxLNEq0eqzGBBVW0%252FhCJWvQUyfc1MH%252Fa5YCPVZvSeVrtwRXLdqdPalRoqdF%252FnAz4%252FIkMBQs%252FkaylEDfzKtexbZ2dUqppUL7Aw0vZED3uU8XLh1%252FJXwAMYPQpSI1h2hNzF16oxB346MXg8p875GHTQZXhGfX4GgQaw%253D%253D%26c%3Dpeoplesense&psinvite=&subscribeOnSignin=1">BLOG</a>!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-81946051470071375092010-08-19T07:20:00.002-04:002010-08-19T18:22:02.318-04:00Guest Spotlight: Dating Chronicles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3396/3598317117_1ac1dbb3da.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3396/3598317117_1ac1dbb3da.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been following (stalking) @DatingChronicle on Twitter for a while now and her "tweets" were so interesting, I had to ask if she would do a guest post. DC tells the "Twitterverse" her dating stories...140 Characters at a time... Here Dating Chronicles tells us how to look at the <i>good</i> side of a break-up:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">Break-ups Suck….Silver Linings Rock</span><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For those who don’t know me, I have been on a mission to find the man with whom I am to share my life. In the past 14-16 months I have been on over 100 first dates. Yup, over 100. Truly it’s closer to 150 but that just sounds egregious doesn’t it?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I finally met someone I was willing to go on a second date with ….then a third…and a forth….. I’ve been tweeting (@DatingChronicle) about him (aka New Guy) over the past two months while we’ve been dating. Two months may not sound like a very long time --- however, when you haven’t accepted a second date in over 16 months and then you go on more than fifteen dates with the same guy, it takes it up a notch or two. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This past Saturday we broke up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Crushing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the past few days I’ve been trying to focus on left-brain thoughts. You know the ones – the reasonable, rational, logical thoughts that make dealing with the pain of a break-up easier. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Following is my current top six list ….the top six silver linings behind this break-up…..wish I had ten….perhaps by the end of the week….or maybe you’ll have some to add!?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(6) I am free to plan my weekends on my own. New Guy was not a fan of planning in advance which is hard for me since many of the things I love to do (camping, hiking, road-trips) require an element of planning since I share my life with a dog. This is a challenge no more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(5) Scheduling item #2 – no more scheduling around the kids and his ex-wife’s life. (In two months more than four adjustments to the schedule). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(4) Speaking of his ex….. no more worry about awkwardly running into her. Our worlds were getting closer and closer as I realized we have friends and business associates in common. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(3) Shaving daily is a pain. I no longer have to do this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(2) The $500 I was planning to spend on bikini laser treatment is now available to buy seriously hot heels.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">…..and the #1 Silver Lining behind this break-up…..</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(1) New guy is short – really short (i.e. 1” taller than I am and I’m short)…..my favorite pair of heels is 4” high. I am once again free to wear these seriously hot heels (and others which I will buy with the $500 referenced in item #2!)</span><br />
<a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:Nx2d0t5Yk2fm8M:http://www.digyourheelsin.ca/files/QuickSiteImages/Double_Pink_Stiletto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:Nx2d0t5Yk2fm8M:http://www.digyourheelsin.ca/files/QuickSiteImages/Double_Pink_Stiletto.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There you have it – my top six silver linings from this break-up. Feeling confident that we’ll have a full top-ten by the end of the week…… </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I look forward to your insights!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Follow Dating Chronicle on Twitter! <a href="http://twitter.com/DatingChronicle">@DatingChronicle</a></span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span></div><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"></span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-77415613542360629822010-08-18T07:58:00.000-04:002010-08-18T07:58:42.133-04:00Party Girl Plus One: Episode 5, Strip Tease<span style="font-size: large;">I know everything I did this week is behind! I had a long ass paper to write AND I babysat! Me...watching little people; worst idea ever. They just reinforced the fact that I am not having children. They weren't bad, but the youngest NEVER STOPPED TALKING! When she DID stop, she still made some sort of noise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can't see how parents do it. It's not like you can change your mind and give them back...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, Video Day is here! *Turning off the lights and grabbing popcorn* Party Girl Plus One did it again! Watch, laugh and comment:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><object height="371" width="600"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nbX8Vo9HtSE?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nbX8Vo9HtSE?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="600" height="371"></embed></object></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>MY THOUGHTS</b></i>: Hmmm... Valentine's Day. I hate it when people ask me what I'm doing on V-Day, especially when the a-holes <i>know</i> I'm single. It's usually just me and Jose Cuervo...he never lets me down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've never been to a wild all girl party like that, however, I get hit on by girls <i>all</i> the time. Probably because I'm a<i> huge</i> flirt. It isn't even uncomfortable anymore. I just figure, "Hey, men AND women think I'm <i>hawt</i>...heeey!" I've never even kissed a girl, nor do I have the desire too, but it seems like it's the norm nowadays. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ever been in a situation where someone of the same sex tried to "take your cookies"? How did you respond: offended or flattered OR went with it? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Want to know more about Jen Dawson of Party Girl Plus One? Visit <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/">www.partygirlplusone.com </a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Did I tickle your fancy today? You should: </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.google.com/friendconnect/signin/home?st=e%3DAOG8GaATlqtGPa8QVD7PkkDkQPYByZmRLz2APFsukhvEo%252FY3aSpLpAQvnYeKYnVtklMW9pVdKrklLEn5vxcmp8BdMKC1JO2ymlyQo0UKuH6vZ6Riq6M6sfO9O6R%252BL5R2SeiWQA1G%252BWIjKgxUJxItx7vLENdAOEixxO7MiYcWvdSAQ8J6mqkoiOes7r80Xtg8VhkWrzDf6vRdpm3DiaI1R3Nrc%252FuP1S3B5JItblKY%252FHthUX%252FKHxq%252F3ag%253D%26c%3Dpeoplesense&psinvite=&subscribeOnSignin=1">Follow this Blog!</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-62353256217928314682010-08-17T07:46:00.001-04:002010-08-17T17:18:43.292-04:00Do You Believe in Magic? (Caribana Part 3)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3KdjJri_Ia91B1xYwG0s8XKUOALXbimqQ4uA3rhbUGqu_nMoxpRaAENK4VCs2Le1syKbhziXsmt0ZCwPuHAWCI4kd0W1HWh3JGxEmz0erBqwuuSmo4zJ0oTCpzB5ZSSkyNI1ccQ1S8s/s1600/2010-07-30+14.54.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3KdjJri_Ia91B1xYwG0s8XKUOALXbimqQ4uA3rhbUGqu_nMoxpRaAENK4VCs2Le1syKbhziXsmt0ZCwPuHAWCI4kd0W1HWh3JGxEmz0erBqwuuSmo4zJ0oTCpzB5ZSSkyNI1ccQ1S8s/s200/2010-07-30+14.54.50.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">This is the continuation of my vacation in Toronto, Canada from <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/08/chicks-before-dicks-caribana-part-2.html">Chicks Before Dicks (Caribana Part 2)...</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(P.S. Video Day will be TOMORROW! I got e-mail threats for leaving you hanging...so here ya go biatches!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I'm looking at TJ and my first thought was, "Woooow...," but I was pissed AND hungry AND lost-- this was not the time for sexy island men...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> Hi TJ...Bye TJ.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TJ</b>: Woah...you're not even going to tell me your name?</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: No. Good Day.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TJ:</b> What's the matter? Maybe I can help.</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> I stopped and looked up at him. He was almost a foot taller than me. </span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Unless you can get me back to Ohio, there really isn't anything for us to talk about.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b> TJ</b>: Ohio? It's such a nice night...what could possibly have made you so angry?</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">I told him everything that had happened and why I was stomping around with a bag full of food. He explained that he was originally from Trinidad and visiting with his father. AND that he was only 20 years old. This guy looked at least 25!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He called one of his friends that lived in Toronto and asked him directions to my hotel so that he could walk me there. </span><span style="font-size: large;">A stroll that should have only taken about 15 minutes at the most, turned into an hour and a half. We talked, laughed, and took goofy pictures. My stomach was growling loudly and I remembered the food. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I looked at my phone and realized that I had about 20 texts from Jacky asking where I was and what happened to the food. I texted her back and told her I would be there in a minute. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I told TJ that I should go back to the hotel and invited him up to eat and have a drink with us before he met up with his friends later. It was the <i>least </i>I could do; he made me forget about all the issues with Jacky <i>and </i>walked me back to the hotel.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I knocked on our hotel room door, just in case anybody wasn't decent, and walked in. I told TJ to wait a minute.</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Where have you been?</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: YOU have a lot of nerve! For your information, I got...lost. But look what I found! *I opened the door so TJ could walk in*</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Oh...hello.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TJ</b>: Hi, you must be Jacky?</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky:</b> Uhhh...</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: TJ helped me find my way back. Wasn't that nice of him? He's going to have some food too. So, Jacky, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Weeeelllll... Damien wants to go to a club downtown and...</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Oh, YOU and DAMIEN...Jacky what was the point of me coming here?</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">TJ was looking really uncomfortable as he unpacked the food.</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Well , my friend Dee is coming up tomorrow too and...</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: WHO? Who the hell is Dee, where in the shit is SHE staying? I don't remember ANYbody else putting money in on this hotel!</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: She got a rental car, so we have a way around when she gets here.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: When were you going to tell me about Dee? Oh, around the same time Damien popped up?</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky:</b> I just want to hang out with him tonight...tomorrow me, you and Dee can go to Caribana and hang out.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Whatever Jacky...I really don't care what you do.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Trevor</b>: Water?</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">We both looked at him as if remembering he was in the room. There was a knock on the door and Jacky ran to answer it. Of course, it was Damien. She scarfed down her food and they left.</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Trevor</b>: Wow. She invited another girl without you knowing?</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Apparently.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Trevor</b>: Do you want to hang out with me tonight? You don't have to have to be by yourself. </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: No, I'm tired anyway...its been a really long day.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Trevor</b>: I see, well, can I see you tomorrow? At Caribana? </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Yeah, that would be fun.</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">We exchanged numbers and he promised to call the next day before the parade. He left and I put on my jammies to go to bed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jacky NEVER came back that night...</span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">7:30 A.M.</span></b><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: HEY JAZZ!!</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: I opened one eye. Who, what, where?!</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: This is Dee....Lets go down to breakfast!</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Hi...Dee.</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">We just looked at each other. I could already imagine what she was thinking. I completely went off on Jacky last night and I'm sure she told Dee. I was also sure that right now I was unfairly being dubbed "The Bad Guy." That was fine because I had a feeling that Jacky was going to show her ass again before the day was over.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I got up and threw on some sweats for breakfast. We went downstairs and chatted while eating. Dee seemed pretty cool. Jacky was full of promises about what we were going to do today and how much fun we were going to have at Caribana. I asked where Damien was and if he would be making an appearance. Jacky assured Dee and I that this was going to be a Girl's Day and the men of Toronto better watch out!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We went back upstairs to get dressed for Caribana. We turned on some Soca music and danced as we got ready. </span><span style="font-size: large;">It was starting to look like this trip was going to turn out to be fun! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">TJ texted me to tell me he was on his way to the parade and he hoped to see me later. As we walked off the elevator, </span><span style="font-size: large;">Damien was waiting there. I looked at Jacky like, <i>"Really Bitch?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQTAQGcGtItCE0LcNRMIsy953M5VGCZNhc8t171tG7k3xQ-eiDXIN-7evFpELdCB45k36Pk9LZYxdkr-e0tXK23a_TxrHB9TF8Z6ktFVAyiO4ql8VPtSIHBj894R4brvDRHns98hOtgA/s1600/100_0997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQTAQGcGtItCE0LcNRMIsy953M5VGCZNhc8t171tG7k3xQ-eiDXIN-7evFpELdCB45k36Pk9LZYxdkr-e0tXK23a_TxrHB9TF8Z6ktFVAyiO4ql8VPtSIHBj894R4brvDRHns98hOtgA/s320/100_0997.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">She shrugged and we all piled into the taxi--I was way too excited at this point to be angry. When we got there the music was loud and intoxicating. I could feel the bass in my heart. All the people, the costumes, the colors and the dancing...<i>AMAZING!</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As expected, Jacky and Damien wondered off and could not be reached by phone or text. TJ and I kept missing each other because there were so many people. We eventually just agreed to meet up later back at the hotel.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Dee couldn't believe how Jacky acted like a completely different person around Damien...she had actually been friends with her longer than I had. </span><span style="font-size: large;">We just shrugged it off, danced in the parade for hours and drank at the beer tent. We made our way back to the hotel only to find out that that bitch, Jacky, had BEEN back! I could tell because she left her St. Lucian flag from the parade on the desk. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">TJ got to the hotel around 11 and I introduced him to Dee, as if I hadn't JUST met her that morning, and he took us down to Dundas Square. </span><span style="font-size: large;">It was just SO many people around, just hanging out and talking on a beautiful night. We walked past a man on a velvet throw and forks spread out around him.</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b> TJ:</b> He does magic... </span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">He seemed really creeped out by this and I found it hilarious.</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Oh, really? </span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TJ</b>: Yes, you don't believe me?</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: No...I don't.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TJ</b>: Hey, Sir...she doesn't believe in magic!</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Pharaoh the Magician</b>: Oh reaaaally, come here girl, let me show you what I can do. *He pointed at Dee* YOU too.</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">We walked up on each side of him and he handed us both a fork. He told us to write our exes initials and our own names on the forks. It was funny that he said our Exes because my Ex <i>asshole</i> had JUST texted me that day! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The things that he made these forks do...if I hadn't of seen it with my OWN two eyes, I would have never believed it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He made me do a winding motion with the fork in my hand. I actually felt the metal of the fork twist, as it did some Exorcist type shit and the top of it did a 360... like a corkscrew.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Pharaoh told Dee to guess a number between 1 and 7; she picked 3 and shook the fork per Pharaoh's instructions. When she stopped 3 of the forks prongs had bent up!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtmz6kl74BLGOfLFN9HmWeZuEgJFTWr-t3wfy8Q898vOy4MZPt-0GgSoBnJe-o9hsK6Np_LLq90pphaWW43FrBdCGkr6GSX6wrqKjC3psaT9ZeJm2NY2jqlv4q0Ue51g5C_xCWt9eZGg/s1600/2010-08-16+22.47.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtmz6kl74BLGOfLFN9HmWeZuEgJFTWr-t3wfy8Q898vOy4MZPt-0GgSoBnJe-o9hsK6Np_LLq90pphaWW43FrBdCGkr6GSX6wrqKjC3psaT9ZeJm2NY2jqlv4q0Ue51g5C_xCWt9eZGg/s320/2010-08-16+22.47.19.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My "Magic" Fork</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;">The final trick, he made us count to 3 and at 3 we both were to point at the forks. We counted: 1...2...3...and pointed. My fork fell apart and Dee's fork went completely flat, like a pancake. Pharaoh said that this represented the release of all the bad energy from the past relationship with the person we wrote on the fork. I STILL need to text my Ex to see if he is OK...I mean my fork FELL APART. The guy's penis may have fallen off or something...<i>not that he wouldn't deserve it. </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He let us keep our mangled forks as souvenirs. TJ wouldn't even touch it...LOL. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i> (Below is a video of Pharaoh in action...it isn't the same trick, but it shows what he can do)</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As we were walking back to the hotel, I turned to Dee and it seemed like we both realized at the same time that we hadn't seen Jacky since that afternoon and it was almost 5AM...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I know! Sorry, I did it again. Part 4 is the LAST part I promise...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. Check out this video of Pharaoh in Dundas Square, doing his thing:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><object height="405" width="500"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AkqMCThxwLg?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AkqMCThxwLg?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="405"></embed></object></span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-23572301998849051252010-08-13T08:12:00.001-04:002010-08-13T08:18:59.697-04:00Chicks Before Dicks... (Caribana Part 2)<span style="font-size: large;">Like I have said a million times already, Toronto was great...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">However, when you are traveling with others, something is almost always guaranteed to go wrong. That's why I usually only travel with one or two people because, more <b>BITCHES </b>means more problems. </span><br />
<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2331/2280041101_6ef501eda5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2331/2280041101_6ef501eda5.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes, even traveling with ONE other person is an issue, especially when both have different reasons for going...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">After a twelve hour bus trip to Toronto (it would have only been 8, but we got held on the border because some idiot on the bus didn't have her passport), we arrive at the bus station. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I had already checked and was aware that we were only about a five minute walking distance from the hotel, but who the hell wants to do that with luggage?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was ready to catch a cab or rather, they were ready to catch ME, when my friend, Jacky says that she is calling her <i>friend </i>to come and get us. I'm like, OK, whatever...call him. I figured it was just a coincidence that he was downtown. She was on the phone, yelling over all the city noise, trying to tell him where we were located, while I was looking for him to drive up in a car.</span><br />
<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2093/2275677752_deb162a934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2093/2275677752_deb162a934.jpg" width="133" /></a><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Oh, there he is</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: *Looking up and down the street* Uhh, where?</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: *Pointing* Right there!... Hey Baby! (<i>Baby?)</i></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Well why the hell is he walking?? I mean is he literally going to carry us to the hotel??</span> <b><br />
</b></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Oh, he doesn't have a car...</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: So, why is he meeting us here?</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: He's my boyfriend...be nice Jazz!</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">I just stood there with a stunned look on my face as they smooched in the middle of downtown giggling like long lost friends...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This was not what I signed up for...this was supposed to be a drunken, rock out with your cock out!, girls gone wild, and eventually BLACK OUT type of weekend. Who the hell wants to be a third wheel? I am in no sense of the word a "cock-blocker", but the bitch could have made this trip by herself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I took a deep breath and asked him how we were getting to the hotel. He took both of our bags and headed towards a cab. <i>Don't they have bellboys AT the hotel? He completely could have met us later on. </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He paid for the cab and we go upstairs to our room. We all just sit there for an awkward moment.</span><br />
<br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Well, this is interesting.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: This is Damien.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Well, hello Damien...where are <i>you</i> staying this weekend?</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Jazz!</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Damien</b>: I live downtown.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: OK...I don't know about you two, but I'm hungry and in need of a shower, so I'm going to do that now.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Then we can all go eat.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Riiiiight </span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"> As I take a shower and get dressed, I resolved to make the best of the situation. I called out Jacky's name to discuss the eating issue, because it was getting SERIOUS. <i>Grisham</i>, the fat man that I am sure lives inside my body, was pissed that there was no food intake for the last 18 hours. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I got no answer from Jacky, so I walk into the living area. There was no one in the room. Both these assholes had left me!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I started texting:</span><br />
<br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Ummm... where are you?</span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">We just went for a walk...</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>:<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> OK, how about you come back so WE can all get something to eat...</span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">No answer...20 minutes pass...</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Hello????</span></span></span></span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Hi, what do you want to eat? Damien said he would pay for it.</span></span></span></span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">How the fuck am I supposed to know? I'm in a different COUNTRY? Why don't you come back so we can all go?</span></span></span></span></span></blockquote><div style="font-family: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><blockquote style="font-family: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">No answer... 30 minutes...at this point I am seeing <span style="color: red;">RED</span>. Pissed. I could have bitten someone.</span></span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!!!!</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">We went to get drinks...</span></span></span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Really BITCH? We're in CANADA, I have no CANADIAN MONEY and you leave me in a room by MYSELF for that ugly Nike knock-off wearin' piece of shit?</span></span></span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hey, I can get really ugly when I'm hungry. There was no answer, I texted about 30 obscenities and still no answer. I turned on the TV, watched it for about an hour and then I started packing my stuff. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why should I stay? My plan was to get my money back from Jacky for the hotel and the bus and catch the FIRST thing smoking back to Ohio.<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another hour passed...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">And another... </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I hear the card key in the door...<br />
<br />
I had put the security lock across the door, so it caught when she opened it. I pushed the door closed, snatched the security lock off and violently pulled the door open. They both almost fell into the room.</span></span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Bitch, give my money for the hotel AND the bus. I'm buying a ticket home!</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2037/2060734353_385f98bc8c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2037/2060734353_385f98bc8c.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: I'm sorry, we walked really far to go to the liquor store. I bought a bottle for us! *She pulled out a bottle of Bombay Sapphire*</span></span></blockquote><i><span style="font-size: large;">What do I drink? Right. Tequila. Do you think I would travel without Jose Cuervo? Never! Jacky knew this!</span></i> <br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Who the fuck drinks that? It took THREE hours to walk to the store? This is a city...you could have caught a cab, a trolley, a bus...</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: I'm SO sorry! Don't go home, I want to have fun this weekend. We can go get something to eat now. Damien said he'll buy it.</span></span></blockquote><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/49/137083821_15511902b4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ox="true" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/49/137083821_15511902b4.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Grisham wasn't going to pass on a deal like that. We walk about 15 minutes, passing McDonald's, about twenty Sushi Queens, Subway and come to a Jamaican restaurant.<br />
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I've never eaten Jamaican food. I asked was Oxtail really Oxtail, or did it stand for something else?<br />
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Damien orders me something called Shrimp Roti after I told him my stipulations of no beef, no pork, and NO OX. We were told our food would take about 20 minutes...<br />
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When the food was bagged, Damien paid, I thanked him, grabbed it and start towards the door. I hear Jacky order two beers. I stopped in my tracks and turned around.</span></span></div><blockquote><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> You sat there for TWENTY minutes and decide NOW that you want a beer?</span></span> </div></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jacky</b>: Me and Damien wanted to drink them with our food.</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Waiter</b>: You can't take those out of here...</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Damien</b>: OK, we'll just drink them really quick and head back to the hotel.</span></span> </blockquote><blockquote><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Hell no! YOU guys can stay, I haven't eaten in damn near 24 hours you inconsiderate bastards...I'm going back to the hotel!</span></span></div></blockquote><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I stomped out, carrying all the food. This was turning out to be a shitty weekend and we had only been in Toronto for 6 hours! I'm doing my mad walk down the street and the anger dissipates, leaving a sense of disorientation.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/60/183986051_2b4518e1e0.jpg?v=0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" ox="true" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/60/183986051_2b4518e1e0.jpg?v=0" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
Yep, I was lost!<br />
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All the hotels seemed to look just alike, the street signs meant absolutely nothing... since there were a MILLION Sushi places, those all looked alike too. I just kept walking, I didn't even know the name of the street the hotel was on. </span></span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I take my phone out and hit Google Maps... and then remembered...No. 3G. In. Canada. As I'm cursing my phone out, a shadow looms over me and I hear footsteps falling into place with mine. </span></span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh shit... now I'm going to get mugged, beaten and left for dead all because of that bitch Jacky and her asshole boyfriend? </span></span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I slowly look over and was startled by a very tall, very cute man, with light brown eyes smiling down at me...<br />
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He said with an island accent, "Hi, I'm TJ"...</span></span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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TO BE CONTINUED....<br />
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Hey, I know I just Prime Time TV, leave me hangin'd you. Guess you'll just have to come back to see what happens next in: Caribana Part 3: Do You Believe in Magic?</span></span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">P.S. If you missed <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/08/caribana-part-1.html">Caribana Part 1 </a></span></span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/49/137083821_15511902b4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="72" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/49/137083821_15511902b4.jpg" style="left: 642px; opacity: 0.3; position: absolute; top: 4144px; visibility: hidden;" width="96" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-38541040701583836762010-08-11T07:38:00.000-04:002010-08-11T07:38:44.435-04:00Caribana!... PART 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs235.snc4/39095_479057734195_521449195_6577096_5731782_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs235.snc4/39095_479057734195_521449195_6577096_5731782_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">This is just a brief overview of my trip and some photos. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(Bear with me, my camera is crappy. I'm seriously about to add an "About Me" page with a <i>PayPal Donate</i> button.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A whole lot of shit went down though, I lost a friend, but gained two more. I was also in a MAGIC show. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also learned that age might not be as big a factor in dating as I once thought... Basically way too much for one post. I don't want to give you an information overload!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, my trip to Toronto was freakin' AH-MAZ-ING. I had no idea what the Canadians were working with up there. I mean I could completely live there. Except that they don't have Chipotle...major FAIL!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I went for Caribana, which is a cultural festival...the biggest one ever! 1.5 million visitors annually, mostly from the West Indies. I do not have any sort of background in the West Indies, but my friend's (well, now my EX-friend...why?... that's another post!) family is from St. Lucia.</span><br />
<a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs235.snc4/39095_479057744195_521449195_6577098_4664912_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs235.snc4/39095_479057744195_521449195_6577098_4664912_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When the bus arrived into the city, I was amazed...everything is glass. The condos they have downtown were called the ICE condos. Who wouldn't want to live somewhere called ICE?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our hotel was swank as hell. When I went to check in, there were about 30 men standing around of all shapes and sizes. My first thought was, "<i>This is going to be a GREAT weekend</i>!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After I wiped the slobber off my face and handed my credit card over to officially check in, we went upstairs to the room. Full kitchen, 42" flat screen TV that swiveled, big comfy king size bed and pull-out couch. I wanted to move in!</span><br />
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<a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs218.snc4/39228_479062509195_521449195_6577224_2538020_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs218.snc4/39228_479062509195_521449195_6577224_2538020_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Saturday was the actual day of Caribana, and it went on for SEVEN hours. Me and my friend ended up jumping IN the parade and dancing for hours. Nobody said anything, we just went from one float to the next. I may not talk like an islander, but I can shake my ass with the best of them!</span><br />
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<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:WjNAsV5xWH0djM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3171/2944672698_9a88db0375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:WjNAsV5xWH0djM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3171/2944672698_9a88db0375.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">All sweaty and tired, we made our way to the beer tents... although we were carrying around a bottle of Moet. (Hey, it's vacaaation!) We ate roasted corn and drank and had the BEST time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We then went back to the hotel to get dressed for a night out. We went to Dundas Square, where I was in a magic show and stayed out until 4 in the morning. We woke up Sunday to a breakfast of French Toast, scrambled eggs, and home fries! Yum!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Monday morning, I was not ready to leave! I love Toronto...the diversity and how laid back everyone was. I can't wait to go back!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also learned some things about Canada on this trip:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Canadians and all other places outside of the US, think Americans are funny...they are not laughing WITH us, they are most definitely laughing AT us.</span><br />
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<a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:i-SOHcpYcf2_TM:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2366/2121521318_a5964fdaf4.jpg%3Fv%3D0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:i-SOHcpYcf2_TM:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2366/2121521318_a5964fdaf4.jpg%3Fv%3D0" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">2. Instead of "Eclipse" gum, they have "Excel" gum...I completely thought it was a cheap knock-off and actually got into an argument with someone over it. "Excel" really IS the Canadian version of "Eclipse"...go fuckin figure? That person felt the name "Eclipse" for gum was just plain stupid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. There are Sushi restaurants on EVERY freakin' corner in Toronto. More sushi restaurants than McDonald's. I love Sushi, but damn, too many options, no reccomendations and Sushi is nothing to mess with...eat bad Sushi, pay consequences later!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. In America, you're <b><i>lucky</i></b> if a cab stops for you; in Canada, they practically attack you when you're walking down the street. It doesn't even have to LOOK like you want a cab and their yelling at you! Ironically, every single time I asked a cab driver how to get somewhere, they gave me the <i>wrong</i> directions... (<i>Things that make you go hmmm</i>...)</span><br />
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<a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:mOqKqvS1R1mgvM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3004/2744668335_2a32bc608d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:mOqKqvS1R1mgvM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3004/2744668335_2a32bc608d.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">5. Canadian money is annoying. I can't stand change and I am ALWAYS trying to get rid of it. Not only do they have pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters, but they have $1 and $2 as coins...WTF? I like having the option to NOT carry a silver dollar. So here I am, looking like a complete asshole, trying to figure out the difference between my $1, $2, and 25 cent COINS while intoxicated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">AND when I went to trade in my Canadian money at my bank in the US, they wouldn't take my Bob Damned coins, so now I have like $15.00 in Canadian coins...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">More Pictures:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs112.snc4/35951_479057314195_521449195_6577072_7300744_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs112.snc4/35951_479057314195_521449195_6577072_7300744_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs205.snc4/38576_479062784195_521449195_6577240_712502_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs205.snc4/38576_479062784195_521449195_6577240_712502_n.jpg" width="238" /></a><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs117.ash2/39191_479062779195_521449195_6577239_6738304_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs117.ash2/39191_479062779195_521449195_6577239_6738304_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs118.ash2/39228_479062524195_521449195_6577227_2967705_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs118.ash2/39228_479062524195_521449195_6577227_2967705_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next Toronto vacation installment: Chicks Before Dicks! Stay Tuned...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-70264424600905012672010-08-10T07:30:00.000-04:002010-08-10T07:30:07.682-04:00Party Girl Plus One: Episode 4, Frequent Vagina Flyer<span style="font-size: large;">It's Video Day class!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Turn down the lights (unless you're at work) and enjoy another installment of Party Girl Plus One. I knew I was going to like this one at the title. It gives me a chance to use the word Va-jay-jay!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You know what to do: watch, laugh, and comment...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><object height="362" width="600"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/857HejDtU3M&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/857HejDtU3M&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="600" height="362"></embed></object></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>My Thoughts:</b></i> Talk about a freakin' mood killer. He was inspecting the va-jay-jay like a gynecologist. Hell, a gyno shouldn't even be looking that close! Yeah, he would have gotten the shoe in the face from me too...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ever experienced an awkward moment like that? Comment or better yet why haven't you emailed me that story yet!?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For more info on Jen and Party Girl Plus One visit <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/">www.partygirlplusone.com</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-42974940801452425932010-08-09T10:18:00.000-04:002010-08-09T10:18:52.123-04:00Way to Kill A Mood...<span style="font-size: large;">We've all been there... You're about to get "dirty" and then the idiot says something to completely kill the mood. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I called on my friends from Blog Catalog once again to help me out with this. I asked them to give me "Things that should not be said during sex..." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had 100+ replies to sift through to pick the 10 funniest/worst ones! Just like the "<a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/what-fk-did-you-just-say-to-me.html">10 Worst Pick-Up Lines</a>", I listed the person that submitted, with a link to their blog. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, read, laugh, and check out these awesome blogs biatches! Don't forget to comment AND follow if you like what you see...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">1.</span></b> "Hey, I was just joking about that whole 'I love you' thing, is that cool?"</span><br />
<a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:AEMOquf3Xj62MM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/164/436399575_78f6a21e10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:AEMOquf3Xj62MM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/164/436399575_78f6a21e10.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">-- Konway East (<a href="http://watercoolerthe.blogspot.com/">Water Cooler, the</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>2. </b></span>"Seriously.. Untie me." </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>3.</b></span> "The doctor said he was pretty sure it's not contagious." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">-- 2 and 3: Derek Bowles (<a href="http://www.tmoderekbowles.com/">The Mind of Derek Bowles</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>4.</b></span> ::Disappointed Expression:: "...is that it?!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--The Boo <a href="http://thebooreport.wordpress.com/">(The Boo Report) </a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>5.</b></span> "You look so much like my mother." </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--ASpotOfBlog (<a href="http://www.aspotofblog.com/aspotofblog/HOME/HOME.html">A Spot of Blog</a>) </span><br />
<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2642/3846451576_6e0fe8e322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2642/3846451576_6e0fe8e322.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>6.</b></span> "Is it alright if my friend watches?"</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Andrew G. Carson (<a href="http://thehouseboundwriter.blogspot.com/">The Housebound Writer</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>7.</b></span> "I was born with a little penis... Actually it wasn't really a little penis, it was an extended clitoris... The doctor cut it off when I was born..." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--FreakSmack (<a href="http://www.freaksmack.com/">Funny Mugshots</a>) </span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>FYI:</b> He stated that someone ACTUALLY said that to him... FAIL!</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>8.</b></span><i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i><span style="font-size: large;">"How'd you get these scratches on your back?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Hank Plumley (<a href="http://www.blog.hankplumley.com/">Photography by Hank Plumley</a>) </span><br />
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<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2420/2503737335_8994371473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2420/2503737335_8994371473.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>9.</b></span> "My Gary gets out of jail tomorrow!"</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--J. Dominic Fisher (<a href="http://jacobinreason.blogspot.com/">Jacobin Reason</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>10.</b></span> "That's not a wart, it's just a birthmark."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Alex (<a href="http://cookingforassholes.blogspot.com/">Cooking for Assholes</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, that's all folks! Those are pretty awful, right? Think you can do worse? Drop it in the comments!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches! </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-83111344715389432922010-08-06T00:18:00.001-04:002010-08-06T00:34:59.816-04:00How Cool Is This?!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://truebloodepisode.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/true-blood-wallpaper-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://truebloodepisode.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/true-blood-wallpaper-1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">This really isn't a post. Think of it as one of those annoying ass filler episodes in a season of your most favoritest show. Your most favoritest show <i>should</i> be True Blood. Only a few episodes left, how sad is that???!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My bad, I'm sure I have an Attention Deficit Disorder, but was never properly diagnosed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">OK, so for the good news...finally...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Speeddate.com featured me on their blog! <a href="http://www.speeddate.com/blog/?p=249">Horror Date #1: Runs in With the Law. </a></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:pD3JOw2yJrRHAM:http://b3co.com/upload/1207" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:pD3JOw2yJrRHAM:http://b3co.com/upload/1207" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">They sent me an e-mail asking what my most horrific date EVER was and of course my choice was the <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/it-has-come-to-my-attention-that-for.html">Corona and I Have a Rocky Past... </a></span> <span style="font-size: large;">story. That date was a complete and EPIC fail. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So check out my write-up at <a href="http://www.speeddate.com/">www.speeddate.com </a>and hell, maybe you should sign up. Shit, maybe I should sign up? I'm not having so much luck with this dating thing, but whatever...it's not my fault that these men can't handle all my HAWTness...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Coming up soon...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I STILL need to tell you guys about my amazing trip to Canada and I will, be patient with me, my life is a complete circus right now!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-28458333058887279762010-08-05T07:51:00.000-04:002010-08-05T07:51:54.566-04:00Guest Spotlight: Emma! (The Better Half of the Housebound Writer)<span style="font-size: large;">How often is it that you hear both sides to ANY story? Well, about a month ago I had Andrew Carson as a <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/guest-spotlight-housebound-writer.html">Guest Spotlight</a>: <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/guest-spotlight-housebound-writer.html">The Housebound Writer</a>, it was about his first date with Emma...his first date after NINE YEARS. If you haven't read it , you should, because it is an amazing story. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyways, I was lucky enough to get BOTH perspectives to this particular story. Emma sent me her version of their first date! Enjoy! </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Why Mr. Right Is Better Than Mr. Right Now!</b></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I’ve dated some complete zeroes in my time who are either just interested in me because sex with a yoga teacher is on the list of things to do before you die or they are more turned on by their own bodies than by any girl’s. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/34/Yoga_Class_at_a_Gym3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/34/Yoga_Class_at_a_Gym3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">I once had a date with a guy who’s name was, without a word of a lie “Joe King” and he was the least funny guy I’ve ever met. He spent the entire dinner date telling me what not to eat, as I’ll get fat. I was like, "Hey buddy, I’m a God damn <i>Yoga</i> teacher, I know how to watch my figure, which is something you will never do, yah putz."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, my Mr. Right is different from these guys, he hasn’t got a six pack... he likes to say, "I’ve got a keg and who doesn’t like keg parties?" (LOL!) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We first met on a movie forum online when a guy, who without a doubt still lives in his Momma’s basement, has never had a date... period, and goes by the name GeorgeLucasIsGod117, was attacking a comment I made. My comment was, “Independent movies have to rely on great characters rather than great plot devices or CGI so they tend to be better written than Studio Pictures.” </span><span style="font-size: large;">I thought it was a fair point. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He returned with, “Bitch, you don’t know wet d**k about flicks go back to your Sex And The City chick flick s**t dildo box set and let the men talk.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">About 10 seconds later, while I was about to write a nasty reply, a mystery poster called AndrewGCarson wrote, “Hey w**kface, you’re out of line, apologise or I’ll come over there and kick you’re a**e.” </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Mr.117 replied, “Sorry I shouldn’t have said that, can you forgive me? Hey big man you wouldn‘t really come over would you?” Ha! From that day on, for three months we talked everyday on MSN and SKYPE.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:bixntoJszKpGXM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3620/3294673209_3070561881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:bixntoJszKpGXM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3620/3294673209_3070561881.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Now, for about three weeks before we went on our first date I had developed feelings, strong feelings, hell I can admit I fell in love with him, but <i>shooosh </i>that’s between us only! I was to shy to tell him, as our friendship meant a lot to me, but I bucked up the courage with the help of some wine (a bottle) and asked him out for coffee via E-mail. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I couldn’t do it over the webcam and see him squirm if he wasn’t interested. Thankfully, he said yes after the 10th time I asked him. He’s very shy himself about conversation and being in public, as he has lived in his own head for so long... if you guys know him, you’ll know his <a href="http://www.blogcatalog.com/community/blogging-it-may-just-save-your-life/">back-story</a> and understand.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The day arrives and we are to meet at 2 PM, but I got there at 1:43, I know, smacks of desperation, but people, this is Mr Right we’re talking about here! So, he get’s there on time and immediately thinks he is late cause I’m already there.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>He gets so cute when he’s flustered.</i> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We go in, and he holds my chair for me as I sit down. <i>Very charming...</i> I’ve never once had a date do that for me. We sit down and commence our usual random conversations that have us giggling like idiots, when this tool who is sitting at the next table leans towards us, away from his date and begins talking on his phone.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Drew let out a, "You got to be f***ing kidding me, a***hole," which makes the guy get up and leave sharply. Drew sits shell-shocked, not believing he actually said it, but I found it hilarious and it is forever cemented in my mind as my first experience of one of his “Brain Fart” moments when his inner monologue stops working....think Austin Powers, lol.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The only scary thing during the date was when he had one of his seizures, but afterwards we didn’t want it to end, so we went back to my place (<i>Did I hear wolf whistles?...LOL)</i> to watch his supposed short film starring James McAvoy and lo and behold, it actually does star a very young James McAvoy acting on screen with Mr. Carson himself! </span><span style="font-size: large;">Drew was stealing the scene... absolutely amazing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Afterward, we talked, we listened to music, we danced badly, lol, and in a moment of looking into his big puppy dog eyes, I decided we should both get lucky again... Don’t Judge, I count all the MSN/SKYPE conversations as dates, so like we had loads more than most people would have before going to bed. <i>LOL, I'll keep telling myself that anyway</i>.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:3D70W3zMBPJRSM:http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/it/4/42/Buscema_Jusko_Hulk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:3D70W3zMBPJRSM:http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/it/4/42/Buscema_Jusko_Hulk.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Now Drew has a lot of hang-ups because of his illness. His head plays strange tricks on him, but he’s the only guy I’ve ever known who has hang ups about the size of his... ahem (points downward) who shouldn’t in any way. How should I put this?... He’s no “Mighty Mouse” he’s a “Hulk“, LOL...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, and Drew made a comment about thanking God or possibly the Devil for me liking him. Well, DrewBear, I totally love you and it’s nothing to do with religion, it’s because you are the greatest man I’ve ever met and I should point out... Don’t call him, DrewBear he doesn’t like it. (Call him it... it’s <i>totally</i> funny, LOL!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Emma, Thank You so much for sharing this! For more info on Andrew G. Carson AKA DrewBear (LOL)... visit <a href="http://thehouseboundwriter.blogspot.com/">The Housebound Writer</a>... </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-24314078483892399872010-08-04T08:13:00.000-04:002010-08-04T08:13:07.440-04:00Party Girl Plus One, Episode 3: EXtreme Measure<span style="font-size: large;">Well Hell-O,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I must admit, I missed this blog...I didn't miss work AT ALL, but I missed writing. This has become a part of my life as much as everything else and I LOVE all the feedback! I've also met some really awesome people since starting this.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I actually went to Toronto, Ontario and had an AMAZING time, and of course, I have stories...I'm working on those posts now, but I'm rambling...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, I know this is Wednesday, but we are going to have VIDEO DAY! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another installment of Party Girl Plus One... Watch, laugh, comment:</span><br />
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<object height="385" width="600"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XpB7X5pVxGI&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XpB7X5pVxGI&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>MY THOUGHTS:</i> Wow, I can really relate to this one! Watching this is what reminded me of my <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/cry-me-river.html">Cry Me a River</a> dating story. I mean this guy was a mess! He dated the chick for THREE months, it had been a year and a half since they broke up and he's still crying like a biatch? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I also thought I was the only one who took a pre-date drink to calm nerves. I do this when the guy is REALLY cute and I'm nervous...One (or two) shots of Cuervo and I'm GRRRREAT! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have you ever had someone obsess about their EX on a date? Or worse...cry about it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For more info about Party Girl Plus One and Jen Dawson, visit <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/">http://www.partygirlplusone.com/</a>!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-53103260397134185942010-07-29T23:16:00.001-04:002010-07-29T23:19:46.488-04:00On Vacation<a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:Y_QFvmSj4aniQM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/105/258014588_03d07c547a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:Y_QFvmSj4aniQM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/105/258014588_03d07c547a.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I'll be gone until Wednesday...When I get back, I want my mailbox (thedateexperiment@gmail.com) to be full of your stories and questions. That is all.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-63097303048318524722010-07-28T14:27:00.003-04:002010-07-28T18:57:17.408-04:00Corona and I Have a Rocky Past...<span style="font-size: large;">It has come to my attention that for the last two days, I have been pretty damn lazy.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOesur7NbAcM7o02ZztjMqumgZBP2-nKPO3EgexCfAK_Va1RapvUvTftdvL4Eh92m-uLcJJq90_Wftef1jXQEqg60QHjqKyeAeBiutB9Xrt4HNSggGv3aO7tF84hx5iHdfZTfDnrmKVoo/s1600/ring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOesur7NbAcM7o02ZztjMqumgZBP2-nKPO3EgexCfAK_Va1RapvUvTftdvL4Eh92m-uLcJJq90_Wftef1jXQEqg60QHjqKyeAeBiutB9Xrt4HNSggGv3aO7tF84hx5iHdfZTfDnrmKVoo/s200/ring.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">There was the awful <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/what-fk-did-you-just-say-to-me.html">Pick-Up Lines</a> on Monday (done by other people, thanks BC!) and <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/party-girl-plus-one-episode-2-date-one.html">"F**ck Yeah!" video</a> day Tuesday, but what can I say? I'm a Bossy Biatch and I like to delegate...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Since I will be on vacation for a few days, not thinking about work OR this blog... (hey, nothing against the blog, but drinking, a hangover, and blogging don't mix. I will NOT Drunk Blog) I am going to leave you with another one of my unbelievable tales of dating.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was on the fence about this one, because it makes ME look bad, but it's only like two people that <i>actually </i>read this shit so, whatever.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This guy and I had been on two dates and things were going fairly well. He invited me over to his house to watch a game with him and his friends. We were having a good time, I liked his friends, especially the one that looked better than my date<i> (why didn't I meet HIM first?).</i> Anyways...</span><br />
<br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:pD3JOw2yJrRHAM:http://b3co.com/upload/1207_corona.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:pD3JOw2yJrRHAM:http://b3co.com/upload/1207_corona.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">One of friends makes a run to the store for beer. I'm not really a beer drinker,(TEQUILA!!!!) but I wasn't buying, so I couldn't be picky. He comes back with Corona. We had already been drinking and I wanted to keep my buzz going so I had one, then two, and three...</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">About a half an hour later, I got a strange feeling in my stomach. I say strange because it wasn't painful, but...uncomfortable. I wasn't nauseated, but it just felt odd. I shrugged it off and had half of Corona number four and that's when the shit hit the fan...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That odd, strange, feeling that I could ignore at first was swiftly building up pressure in my stomach.<i> (Oh, f**k!)</i> I had the Bob Damned Bubble Guts!:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bubble Guts: [Bubb-al Gutz] The undeniable feeling of uneasiness that comes about after you have consumed something unfavorable. Usually, inevitably followed by the "Power Shit." That is all.</span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">The pressure was building swiftly and I was getting extremely nervous, because this was just the third date and I could NOT go poop in this man's house. Especially, with what I was about to unleash. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I had to think fast. My plan was to just go ahead and tell him that I wasn't feeling well and that I should just go home:</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> Hey, I'm not feeling too well, I think I should go home.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Him:</b> What's wrong? <i>(I have to shit!)</i></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> Well, I, ummm...I have a <i>really</i> bad headache.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:8_QSeSIseHO60M:http://www.drug3k.com/img2/pepto-bismol_12002_4_%28big%29_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:8_QSeSIseHO60M:http://www.drug3k.com/img2/pepto-bismol_12002_4_%28big%29_.jpg" /></a><b>Him:</b> I really don't want you to leave. Can't you take an Advil and lie down for a minute... (<i>Pssh...I need Pepto Bismal...heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, dia-rrhe-a...</i>)</span> </div><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> I guess, I can lay down for a minute and see if it helps...(<i>crap, crap CRAP!)</i></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Him:</b> OK, go lay down in my room and I'll bring you some medicine.</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">I laid down in his room and he brought me some water and an Advil and went back to watching the game. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I spit out the Advil and put it under the bed...I didn't need to add any other variables to my, uhh...issue. I lay there in agony for about 15 minutes; at this point, I was sweating. I finally just got up and ran into the living room and told him I had to go home because I had a migraine and I needed my prescription medication.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I rushed through good- byes, hopped in the car and sped down the highway. I was almost relieved until...</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:HtGPYsUBnUbI9M:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3158/3090392251_911be4dfaf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:HtGPYsUBnUbI9M:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3158/3090392251_911be4dfaf.jpg" /></a></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">::Weeeee-ooooo weeeee-oooo:: Yep, I was getting pulled over. So now I have three things going on. I have the Bubble Guts, I'm nervous, and now I have gas, because I'm nervous...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The cop walks up to the car:<b> </b></span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Cop:</b> Ma'am do you know why I pulled you over.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> Yes, I was speeding... matter of fact, I was doing 10 over, so lets get to writing out that ticket! (I handed him my license and insurance info.)</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:XiLVmsEOZQUusM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3594/3410000930_95fc2866fa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:XiLVmsEOZQUusM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3594/3410000930_95fc2866fa.jpg" /></a><b>Cop:</b> Well, you're making this pretty easy, which is unusual. (As he said this, he leaned into the car, probably to see if I had marijuana laying around... I was sweating and looking pretty guilty at this point.) Ugh, ma'am, what is that smell?</span> </div><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> You see sir, I was speeding because I need to use the bathroom...like RIGHT now.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Cop:</b> Oh....I...see. I'll let you go with a warning this time. There is a restaurant just at the next exit.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> Thank you sir, but I am almost home and they might charge me a fee for this. Good night.</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">So, I was back on the road again. I got home, and ran in the house, stripping off clothes as I headed to the bathroom. <i>I was going to need a shower after that one.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And finally...relief... <i>Ahhhhh</i>...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My date called that night to make sure I was OK. I never told him <i>really </i>happened. Men don't know women have episodes like this...LOL. Well, they sure as shit do now!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two lessons learned from this... Corona does NOT like me and if I ever need to get out of a ticket...I'll just pass gas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles Biatches,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. Speaking of Biatches, yes, the first picture in this post really is a ring I own...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-352739347144099062010-07-27T06:28:00.001-04:002010-07-27T07:11:33.668-04:00Party Girl Plus One Episode 2: Date One, Smell Fetish<span style="font-size: large;">Can I get a "Hell Yeah!" for Video Day?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The following video is Jen's first date after deciding that the Party Girl needed a plus one. You know what to do: Watch, laugh, and comment...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rd9HEOX01Jc&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rd9HEOX01Jc&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="600" height="385"></embed></object></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>My Thoughts:</i></b> First of all, where do I sign up to be a wine taster? Do they have Tequila tasters? My alter ego and I had a meeting and decided that Tequila Tasting should be a career move for me...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't think I have had anything as creepy as this happen to me on a date...yet. I mea</span><span style="font-size: large;">n a smell fetish is pretty freakin' gross. You shouldn't stick your nose in places that it doesn't belong. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ever dated anyone with a Freaky Fetish? Comment or better yet, why the hell haven't you sent me that story?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For more info about Jen and her video series visit <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/">Party Girl Plus One.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you enjoyed Video Day! Toodles, biatches!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. If you missed the first episode, check it out here: <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/party-girl-plus-one-episode-1-party.html">Party Girl Plus One, Episode 1</a></span><br />
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</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-79040629554496762452010-07-26T10:36:00.000-04:002010-07-26T10:36:43.738-04:00What The F**K Did You Just Say To Me?<a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:CgIti3W0bQA-PM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3250/2938376882_1a37c255ff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:CgIti3W0bQA-PM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3250/2938376882_1a37c255ff.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The</span> Pick-up Line...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just the phrase "Pick-up Line" is frightening. I mean, it is essentially a string of words put together in order to engage (horrify) the opposite sex. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I asked some of my fellow Bloggers to contribute the worst Pick-up Lines they had ever heard and WOW, did they come through!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I chose ten of them and provided a link to the submitters blog, because their awesome! So, check out these Bob awful Lines and then check out these super-fine blogs...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">1. </span></b> "If you're not too busy throwing up, I'd love to buy you a drink." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--<b>Andrew</b> (<a href="http://thehouseboundwriter.blogspot.com/">The Housebound Writer</a>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>2.</b></span> "Is your mom a terrorist?"<br />
"What?"<br />
"Cause you're the bomb." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--<b>Antonia</b> (<a href="http://liftingmeup.com/">Lifting Me Up</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>3. </b></span> "I am going to lick your arm to see if that tattoo is real and I might not stop there." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--<b>Claire</b> (<a href="http://crpitt.blogspot.com/">A Little Piece of Me</a> and <a href="http://crpitt.tumblr.com/">Other Bits and Pieces</a>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>4. </b></span>"Are you a parking ticket?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "I'm sorry?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "You got fine written all over you."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--<b>Funkeewebmistress</b> (<a href="http://www.funkkeejooce.com/blog/">Funkkeejooce</a>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>5.</b></span> "I lost my phone number can I have yours?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--<b>Meghan</b> (<a href="http://maenolan.blogspot.com/">Random Rediculous Rants</a>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>6.</b></span> ::Smiles, beckons with finger::</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <i>Assuming she's out of it enough to respond...</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> ::Walks over::<br />
"If I can make you come with one finger, imagine what I could do with my whole body..."</span><br />
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<a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:6epJrdtSe-EB9M:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/39/122937793_ee9c740679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:6epJrdtSe-EB9M:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/39/122937793_ee9c740679.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>7.</b></span> "Girl, I'd like to take you home and crack that yolk." <i>What the hell does that even mean?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--Both 6 and 7 were provided by <b>AJ</b> (<a href="http://undermyfitted.blogspot.com/">Under My Fitted</a>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>8.</b></span> "I will be Burger King and you can be McDonalds...I will have it my way and you will be lovin' it." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">--<b>Brent</b> (<a href="http://tayappention.net/">tayappention</a>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>9. </b></span> "Doll, I'd wear you like a horse wears a feedbag." </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">I just threw up a little in my mouth...</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">--</span></i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Bill</b> (<a href="http://www.macnimble.com/%7Eblog/">Bill's Blog</a>)</span><i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This happened to be my favorite one, it has a story to go with it. The line isn't nearly as funny without the WHOLE story:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>10.</b></span> When I was 15 I worked in a grocery store bagging groceries, well almost all grocery store cashiers are women, and some of them were pretty hot, so I heard a lot of bad pickup lines. The best ones are when the girl is kind of ditzy and doesn't get it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One time, this guy gets in line with something little like a pack of gum, and waits for a $100 order to go through, when other lines are open...I knew something good was coming out of this guys mouth.</span><br />
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<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:rf5AXf19cs1jEM:http://www.b3ta.cr3ation.co.uk/data/gif/HUH.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:rf5AXf19cs1jEM:http://www.b3ta.cr3ation.co.uk/data/gif/HUH.gif" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">He gets up, gets his one chance to make an impression and says "Are you from Tennessee?", she says "no?", then he replies with "Well you're the only Ten I See!", she stares at him for a second with a quizzical look on her face, then says "This is Florida.". </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dude looks at her, then he looks at me. I shrug my shoulders, he walks out shaking his head. Then I explained to her what he meant as I laughed my ass off. </span> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">-- <b>FreakSmack</b> (<a href="http://www.freaksmack.com/">Funny Mugshots</a>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If someone said any of these to me, I would want to knee him in the Nuts. Seriously, give me a Kit Kat, there really are people out there who think that these would work?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Whatever happened to, "Hi,..."? That simple little word goes so much further than 1 through 10. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Can you think of anymore equally awful "Pick-ups"? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toodles, Biatches!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. Tomorrow is VIDEO DAY!! <i>F**K YEAH</i>!</span><br />
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</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-89579836560171452332010-07-23T02:57:00.000-04:002010-07-23T02:57:23.193-04:00Welcome To Jazz Stanton's School of Etiquette: Texting<a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:uMkG58M1YjMeOM:http://www.public-domain-photos.com/free-cliparts-1-big/shapes/other/red_lips_02.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:uMkG58M1YjMeOM:http://www.public-domain-photos.com/free-cliparts-1-big/shapes/other/red_lips_02.png" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span> love texting. Whoever thought of it, gets a big ol' smooch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Unlike phone conversations, there are no "awkward pauses" or listening to someone breathe in the phone because they called you, but really didn't have a damn thing to talk about. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What in the shit made you think of me in your bored state? Now, I have to figure out a valid reason so I can get the hell off the phone. "Uhhh, I have to take a poop, can I call you back?" (Hey, it works EVERY time.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Some just don't know the definition of "Phone":</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:c-6pnVcVb5nj_M:http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1264/869847216_72511aa360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:c-6pnVcVb5nj_M:http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1264/869847216_72511aa360.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">Phone: [Fohn] </span><span class="pg"><span id="hotword"><span style="font-size: large;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">–<i>noun,</i></span><i> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">verb</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'">(used</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'">with</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">object),</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'">verb</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">(used</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">without</span></i> </span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" onclick="this.style.backgroundColor='#b5d5ff';return hotWord(this);" onmouseout="this.style.backgroundColor='transparent'" onmouseover="this.style.cursor='default'"><i><span style="font-size: large;">object)</span></i>,</span> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">A device used for the exchange of valid and useful information or succulent gossip. If you have nothing valid or useful to say please refer to F**kfacebook or Twitter. That is all. (Yeah, biatches "that is all" IS part of the definition.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">With texting...you text me, I text back...or not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's almost cheating, I can sit and think about what I want to say and edit it before pressing "send" to ship it through space, past Mars and to your Android.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">However, (you knew that was coming) you should follow proper texting etiquette. Don't know what that is? No worries, I got you covered.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Jazz Stanton's Texting Etiquette </span></b></div><br />
<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:mBIAwnL1n490qM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/9/69731250_39b335e87f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:mBIAwnL1n490qM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/9/69731250_39b335e87f.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>1. </b></span>Please, for the love of tequila, make sure you are texting the right person, especially if you are talking shit about someone else. I have at least one time been thinking about someone (the person I'm talking shit about) and selected their name instead of the one I want to send the text to. That is a true "Oh, F**K!" moment when you realize all but too late that they are probably reading that ish RIGHT NOW. So, check the name and then check again before you send.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>2.</b></span> The text area is about 160 characters, almost like Twitter. If the text screen starts going into "2 of 2", please just call the person, download an AIM app, or perhaps you need to start a blog, because you have too much to say for a text and nobody wants to read all that shit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>3.</b></span> Remember when you send the text, interpretation is left up to the reader. Meaning, the receiver is not going to be able to tell what the tone of the text is, so be careful of what you say...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For Example:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Text:</b> Shut up!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Meaning 1</b>: Girl, stop it! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Meaning 2</b>: No...really. Shut. Up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>4.</b></span> If I text you, DO NOT call me. When did your phone ring? Right. It didn't. I might be texting you because my mouth is occupied and I can't talk or True Blood might be on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Exception:</i> I have a friend, bless her heart, that sometimes her texts are so cryptic that I can't tell if I'm supposed to know what she meant or if it was a typo. In this case it's actually easier just to talk to her on the phone than to hurt myself trying decipher it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"> 5. </span></b>If you text like this:<i> Hay wutz up how yu doink babee uso dam pritty wen kan we go owt? </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ummm, our first date would be to Barnes & Nobles to get you a Dictionary, but no worries, texting like that won't get you a first date. Yes, texting is an informal form of communication, but this just makes me think your elementary school education failed you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>6.</b></span> Please be mindful of pictures. </span><br />
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<a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:mNqxLAyc4dTFrM:http://lh5.ggpht.com/_W9vrOeDyxpA/Sha9U-975CI/AAAAAAAAGiE/sNVU5JzVrKY/Mighty%2BMouse%2B%283D%29%2B%2523tsap" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:mNqxLAyc4dTFrM:http://lh5.ggpht.com/_W9vrOeDyxpA/Sha9U-975CI/AAAAAAAAGiE/sNVU5JzVrKY/Mighty%2BMouse%2B%283D%29%2B%2523tsap" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Men:</b> If I get one more "penis picture", I'll freakin' scream. Especially the ones that have captions,"His name is Superman." Yeah right, try Mighty Mouse<i>.</i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The thought that you sat or stood somewhere and ::ahem:: positioned (?) <i>IT</i> correctly so that you could get the right angle (?) to take a picture of <i>IT...</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Either you're a perv or you just have WAY too much time on your hands. Get a hobby or go "poke" people on Facebook until someone as pervy as you responds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Women:</b> No booby pictures. No ass pictures. I don't care how much he begs or how often and if he keeps asking, you should drop him anyway, because he is probably about to send you a Penis Picture (Dick Flick? ROFL...Dick Flick.). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He gets mad and your NEKKID pics are all over Facebook, Myspace, Twitpic, and BoobTube...not good, if you want to be on American Idol.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So there you have it boys and girls, you passed Texting Etiquette: 101.</span><br />
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<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:tj58hNEHfjNkjM:http://images.starpulse.com/news/bloggers/8/blog_images/true-blood-vilf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:tj58hNEHfjNkjM:http://images.starpulse.com/news/bloggers/8/blog_images/true-blood-vilf.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">P.S. Yes, I am a Truebie. Eric is such a VILF, he could bite me anytime... (Don't Judge Me.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-2148175366535131932010-07-21T10:44:00.000-04:002010-07-21T10:44:10.339-04:00Cry Me a River...<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span><span style="font-size: large;">had actually forgotten about this date, but Jen from <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/">Party Girl Plus One</a> sort of "reminded" me when I was watching one of her videos.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">As bad as this date was, it is no wonder it was buried in the dark and dreary recesses of my subconscious. Well, enjoy...</span></span></span><br />
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<div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:e44sY00WND8vxM:http://vitaminsea.typepad.com/vitaminsea/images/2008/02/29/img_2279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" hw="true" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:e44sY00WND8vxM:http://vitaminsea.typepad.com/vitaminsea/images/2008/02/29/img_2279.jpg" width="132" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">My friends and I were having the usual "Girl's Night Out" one Saturday and this guy approaches me; we talk for a while about random shit...the only thing I really remember from that conversation is that he called me beautiful (he obviously has GREAT taste...3 points for him!).</span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;">I got really good vibes from him; he was well dressed all the way down to the shoes, nice body (yay for muscles!) and he smelled REALLY good...(I love it when a man wears great cologne, it is a HUGE turn on and it means they pay attention to details.)</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He called me a couple days later and we had an awesome conversation. He was smart, educated, and funny-- we ended up talking for like two hours. I didn't want it to end, but I had to work in the morning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before the call was over, he asked me out on a date for that Saturday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward to Saturday...</span><br />
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<div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:j4RW7sKAV9tNMM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3145/2322435576_24a220d617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" hw="true" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:j4RW7sKAV9tNMM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3145/2322435576_24a220d617.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">We were going to go out to eat and catch a movie, but it was cold, rainy and downright depressing...(normal, shitty Ohio weather.</span><span style="font-size: large;">) </span><span style="font-size: large;">So we decide to have a movie night in... I just threw on an Aeropostale t-shirt and some snug fitting jeans and went to his house.</span></div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;">The movie completely sucked big ones, so we start talking. At first, it's just normal conversation, but then he starts talking about past relationships and I'm like,<i> "Here we go..."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I actually managed to redirect the conversation to something else, but then he started getting all philosophical and shit. Which is fine...whatever...but then this guy's eyes started tearing up: (We'll just call him "Cry Baby", CB for short."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB</b>: I mean the past two years have been really rough...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Really...? <i>(Zzzzzz)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB</b>: Yeah, I had a great job and I wasn't happy. It was too stressful, I thought being a financial advisor was what I wanted, but it just isn't for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Wait, you<i> had</i> a job? <i> (Why me?)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB</b>: <i>(Sniffle)</i> Yeah, but I think everyone should just do what makes them happy. (<i>Where does this dude live, fucking Candyland?...Seriously?</i>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me: </b>Well, how long did you work there?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB: </b>3 months. (<i>Wow, can you say commitment phobia?</i>) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: So, you just quit. Like, one day, you said, "Hey, I don't want to be here anymore! I QUIT F**KERS!" ???</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Side note</b>:</i> Now, I am all for spontaneity, but this is real life. I absolutely HATE my job, but I need it to reach my goals. If you're going to do some shit like this, I need you to have a back-up plan. That is all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB</b>: (<i>In full blown cry mode at this point.)</i> See, <i>(sniff</i>) that's what you women do, you just judge, without trying to understand. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: I am not judging, but apparently you aren't happy with your decision either....You. Are. Crying. <i>(and freaking me out.)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB</b>: I'm just sens(<i>sniff</i>)itive. I just felt I could share things with you. (<i>Not your nasty ass snot, Bozo</i>.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Oh. (<i>Whatever, call me a stone-cold bitch if you want, but WTF was I supposed to say? I'm not good with criers.</i>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB:</b> But, I have a plan.<i> (Oh yeah?)</i></span><br />
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<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:24dgJEFv3MwnAM:http://www.imperfectwomen.com/wp-content/uploads/project_runway_3x03_031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:24dgJEFv3MwnAM:http://www.imperfectwomen.com/wp-content/uploads/project_runway_3x03_031.jpg" width="130" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: Oh yeah? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB:</b> Yes, I am going to be a clothing designer. (<i>He says this as he "nonchalantly" wipes snot on my shoulder.)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me</b>: A...designer... (<i>Not only was he crying, but at this point, I thought he was gay too</i>.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CB:</b> I just love fashion...want to see my new Louis Vuitton wallet? <i>(Yep...gay.)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Me:</b> OK, well good thing you have a back-up plan...good luck with that. I hate to cut the night short, but I have homework and stuff. So...see ya.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You see what I did there? That was an escape sentence...it means, "I want to leave, right now." He didn't take the hint...he talked for like another hour or so. I say HE talked, because he was pretty much talking to himself...I might as well have been a wall. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> All I did was nod and smile. Eventually, I said I had to go to the bathroom, and my plan was to just go for the EXIT, since I had taken my purse and coat with me (<i>yes, I planned my escape.</i>)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To my complete and utter horror, he was waiting for me outside the door. He lunged for me and tried to kiss me! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That was when I figured he wasn't gay, but I couldn't help but wonder at what point in this date he thought that I would have been turned on?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The crying? The lack of initiative to keep a job? The chronic complaining he just did for 4 hours? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah baby, that's <i>HOTT!</i>...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ummm...NOT... I nearly kicked him in his meatballs trying to escape.</span><br />
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<div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:qijGL4SLtSBcrM:http://www.aquabacon.com/wp-content/main/2009_05/makes-boys-cry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" hw="true" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:qijGL4SLtSBcrM:http://www.aquabacon.com/wp-content/main/2009_05/makes-boys-cry.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yes, ladies and gents, I made him cry on the first date. I didn't know how to react to this rush of emotion. I mean I am all for guys showing their "softer" side, but for Snookie's sake, really? </span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Needless to say, the Cry Baby and I have not been on another date. He kept calling for a awhile and then resorted to stalking me on F**kfacebook. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks for reading another one of my heinous dating stories and feel free to send me your own stories, questions or advice (or if you're just pitiful and lonely) @ <a href="mailto:thedateexperiment@gmail.com">thedateexperiment@gmail.com</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. Jennifer Dawson of <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/">Party Girl Plus One</a>, in all her awesomeness, wrote about my blog on her video series web page, check out what she said by clicking <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/events-performances/the-date-experiment/">here</a>!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-66914172344436761582010-07-21T00:02:00.002-04:002010-07-21T21:04:08.815-04:00Party Girl Plus One: Episode 1, Party Girl Plus One Night Stand<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Do</span> you remember at the beginning of class when your Earth Science teacher said,"Today, we are watching a video." and the whole class was like, "F**k Yeah, free time!"?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well class, today and every Tuesday after, you are going to watch a video. Not <i>Bill Nye the Science Guy</i>, but <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/">Party Girl Plus One</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jennifer Dawson, from PartyGirlPlusOne.Com, e-mailed me about her web series of videos based on her diary. She is a 30-something divorcee thrown back into the dating scene and she decided to keep a diary chronicling her conquests.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can tell you a great story, but what's better than watching it? Which is exactly what Jen must of thought, because she came up with this hilarious video dating series.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, each week, I'll post a new video of hers, give my thoughts on it and then you comment on them...capisce?</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="338" width="601"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=12909455&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=00ADEF&fullscreen=1" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=12909455&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=00ADEF&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="601" height="338"></embed></object><a href="http://vimeo.com/12909455">EP 1 Party Girl Plus One Night Stand</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/partygirlplusone">partygirlplusone</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>My Thoughts: </b></i>Jen said,"Not close to anyone, but also not alone." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am a self-proclaimed "Party Girl" all day. I am almost always surrounded by people and when I'm not, I am doing <i>something</i>...I try to stay busy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I hardly remember what it's like to be in a relationship and I can't recall being any happier at that time. After all these crash landings some people call dates, I wonder if I'm not just better off single. I don't have time to feel lonely. Maybe it's because I haven't seen my "old self" at the bar like Jen did...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have you seen your "old self"? Did watching this make you want to find your "plus one"? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Make sure you visit <a href="http://www.partygirlplusone.com/">http://www.partygirlplusone.com</a> for more info about Jen and her video diary!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks Jen, for finding my little piece of the blogosphere!</span>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-8568560477780433522010-07-15T19:27:00.001-04:002010-07-15T19:27:18.018-04:00Why I F*%@in' Hate Facebook...<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:upghB1aTowlvBM:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2388/2114874155_b660780928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:upghB1aTowlvBM:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2388/2114874155_b660780928.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">This might be a more of rant than a blog post...I added a Public Service Announcement that contains something about dating, so there...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The title of this post is blasphemous to some, downright sacrilegious to others. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, guess what? You and Facebook should just get married and have little evil Facebook babies with a lowercase "f" tatted on their stupid foreheads. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Granted Facebook is a great way to keep in touch with people that you don't want to talk to on the phone, but now with all the foofy additions and games and ads and stalkers, the face of Facebook has turned downright ugly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why do I hate Facebook so much (besides the fact that Mark Zuckerberg sells all our personal info and changes the privacy settings every 2 minutes) ? Let me count the ways:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:UlT1O9n1x-i4cM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/206/471733652_2718ef4ac0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:UlT1O9n1x-i4cM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/206/471733652_2718ef4ac0.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">1.</span></strong> <strong>I have an "alias" on Facebook</strong>. The reason? I was sick of random friend requests from people I didn't know. I also didn't want my job or a job I was applying for to find me and my drunken, half naked, very inappropriate pictures...they wouldn't take me seriously. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, I changed my name to a moniker that only my close friends know. There is no trace of my actual name on Facebook...I have checked and other people have double-checked, but when you search my name (my real name) my profile still pops up. WTF? Facebook, really? I am trying to hide all my <em>hotness</em> from people, OBVIOUSLY, and you are making this really hard for me to do. AND I actually get MORE friend requests than I did before. You DO NOT know this person, the name is fake!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anybody out there successfully have a fake identity on Facebook? Please tell me how you did it...thanking you in advance.</span><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">2</span></strong>. <strong>Facebook is not MySpace</strong>. Well, it wasn't. Facebook was like Safe Sex...MySpace was like the "Red Light District"... for the more risque. Remember when Facebook was just for college students and alumni ? Back then you could keep the crazy antics and pictures between you and your classmates. MySpace was there for...everybody else. Now, Facebook is for the general public...including family members and co-workers. Let's face it, there is a side of us that these people should NEVER see. Hence, my alias...which completely freakin backfired anyway.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It almost makes sense to have two Facebook accounts; one for the drunken antics and a "professional" account. But who the fuck wants to go through all that? Now, my Grandma and a few co-workers, know my "alter-ego"and what happens when Jose Cuervo and I get together... WTF!?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">3.</span></strong> <strong>Who knew that friends of friends could see your pictures too?</strong> I sure as shit didn't, until recently, when the <strong>Baby Mama</strong> of an Ex <a href="http://thedateexperiment.blogspot.com/2010/07/friends-with-benefits-rules.html">Friend with Benefits</a> decided to comment on almost all my pictures. They must have had a conversation about me at one point for her to find me because I didn't know this bitch from Adam. Why? Because I'm the shit...but anyway...</span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:UUBsapMna43EgM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3212/3143577951_5c6a8c39bd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:UUBsapMna43EgM:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3212/3143577951_5c6a8c39bd.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">So I go to the confusing ass privacy settings and lock all that down. I feel like this extra step took 5 minutes of my life, that I can never have back. Why the hell are friends of friends aloud to look at MY pictures by fucking default? That stupid biatch AND the Ex Friend with Benefits...BLOCKED. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>4.</strong></span> <strong>The "poking" feature.</strong> You can't "poke" me in real life weirdo, so don't effin poke me virtually either. WTF does that mean anyway? Are you trying to get my "virtual" attention? </span></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:JREoZIQlDQKFQM:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2425/3786204929_16de0b2948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:JREoZIQlDQKFQM:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2425/3786204929_16de0b2948.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>NOTIFICATION</strong>: <em>You have been "poked" by some stupid ass who apparently has nothing to say, but wants to molest you online.</em></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">5.</span></strong> <strong>The "like" button.</strong> People "like" the most inappropriate things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>STATUS:</strong> <em>My Grandma died today...sad :-(.</em> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This status was "liked by 5 people." WHAT?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I need a "dislike" button. Can I have one of those? So I can dislike statuses of people who think Facebook is a free therapy session and also those who "like" their own statuses. Who does that?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">6.</span> Virtual farms and sororities</strong>. I just want to see how my friends are doing, view pictures of their vacations and maybe how big the kids are getting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I do not, however, want to see my 36 year old friends sending each other farm animals and asking for help to build a barn. WTF are you doing up at 2 in the freakin morning playing online games. Online games are fine, but the fact that you bought a LIGER for stupid ass fake farm should not be in my flipping Newsfeed. Speaking of the Newsfeed...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">7.</span></strong> <strong>The Newsfeed sucks (and blows)...</strong> Why is it default that when I add a friend or write on someone's wall that it's in the Newsfeed? How the hell is that news? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Why does my Newsfeed look like my Spam inbox for my Yahoo! account? <em>Becky sent Gerald a heart!</em> or <em>John took a quiz about you!</em> Who the fuck is John and when did I make a quiz and send it out?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If I write on someone's wall, why is it in the Newsfeed? Yeah, if you go to this person's page, you can see our conversation, but does it really need to be broadcasted? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is no number eight because this isn't really Facebook's fault (imagine that). It is the fault of the (ab)users of Facebook. The following public service announcement is purely opinion and if you don't agree, than simply bitch about it in the comments...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:</strong> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you are dating someone who seems insecure or gets jealous easily, for the love of chocolate DO NOT accept their friend request. If you do, you are asking for trouble. Let someone post one wrong thing or someone TAGS you in a picture that shows you in a compromising position...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I repeat, DO NOT friend request or accept the friend request of a person you are dating. Better yet, BLOCK them, it's as if you never existed in Facebook universe. If they are already your friend...un-friend them. Doing this, you can have one less argument. It's not about trust or hiding something...you cannot control what other people say about you or the pictures they post (unless you threaten bodily harm), but you CAN control what people see (at least until our friend Mark Zuckerberg changes the privacy settings again.) That is all... </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After voicing my frustration to many people, now including you, my friend Candy Pants (don't ask) told me to try Twitter. She described it as, "Facebook without the fluff." </span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:OBYv3gm2_wbgeM:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2168/2382680812_34858bec65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:OBYv3gm2_wbgeM:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2168/2382680812_34858bec65.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">So, I signed up and I must say, I like Twitter. It really is Facebook...no fluff. I can follow and then unfollow with no remorse and there are no games, ads, or stalkers etc. I am happy in Twitter world, for right now; it reminds of Facebook circa 2003-2005, when I liked it.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I keep my Facebook page just to stay on top of the happenings around town, but I can only take it in small doses. Once or twice every two weeks is enough. The fact that I might actually have to set up a Facebook page for my blog so I can have more than 2 followers makes me throw up a little, but hey, you do what you gotta do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How do you feel about Facebook... Love it, Hate it...hope a black hole would open up and swallow it or wish that it was never born?</span><br />
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<div class="zemanta-pixie" style="height: 15px; margin-top: 10px;"><img alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=2645c614-3897-4a03-a426-5d683b28b2fe" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; float: right;" /></div>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336208142861470096.post-82052338284233502932010-07-13T10:56:00.000-04:002010-07-13T10:56:29.944-04:00Guest Spotlight: The Housebound Writer<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:BRXXfjJvP8_eyM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/126/355171784_cc8dd767d1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:BRXXfjJvP8_eyM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/126/355171784_cc8dd767d1.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I'm</span> <span style="font-size: large;">excited about this Guest Spotlight! He is a fellow blogger from Scotland...yeah my blog is international biatches! </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> I "met" him on Blog Catalog, a categorized directory of blogs. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">I ran across his,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"><a href="http://thehouseboundwriter.blogspot.com/"><i>The Housebound Writer</i></a> (click to visit), where he reviews movies with sarcasm and humor blended with his personal challenges. <click a="" and="" blended="" challenges="" dose="" everyday="" he="" his="" huge="" humor,="" life.="" movies="" of="" personal="" reviews="" sarcasm="" the="" to="" visit), ="" where="" with=""></click></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">I then read his background story/interview (read it <a href="http://www.blogcatalog.com/community/blogging-it-may-just-save-your-life/">here</a>), which gave a more in depth look into his past and was completely intrigued. The obstacles that he faces and overcomes to still have an optimistic outlook, is absolutely amazing. Towards the end of the interview he mentioned a possibility of meeting a "lass" named Emma. He was kind enough to share the story of their first date here...</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">9 1/2 years...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">No it’s not a belated sequel to the Mickey Rourke/ Kim Basinger 80s movie 9 ½ weeks but a sad statement on how long it’s been since I had a date before this Saturday. Now before the chorus of laughter let me explain very briefly why this is, for the last 10 years I have been seriously ill and pretty much housebound so for me to get a date it would have to be from a very small pool of possible women, most of which I’m related too and I ain't from that part of Scotland, lol.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:wnkFrsD-xZ_DtM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/89/274197870_cb420603a2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:wnkFrsD-xZ_DtM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/89/274197870_cb420603a2.jpg" /></a></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">My date was with a girl (surprising to some who read my comments on BC) named Emma who I have been talking with on a daily basis for about 3 months online and who had kept the fact that she lived locally to me a secret as she thought it would “weird me out” which it did for all of about 3 seconds. We decided to meet at a local coffee place and I had to inform her that my brother would be coming along but he would sit as far away from us as possible (chorus of laughter part2: laugh louder) this is because I suffer from multiply seizures on a daily basis so he needed to be there to restrain me if one happens. We got there early to find she was already waiting outside which made me instantly paranoid that I was late but she reassured me I was early.</span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:IL1kdi-tgnLoFM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/103/296775129_6f13165a78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:IL1kdi-tgnLoFM:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/103/296775129_6f13165a78.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">The date got off to somewhat of a good start she found it hilarious that I would hold her chair for her like in some old sixties movie. We talked, we laughed and all was going fine till the guy at the next table, a real sharp suit cheap shoes type, leaned towards our table to commence a conversation on his cell phone, I as usual instead of thinking something said it out loud (illness thing honest) ‘You got to be f***ing kidding me, a***hole.’ I said this louder than I would have hoped. He stood up and exited quickly leaving his coffee date laughing into her hand and Emma patting me on the back for a job well done.</span></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">We spent quite a long time just talking about random things and laughing which led to a brief moment where the lean in was open but my brain decides what would be really funny is for when I’m about to make a move for me to have a seizure, if this happened in a movie people would say it was unrealistic and a bull**** ploy to make the guy more likable yada, yada, yada but life ain't like a movie it’s a whole lot stranger I‘ve found. I came round from my seizure about 5 minutes or so later to find Emma kneeling over me holding my hand which is a major improvement from my brother kneeling on my chest to hold me down I can tell you, lol.</span></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">We decided to not let the seizure ruin the date and chose to head back to her place this time without the chaperone. We swung by my place to collect a DVD of a short film I wrote/directed when I was 18 as she was fascinated to here it starred a very fresh faced James McAvoy. We watched the film, listened to music, drank copious amounts of wine and Emma showed me some of her paintings she had done for art school. The longer the date went on the more we seemed to hit it off and after slow dancing (which no Scotsman is good at especially one like me with no feeling in his feet) to a French Jazz song that I haven’t a clue of the name Emma decided it was time to head to the bedroom.</span></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now after 9 and ½ years of off the scale physical pain I wasn’t even sure if what we were going to do was even going to be possible but then again it had 9 and ½ freaking years so I wasn‘t going to say that to her, lol. Strangely I didn’t have the old first time with a new girl nerves it just seemed right and thankfully everything went well because after spending all day with someone that would have been an awkward climax to events so to speak. A little while afterwards we shared a shower together which was slightly more nervy for me as my balance is crap and somehow this feels so much more intimate than sex.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">By the time I got home after our 12 hour date there was already an E Mail waiting for me from her telling me how great a time she had had and she signed off with 143 Emma which I have no idea what that means as I have not owned a cell phone in nearly a decade and don’t understand text language at all. The event leaves me puzzling one thing though, what the hell does she actually see in me? I’ll be honest with you I’m no George Clooney or any other celeb the ladies find handsome these days I’m more your typical fat guy with a beard and suicidal thoughts not characteristics that shout out SEXY!!! But for some reason she sees something, thank God or possibly the Devil I’m not quite sure on this one, lol.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:6XapOkq5v7G0RM:http://s.bebo.com/app-image/7926328767/5411656627/PROFILE/i.quizzaz.com/img/q/u/08/03/31/wink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:6XapOkq5v7G0RM:http://s.bebo.com/app-image/7926328767/5411656627/PROFILE/i.quizzaz.com/img/q/u/08/03/31/wink.jpg" /></a></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"><i><b>My Thoughts</b></i>: I know what she sees in you...You're an amazing person! She's lucky you live in Scotland and not the U.S. of A. ::wink wink:: (Don't Judge Me...good men are hard to find.)</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Thank you so much for sharing this and I <i>know </i>everything will work out with you and Emma...</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="zemanta-pixie" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; height: 15px; margin-top: 10px;"><img alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=586c3740-b82e-40c4-85df-39616060c30a" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; float: right;" /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jazz Stantonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02358005678352992611noreply@blogger.com5