<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:36:22.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>easier to write, than say...</title><subtitle type='html'>Everyone else has a page to write random thoughts and pointless stories; so I thought, why not me?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111659842812622944</id><published>2005-05-20T07:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-20T07:16:28.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cashew This is my baby girl Cashew.  And I am testing out this new picture web hosting thingy.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111659842812622944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111659842812622944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111659842812622944' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111633853696470836</id><published>2005-05-17T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-17T07:02:16.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Johnny got braces today and Teddy said:"Back in my day, we didn't have braces.  We had rocks and chicken wire!"From there the conversation escalated to all sorts of "back in my day" comments.  I am sure we can all relate, but there were too many hilarious comments to write down now.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111633853696470836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111633853696470836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111633853696470836' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111601221039515324</id><published>2005-05-13T12:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T12:23:30.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mr. White to Lindsay:  "Lindsay, why do you have an electric shaver in your purse?"Boy standing by listening says:  "Yeah Lindsay, what are you going to do?  Shave your pubes?"Again, 7th graders...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111601221039515324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111601221039515324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111601221039515324' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111478823287144952</id><published>2005-04-29T07:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-29T10:24:23.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>James was goofing off today, as usual. The Christopher gets sick of James acting up so he says:"James, if you don't shut up, I will slap that mullet back to the year it came from!"I think this might be a quote from a movie, but nevertheless, I laughed my face off and then told Christopher to stop because although his comment was funny, it was inappropriate!By the way, James DOES have a mullet and</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111478823287144952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111478823287144952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111478823287144952' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111454235866016431</id><published>2005-04-26T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T12:05:58.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Picture this:8th Grader Mikey stays after class in Ms. Watson's classroom and tells her this:"I'm going to have to change schools!"Ms. Watson: "Why Mikey?"Mikey: "Because Billy and Suzy saw my erection that I had during lunch today and they ARE GOING TO TELL THE WHOLE SCHOOL!! They are sitting over there talking about it right now.......planning,,,,,scheming for my demise. So, I have to move </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111454235866016431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111454235866016431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111454235866016431' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111445827633908720</id><published>2005-04-25T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T12:44:36.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Jimmy: "Did you know that Asian people cannot drive? There are terrible drivers because they haven't had cars as long as we have in the U.S."Jimmy thinks he is the smartest boy in the 8th grade and wants to go to MIT. I just got done writing Jimmy's progress report for failing this six weeks.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111445827633908720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111445827633908720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111445827633908720' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111400716127137694</id><published>2005-04-20T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-20T07:26:01.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Joey: "Mrs. Albers, have you seen my other schizophrenic half? His name is schizophrenic Scott. Let me know if you find him."Mrs. Albers: "ok"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Little 8th grade Billy was distracting everyone in class so I said."O.k. Lets all look at Billy and give him his 15 seconds of attention."The entire class looks at Billy and he proceeds to lift up his shirt, tweak his nipple, and let out a</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111400716127137694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111400716127137694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111400716127137694' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111394430639831724</id><published>2005-04-19T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-19T13:58:26.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ok.....so I am back on the quote train and just have to tell you that my husband helped me chaperone a middle school dance this weekend. Of course something crazy had to happen and one of our "hot in love" couples decided to sneak out and do a little dancing behind the buildings. My husband found them and needless to say they got reamed out by the principle. The funny part comes in when this 8th </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111394430639831724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111394430639831724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111394430639831724' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111342370425755328</id><published>2005-04-13T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-13T13:21:44.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So,,,,,we are going over a test today about rocks. One feature of sedimentary rocks is that of concretion or rocks of a completely different mineral in and amongst that of a different type of substance. Then I say:"It would be like finding a chocolate chip in an apple pie"Andy says: "Or like finding a normal kid here at Winston"(Winston is the school I teach at and it is for children with ADD/</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111342370425755328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111342370425755328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111342370425755328' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111298946986850465</id><published>2005-04-08T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-08T12:44:29.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Picture this.All of the middle school teachers and coaches are sitting in the lunchroom dining on some lovely cafeteria food. Suddenly, Bobby is walking swiftly towards the table and in an extremely loud voice announces:"COACH WEB! Oh man! Did you hear that Michael Vick has herpes??!!"Lets just say that the table was covered with bits of unchewed cafeteria food. And now the muscles in my stomach </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111298946986850465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111298946986850465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111298946986850465' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111272528684706621</id><published>2005-04-05T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-05T11:21:26.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ok. Here is a boy a named Craig. Now, Craig is an ADD kid that completely and utterly believes that the lockness monster is real. He is convinced of this based on the evidence that he has seen on the internet. Imagine that. Craig also talks faster than anyone I have ever heard and believes in the mothman. So, now that you have some background on this kid, I will give you the quote:"I finally </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111272528684706621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111272528684706621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111272528684706621' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111221281677343961</id><published>2005-03-30T11:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-30T12:00:16.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>AAAhhhhhhh,,,,,back from spring break now and the stories will now start rolling.STORY ONE: there is the crazy kid. This child, we will call him Greg is the epitome of an ADHD child if there ever was one. I am not a huge advocate for drugging up children that have been "diagnosed" with these hyperactive disorders, however this is a poster child for ritalin.Every day he walks into class like he is</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111221281677343961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111221281677343961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111221281677343961' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111159366780796948</id><published>2005-03-23T07:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-23T08:02:18.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Well, this week is my spring break, so there will not be too much new happening, but I thought I would post a story from a couple of weeks ago.It is funny the names that kids have for their private parts, here are some interesting ones that I have encountered:Johnny is playing dodgeball. He is dodging and flanking left and right. Just as he jumps up to hopefully be missed by a zooming nerf ball, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111159366780796948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111159366780796948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111159366780796948' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111118500101489863</id><published>2005-03-18T14:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T14:30:01.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So today I made the mistake of bringing up my husband in class and needless to say the conversation got all crazy. Billy says to me:  "What would you do if you found out that you and your husband were cousins?"Tommy says to Billy:  "Well, we would all find out when their kids are born retarded!"Billy:  "Wouldn't that make you mormon?"Tommy:  "No.  That would just mean that he has married other </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111118500101489863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111118500101489863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111118500101489863' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111100274867272960</id><published>2005-03-16T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-16T11:52:28.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>We were playing a pictionary science game today and it was Bobby's turn to draw. Bobby got frustrated because Tommy didn't guess what he was drawing. The dialogue goes as so....Bobby: "Tommy you retard, its a 'host!'"Mrs. Albers: "Bobby! Do you want a detention?!?"Bobby: "No ma'am, I want Tommy to find to other half of his brain." (in a calm and serious voice)I love teaching.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111100274867272960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111100274867272960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111100274867272960' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111090483401900906</id><published>2005-03-15T08:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-15T08:40:34.020-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So today we were talking about earthworms and how they have 5 pairs of hearts and yadda yadda. Their hearts are located close to their digestive system. Needless to say, the comment came out:"How cool would that be to poo on your heart?!"Class followed with noises of disgust.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111090483401900906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111090483401900906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111090483401900906' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111060703563116594</id><published>2005-03-11T21:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T21:57:15.630-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I know this day is the same day, but another story yet appears in my life.   Picture this.......a fat kid is bending over and another skinny, short kid is observing the fat kid and says...."Mr.  Johnson, can we require Bobby to wear underwear?"Teacher Response:  We could, but have no feasable way to enforce it.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111060703563116594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111060703563116594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111060703563116594' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111055779940263843</id><published>2005-03-11T08:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T08:16:39.403-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Today some students were acting up during a project. Johnny was leading the bad behavior in his group. Billy was in another group and witnessed the bad behavior from Johnny's group. Billy then looks at them and says, very calmy, "You guys keep it up because you are making us slackers look real good." Funny stuff....at least to me it is.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111055779940263843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111055779940263843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111055779940263843' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-111048589082587720</id><published>2005-03-10T14:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-10T12:18:10.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Alright, so here is the quote of the day from a 7th grade student when asked the question "Who do you think you are more like?  Your mom or your dad?"Student Answer:  "I'm most like my dad.  I'm lazy.  I'm a slob.  But I'm devoted to the things I like, even if I can't afford them."Keep in mind.....7th Grade.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111048589082587720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/111048589082587720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_archive.html#111048589082587720' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-110659865026682109</id><published>2005-01-24T13:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-09T12:26:11.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This is my life....Well, I figured it has been so very long since I have written that I will attempt to begin again. This time I am starting all over with quotes and stories from my kids (who are all ADD/ADHD and half are on antidepressants). So, needless to say, the stories will shortly begin to flow.1st off: Quote from a bonus question on a test I gave."What is the only mammal that can not jump</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/110659865026682109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/110659865026682109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html#110659865026682109' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-108397495363898196</id><published>2004-05-07T17:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-07T17:18:26.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What Friends?Watching "Friends" last night with a couple of my own lead me to some conclusions about the show.  I hadn't watched that show in a few years (I am not exaggerating), yet, I still understood what in the world was going on.  This would lead me to believe that the show had a extremely thin plot (or more like, no plot). Maybe this show was so popular because people could live out </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/108397495363898196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/108397495363898196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108397495363898196' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-108088673398950352</id><published>2004-04-01T22:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-01T22:22:33.403-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dihydrogen Monoxide is invading our lives.  It is in every food that we eat:  From the raw vegetables, to the succulent meat the we indulge.  What's worse?   The government condones this preposterous chemical.  Side effects of dihydrogen monoxide include profuse sweating, diarrhea, and vomiting.  Because the government has allowed it to be a part of our dietary intake, our human bodies have </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/108088673398950352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/108088673398950352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108088673398950352' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-107924163104023662</id><published>2004-03-13T21:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-02T05:50:38.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My mind was full of glorious dreams as I perused the aisles of glistening and shimmering items to fill my house with.  I was infatuated with the beauty and delicate forms of objects adorned with costly meaningless crystal and silver.  I relished the thought of them being in my kitchen and fantasized of people lusting after the possessions that I had been fortunate enough to obtain.  A lengthy </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107924163104023662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107924163104023662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107924163104023662' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-107811187741041495</id><published>2004-02-29T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-29T19:34:12.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Monotony overflowed the empty spaces left between the glazed over eyes that mindlessly mumbled a once sacred creed.  Shivers ran over me as I caught a glimpse of idle people like myself who are lost in unseen traditions.  The climax arrived when my appointed leader spoke ironically of a stagnant faith that convicted my heart.  I was convicted not only by the words, but by the feeling I felt as I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107811187741041495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107811187741041495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107811187741041495' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-107716068444749664</id><published>2004-02-18T19:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-18T19:20:44.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So you all know my crazy brother.  Sometimes he is quite hard to love, but I love him; cause you know,,,he's family!  But anyways, so I have to admit that a song that he wrote called "Not Me" happens to be a phenomenal song.  Though I have heard that song about a zillion times, it had a way of striking me tonight.  The part that strikes me the most is a simple line that reads "When You look down </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107716068444749664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107716068444749664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107716068444749664' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-107707267753968644</id><published>2004-02-17T18:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-17T18:53:56.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I have never felt more like a tom-boy than I do when I am at work.  I know that I have an athletic and sometimes unruly side to me, but I can also be the sweet little girlie girl when I want to.  But good grief!  These ladies that I work with are over the top.  Maybe I have never really hung out with prissy girls before (if you know my friends, you know what I am talking about), but if this is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107707267753968644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107707267753968644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107707267753968644' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-107646504227239268</id><published>2004-02-10T18:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-10T18:06:31.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I have had many jobs in my short life.  Most of which, I loved at first, and then grew to loathe (probably due to the stress levels in my life at that time).  But now, I have embraced a completely different view.  I realize that I have only been there about 2 weeks, but still, I am in love with the employment opportunity.  More importantly, I have gained a new perspective about working.  You see,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107646504227239268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107646504227239268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107646504227239268' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-107611124063541528</id><published>2004-02-06T15:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-06T16:45:39.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Scary enough, today at work I learned how to tell what kind of problems you had as a child by how you walk now.  This was funny, considering I now know why Brandon has enormous calves. (No offense Brandon, you know I like your legs..) Tell me how you walk and I will tell you what you did wrong in your childhood while learning to take your first steps.  Me, I have terrible posture that causes me </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107611124063541528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107611124063541528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107611124063541528' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-107576929590589048</id><published>2004-02-02T16:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-02T16:51:31.280-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>UGH!  It's bad enough that during the Super Bowl Halftime show we had to watch a bunch of no talent a@# clowns prance around the stage, surrounded by women who were half dressed, and attempt to lip sync in perfect cue to the trite music; but to have been exposed to Janet Jackson's nipple and oh-so-decorative sun-like nipple ring was the most ridiculous scene I have ever witnessed.  What is even </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107576929590589048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107576929590589048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107576929590589048' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-107558599527641873</id><published>2004-01-31T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-31T13:55:29.903-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I started my new job last week, and I have to say that I love it!  It will be hard to leave in October. (I know I am jumping the gun here).  I work for a pediatric rehabilitation clinic where a great number of children with various delays and disorders come in to be brought up to speed according to their age and development stage.  The position that I am in allows me to work hands on with some of</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107558599527641873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/107558599527641873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107558599527641873' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-106981844013690752</id><published>2003-11-25T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-25T19:47:28.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So I was sitting in my human sexuality class today, again, when my professor was reading questions that anonymous people can leave for him.  One of the questions, or comments, was to ask that he not belittle Christianity in his next lecture.  As he started to address this question, he said that he didn't want to change or convert anyone's religion that he was simply "stating facts".  These "facts</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106981844013690752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106981844013690752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106981844013690752' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-106903826281322861</id><published>2003-11-16T19:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-16T19:05:08.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A funny thing happened this morning.  As my best friend and I (Lindsay) woke up this morning, fairly early which is highly unusual, we turned on the TV in hopes of something good being on.  We ended up stopping on one of those televised sermons on TCM or whatever that channel is.   It was amazing for me to just sit there and watch this sermon with her, as she is one of the few people in my life I</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106903826281322861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106903826281322861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106903826281322861' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-106883928661026776</id><published>2003-11-14T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-14T17:14:53.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yesterday in my human sexuality course, we were discussing gender roles and the issues surrounding them in the United States.  As we had our discussion, the issue of the equal rights amendment came up and it was astounding all of the "femme-Nazis" that came out during this discussion (no pun intended).  So my prof brought up a great point about the passage of this amendment.  If it passed, this </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106883928661026776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106883928661026776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106883928661026776' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-106868747050186567</id><published>2003-11-12T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-12T17:37:55.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I am currently taking a "Fundamentals of Acting" course at UT (yes, I took it for the easy A) and we were assigned an autodrama.  Meaning, I have to fill 5 minutes of time by acting out, or presenting in some way, 5 issues in my life that have greatly effected me.  As I have sat and thought about this and thought about this (it is due on Friday), I can only come up with one positive issue of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106868747050186567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106868747050186567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106868747050186567' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-106852776836665040</id><published>2003-11-10T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-10T21:16:13.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ahhh yes,,,,so I am pretty much computer illiterate, and have bad spelling as well.  Not a very good combination when trying to figure out this blog stuff.  David Robinson had his jersey retired tonight.  Man that is one of the most amazing people in the sports realm.  Just an overall great guy.  So I added a comments section to my blog, so go ahead and give me your thoughts.  Not much else.  I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106852776836665040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106852776836665040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106852776836665040' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6056915.post-106841795339773290</id><published>2003-11-09T16:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-09T15:01:01.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Well, I figured I would jump on the band-wagon and start one of these too.  You know, to vent and let everyone know thoughts that you probably wouldn't waste the time of actually going into the details and boring your listeners.  This way, they read it at will, and probably won't tell you they did. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106841795339773290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6056915/posts/default/106841795339773290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://everyoneelsehasone.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106841795339773290' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08669887176212658934</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
