<?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-36968645</id><updated>2011-12-28T15:28:51.568-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Hopelessly Curious Mind</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm just trying my hardest to be content and peaceful with myself. This is obviously an interesting journey...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-7102482241384353186</id><published>2011-10-19T10:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T11:44:22.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reversing the effects of Douche Bags</title><content type='html'>One piece of advice that my therapist has always given me is to play the dating field before settling down and getting married. I've definitely had my fair share of dating, as a single gal in her late twenties. And like most women, I've had a mixture of great relationships and fun sexual flings. Of course we also have to account for the "douche bags" we've all dated. I like to think there's a mixture of douche bags. Let's go over some of them that I've had the pleasure of dating. Let me know if I'm missing any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The oblivious Douche Bag: This douche bag may mean well, but usually only cares about his own needs, and often overlooks their partners needs/wants. They don't know they have issues, and probably never will. They're too busy being off in La La Land. This could be remedied if you feel this man is worth it, but would take a lot of time and effort, and as we all know, it's hard to teach an old douche bag new tricks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jekyll and Hyde Douche Bag: This douche bag may seem like a great catch at first. Amazing first dates, sweet nothings, amazing sex, making future plans and telling you how much he really likes you and cares about you. Then BAM! Out of nowhere its like Mr. Hyde finally comes out of hiding when he has a few drinks in him. Stay far away from these men, this will drive you crazy in the long run and they obviously have some maturing to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am Douche Bag: Depending on how you look at it, this is one of the worst of his kind. You meet, he obviously is very attracted to you. Makes a lot of effort to hang out with you. Seems genuinely interested. After weeks of hanging out, you finally do the awesome dirty deed. Then Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am - He's disappeared! Weird, I thought we were having a good time. No need to linger on these, they obviously got what they wanted. If it was good sex - just view it as that. If not, Damn, that sucks for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally the worst of them all: The Master Manipulator Douche Bag.&lt;br /&gt;This species has serious mental issues when it comes to relationships, and you my dear are their lucky victim. Maybe they had a really bad dating experience when they were younger and they were never able to move on from it. So now, they feel the need to always be in the dominant position, to feel powerful, manipulating you to an extreme, pulling no stops - to make themselves feel like more of a man. They will act like your closest friend, make you feel like you can tell them anything - only to lie to your face and string you along. He always finds a way to get on your good side again, and it's always difficult to stay away. It takes a lot of self control to leave this kind and could take years. This type will damage you the most in the long run. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a single gal has dated so many different types of douche bags - how do we go into a hopeful new relationship without being cynical? If I meet someone who seems great, we have a connection and I'm genuinly excited, how do I look at it with an open mind instead of letting my cynical self take over?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it possible to seperate my feelings, and by doing so, am I just setting myself up again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-7102482241384353186?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7102482241384353186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=7102482241384353186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7102482241384353186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7102482241384353186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2011/10/reversing-effects-of-douche-bags.html' title='Reversing the effects of Douche Bags'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-3640869541894910481</id><published>2011-02-05T13:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T23:36:30.347-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some girls have all the luck.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/TU2-WPPEXxI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/Y7GpQydr4-I/s1600/OldCoupleInLove13-06-1974-400pix.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/TU2-WPPEXxI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/Y7GpQydr4-I/s320/OldCoupleInLove13-06-1974-400pix.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570317603383303954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It seems im destined to be single. It's so awkward. My best friend calls weekly - "What are you doing?" Oh nothing, just watching a movie... "BY YOURSELF?!" Well... ya... Does my cat count? &lt;br /&gt;Obviously i've voiced that being single has its upside as well as it's downside. I feel like the longer you're single... the more that "Upside" seems to fade. When Chris and I broke up last April, I felt this overwhelming feeling of... release, freedom and I felt more like myself than I had in years. It was amazing. I'm glad I ended the relationship, becuase if I were still in it, we'd still argue everynight, he'd still make me feel inferior daily, I would still be going to bed each night unhappy. So don't get me wrong, I know I made the right choice, but after a while.. it gets lonely. I do a good job of filling my time. Cooking, baking, (I've gotten really into baking) reading, working out, going out with friends. I entertain myself pretty well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fear is that I'll be single and living alone so long, that I'll become one of those weird awkward people thats always uncomfortable, forgets what their voice sounds like, says awkward things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to always be around people. Busy bee. Social butterfly. Talked to people on the phone all day at work, and came home to parties and events at night. Now I go to work, sit at my desk... read fine print in Leases from 20 years ago, count down the hours until its time to go home, and come home and watch Mad Men all night. I don't want to be this person!! It's not me! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it possible to "lose ourselves"? Seriously. To lose that spark, that thing that makes you who you are, who you've always been and who people have always seen you as? If we don't nurture that part of ourselves, maybe it just fizzles out? I refuse to let that happen. I know what makes me, me. I'm an old soul, I love swingsets and roller skating and sending people random letters in the mail because I know how much it will brighten their day. I have a passion for the elderly. I have a need to take care of people, to nurture and give guidance. I don't want all of those aspects of me to fade. I would be miserable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, being single is perfectly fine... No I don't need a man, I'm aware of that. I just need to find a way to make my single life fulfilling until I do find someone and settle down. I need to remind myself that plenty of people in relationships are unhappy and would give anything to be in my situation, to be able to do whatever I please. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relationships have always been complicated for the world. Always have been, always will be. I've heard stories of my grandmothers marriages. Some painfully awful ones, and some that worked for her. When she was towards the end of her Alzheimer's and i'd visit her, it was so powerful to see the look on her face when she'd see my grandpa. Her whole world lit up. When he'd leave, she'd stand by the window and watch him go. I couldn't imagine going through something like that, and not having someone you love, to take care of you, watch out for you, help you through such an awful experience. It would be heartbreaking. I think about that a lot. If Alzheimer's is genetic, then I could possibly get it when i'm older. What if i'm not married? What if I have to go at it alone? I don't think I could take it. It would be unbearable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom has been married twice. She married when she was young, to my sisters father. He left her for another woman and wouldnt return her calls, or spend time with my sister. She married my dad when she was 32. They were married for two years. I remember dating my first love and being so in love and so happy, and I asked her if she felt that way with my dad. Her response: "No, not really. We got along well, we had fun, but I don't think i was ever madly in love with him" She's been single ever since, and has expressed how hard it would be to try again in a new relationship. But I know she doesn't want to end up alone, and she deserves to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of my friends are settling down and having children. One of my friends and her husband just had twins. I can't even imagine what it feels like to know that these two little babies solely rely on you, that you are their entire world. To know that you've built your own new family, to make your own new traditions, to pass along wisdom and guidance. Heather comes home to two babies and a husband every day. I come home to a quiet, empty (but well decorated!)apartment. When I wake up in the morning on weekends, i'm not woken up by a little voice asking to go to the bathroom with them, to get them water, climbing in bed with me. I wake up with my Ellie cat, and think.. hmmm... it's Saturday, what do I have to do today? Cleaning, laundry, errands, maybe workout and go tanning if I have time. Who am I kidding, I always have time. Even though Heather constantly has something to do, she has a new purpose in life, something to live for. Her family. I want that kind of purpose. Something secure, something real, meaningful and lifelong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may not be ready for something like this right now. But I pray its in the cards for me someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-3640869541894910481?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3640869541894910481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=3640869541894910481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3640869541894910481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3640869541894910481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2011/02/some-girls-have-all-luck.html' title='Some girls have all the luck.'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/TU2-WPPEXxI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/Y7GpQydr4-I/s72-c/OldCoupleInLove13-06-1974-400pix.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-5277806239906608789</id><published>2010-05-30T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T14:44:27.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you ever feel like you're losing youself?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/TALMabFcghI/AAAAAAAAAbs/fXUZOX4Npjg/s1600/320_1656794.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 317px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477164851155206674" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/TALMabFcghI/AAAAAAAAAbs/fXUZOX4Npjg/s320/320_1656794.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember being so sure of myself and walking out my front door with my head held high, long strides in my heels, and a smile on my face... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I moved back in with my parents... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jesus, I knew going into this it wouldnt be fun living with my parents again.. but its to the point that im losing ME.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My quirky little traits that I love about myself are slowly slipping away and its killing me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead of making my own dinners and watching Audrey Hepburn marathons, i'm eating around the table with my family nightly and escaping downstairs to be alone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My boyfriend of 2 years and I just broke up a few weeks ago, which is a good thing. I don't know what it is about me in relationships, but i turn into this different, insecure person. It could be partly that he was a graduate from Pepperdine, and can talk about Physics like its no big deal... and i just sit there... nodding my head and smiling....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What the fuck was he just saying??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But when im single, its easier for me to be myself and not feel inadequit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One on side, I feel like im losing myself and on the other, I'm really growing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've always been the type of person to not speak up when I have something I want to say, worried about what people will think. I dont want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, so I just stay quiet. When some folks in my family have made little comments here and there like "Saw your photos on facebook, don't you think that dress was a little short?", making little judgemental comments about my life because i'm 26, not dating anyone and like to go out to downtown seattle and drink my ass off on the occassional weekend... I always would just laugh along and say yea, well you know, just having fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But for some reason ive grown the strength to stand up for myself and say... ya I am single, ya I go out to bars and parties and drink my ass off, but im fucking 26... and i'm having a blast! You have no right to judge me. I work hard during the week, i have a full time job AND a part time job, im responsible and polite, so whats with the judgement?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So far this new me isnt a smooth transition. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After getting up the nerve to tell my mom that Chris and I broke up two weeks ago, her response was "hahahah, wow, well you've sure been here before haven't you!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At first I did what I would normally do, and said something like yea well we're still really good friends and it just wasn't working, blah blah blah... in an effort to not "stir the pot". After several days of stewing about it and replaying her response in my head, and ok I might have had a few margaritas in me... I called her and comfronted her. I said, Hi, I need to ask you a question. She sounded caught off guard. I said why when i told you that chris and i broke up, why did you laugh and say what you said to me?? She said, I never laughed at you! I said, really, if you hadnt laughed at me, why would I be so hurt by it? Why would I have to get up the nerve to confront you about it. Her response, as usual with her was, Well i'm sorry if thats what you THOUGHT you heard, but I did not. I was so upset and so frustrated with her "brick wall" that she always has up that for the first time in maybe 15 years, the only thing I could do was hang up on her. That was about a week and a half ago, i havent talked to her since. I refuse to sit back and let her laugh at me and love life. Just because you've been single for 24 years and refuse to go back out and possibly meet someone who may make you happy, doesn't mean that I have to be bitter with you. I needed my mother and she wasn't there. My standing up for myself and confronting her may have rocked the boat, but hopefully it will show her what I wont put up with in the future.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, so sidetracked, my mother obviously gets me worked up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Point is, this is the first time that i just dont know who I am. Im doing everything I can to try and be true to myself, but sometimes thats just so hard. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really hope this is just a funk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will continue on!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-5277806239906608789?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/5277806239906608789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=5277806239906608789' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/5277806239906608789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/5277806239906608789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2010/05/do-you-ever-feel-like-youre-losing.html' title='Do you ever feel like you&apos;re losing youself?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/TALMabFcghI/AAAAAAAAAbs/fXUZOX4Npjg/s72-c/320_1656794.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-4302840682779104748</id><published>2009-01-16T09:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T10:25:15.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To my creepy pervo neighbor</title><content type='html'>I don't like you. You look like someone who bathes once a week and watches porno 5 times a day. Just the thought of what you do one room away from my bedroom makes me want to gag.&lt;br /&gt;Your daily visits to the pool during the summer aren't fooling anyone. You're white as a ghost and never bring any reading material with you. It's obvious to all the young girls why you go there. Just because you're wearing 1980's Tom Cruise sunglasses doesn't mean we magically can't see where you're looking. You are freaking creepy, thus is why you always sit alone and us girls stay a mile a way from you in fear that you will try to spark up a conversation.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of girls, I'm still in shock that you managed to get a girlfriend this last fall who is somewhat decent looking! How did you do it? You must keep the lights very dim in your apt. That must be your secret. Well kudos to you, creepy pervo neighbor, she's a real catch!&lt;br /&gt;I also feel that I must tell you this- being that your bedroom is right next to mine, and that our cute little apartment complex was obviously built on a budget, I can hear EVERYTHING you say. I've very clearly heard conversations with your girlfriend (still in shock...) about you two contemplating anal sex.&lt;br /&gt;I mean, discussing doing it, the pros, the cons.. the works. I could have happily lived my whole life without hearing that detailed discussion.&lt;br /&gt;I've tried everything. Banging on the wall with my straightener, yelling "shut the hell up" into the wall, you've even forced me out of bed at 3:30 in the morning while your young bubbly girlfriend hooped and hollered at some new toy you bought. As if that wasn't bad enough, when I stormed over to your door in my pjs and mess of a hair, you answered the door in only your bed sheets.&lt;br /&gt;Oh my God, could you be any creepier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, please don't talk to my friends that come over, you're creeping them out now too.&lt;br /&gt;"Hey man, you going in there? There's some freaking hot girls that live there!" ....Little did you know you were actually saying that to my boyfriend at the time. Smart. Real smart, creepy pervo neighbor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can bet that if I'm ever in need of a cup of sugar or flour, I will NOT be knocking on your door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congrats again on your new relationship, I hope she sticks around for a little bit before running for the hills.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-4302840682779104748?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4302840682779104748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=4302840682779104748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/4302840682779104748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/4302840682779104748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2009/01/to-my-creepy-pervo-neighbor.html' title='To my creepy pervo neighbor'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-6630238979479648410</id><published>2008-07-30T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T09:39:53.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate you, you slacker!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/SJCV297lovI/AAAAAAAAASE/sgjdNLyJL5A/s1600-h/493312653_a3c335a836_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228843938947113714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/SJCV297lovI/AAAAAAAAASE/sgjdNLyJL5A/s400/493312653_a3c335a836_m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those people who just do the bare minimum. That person who drives in the carpool lane to pass all the cars and then cuts them off at the front of the line. That person who tips $2 for their $50 meal. I hate you! What makes you so privileged that you get to do less than I'm doing??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I try to be fair and kind on a daily basis. There might be TONS of traffic on my way home from work everyday... but pretty sure it's just me in the car so I can't get in the carpool lane, no matter how much I would LOVE to pass everyone and get home sooner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you want in my lane, I'll let you in. I'm not going to sit there and say screw you just to be one car ahead. That's retarded. But if you just passed me and 100 other cars in traffic while you're in the carpool lane, Forget it. You're not getting in front of me! Bitch and moan all you want.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I'm eating at a restaurant and I have a good server, I'll tip well. They deserve it! Obviously if they sucked at their job and rarely came by to see if I needed anything, of course I wouldn't tip as much. But I'm fair. But to you slackers, are you THAT cheap that you can't tip a few dollars more? These servers bust their ass, and believe it or not, yours isn't the only table they're waiting on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or how about the person at work who comes in late, leaves early, is sick ALL THE TIME and gets to stay home and get paid for it, when everyone knows they can't possibly be sick 36 days in 4 months. Unless you have some sort of disease, that's just not possible. Oh, you're working from home again?? Yea, ok, I totally believe you. Meanwhile, all of us normal hard working employees are here every day, sometimes working 12-14 hour days. We take a sick day when we're sick, and take vacation once or twice a year with advanced notice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We're honest employees who don't take advantage of the company. I've worked with someone before who was the epitome of a slacker... and pretty sure they made about 10K a year more than me. I hate you people!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't care if you think you can be an a-hole slacker, I'm going to keep being nice to everyone and being fair and hopefully karma exists, because someday I'll be completely happy living in a cute little houes out in the country while you're working at McDonalds and stealing fries in between drive through customers. I hope you burn your hand with that fry grease! Ahole.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-6630238979479648410?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/6630238979479648410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=6630238979479648410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/6630238979479648410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/6630238979479648410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2008/07/let-me-tell-you-who-i-hate.html' title='I hate you, you slacker!'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/SJCV297lovI/AAAAAAAAASE/sgjdNLyJL5A/s72-c/493312653_a3c335a836_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-7199371892425366903</id><published>2008-04-30T08:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T10:40:29.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What is my generation's obsession with getting married?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/SBisdqtNfkI/AAAAAAAAAR0/6FlwgZovUD4/s1600-h/108094827_42a0fbd2af_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195091795851968066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/SBisdqtNfkI/AAAAAAAAAR0/6FlwgZovUD4/s400/108094827_42a0fbd2af_m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why do people my age think of marriage as a "goal"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shouldn't marriage be thought of as something that would make them happy, when the time is right? Not necessarily be something they should work towards?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have a few girlfriends that are both engaged, and this is nothing bad towards them, at all! I know that they're happy and the time is right for them. This rant is mainly aimed towards those whose idea of marriage is maybe an unhealthy one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was 18 I thought for sure I'd be married by 25. Have kids in my late 20's.. and achieve the ultimate goal of caring for my family.&lt;br /&gt;I was in a serious relationship from age 19 to 22, and thought.. well this just works out perfectly. We've been together 4 years now, lived together for a few years, I knew he had already talked to my father about the idea of marriage in our future. I had it all lined up to be married by 25. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our relationship went down south as we both grew older. I matured… and well… he didn’t. I remember even thinking at one point in time, “If we were married right now, we would be FORCED to work this out and everything would be fine again!” That’s an unhealthy and unrealistic view of marriage, but I wanted it SO badly at the time and knew FOR SURE it would make us happy again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you have a mature outlook on marriage when you’re so young? You may think It’s mature thinking at the time.. but seriously, what do you really know about yourself at such a young age?&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been going to therapy since my freshman year in high school. Not because I’m not a nutcase or anything, but I would go just to clear my head and have a mature, knowledgeable and confident person to offer constant guidance in my life.&lt;br /&gt;My therapist has always told me to not even THINK about marriage until I was at least 30 years old. I’ve also read a book called “Passages”, which is a great book; I recommend it to anyone wanting to learn more about themselves. This book goes through each age group. Teens, early 20’s, late 20’s, early 30’s and so on.&lt;br /&gt;To sum up the “predictable phase” of the early to mid 20s’, it states that in your early 20s’ you’ve most likely broken away from your parent’s shelter and are starting to build your own foundation. You also start learning more about yourself. Let’s face it, you’re not in High School anymore, you don’t have to worry about fitting in with the popular crowd. When you are not surrounded by the constant pressure of trying to change yourself to fit in, you are more apt to really be yourself and to accept and be proud of your uniqueness.&lt;br /&gt;In your later 20’s, you’re more serious about your career and are actually wanting to work in a field you’re interested in, not “just a day job to pay the rent”.&lt;br /&gt;Come your early 30’s, you may very well go through a time of total retransformation. Who you thought you were in your mid 20’s may stick, but in most cases will be thrown out the window. You finally start to get a realistic sense of life. I can’t say for sure that’s the case, as I’m only 24.. I’m just going off of what I’ve read, and am preparing myself for. If this is the case, and you marry at a very early age, what are the chances that you and your husband will be the same people in your 30’s? Will you still be able to talk things through like you used to? Will your once shy and reserved spouse suddenly get the urge to travel the world or take up riding Harley’s? And how will these changes affect your marriage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After learning all of this, you have to ask yourself.. why are people from my generation so stuck on the obsession of getting married in their early 20’s?&lt;br /&gt;Do they think it’s going to solve all of their problems? Or that since they are now legally together, they never again have to worry about the dreaded dating scene? Have you ever seen the movie Under the Tuscan Sun? I think that movie showsthat even if you’ve been married 20+ years, things can and most likely will change as you grow older. You could fall out of love, you or your spouse could come out of the closet and decide to start dating the same sex, its life: ANYTHING can happen. NOTHING is for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want everyone to think that I’m putting down all who marry at an early age. When you know yourself well enough and you know it’s the right time… you know. I’m just saying, what’s the rush? You’ll still love each other just as much. I’ve heard of couples who have dated for 10 or 20+ years and are in no rush to get married. Look at Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. They’ve been together for what seems like forever, but don’t NEED to get married to be happy. They’re happy just being together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all this said, my personal idea of marriage is living your life with someone that you can be completely open with, confide in with your innermost secrets, someone who makes you a better person and supports your goals, and most important to myself: someone to take care of and have take care of you as you get older and watch the world change. I know it sounds all whispy and dreamy and romantic, but I do also know it won’t be all happy times. I understand that something like marriage would take a lot of patience and learning. That’s exactly why I don’t take it as lightly as I used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope all of my ranting and random thoughts make sense to at least a few people and I haven’t pissed off anyone who got married at an early age. Just understand that I have a different view because I’m single right in the heart of learning about life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-7199371892425366903?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7199371892425366903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=7199371892425366903' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7199371892425366903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7199371892425366903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2008/04/what-is-my-generations-obsession-with.html' title='What is my generation&apos;s obsession with getting married?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/SBisdqtNfkI/AAAAAAAAAR0/6FlwgZovUD4/s72-c/108094827_42a0fbd2af_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-7404461611355060435</id><published>2008-03-21T10:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T10:41:51.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Impart Media Group, this is Brittany speaking</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R-PzICJIWsI/AAAAAAAAARc/_8G2Gq91lR8/s1600-h/64027565_79b890c8c4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180251315745872578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R-PzICJIWsI/AAAAAAAAARc/_8G2Gq91lR8/s320/64027565_79b890c8c4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: Can I speak to Rebecca?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yes, may I tell her who’s calling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Woman: *Silence*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Hello? Hello?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hang up since shes gone silent miraciously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;***RING RING***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Impart Media Group, this is Brittany speaking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Woman: Rebecca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Of course, may I tell her whos calling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Woman: (In a bitchy freaking tone) No you may not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was several days ago.... she just called back again, and we did the same damn thing....&lt;br /&gt;Listen bitch. Pretty sure i’m just doing my job. You wanna talk to Rebecca? Stop calling the main fucking line and call her direct line!! You think I LIKE answering the phones here and talking to bitches like you?? NO NO I DONT!&lt;br /&gt;You can be sure I’ll be kindly giving her Rebeccas direct number next time she calls. Seriously, what a bitch! I really hope she never tries coming to the office, i’ll say a few words to her.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she’s a superhero and can’t tell me her real identity?.... No? Just a thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don’t call here again you wannabe superhero.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-7404461611355060435?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7404461611355060435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=7404461611355060435' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7404461611355060435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7404461611355060435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2008/03/impart-media-group-this-is-brittany.html' title='Impart Media Group, this is Brittany speaking'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R-PzICJIWsI/AAAAAAAAARc/_8G2Gq91lR8/s72-c/64027565_79b890c8c4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-1743863387168111675</id><published>2008-02-07T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T08:05:21.302-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To whomever towed my car this morning...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R6spYIoOrGI/AAAAAAAAARU/YrKYy2AaUOo/s1600-h/375131512_832bed6de4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164266892320222306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R6spYIoOrGI/AAAAAAAAARU/YrKYy2AaUOo/s320/375131512_832bed6de4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;REALLY?? Was that necessary? &lt;div&gt;I have lived in this complex for over 4 years and have NEVER seen your car where I parked last night! I, myself, had never even parked there until about 1am this morning, when I could not find a spot anywhere else and thought, well shoot, this one time won't hurt! But you were kind enough to present me with your own little magic show, weren't you? One minute my car is there, the next it's gone! Poof! Man, aren't you clever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now don't get me wring, I can totally understand how inconvenient it must have been for you to come home after 1am and see my car parked in your spot, but you couldn't have left a kind note informing me that you rent that spot?- You had to go straight to TOWING MY CAR?? One word for ya.. KARMA.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would also like to thank you for causing me to take out $250 from my hard earned vacation fund for my little adventure this morning. That, also, whas very thoughtful of you. :o)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sure glad to have people like you to be my neighbor!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks again and take care!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Your fellow redmond ridge resident.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-1743863387168111675?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/1743863387168111675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=1743863387168111675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/1743863387168111675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/1743863387168111675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2008/02/to-whomever-towed-my-car-this-morning.html' title='To whomever towed my car this morning...'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R6spYIoOrGI/AAAAAAAAARU/YrKYy2AaUOo/s72-c/375131512_832bed6de4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-5190735123955347681</id><published>2008-01-25T09:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T09:19:50.579-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Match.com: You are a liar, and I hate you.</title><content type='html'>To Match. com:&lt;br /&gt;I hate you. I hate your ads. I hate that you make me feel like I am missing something in my life, just because I wake up by myslef and don't have water fights outside with a garden hose or get hot and steamy in the library.&lt;br /&gt;I especially hate your ad with the couple waking up together and having a friendly morning talk, while the girl get s a back rub from her oh so hot boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;Screw you, Match.com.&lt;br /&gt;That guy is only being so sweet because he is getting paid from your retarded company. Any normal guy would lay in bed until the very last second, and therefor would not have time for such a romantic and quaint chat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I hate you, Match.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-5190735123955347681?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/5190735123955347681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=5190735123955347681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/5190735123955347681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/5190735123955347681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2008/01/to-matchcom-you-are-liar-and-i-hate-you.html' title='To Match.com: You are a liar, and I hate you.'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-6842680138425420590</id><published>2007-10-04T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T13:35:37.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When all else fails, you still have family</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RwVLkWILcpI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/qHF7cvxVXjQ/s1600-h/l_91a6604510654a0ab26f10c59981edb9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117579639363695250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RwVLkWILcpI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/qHF7cvxVXjQ/s400/l_91a6604510654a0ab26f10c59981edb9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As my astrological forcast predicted, I have had one heck of a year so far.. fingers crossed though.. we're coming up quickly to November when hopefull I will no longer be "mentally disturbed."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the past, whenever I've had an emotional meltdown and needed a shoulder to cry on, I had a boyfriend who would listen to me vent and rub my shoulders to relieve my stress. It always helped, and it was a good feeling, knowing I would have someone like like to turn to when I thought I was going crazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since my breakup with my last seriouls boyfriend, I've never felt more alone. Having to do all these things on my own while trying to hold myself together emotionally has been.. well.. a roller coaster ride. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only recently did I come to the realization that no matter where I am in life, even if my heart has recently been broken, if a close friend has died, I will ALWAYS have my family. I never have to second guess that they will be there for me. They know me, they know my strengths, weaknesses, and dreams.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've somehow always overlooked them. But it's one of the best feelings to know that I have them, and always will. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A big THANKS to my family. Couldn't do it without you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-6842680138425420590?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/6842680138425420590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=6842680138425420590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/6842680138425420590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/6842680138425420590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/10/when-all-else-fails-you-still-have.html' title='When all else fails, you still have family'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RwVLkWILcpI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/qHF7cvxVXjQ/s72-c/l_91a6604510654a0ab26f10c59981edb9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-1178182755908748898</id><published>2007-09-11T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T15:09:15.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>These are a few of my favorite things.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RucQaW8W5LI/AAAAAAAAAQI/qZ-A6cDmtUQ/s1600-h/MrIncredible!!!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109070347296498866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RucQaW8W5LI/AAAAAAAAAQI/qZ-A6cDmtUQ/s320/MrIncredible!!!.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are few things in this world that still make me genuinly smile. On the top of that list is my nephew, Jackson. I was there when he was born, held him in the hospital and cried and cried and cried. I fell in love from the first moment I saw him. As he started growing up, he and I grew closer and he started calling me "Aunt Bebe", since he couldn't pronounce my actual name yet. He would always ask my sister when I was coming over next and sometimes I'd receive a call on my cell from him, just calling to say hi (in his 2 year old voice of course)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On my birthday, I was sitting at work and received a call from my sister.. I answer... and hear Jackson singing Happy Birthday to me in his beyond adorable voice. I LOVED it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For now, i'm not ready to have kids of my own... but man oh man am I glad I have him around to make me smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-1178182755908748898?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/1178182755908748898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=1178182755908748898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/1178182755908748898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/1178182755908748898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/09/these-are-few-of-my-favorite-things.html' title='These are a few of my favorite things.....'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RucQaW8W5LI/AAAAAAAAAQI/qZ-A6cDmtUQ/s72-c/MrIncredible!!!.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-3744519840807744387</id><published>2007-08-30T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T13:09:52.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A growing trend in the Seattle area..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rtcj4W8W5JI/AAAAAAAAAP4/pFrGEPs6Ye8/s1600-h/456186287_62857f73ca.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104588153786131602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rtcj4W8W5JI/AAAAAAAAAP4/pFrGEPs6Ye8/s320/456186287_62857f73ca.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Women crying while driving. It's the weirdest thing! I've seen 4 women crying while driving in the past few weeks. It's probably not healthy that my first thought each time was "I bet some asshole just broke up with her, or she caught him cheating on her" Healthy? No. Realistic? Damn straight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just wanted to bring this out in the open in case it turns into some new fad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-3744519840807744387?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3744519840807744387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=3744519840807744387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3744519840807744387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3744519840807744387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/08/growing-trend-in-seattle-area.html' title='A growing trend in the Seattle area..'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rtcj4W8W5JI/AAAAAAAAAP4/pFrGEPs6Ye8/s72-c/456186287_62857f73ca.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-332624274973053800</id><published>2007-07-23T09:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T09:59:58.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RqTWwad-8tI/AAAAAAAAAPg/1kghN9RQdGk/s1600-h/mw07.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090429606062650066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RqTWwad-8tI/AAAAAAAAAPg/1kghN9RQdGk/s400/mw07.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I found out about 2 years ago that my Grandma was in Stage 2 or 3 of Alzheimer's Disease. Well, it's 2 years later, and she's now in stage 6. It moved fairly quickly with her. My grandpa took care of her as long he could on his own, but we now have her in an Alzheimer's home in Wenatchee, close to my Uncle.  I saw her for Appleblossom in Wentachee, in May. She wasn't doing well. Didn't remember my sisters husband, didn't remember me graduating from Highschool (5 years ago), and was barely eating. I went to see her with my mother, about a month ago, in her new home. I braced myself as much as I could, knowing it would be difficult to see her in such a state that I wasn't used to seeing her in. I did ok as we walked in. The minute I saw her, and saw how happy she was to see us, I burst into tears. I tried to hide it from her, since I didn't want to upset her, but it was difficult to hold back. She was scared to be in there, and was asking my mom and I if we were there to take her home. She was walking around with a picture of her and my grandpa, tucked into the top of her shirt. I could tell she hated being there, and was scared to be alone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is probably one the of saddest moments of my life, to see my grandma scared and knowing I could do nothing about it. My mom and I made the most of our visit with her. Had her give us a tour of the facility, and had her play some interactive games with the other residents. At first she wouldn't play, saying "Oh no, Honey, I never play. I prefer to just watch." My mom came back quickly with, "Mom, we're not leaving until you play one game!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I told her I'd play with her. They were playing some lawn dart game, where the resident was asked to throw the soft toy dart at a cloth dart board, on the floor. Once she started playing, she got into it. Dancing, doing the hokey pokey and whooping butt! It was nice to see her having fun, and not crying. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I vowed that I would visit her as much as I could this year, since she's moving quickly through the disease. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since I can't be up there as much as I would like to be, I wanted to find a way to help out from here. I found the Alzheimer's Association online, and stumbled accross their 2007 Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk, and knew I had to sign up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm doing this walk to help raise money for a cure for Alzheimer's Disease. Watching someone close to you go through this, is one of the hardest things to go through, and I want to do evrything I can so that others will never have to go through it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you would like to help a great cause, please go to my &lt;a href="https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=223001&amp;lis=0&amp;amp;kntae223001=29EF0AE4EEF647B58E31FFA56F80F101"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt; and sponsor me. This fundraiser means a lot to me and my family, so you're help is greatly appreciated. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks, Guys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-332624274973053800?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/332624274973053800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=332624274973053800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/332624274973053800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/332624274973053800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/07/alzheimers-association-memory-walk-2007.html' title='Alzheimer&apos;s Association Memory Walk 2007'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RqTWwad-8tI/AAAAAAAAAPg/1kghN9RQdGk/s72-c/mw07.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-934685532728821953</id><published>2007-07-06T11:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T13:37:54.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Won't do it anymore</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Ro6gu-uXjsI/AAAAAAAAAPA/GSw8vLOfdFk/s1600-h/56614363_ea7ecd7c7f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084177758319775426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Ro6gu-uXjsI/AAAAAAAAAPA/GSw8vLOfdFk/s400/56614363_ea7ecd7c7f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Craig called me lastnight. I had just woken up from a nap, and wasn't sure if I should answer it or not. I answered it. (I'm such a sucker) He didn't even mention the other night at his work. He asked me to come see him tonight at his work and come get a drink. I told him I probably wouldn't be coming in anymore, and explained how uncomfortable I was the other night. I know that he feels bad about all this, and I know he's really disappointed as well.. so I can't really be mad at him. But it still hurts to know that even though we had this awesome chemistry (twice!) it still would never work as long as she's around and calling him for help. Example: 4th of July, I had told him about a week prior that I was going rafting down the Snoqualmie River and that if he didn't have anything else to do, he should come with cause it's so much fun. He said he may come, but I never heard a final verdict. I thought it would have been nice to see him and spend time with him again. After rafting, I noticed I had a missed call from him. I called him back, and for some reason he told me he had to call me back in a few. Never heard from him again that night. Why, you ask? Turns out, when I called him, he was actually at the hospital with Eleana, because she had drank too much alchohol, and her friend called Craig. Of course he's &lt;em&gt;the only&lt;/em&gt; person in the area who cares about her enough to take care of her. My take on this: He's told me several times that she wants to get back together with him. He's been upfront with both her and I by saying that he does not want to get back together with her. My thought is that she knows he and I want something, and she also knows that he still cares about her to the point of being there whenever she needs someone. She's old enough to know when to stop drinking. I bet you she was pounding beers and thinking "It's ok if I get too drunk, Craig can always take care of me" and that pisses me off. She is literally the block between me and Craig having anything. And the worst part about it, is she is telling him "how bad she feels for me, that I have been put in the middle of this, and I seem like suuuch a sweet girl- she feels she should write me a heart felt letter appologizing because i don't deserve any of this" Craig told me about this letter she wants to write, when I was talking to him last night. I calmly told him to pass along the message that I'd rather if she didn't write me a note, that i'm just tired of it all, and I think the best thing for me to do to help the situation is to take a step back and let them work out their stuff. This of course, sucks for me, but such is life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended the conversation lastnight with him saying "Well, anytime you want to come visit me, please don't hesitate, I really would love to see you again." In which I responded "Ok, thanks. I'll talk to ya sometime."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhh the joys of the single world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-934685532728821953?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/934685532728821953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=934685532728821953' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/934685532728821953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/934685532728821953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/07/wont-do-it-anymore.html' title='Won&apos;t do it anymore'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Ro6gu-uXjsI/AAAAAAAAAPA/GSw8vLOfdFk/s72-c/56614363_ea7ecd7c7f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-223410322623661422</id><published>2007-07-03T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T13:12:16.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember that "Good Guy"?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Ro6iG-uXjtI/AAAAAAAAAPI/tqvWwmqvGBI/s1600-h/34604825_abed94d7a5_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084179270148263634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Ro6iG-uXjtI/AAAAAAAAAPI/tqvWwmqvGBI/s400/34604825_abed94d7a5_m.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And remember how last time it didn't work out because his ex had issues, and he wanted to help her?? Well i'm suddenly feeling a bit of deja vu.&lt;br /&gt;She, once again, is going through some tough stuff.. (Convenient.) and he once again cannot have anything with me becuase he needs to be there for her and it wouldn't be fair to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I being cursed for something?? I really feel like this is just plain unfair. It's unfair that he would do this to me again, because now that it's happened twice.. I don't think I could do it again. Here's what really toppped all of this off. I worked late last night, then went to his work to visit him and get a drink. (He's a bartender.) I'm sitting there, it's kinda awkward after him saying he really likes me but can't have anything... but we're still chatting and enjoying each others company.. Then the door opens... and in walks...... his ex.&lt;br /&gt;My heart sank. He says some crap like "Look at me, i'm being so rude.. Elena, this is Brittany, Brittany, this is Elena." We both did the "Hi, nice to meet you" (Even though you know I'm not a fan of you)&lt;br /&gt;Well, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't just leave, that would be too obvious. So I sat there, and tried to act normal. I couldn't help but notice that she was literally staring at me half the time! It had to have been one of the most uncomfortable and dissapointing moments I've had lately.&lt;br /&gt;I finished my drink, and calmly said "Ok Craig, I gotta go, Stephanie is waiting for me, we're going to go see a movie" He looked concerned, and i'm sure he felt bad. He tried talking me into having "just one more glass of wine" but I insisted that I had to get going. Calmly walked out, got into the elevator, and just starting crying. Did he know she was going to be there? Was this his plan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried all the way home, and started to feel sick to my stomach. I assumed he would call or text me asking if I was ok with what all happened, but nothing. Still haven't heard from him. I'm not calling him either, I'm just going to let it be. They are obviously still talking and I wouldn't want to get involved in their confusing mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, not a good night. Still feel sick thinking about it today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a drink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-223410322623661422?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/223410322623661422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=223410322623661422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/223410322623661422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/223410322623661422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/07/remember-that-good-guy.html' title='Remember that &quot;Good Guy&quot;?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Ro6iG-uXjtI/AAAAAAAAAPI/tqvWwmqvGBI/s72-c/34604825_abed94d7a5_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-4742081854425698413</id><published>2007-07-02T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T08:30:38.622-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A note to women everywhere..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RokkIOuXjmI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/EuMXk-XI5q4/s1600-h/211196357_7ea40e80a8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082633378274446946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RokkIOuXjmI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/EuMXk-XI5q4/s400/211196357_7ea40e80a8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went in to my favorite consinement shop, Platos Closet, over the weekend, since I hadn't been there in a few weeks, I knew there had to be tons of new clothes brought in!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always have a great shopping experience there, the employees are friendly and always remember me when I come in. One male in particular is always so sweet to me, this cute gay guy who looooves his clothes. So I'm shopping, tried on maybe 15 things, found what I wanted and I'm ready to check out. There's a new girl at the checkout counter. I'd say she was probably about 19 years old. Seemed friendly enough as she stamped my frequent shopper card. But it's what she said as she was handing me my bag, that turned my great shopping experience sour.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Here you are Hon."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did she just call me hon??? How old is she? 19? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My thoughts:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you are going to call someone anything along the lines of honey or hon.... you better be older than me, with more life experience, otherwise, it's like you're talking down to me, and I won't be a fan of you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A note to women everywhere, please consider this when talking to another woman. It may save you from making an enemy when you least expect it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-4742081854425698413?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4742081854425698413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=4742081854425698413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/4742081854425698413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/4742081854425698413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/07/note-to-women-everywhere.html' title='A note to women everywhere..'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RokkIOuXjmI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/EuMXk-XI5q4/s72-c/211196357_7ea40e80a8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-361262001005124167</id><published>2007-06-20T08:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T08:59:36.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My free of charge therapy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnlER1rurbI/AAAAAAAAAOA/lAwU1siMptA/s1600-h/ep94_carrie_dog_cafe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078165128095903154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnlER1rurbI/AAAAAAAAAOA/lAwU1siMptA/s400/ep94_carrie_dog_cafe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I never watched Sex and the City when it was actually on TV.&lt;br /&gt;About 3 years ago, on Christmas Eve, my ex boyfriend bought me the first season on dvd, thinking I may enjoy it. From there, I was gone.&lt;br /&gt;I grew attached to the characters easily. I related to all of them, in different ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charrie: hopeless romantic, very philosophical, making humor out of the awkward moments in life. Charlotte: Sweet and innocent, a bit naive, well mannered. Samantha: ok.... we're all a little bit of Samantha. Don't deny it. Miranda: Very independant, sinical, smartass, likes her personal space and alone time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I finished the first season, I went straight to Target and bought the second, knowing it would practically pay for itself with the amount of times I would watch it. Each new season I bought, i rushed home, curled up on the couch, got a glass of Chateau St. Michelle, and watched the whole season in one sitting. Once the credits started rolling for the very last episode, I was in a state of shock. Oh this isn't good.... that's the very last one?? Ever?? I remember feeling like I didn't know what do to with myself, it was bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward a few years later, during the worst breakup i've yet had to experience. I felt lost, deceived and beside myself with anger. I'm not sure what sparked me to put in Sex and the City, but it was the best thing I could have done for myself at that point in time. I found that after each episode ended, I felt better about myself, more confident, and hopeful for the future. Carrie dated a guy named Aiden around the 3rd or 4th season. They were madly in love, moved in together, she thought she found "the one". Turns out he wanted more than she was ready for at the time, and they went through a heartwrenching breakup. But she was eventually ok. She had her friends to rely on, and they helped her through. She saw him a year or so later, holding his new son. They were both happy to see each other, said their hello's, how are you's, and I'm glad you're doing well, take care of yourself. She had survived her heartache, and moved on. Their relationship had always felt like mine and my ex's. They were so close, so madly in love that they didn't want to live without each other, had some hard times but always came back... but in the end it just wasn't enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you need to realize that other people go through the same thing you may be going through. That things aren't as bad as they may seem, and believe it or not, whatever the situation, it too shall pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sex and the City is totally my free therapy. Works like magic with every episode I watch. I watched some of season 5 last night, before falling asleep on the couch (I'm tellin ya, total granny, its pathetic..) and when I went to bed, turned off the lights, brought my cat to bed, I felt so calm and peaceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need some therapy but can't afford the insane pricing? Go pick up Sex and the City. You'll thank me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-361262001005124167?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/361262001005124167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=361262001005124167' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/361262001005124167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/361262001005124167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-free-of-charge-therapy.html' title='My free of charge therapy...'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnlER1rurbI/AAAAAAAAAOA/lAwU1siMptA/s72-c/ep94_carrie_dog_cafe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-3595267840517443292</id><published>2007-06-19T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T12:40:02.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Women at the clubs make me laugh</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rngj81rurXI/AAAAAAAAANg/RWBHYmKsIqU/s1600-h/l_eadbedd37fac73d13008a588956553c2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077848107969850738" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rngj81rurXI/AAAAAAAAANg/RWBHYmKsIqU/s400/l_eadbedd37fac73d13008a588956553c2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RngjmVrurWI/AAAAAAAAANY/hQ5CICvjwms/s1600-h/l_8b808fee22105f16667dad5df7033544.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So a friend of a friend of mine, had her 23rd birthday party at Tabella's in Seattle this last weekend. She instructed before hand that it was to be a Barbie themed party... ok.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So all of us gals dressed in our cutest dresses, curled our hair, and made ourselves gorgous.  Whenever I go out with one girlfriend in particular, I always have a blast. We dance until our feet hurt. Have drinks bought for us by cute men, and sometimes make some new friends in the womens bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, you can always bet you'll see a clique or two of those "fake, superficial, orange skin, overly white teeth, and fake boobed" girls.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to just despise them. Now, I find humor in them. My favorite thing about them, is when I catch them checking themselves out in the large mirrors every 3 minutes. Pretty sure you look the same now than you did 3 minutes ago. I feel like they're more concerned with impressing people than they are with the main reason of going to a club- HAVING FUN!!! Are you really enjoying yourself, being as self concious as you're being? There's no way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do my hair and makeup before I go out, yes. But I go out to dance with my girlfriends and laugh at sleazy 30 something men who think the perfect pick up line is: "You must have jsut fallen from heaven, cause, baby, you look like an angel to me." Can I please just quickly tell you what I do to these guys? I tell them I'm from some foreign place. One time it was Africa, last weekend it was Australia.  And I make up elaborite details about my life to try and scare them away. Last weekend, I was visitng from Australia, and had just gotten out of jail for murdering my cheating boyfriend and the girl I caught him sleeping with. I can't even explain to you the thrill I get when doing this. And of course, if a nice, presentable guy comes up and is polite enough to buy me a drink, I'll talk to him. I'll give him a chance. I'm just referring to those gross, sleazy, dirtbag guys who honestly think they're taking someone home with them.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But back to the point of my whole rant. Fake conceited girls who's goal in life is to be perfect looking, with the perfect car and annoying dog to match.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm comfortable with my body. I've started working out lately, and toning my arms and legs and stomach. I like who I am as a person, I think I'm mature for my age, and I love that I'm known in the office as an "old soul".  So why the heck is it that whenever i'm around these girls, I get so intimidated? In all reality, i'm sure they're not all that interesting to have a conversation with. Do they keep up to date with politics? Do they make it a point to voulunteer in their community? Do they even do their own laundry? Who knows! The only image they're giving out, while flashing everyone their little thong at the club, is that they're cheap and easy, and to be honest, probably very insecure.  I almost feel bad for them.  I imagine them waking up in the morning, looking in the mirror, and saying "Wow, I really am absolutly beautiful. But oh my god, my nose, it's ruining my whole look. That'll be next on my list of things to fix."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe they don't even do that, lol, i don't know. I could just be making that up. But that's the image I get. And I think anyone who obsesses over themselves like that, cannot be &lt;em&gt;truly &lt;/em&gt;happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My advice: Go take a long walk on some neighborhood trails by yourself, and take time to really think about what makes you happy, and what you want out of life. Do something that you enjoy, and don't worry if it's "nerdy" or "different", it's your life, don't obsess over what other people think. Go to a movie or lunch by yourself. You don't need anyone else to have a good time. If you're comfortable enough with yourself, you should be able to entertain yourself, and not feel self conscious. (Good lesson my mother once taught me.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do what makes you truly happy, not what you think others want of you.  And for shoots sake, lay off on the bronzer a bit. Believe it or not, it's actually not flattering on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-3595267840517443292?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3595267840517443292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=3595267840517443292' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3595267840517443292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3595267840517443292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/06/women-at-clubs-make-me-laugh.html' title='Women at the clubs make me laugh'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rngj81rurXI/AAAAAAAAANg/RWBHYmKsIqU/s72-c/l_eadbedd37fac73d13008a588956553c2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-5081860946001642942</id><published>2007-06-15T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T13:00:24.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have I actually met an honest to goodness "Good Guy?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnK38lrurUI/AAAAAAAAANI/MFEKNKG9Kog/s1600-h/306611746_29c857fcc0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076321981535530306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnK38lrurUI/AAAAAAAAANI/MFEKNKG9Kog/s400/306611746_29c857fcc0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's this guy that I dated last summer for a little bit, but had lost touch with him, due to his ex girlfriend coming back into the picture. She was having some problems, and he wanted to be with her to help her. I understood, was disapointed, but understood completely. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well... they broke up a few months ago, and he and I have been talking again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's very mellow, doesn't really have any drama or baggage, and doesn't mind driving all the way out to my apt to see me. Like lastnight, he wanted to take me out to some friends birthday party, but I was sooo tired from our Shareholder Meeting at Impart that I asked to take a rain check. He was completely cool with it, and ended up coming over just to watch a half hour of Sex and the City with me. Then just went home. Seriously, this is a good guy. I'm turning into a big fan. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like being single and all, but its sooooo nice to have someone to talk to. Want to know a secret? There's something my ex boyfriend used to do that would always make my heart melt. We lived together in this old, crappy apartment in Kirkland.. and I'm such a granny that i'm known for falling asleep on the couch by 10pm.. My ex would always turm off the tv, turm off all the lights, pick me up and carry me to bed. Tuck me in and kiss me goodnight. I remember being halfway asleep whenever he'd do this, and i'd always feel so peaceful and happy. Like when your parents would carry you to bed and tuck you in... except then he'd sleep right next to me..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well the other night, my new guy came over and we were cuddling on the couch, and i was obviously falling asleep on his arm, and he gently picked me up, walked me to my room and placed me in bed. Tucked me in, kissed my forehead, turned out the lights and said he'd call me tomorrow. I love it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Point of all this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm excited. I like him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-5081860946001642942?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/5081860946001642942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=5081860946001642942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/5081860946001642942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/5081860946001642942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/06/have-i-actually-met-honest-to-goodness.html' title='Have I actually met an honest to goodness &quot;Good Guy?&quot;'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnK38lrurUI/AAAAAAAAANI/MFEKNKG9Kog/s72-c/306611746_29c857fcc0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-592673487720803169</id><published>2007-05-15T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T13:27:57.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are we already half way through the year??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rknrz2FpmBI/AAAAAAAAAKI/qB6K4vILAOs/s1600-h/120200137_90cd57dc81.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064838531879901202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rknrz2FpmBI/AAAAAAAAAKI/qB6K4vILAOs/s320/120200137_90cd57dc81.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It just hit me the other day...IT'S ALMOST JUNE!?! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Remember how I said in an earlier post that my astrology forcast said I would be "mentally disturbed" in 2007? I've gotta tell you, so far, I've never felt so in control of my life. I think that forcast was just bull. I think i've gotten a firm grasp on this whole dating business, and can now go on dates w/o daydreaming of marriage. Good thing to get past I think! But come on, we've all done it! You meet this guy, he seems just so perfect for you. You imagine yourself with his last name. Hmm... Brittany Davidson... that has a nice ring to it, don't ya think? Brittany Johnson... yuck, I don't like that one as much, he must not be the one for me. I ALWAYS do that! It's not like I am even thinking seriously about marrying this so and so, I just get so caught up in the daydreaming aspect of it all. Then when it doesn't work out, and I find out first hand how moronic some guys can be, i'm so dissapointed, as if I just lost my potential "soul mate". Am I the only one that does this?? Well, point of story is, I think so far this year, i'm learning to think more realistically. I've been on a couple first dates and had a good time, but didn't expect anything. Didn't get ahead of myself. And when got home after my couple glasses of Chateau St. Michelle, I wasn't dissapointed. I was content. And I went to the couch with my laptop and worked, while snuggling up with my cat. Yes, I believe content is the word for these types of nights. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This year is serioulsy FLYING by so far, and I absolutly love it! Bring on the dates and the concerts and glasses of Riesling, (not to mention my promotion)! I'm having a blast so far. Bring it on baby!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wait..... this means that i'm now almost halfway to my highschool reunion.... is there anyway to slow down time now? That'd be great, thanks.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-592673487720803169?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/592673487720803169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=592673487720803169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/592673487720803169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/592673487720803169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/05/are-we-already-half-way-through-year.html' title='Are we already half way through the year??'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rknrz2FpmBI/AAAAAAAAAKI/qB6K4vILAOs/s72-c/120200137_90cd57dc81.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-7740612448162121542</id><published>2007-05-01T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T14:48:06.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My pet peeve: Children with bad manners...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RjdyOGFpmAI/AAAAAAAAAKA/S4ojAKQfnf4/s1600-h/280484304_317201b22d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059638292852086786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RjdyOGFpmAI/AAAAAAAAAKA/S4ojAKQfnf4/s320/280484304_317201b22d.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you ever seen the show Super Nanny? It's one of my favorite shows thats out right now. It's about a professional and well educated nanny that comes to the rescue for families in desperate need of help with their ill mannered children.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You seriously should see some of the things these kids get away with, mainly because their parents are too lazy or fed up to deal with it. I don't even want to imagine how tiring 24/7 parenting is.... but I CAN tell you, that I am going to make sure my kids listen to me when I ask them to do something, and if they ignore me, there will be consiquences. Simple as that. If you don't teach them discipline now, how do you think they're going to be as adults?? YIKES! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday, this kid was aiming rubber bands at me and pretending to shoot them. I told him that's very dangerous, and he could hit me in the face, so he should aim it towards the wall, or someplace where it wouldn't hurt anyone.... and he COMPLETELY ignored me! Just blew it off and shot them towards me. Now, I'm not his parent so I have no right saying anything to him other than, please stop..... But shouldn't he have been taught to listen to adults when they tell him to stop doing something? That just makes no sense to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know I ALWAYS bring my nephew in to my stories, but bear with me here...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jackson is very well mannered. If I ask him to do something, or stop doing something, for the most part.. he does it right away. He gets it. He KNOWS there will be consiquences because my sister has made sure she follows through with the consequences. She doesn't become lazy about it and blow it off. That's good parenting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really think that most people in our society lack good old fashioned manners. I've said it before but it actually ticks me off. It's actually more scary than anything... think about it... what will we all look like 30 years down the road when the lack of teaching manners to our children turns into them not teaching manners and so on and so forth? Scary, huh?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now don't get me wrong here. I'm not saying that ALL PARENTS are lazy and don't teach basic and extended manners to their children, and seriously, kudos to those who think it's as important as I do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's another example: my ex boyfriend was taught good manner at an early age. His mother did a great job enforcing the importance of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whenever we would walk on the street, out of habit, he would ALWAYS walk on the side closest to the street. He said his mother taught him this because it's safer for the girl to be farthest away from the cars. Also, sometimes if I was driving and asked him to grab my cell phone for me out of my purse, he always felt uncomfortable digging through it, because he said it was rude to look through a woman's purse. WOW. Were any of you taught this? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let's keep the tradition of good manners going. Whatdya say?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-7740612448162121542?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7740612448162121542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=7740612448162121542' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7740612448162121542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7740612448162121542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-pet-peeve-ill-mannered-children.html' title='My pet peeve: Children with bad manners...'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RjdyOGFpmAI/AAAAAAAAAKA/S4ojAKQfnf4/s72-c/280484304_317201b22d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-2959551090181758574</id><published>2007-04-11T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T11:03:16.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I just say.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rh0hIZtMlBI/AAAAAAAAAJg/4ttCHqlbk8A/s1600-h/294367184_b65305c92e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052230785202689042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rh0hIZtMlBI/AAAAAAAAAJg/4ttCHqlbk8A/s320/294367184_b65305c92e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When you really need to get some work done, Classical music is the way to go.  Doesn't it help spark creativity in people?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anywhoo, remember this next time you have a gagillion things to do at work. It's a must.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now back to Bach.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-2959551090181758574?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/2959551090181758574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=2959551090181758574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/2959551090181758574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/2959551090181758574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/can-i-just-say.html' title='Can I just say.....'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rh0hIZtMlBI/AAAAAAAAAJg/4ttCHqlbk8A/s72-c/294367184_b65305c92e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-935387483332725086</id><published>2007-04-10T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T12:44:46.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's official</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RhvalZtMlAI/AAAAAAAAAJY/1z0HXnOgmDE/s1600-h/f786aa62.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051871743116612610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RhvalZtMlAI/AAAAAAAAAJY/1z0HXnOgmDE/s320/f786aa62.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've decided to no longer persue, or have a close friendship with my infatuation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we first started hanging out, everything he said felt sincere and extreemly romantic. &lt;em&gt;"You've by far exceeded my expectations on who I thoguht you could be. You have a great personality, a fantasic body and a smile that literally makes me melt, imagine that."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He would continue to tell me how amazing he thought I was and how I caught him off guard and he was falling for me fast. How something about me made him so attracted to me, and for that one of his favorite things to do was look at me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How could you NOT fall in love with someone telling you this? Especially when he's very smart, and good looking. (In an awkward, nerdy way, but I loved it.) He invited me to Disneyworld with him. (One of the only things that still makes me 100% happy is Disneyland/Disneyworld. It's where I can act like a kid and not be embarassed. It's my heaven, no joke)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He completely swept me off my feet. I was on a fast track to head over heels in love, and I didn't provide myself anything to fall back on. You could say I was a typical girl and set myself up for heartache. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here I am. I made my own bed on this one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He no longer tells me sincere compliments. Now it's "you looked hot today. You'd look even hotter in some lingerie." He even informed me yesterday that he can tell i'm gaining weight (which i'm trying to gain 5-10 lbs) but that it's in all the wrong places.....meaning my love handles) Any girl would smack a guy for saying that. Damn me and my overly nice ways. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He'll say he's interested and wants to hang out nothing ever comes out of it. To sum it up, he's breaking my heart. And to keep hanging out with him, would be compromsing myself, and I was taught better by the women in my family. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I called my mom lastnight, since she knows all too well how men can be jerks, and how to get through the heartache. She said it sounded like some girl must have jerked him around one time or another and now he's in revenge mode, and I happen to be one of the lucky girls paying for someone elses actions. Fabulous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I told him today that he enjoys playing games with people and I feel like he completely set me up, and I just won't do it anymore. He responded with "OK, I'll stop talking to you for good now"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know this should be relieving to hear, but for some reason it just makes it that much more hurtful. To me, that means, ok she caught on to me that i've been playing head games with her, and she's finally had enough, so i'll give up... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Either way, what this means to me is that I'll no longer be talking to him everyday and texting him all night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But hey, such is life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks for the help, mom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-935387483332725086?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/935387483332725086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=935387483332725086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/935387483332725086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/935387483332725086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/04/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s official'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RhvalZtMlAI/AAAAAAAAAJY/1z0HXnOgmDE/s72-c/f786aa62.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-2942161514427209560</id><published>2007-03-27T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-27T09:03:04.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a difference a day makes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rgk9gKcIJ7I/AAAAAAAAAI0/9I-IMZkqC34/s1600-h/131425469_7b7c075abb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046632480212789170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rgk9gKcIJ7I/AAAAAAAAAI0/9I-IMZkqC34/s320/131425469_7b7c075abb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday felt like the first real day of spring here in Seattle.&lt;br /&gt;It must have been a good 65 degrees. I went and sat out on our balcony for a few minutes to soak it all in. Everyone seemed cheery, and the Ride the Duck tours were in full gear. (They always drive by here and sometimes they'll look up and wave to us on the balcony, always makes me smile.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also tied up some loose ends with my infatuation, which felt wonderful. Got some stuff off my chest, and so did he. I'm beginning to understand that he's really not as bad of a guy as I thought, but i'm still going to be cautious, just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home after working at the gym, and sat around with some girlfriends watching "The Descent"&lt;br /&gt;Good stuff. We all had a good amount to drink, and pretty sure I almost peed my pants on several occasions. We all went to bed, and I started texting mr. infatuation. It's funny cause I can't really see myself dating him or anything, but I absolutlely go weak when he's close by. It's weird, I hang out with a lot of guys, but just this one in general makes me go into my own world and daydream.  Very strange, but i love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, yesterday was a great day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course today is cloudy and cold, but at least my daily tarot reading says I have a good day in store for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-2942161514427209560?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/2942161514427209560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=2942161514427209560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/2942161514427209560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/2942161514427209560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/what-difference-day-makes.html' title='What a difference a day makes'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rgk9gKcIJ7I/AAAAAAAAAI0/9I-IMZkqC34/s72-c/131425469_7b7c075abb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-3448906023629424536</id><published>2007-03-14T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T14:33:12.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh how I hate the dating pool</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhYsHyvK5I/AAAAAAAAAHs/DUssQDKpbq4/s1600-h/55355579_b5f1955b1f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041877297870613394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhYsHyvK5I/AAAAAAAAAHs/DUssQDKpbq4/s320/55355579_b5f1955b1f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mother has been single since she and my dad divorced in 1985.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She reads romance and sci fi novels, travels to Mexico each year with her girlfriends, is addicted to shopping on ebay, and for the most part, leads a relaxed and content life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been testing the waters in the dating pool now for about a year. At times I enjoy it. It's nice to do things on my own, and prove to myself that I can do anything I put my mind to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's also nice to go out on several dates and meet new people. (And come on, the free dinner and wine doesn't hurt either!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some dates are good. Some... you just have to laugh about, becuase you can't really cry in front of the idiot, who just so happens to be talking about his ex wife who cheated on him and got pregnant with someone elses kid while they were still married..... yikes. Spare me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One date, the guy even asked me to pay for half the meal, and while riding down the elevaor to the parking garage said "Next time you're so paying for the whole thing, you're an expensive date!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Which is why all you can do is laugh about it, and enjoy the free food and drinks. (Especially the drinks.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whenever my grandparents call me, which I enjoy hearing from them as I only see them about twice a year, the first question that comes out of their mouth is: "How's your boyfriend, dear?" Grandma, you know that (ex's name) and I have been apart for over a year. "Well do you have another boyfriend?" No, Grandma, and i'm perfectly happy being single. "Oh don't worry, you'll find someone soon, and get married and have babies." Oh thank goodness Grandma, I was scared for a second there, but now that you've reassured me... well I feel much better. "Just don't end up like your mom, being single in your 50's is just sad" OK Grandma, got it. How about I just buy 10 more cats, and I can be the creepy cat lady I always dreamed of being?? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you're single, everyone's first reaction is, "Oh well don't worry, you'll find someone soon."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you're dating someone, it's "You guys have been together for 3 years and he hasn't proposed yet?? I'm sure he will soon.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you're married its" "When are you two planning on having children? Don't wait too long! You want to be around for their wedding day, don't you?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When is it ever enough? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My sister married at 24. (keep in mind, i'm 23) She now has two kids, whom I absolutly adore. She and her husband still show affection to each other, and are very good parents. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As far as I know, my Grandma never pushed her like she does me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know what? I'm happy. I'm in no hurry to settle down, being that if I married someone too soon, it would most likely end in divorce anyways, and who am I kidding... I don't have the energy for that crap. (Or the money!!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To my Grandma: I'm fine, really. And i'm sure I'll meet someone someday who makes me happy. But for now, i'm in no hurry. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS. Please take down that picture of me and (ex's name) off your refrigerator. I look horrible in it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-3448906023629424536?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3448906023629424536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=3448906023629424536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3448906023629424536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3448906023629424536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/oh-how-i-hate-dating-pool.html' title='Oh how I hate the dating pool'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhYsHyvK5I/AAAAAAAAAHs/DUssQDKpbq4/s72-c/55355579_b5f1955b1f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-2080833048107758585</id><published>2007-03-13T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T08:55:39.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Road rage, a good start to a Tuesday morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfga9HyvK0I/AAAAAAAAAHE/7Bu7Y85lruU/s1600-h/247950024_452efcf09f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041809420207467330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfga9HyvK0I/AAAAAAAAAHE/7Bu7Y85lruU/s320/247950024_452efcf09f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So i'm driving on 520 this morning, about to come up to the bridge, and i'm in the very left hand lane. (Always moves the fastest) And this car thats in the very right hand lane zips through both lanes and completely cuts me off, then puts on his brakes, resulting in my brake action.&lt;br /&gt;So I think, screw this, this guy's crazy and there's no way I'm staying behind him.&lt;br /&gt;So I get over one lane, and there's plenty of room in front of him. (Why did he brake?!) I get in front of him. He is SO not happy. Freaking turns on his brights and rides my ass until I take the exit I needed.&lt;br /&gt;I've said this before and I'll say it again. Drivers in Seattle are THE WORST.&lt;br /&gt;What was the point of all that? Did you just have too much coffee this morning? Seriously get a life. Put on some calming music, Bach works for me, and take a big breath in, now out. Breathe through your nose and calm down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, try to drive like a big boy before you cause an accident.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-2080833048107758585?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/2080833048107758585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=2080833048107758585' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/2080833048107758585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/2080833048107758585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/road-rage-good-start-to-tuesday-morning.html' title='Road rage, a good start to a Tuesday morning'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfga9HyvK0I/AAAAAAAAAHE/7Bu7Y85lruU/s72-c/247950024_452efcf09f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-2705411097478715877</id><published>2007-03-12T09:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T08:34:00.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleazy like Monday morning.</title><content type='html'>So lets see, we lost an hour yesterday, it's raining outside, and my pants are still slightly wrinkled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Mondays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-2705411097478715877?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/2705411097478715877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=2705411097478715877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/2705411097478715877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/2705411097478715877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/sleazy-like-monday-morning.html' title='Sleazy like Monday morning.'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-8499780576873090140</id><published>2007-03-09T08:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T09:13:27.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How do we know when to stop?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfgfFXyvK1I/AAAAAAAAAHM/qyT5M7D8KN0/s1600-h/30528520_c4d160d1d5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041813959987899218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfgfFXyvK1I/AAAAAAAAAHM/qyT5M7D8KN0/s320/30528520_c4d160d1d5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's a certain someone that I find myself absolutly infatuated with. I get nervous around him, I can't help smiling when he's around me. And it probably doesn't help that I've been reading nothing but sappy romance novels with steamy scenes..&lt;br /&gt;Here's the problem, after about 3 or so months of "seeing each other" he completely stopped talking to me. One minute, he's coming over to spend the night, the next NOTHING. Now, he's saying how much he's missed spending time with me, and that he does really like me, he's just a big relationship-phobe. I've said before that I'm starting to realize that alot of men are just.. well.. bad news. (To put it lightly.)But for some reason I can't help being more drawn to those guys! It's sooo bad for me and I know it'll just end in heartache... so how do I know when to stop?&lt;br /&gt;Is he just saying these things because I'm a rebound, and the whole time he stopped talking to me, he had someone else wrapped around his finger? Or is he being genuine in saying he's missed me and does actually really like me? Who know's? I've almost given up on trying to read men.&lt;br /&gt;I've been very upfront with him lately, telling him that I like him alot, but that maybe I'm just not the type of girl he's looking for.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not looking for anything serious, like I've said before- between a full time and part time job, while maintaining my personal at home life, I don't have the time or energy for something serious. But even so, have some resspect for the person you're "seeing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm at a loss with what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....must.....stay.....strong.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll update you further.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-8499780576873090140?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/8499780576873090140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=8499780576873090140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/8499780576873090140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/8499780576873090140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/how-do-we-know-when-to-stop.html' title='How do we know when to stop?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfgfFXyvK1I/AAAAAAAAAHM/qyT5M7D8KN0/s72-c/30528520_c4d160d1d5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-4384349713232460593</id><published>2007-03-05T13:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T09:16:48.487-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aren't we too old for this by now?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfgf53yvK2I/AAAAAAAAAHU/v04-rbx4R2o/s1600-h/99889589_cc7bb3d271.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041814861931031394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfgf53yvK2I/AAAAAAAAAHU/v04-rbx4R2o/s320/99889589_cc7bb3d271.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I like a guy, i'm going to show interest. Plain and simple. What's with this stupid high school like game we play with the opposite gender? Call me an old lady but I really don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;I've known this guy for about 8 months now, we'll call him Casey. He's really sweet, likes to cuddle up and watch scary movies (one of my all time favorite things to do) and has proven himself to be a good friend. He even bought me groceries when he heard from my good friend that I wasn't eating enough. He actually came over and lectured me... yikes.&lt;br /&gt;So I sometimes go over to his place, we wach movies, eat some dinner and drink some cheap beer, and usually end up staying the night there. Works out pretty well. He doesn't want anything really serious, and I wouldn't have time for a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;Well, we had plans to hang out last night, and he never called. Was I supposed to call him maybe? He finally text me around 9:30pm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casey "Thanks for the movie tonight, it was fun. We should do it again soon."&lt;br /&gt;Me "Excuse me! You never called me!"&lt;br /&gt;Casey "Don't even try it, you have a phone too"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Still wanna hang out?"&lt;br /&gt;Casey: "I have some stuff to do around the apt, want to reschedule? We can go see a movie another night if you want"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this is where I started to write, "K what night are you thinking?"&lt;br /&gt;My friend Jason is sitting next to me, and says something like "What are you doing? You're acting too interested! You have to play the game with him!"&lt;br /&gt;Ok now I used to play this stupid game in Highschool, but thought we were all past this.&lt;br /&gt;So he told me to just write back "sure"&lt;br /&gt;Wow, how annoying, now I have to wait for him to call me... fan-freakin-tastic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-4384349713232460593?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4384349713232460593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=4384349713232460593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/4384349713232460593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/4384349713232460593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/03/arent-we-too-old-for-this-by-now.html' title='Aren&apos;t we too old for this by now?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfgf53yvK2I/AAAAAAAAAHU/v04-rbx4R2o/s72-c/99889589_cc7bb3d271.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-7350817134546668523</id><published>2007-02-20T09:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-16T08:19:25.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Britney has officially ruined my name</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfq1dnyvK-I/AAAAAAAAAIU/qR1IJsTwdQU/s1600-h/49264088_451715a643.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042542253297314786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfq1dnyvK-I/AAAAAAAAAIU/qR1IJsTwdQU/s320/49264088_451715a643.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RdsxjOGUfbI/AAAAAAAAAEg/C8K1cwNkFkA/s1600-h/britney_spears_shaves_head_002.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's in the news evertwhere. "Britney Spears officially gone crazy, shaves her head."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, so you may all say she's completely gone nutso and is not fit to be a mother of two. But I can't help but think... this poor girl! Try imagining what she's going through. She falls madly in love with Kevin Federline, they marry and she hopes to start a family. Every felt that before? Love's a pretty powerful thing! She quickly turned from Pop princess to white trash queen, thanks to her new money mooching, non talent husband. But point being- She loves him, and when you love someone you are willing to change things about yourself to make that person happy. They have their first baby, she decides to be an idiot and drive with her newborn in her lap. Ok, I'm not a mother yet, but really? Pretty sure that's called commen sense. So maybe it wasn't her time to have kids, but can you not agree that most likely her time clock went off and she just wanted to start a family and feel companionship? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So things didn't work out with the love of her life, and here she is raising 2 kids that most likely resemble her ex husbands ghetto fabulous looks. She's completely heartbroken, while still being in the press. WOW, ok if this were me, i'd check my own damn self into the nearest Psychiatric hospital. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've never been a huge fan of hers, especially since my name has gone from teenie bopper status to a white trash head shaving joke. (I received a call yesterday from one of our sales guys saying "you didn't shave your head did you? Hope you're not following her lead!")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I stand by my opinion when I say that she's just gone through too damn much and needs family time again, as well as much needed hours of therapy to let everything out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I honestly hope she comes out of this being a much better person and a strong mother. We should all just leave her alone already.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-7350817134546668523?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7350817134546668523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=7350817134546668523' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7350817134546668523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7350817134546668523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/02/britney-has-officially-ruined-my-name.html' title='Britney has officially ruined my name'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfq1dnyvK-I/AAAAAAAAAIU/qR1IJsTwdQU/s72-c/49264088_451715a643.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-634257530122316880</id><published>2007-02-09T11:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T09:44:50.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahh, the dreaded first love..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfgmXHyvK3I/AAAAAAAAAHc/YRjFFXRKZrM/s1600-h/208488921_212dd92ca8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041821961511971698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfgmXHyvK3I/AAAAAAAAAHc/YRjFFXRKZrM/s320/208488921_212dd92ca8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RczOyeGUfSI/AAAAAAAAAC0/hprKYPc_Sws/s1600-h/2004_the_notebook_wallpaper_001.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you remember your first love? The good memory's and possibly the bad?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Memories of my first love came rushing back to me this last week when I received a call from an old friend of mine, who was just dumped by her first. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everything she said she was going through, sounded all too familiar. (Made me realize how glad I am that it's not me in that position!!)&lt;br /&gt;I have to believe that everyone's first loves help "create" who they become in life. Makes them realize not only what they want in a possible marriage or next relationship, but also what they refuse to go through again. Good things to learn for forming a stable and caring relationship, dontcha think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You see it in movies all the time, boy meets girl, they fall hopelessly in love, are inseperable for years, and then, for one reason or another, they stop talking. (Sometimes they do end up back together, but let's face it, this is Hollywood we're talking about here.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm fascinated with stories about people falling in love, how they met, who courted who, and how it finally ended up. My favorite is hearing these stories from seniors who have been married for 40+ years. It's so romantic to hear how different things were in the 30's and 40's, in regards to courtship. Quite different from how it is today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think once you get past the heartache of it all, it's kinda fun to look back at your first love with fond memories. (Now, running into that person somewhere unexpectadly, that's a whole different story!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goal with my friend, is to take her out to new places and have her meet new people and do new things. These things, in my opinion, are the best medicine for any heartache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-634257530122316880?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/634257530122316880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=634257530122316880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/634257530122316880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/634257530122316880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/02/ahh-dreaded-first-love.html' title='Ahh, the dreaded first love..'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfgmXHyvK3I/AAAAAAAAAHc/YRjFFXRKZrM/s72-c/208488921_212dd92ca8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-4432319636334080460</id><published>2007-02-01T14:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T09:45:44.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A beautiful day in Seattle!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfgmr3yvK4I/AAAAAAAAAHk/BnJBpollkKE/s1600-h/133072592_67556be9f4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041822317994257282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfgmr3yvK4I/AAAAAAAAAHk/BnJBpollkKE/s320/133072592_67556be9f4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RcJn2m6-jGI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hL8i0zj1p98/s1600-h/133072592_67556be9f4.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I find myself being so cheerful and carefree today. It's absolutly gorgeous here! On my way to work this morning, coming over the 520 bridge I had one of the most gorgeous views of what looked like a harvest moon, surrounded by a pink and purple sky.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What a perfect way to start my day! Then I get to work and I look out on the water, from my desk and see all these sailboats going by. You don't see a day like this in Seattle very often, i'm going to make the most out of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yup, there is definitly a good feeling in the air today, and I have to say I feel like a little kid!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-4432319636334080460?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/4432319636334080460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=4432319636334080460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/4432319636334080460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/4432319636334080460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/02/beautiful-day-in-seattle.html' title='A beautiful day in Seattle!!'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfgmr3yvK4I/AAAAAAAAAHk/BnJBpollkKE/s72-c/133072592_67556be9f4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-7455820579368460984</id><published>2007-01-30T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T08:51:10.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The cosmos hate me..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rb-Tf_P8WrI/AAAAAAAAABw/LEzq-Xk18JY/s1600-h/hermes-astrology.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025897886932294322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 190px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px" height="183" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rb-Tf_P8WrI/AAAAAAAAABw/LEzq-Xk18JY/s200/hermes-astrology.jpg" width="190" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am someone who believes in Astrology. Every January I always look up my horoscope for the new year, just to prepare myself for what i'll be in for.&lt;br /&gt;Normally, it says something along the lines of; "You will meet someone special around April" or "If you're looking to purchase a house or car, February is the month to do it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not this year. This year I get: "You will be mentally disturbed until November 23rd."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you kidding me?! Is this a prank?&lt;br /&gt;After reading this, I actually felt mentally disturbed....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes me laugh the more I think about it.&lt;br /&gt;Does it mean i'll just be bitter all year, or should I start looking into local mental hospitals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my take on this disturbing situation:&lt;br /&gt;I've always been a very cheerful person. I like to make people happy and say hi in the halls. I try to look at the glass half full, instead of half empty, and hope that others will follow my lead.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we all start out that way, and after being in a city like Seattle, start to build a sort of "sarcastic barrier".&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what the ratio would be of cheerful people who wear a genuine smile compared to just plain- tired and cranky people, and what is the in between?&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking this for that last few days, and now have a new found respect for all those women I thought were just cranky or overly sarcastic.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure when they were 20 years old, they were very cheerful and thought they could do anything in our big world.&lt;br /&gt;Then they had their first love and loss. Lost contact with people who were once their BFF. Learned how sleazy and cheap some men can be. And learned how to rely on only themselves.&lt;br /&gt;It's not their fault at all that they've ended up this way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the cosmos may say "mentally disturbed", I say I'm pretty freakin normal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-7455820579368460984?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/7455820579368460984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=7455820579368460984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7455820579368460984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/7455820579368460984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/cosmos-hate-me.html' title='The cosmos hate me..'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rb-Tf_P8WrI/AAAAAAAAABw/LEzq-Xk18JY/s72-c/hermes-astrology.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-3353119969037218726</id><published>2007-01-29T11:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T15:26:34.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where did you think you'd be in 5 years?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnhYEVrurZI/AAAAAAAAANw/IlrRaURdQKE/s1600-h/74881697_d50a755cd0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077905411423514002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnhYEVrurZI/AAAAAAAAANw/IlrRaURdQKE/s400/74881697_d50a755cd0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My good friend Stephanie and I get together every Sunday for our "Steph and Britt Day".&lt;br /&gt;We sit around and drink wine, eat good food and watch chick flicks.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, we were sitting around watching "Romie and Michelle's High School Reunion" and reminicing about our High School days as we flipped through her old yearbooks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thought went through my head as we sat there: "Wow, I never would have thought this is where i'd be 5 years after graduating. Isn't it funny where life takes you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In highschool we all try to morph ourselves into what is "popular" or "cool"&lt;br /&gt;I'm finally (thank goodness) at the stage in my life where I'm happy just being myself, and if I know someone doesn't like who I am and what I stand for, well then I don't really need them as a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to see all the popular girls walk around with their blonde hair and cheer outfits, and I wanted to model myself after them. Would I need a nose job? Boob job? I can save up for that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God I grew out of that one!&lt;br /&gt;From all the things that have happened to me over the last 5 years, I have become such a better person than I ever thought I could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I assumed I would still be managing tanning salons and going out to the clubs, own a brand new car, live in some sweet condo in Kirkland, date some gorgeous guy and get married by 25...... wow was I wrong. But lately I've realized that's not a bad thing at all! Instead here I am working for this great company, with brilliant people, and doing all these things I never thought I would. I'm happy with where I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did you think you'd be 5 years after graduation? Are happy with where you really ended up? What would you have done differently?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-3353119969037218726?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3353119969037218726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=3353119969037218726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3353119969037218726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3353119969037218726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/where-did-you-think-youd-be-in-5-years.html' title='Where did you think you&apos;d be in 5 years?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RnhYEVrurZI/AAAAAAAAANw/IlrRaURdQKE/s72-c/74881697_d50a755cd0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-8510899347404337047</id><published>2007-01-17T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T15:36:11.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever happened to fairytales?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfh4tXyvK9I/AAAAAAAAAIM/mrMSzFjuycA/s1600-h/315662472_5a80f677cf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041912503717538770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfh4tXyvK9I/AAAAAAAAAIM/mrMSzFjuycA/s320/315662472_5a80f677cf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfh4QnyvK8I/AAAAAAAAAIE/lgCmA20jdWE/s1600-h/354384160_5791d23b77.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you heard of the movie "Pan's Labyrinth?"&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't hugely advertised, and hardly anyone has heard of it, but if you get a chance, GO SEE IT. It's gotten absolutly amazing reviews already, look it up on Hollywood.com or Rottontomatoes.com. (If Rotton Tomatoes says its good, you know it's worth paying for at the theatres.)&lt;br /&gt;The reason I was so eager to see this movie, is because I am a huge fan fairytales and princesses meeting their prince- they always make me remember what it was like to be a kid and see the world through different eyes.&lt;br /&gt;I love stories like Alice in Wonderland. The young girl (who by the way, was actually written to be a brunette... interesting...) who becomes bored with the real world, and dreams of a place she can escape to, and make new friends, talk to a smoking caterpillar and sing with flowers.&lt;br /&gt;If you enjoy these types of stories, you'll like this movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not all flowers and butterflies, however.&lt;br /&gt;This is more of a modern, adult, dark fairytale... with a good amount of graphic violence... so definately don't take the kids to this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This movie made me wonder: What happened to us? Why don't we believe in fairytales anymore? Are we all so grown up and busy that we can't use our imagination and have fun with it?&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I go to Disneyland, I become a completely different person. I'm a kid in a candy store and I don't care who knows it! I have a Little Mermaid purse as well as an Alice in Wonderland one. Sure, I may only get compliments from 2 year old girls, (Which made me seriously think about purchasing a Dooney and Burke..) but it's something that makes me genuinly happy so I really don't care what anyone thinks about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fairytales make me happy, I just wish more people would appreciate them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I totally have a Little Mermaid watch too. Oh yeah- I already know how cool I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-8510899347404337047?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/8510899347404337047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=8510899347404337047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/8510899347404337047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/8510899347404337047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/whatever-happened-to-fairytales.html' title='Whatever happened to fairytales?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/Rfh4tXyvK9I/AAAAAAAAAIM/mrMSzFjuycA/s72-c/315662472_5a80f677cf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-3157087520839565526</id><published>2007-01-09T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-09T09:36:32.211-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To: Airline and Hotel Staff!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RaPQKWzjcdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/XrqMY1UZ6EY/s1600-h/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018083286159946194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="164" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RaPQKWzjcdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/XrqMY1UZ6EY/s200/0.jpg" width="178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you all have no soul? Did you grow up under a rock and learn your ABC's from a caterpillar smoking a hooka? DO YOU JUST ACT THIS WAY TO PISS EVERYONE OFF FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT? To the women who work at Hooters Hotel and Casino: Just because you have a big rack and get your teeth whitened every week, doesn't mean you have the right to talk down to the rest of us! To the woman who works at reservations at this hotel- There is a reason you are not working out in the restaurant serving drinks and makin big tips, even your phone skills are poor, and you're not fooling anyone by telling them you work at Hooters. I'm onto you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get me wrong, I love the work I do here at Impart, but you have to admit that call center specialists at Expedia, United, Alaskaair, Cheaptickets, and every airline except Jetblue and Frontier should not be legally allowed to work in the real world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some days I can make humor out of their stupidity... today is not one of those days. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-3157087520839565526?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3157087520839565526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=3157087520839565526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3157087520839565526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3157087520839565526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/to-airline-and-hotel-staff.html' title='To: Airline and Hotel Staff!'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RaPQKWzjcdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/XrqMY1UZ6EY/s72-c/0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-1236593631948006461</id><published>2007-01-08T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T15:07:37.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have we all forgotten our manners?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhyI3yvK7I/AAAAAAAAAH8/7QpuiRnsu50/s1600-h/297422538_2c332c894f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041905279582546866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhyI3yvK7I/AAAAAAAAAH8/7QpuiRnsu50/s320/297422538_2c332c894f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RaJ08mzjccI/AAAAAAAAAAo/gm_kEFEFK2o/s1600-h/manners.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sure that the majority of us were taught basic manners growing up. If this is the case, why does society not use them as much as we used to? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't tell you how many times in a day I think to myself "Wow, that person needs to learn some manners!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you look back at Emily Post's etiquette books, you'll see exactly what I mean. Have we all forgotten our proper ettiquette? And 20 years down then road, is the situation only going to get worse? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was shopping at Target yesterday, getting some cat food and hangers and such, and it seems like I was always the one to to say "Oh I'm sorry, excuse me!", even when i wasn't the one at fault! And the part that gets me the most, is even when i say that, they don't crack a smile, don't slow down, they just keep walking as if they're too important for such things. Everyone is just sooooo darn busy, that they can't take a second to lighten up and and put on a friendly face? That just seems crazy to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Again, walking down the aisle at Target yesterday (let's just say I wasn't having the best day) and this woman is walking towards me, pushing her cart, with 3 kids by her side. I have a cart as well, and I was assuming she would say something like "Oh kids, watch out for this lady, please move out of the way." Oh no, she just didn't really give a crap. I actually found myself pushing my cart to the side so these stupid little brats could take up the whole aisle. I'm not talking like one of the aisles up and down the store, I'm talkin the BIG aisles that connect the smaller ones. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Come on lady! I know how it is to walk around with several kids in a store, trust me i do. But you're their mother, how else are they going to learn manners if you don't even realize you're being rude. You're the adult, it's your job to teach manners to your children.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I bet you 10 years down the road, i'll be in a store and one of those little brats will cut me off and not say a damn thing. I'll freaking put money on it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think we should all invest in some reading material, and remember that we are civilized people. So let's grow up and act like it!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some books that may be helpful:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. &lt;em&gt;Emily Post's Etiquette&lt;/em&gt; by Peggy Post&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. &lt;em&gt;Business Class: Etiquette essentials for success at work&lt;/em&gt; by Jacqueline Whitmore&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. &lt;em&gt;Better than Beauty: A guide to charm&lt;/em&gt; by Emily I. Gondor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;4. How to be a lady: A contemparary guide to common courtesy &lt;/em&gt;by Candace Simpson Giles&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-1236593631948006461?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/1236593631948006461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=1236593631948006461' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/1236593631948006461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/1236593631948006461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2007/01/have-we-all-forgotten-our-manners.html' title='Have we all forgotten our manners?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhyI3yvK7I/AAAAAAAAAH8/7QpuiRnsu50/s72-c/297422538_2c332c894f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-3248509376162741168</id><published>2006-11-08T10:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T07:58:08.728-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You know who I love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhtkHyvK6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/8xzCH24lpnI/s1600-h/streetsigns.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041900250175843234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhtkHyvK6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/8xzCH24lpnI/s320/streetsigns.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6341/4512/1600/streetsigns.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those people who stand on the side of the road with election signs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or on the bridge going over the freeway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always honk and wave when i pass them. Seriously, even yesterday, at about 4:30pm, i was on my way home from work and one guy was standing all alone in the pouring rain waiving his sign. And if you've heard how Seattle's weather has been, you'll understand this is is sheer dedication on his part. For some reason, it reminds me of Barbara Streisand in The Way We Were. (One of my favorites)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To everyone out there who stands on the side of the road, waiving your sign and smiling in the pouring rain, keep up the good work! You always make my day, as i'm sure many others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-3248509376162741168?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/3248509376162741168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=3248509376162741168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3248509376162741168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/3248509376162741168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2006/11/you-know-who-i-love.html' title='You know who I love?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/RfhtkHyvK6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/8xzCH24lpnI/s72-c/streetsigns.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-116249199794059590</id><published>2006-11-02T09:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T10:53:03.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quotes anyone?</title><content type='html'>So I have this thing, I love quotes regarding personal growth. It's nice to hear from a complete stranger that they've been through the same thing I'm going through, that i'm not completely crazy.&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;From Garden State&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0103785/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Andrew Largeman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000204/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Sam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;: I still feel at home in my house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0103785/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Andrew Largeman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;: You'll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I'm pretty sure this quote rings true for most young adults in their 20's. I always thought this way and when I saw Garden State, I remember watching it and thinking "Oh my gosh, that's it! That's exactly it!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;From Breakfast at Tiffany's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000030/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Holly Golightly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;: He's all right! Aren't you, cat? Poor cat! Poor slob! Poor slob without a name! The way I see it I haven't got the right to give him one. We don't belong to each other. We just took up one day by the river. I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together. I'm not sure where that is but I know what it is like. It's like Tiffany's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000030/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Holly Golightly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;: I'm like cat here, a no-name slob. We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us. We don't even belong to each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000030/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Holly Golightly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Breakfast at Tiffany's has some of my favorite quotes of all time. This is just a scared young woman, afraid of growing up and settling down. Everytime something gets serious, she'll run and try something new. Her best friend is an orange cat without a name and she has a cut out bathtub for a couch. This movie to me, is a total classic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;From Elizabethtown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000379/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Claire Colburn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;: Sadness is easier because its surrender. I say make time to dance alone with one hand waving free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Something I've totally learned this year. Why sit at home and think about that heart wrenching break up, when you can go out and try new things, meet new people, maybe even meet a new special someone. When i'm 80 years old, I want to remember all the adventures i've been on, and the people I've loved and lost and know that I gave it my all and learned as much as I could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of sitting at home regretting things that may have happened in the past, why not learn from them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And Here is my ending quote:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;From Audrey Hepburn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it's at the end of your arm, as you get older, remember you have another hand: The first is to help yourself, the second is to help others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-116249199794059590?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116249199794059590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=116249199794059590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/116249199794059590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/116249199794059590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2006/11/quotes-anyone.html' title='Quotes anyone?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-116242183911818879</id><published>2006-11-01T14:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T08:36:06.264-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now that I've introduced myself....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R2AN3MYM11I/AAAAAAAAAQg/Vwbw7HfxJ8g/s1600-h/1537378766_ee1ab4d284.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143126016323802962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R2AN3MYM11I/AAAAAAAAAQg/Vwbw7HfxJ8g/s320/1537378766_ee1ab4d284.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can I just say that I think drivers in the Seattle area have to be the dumbest known to mankind???&lt;br /&gt;Ok so I may be "that girl" who does her makeup on the way to work... yeah I get some people who give me the finger, i'll admit it. Hi I'm Brittany and i'm that annoying girl you flip the bird to.&lt;br /&gt;BUT! I only do it when i'm stop and go, or just plain stopped. I'm a smart driver, I really am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my biggest pet peeves is when I am kind enough to let someone in front of me, and they don't give me "the wave". I get pretty annoyed... and I'll probably end up riding their ass. No Joke.&lt;br /&gt;Come on people! Maybe someone should start a Driving Ettiquette class. Here are the basic things you would learn:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. When someone lets you in front of them, a simple wave makes a VERY big difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. If you need to get into my lane, put you're damn blinker on.. I'm not a mind reader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. If you're going to get in front of me on the freeway, don't speed up just so you can make it in, then slow down. Really? What are you thinking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Don't ride my ass, then when I slow down in hopes that you'll take a hint, DON'T speed up and pass me while flipping me off.... Maybe you should just learn to drive like a normal person and we wouldn't have had this problem to begin with!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really think this class should exist. But for now, I'll just vent to you fine folks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, there are some things about Seattle that I love.&lt;br /&gt;For example, so many people out here ride their bikes to work. Good for them, seriously.&lt;br /&gt;If I didn't practically live out of my car and live about 30 minutes away from work... no wait who am I kidding, I still would take my car. But Kudos to those who ride their bikes or take the bus. I wish I had the guts to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way to work one morning, I was stopped at a light and I saw this woman on her bike wearing a hot pink body suit, a pink tutu, black leggings and tennis shoes. There's my new hero. It very well could have been a guy too, but whoever it was, in my opinion, rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So everyone except that pink tutu woman/man, learn to drive or take the bus and hope that the bus driver isn't a total idiot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-116242183911818879?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116242183911818879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=116242183911818879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/116242183911818879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/116242183911818879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2006/11/now-that-ive-introduced-myself.html' title='Now that I&apos;ve introduced myself....'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/__WWUOIvE5ro/R2AN3MYM11I/AAAAAAAAAQg/Vwbw7HfxJ8g/s72-c/1537378766_ee1ab4d284.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968645.post-116241900979056839</id><published>2006-11-01T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T10:53:03.512-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why am I starting this Blog?</title><content type='html'>Becuase I've read so many great blogs in the past few weeks, to name a few:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Seth Godin&lt;br /&gt;2. Scott Adams (Dilbert Cartoonist)&lt;br /&gt;3. Wonderbranding: Marketing to Women ( Michelle Miller)&lt;br /&gt;4. The Diva Marketing Blog&lt;br /&gt;5. Rants on Modern Marketing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I started my current job at a Seattle Based Marketing Company, I've read so many ideas, insights and critisisms, that I'd like to throw my own out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While also adding my ideas on how humorous life is in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we are, now everyone can see exactly what is goin on in my crazy mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ENJOY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968645-116241900979056839?l=brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/feeds/116241900979056839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968645&amp;postID=116241900979056839' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/116241900979056839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968645/posts/default/116241900979056839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanysdailyrantings.blogspot.com/2006/11/why-am-i-starting-this-blog.html' title='Why am I starting this Blog?'/><author><name>Brittany Smith</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02357371814704580180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xg-XSpZ9LxU/Tp8boZbGDoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/s2QCAdf5ztw/s220/IMG180.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
