<?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-8289893436464282918</id><updated>2011-10-04T16:55:13.929-05:00</updated><category term='Too Serious'/><category term='societal failings'/><category term='Religious Babble'/><category term='Ridiculousness'/><category term='things that bug me'/><category term='Road Raging'/><category term='Personal Quirks'/><category term='Craigslist Fail'/><category term='Yelling at the TV'/><title type='text'>A Pile of Empty Words</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-4220740611334162711</id><published>2011-01-15T21:55:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T22:08:42.594-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that bug me'/><title type='text'>Dear Eagle Watchers:</title><content type='html'>Dear Eagle Watchers of Alton:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because you catch a glimpse of a Bald Eagle on Route 143, that does not give you permission to slam on your brakes in the middle of the highway, or drive 30 miles an hour in the left lane while simultaneously trying to take a picture out your window. If you do decide to actually pull off the road, you should not get out of your car and proceed to stand in the MIDDLE of the right lane to get a better picture of said birds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I realize they are our nation's bird, and are a symbol of all things majestic and brave and beautiful. But seriously people, they come every winter. And they hardly ever do anything that exciting, anyway. Now if one of them starts dive-bombing sight-seers on the levee, I will be the first in line to watch that show. Until then, I must ask if it is really worth taking your life (or the lives of those around you) into your hands to watch an over-grown hawk sit in a tree, or crap along the side of the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in closing, let me assure you that I, for one, will not feel that bad for wrecking into you if you are driving like a jack-wagon, or are standing out in the road as if it is your own private eagle viewing party. The road is NOT a parking lot! Go further up the river road where you can actually park and view the eagles in peace without the threat of becoming roadkill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-4220740611334162711?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/4220740611334162711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2011/01/dear-eagle-watchers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4220740611334162711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4220740611334162711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2011/01/dear-eagle-watchers.html' title='Dear Eagle Watchers:'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-5847028790229325377</id><published>2010-12-02T18:45:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T21:42:46.668-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Road Raging'/><title type='text'>The New Driving Test</title><content type='html'>There needs to be a different take on the plain old driving test people take at the DMV. Surely there is a more life-like driving test than one where you are in a car with a crotchety old lady taking notes on her clipboard while you make laps around a parking lot, cross one busy intersection and drive politely through a low-traffic neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I think the driving test should consist of a half hour trip on a busy interstate during rush hour. Because if you are trying to merge in front of me on 270 at 6pm, I really don't give two shits if you can do a perfect three-point turn-about, or that you know to stop for 3 full seconds at a stop sign. All I care about is that you know you should be going more than 40 miles per hour, and that if you really want out of the Exit Only lane, you have a fucking blinker on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know it would be hard to perform a test of this magnitude on a daily basis... what, with all the DMV cronies being unionized and all. So, I propose that in the case that a proxy is needed, a new driver has to have a dash camera installed for a week, and can drive alone under a provisionary license, pending approval after the viewing of the week's video tape. Seriously, this whole driving debate has gotten out of hand. I know I have a short fuse when it comes to the road, and I know I have a lead foot, and that I prefer people who know to get the hell out of my way-- but that isn't the whole story. The rest of the story starts like this: PEOPLE NEED TO LEARN HOW TO F'ING DRIVE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, they have these new laws saying kids can't drive until they are 18, because studies show 16 year olds have the most wrecks. No shit, they have the most wrecks. They are the least experienced! Now, instead of having 16 year olds who don't know what the hell they are doing, we will just have 18 year olds who don't know what the hell they are doing. And NOW they are two years behind in finding out what the hell they are supposed to be doing. So, when they are 21 and in college, they will still be driving like we did when we were 18 and now they can also drink, so it is just going to be a disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And truthfully, some people will just never have a clue. There are 16 year olds RIGHT NOW that I am SURE could drive better than some 30 year olds I know. These are the facts, folks. I don't know what the point of this rant is, except that I am just really pissed that I am going to have to drive to St. Louis tomorrow in snow, and I know there will be idiot drivers out there who think they are excellent because some old biddy with tri-focals said they pulled out of a driveway without crossing the center line, so they got an extra star on their licensing test. And my panties are pretty twisted about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-5847028790229325377?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/5847028790229325377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-driving-test.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/5847028790229325377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/5847028790229325377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-driving-test.html' title='The New Driving Test'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-2827599464918444233</id><published>2010-10-28T21:29:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T21:57:24.434-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Can Put a Man On The Moon, but...</title><content type='html'>--We can't make a cereal box that will stay shut after you ever-so-carefully pry the stupid cardboard back without ripping the little tab off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--We can't make a rock-hauling truck with a convenient little flap/lid thing that will allow the trailer to be conveniently filled at the quarry, but then can be closed to prevents rocks from flying out of it on the highway that crack the windshields of all the poor bastards behind it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--We can't make vodka that doesn't give you a hangover or ruin your liver. Seriously. What is up with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--We still don't have hoverboards a la Back to the Future II. I am almost as pissed about this as I am about the vodka thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-2827599464918444233?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/2827599464918444233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/10/we-can-put-man-on-moon-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/2827599464918444233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/2827599464918444233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/10/we-can-put-man-on-moon-but.html' title='We Can Put a Man On The Moon, but...'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-4821005852407034948</id><published>2010-08-26T21:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T21:55:21.616-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ridiculousness'/><title type='text'>Businesses in Houses</title><content type='html'>Random Thought #457&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You really should not try to have a business out of a building that looks exactly like a house, or that used to BE a house unless any of the following are true:&lt;br /&gt;1) The house has gigantic windows in front that you intend to keep clear of blinds, curtains or any other opaque obstacle between the street and your merchandise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) The house is on a very busy street LINED with other business-houses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) The house is a hundred year old mansion and every local within a 50 mile radius knows that it is now zoned for commercial property and that no one has lived there for years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, let me tell you why. See, some of us are paranoid nut-jobs and when we googlemaps a store location, drive there and realize that the place we are seeking is a two-story bungalow sitting outside a suburban neighborhood with only a hand-painted sign out front signifying that it is a business and not a residence, our minds go into over-drive and start envisioning ridiculous scenarios that we are already fully aware will probably never take place. However, once those thoughts are inside our minds, they are hard to shake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, this past weekend I drove past a little house sitting out in the middle of nowhere on an old road, outside of a major metropolis. A sign out front read, "Coffee Shop" but I wasn't buying it. All of the windows were covered, the front door was nothing but a regular six-panel wooden door. How do I know that once I walk through that door I'm not going to be turned into a wax manequin or a human lamp? It is a pretty good cover, really. Act like you are a coffee shop, but dismember people in your basement. (Yes, I know I watch too many horror films. My husband is probably right to try and cure me of that...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, even if it IS a legitimate business, if it looks like a house, I always feel awkward just walking in. Yes, I am a pretty introverted person and I am sure others do not have this problem. But my inner dialogue when faced with such a dilemma goes like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Should I knock?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, of course not. It is a store!"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, but what if it is just one little old lady selling antiques and she is at lunch, but she just has lunch in her own kitchen because she lives here, too and I walk in and make her get up and put her slippers back on just to greet me at the door?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well, if they were at lunch, I am sure there would be a sign up, or the door will be locked."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, ok. Yes, there would be a sign up. Or the door will be locked... I will try the door." ---door creaks open...&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, it isn't locked! I bet they just forgot to lock it. It is &lt;em&gt;definitely&lt;/em&gt; lunch time Oh, shit I will just go to the freaking mall!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if the business looks like a home but has huge picture windows that can easily be seen from the street, I feel a little better. SURELY no one will turn me into furniture if any old passerby can see inside the house. If there is merchandise displayed in the window, even better. Then I know that you at least have stuff for sale (or are very committed to conning people) and I can feel a little relieved when I walk through the front door without knocking first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, these are just a few marketing tips for anyone who is looking to open their own business in the near future. Yes, I am looking into starting therapy sometime soon. Thanks for asking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-4821005852407034948?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/4821005852407034948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/08/businesses-in-houses.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4821005852407034948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4821005852407034948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/08/businesses-in-houses.html' title='Businesses in Houses'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-3247848502401532321</id><published>2010-06-09T22:06:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T22:26:00.104-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ridiculousness'/><title type='text'>Random List of Things I Thought About Today</title><content type='html'>1) If being an adultress is so bad, we should really stop making celebrities out of all the home-wrecking whores who sleep with famous married men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) A sports bra coupled with pajama pants is really not going out attire. Related fact: If your shirt doesn't cover your belly (pregnant or not) you really should not wear it to the unemployment office, or to a job interview. Or probably anywhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) The idiot in front of you going ten miles under the speed limit will ALWAYS be the first one in a line of traffic to run a red-light. I really want to follow these people to their destinations and explain to them that had they been driving the speed limit, they would have made the light in the first place-- along with the fifty-seven of us stuck behind them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) If you have to pull into on-coming traffic to make a right-hand turn, you really should not be allowed to drive. I edited this comment, because my first suggestion for people like this made the the angel on my right shoulder cry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) I go back and forth on the issue of the death penalty. I am really liberal when it comes to MOST issues, but for some reason I have a hard time towing the party-line on this one. In theory, I am against the death penalty. I mean, it actually costs MORE money to kill someone than to make them rot in prison until they die. Besides, I think a life of imprisonment would be WORSE than dying in some instances. And, if I think about it long enough I guess I believe that some people can be rehabilitated, that all life has meaning, and (fill in the blank with bleeding-heart-liberal reason HERE). However, if someone did something to my kids, I know within my soul that the authorities better find the bastard before my husband or I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm... that is all for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-3247848502401532321?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/3247848502401532321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/06/random-list-of-things-i-thought-about.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/3247848502401532321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/3247848502401532321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/06/random-list-of-things-i-thought-about.html' title='Random List of Things I Thought About Today'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-784781873318355173</id><published>2010-05-21T15:09:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T14:43:15.090-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Craigslist Fail'/><title type='text'>More FAILS brought to you by craigslist...</title><content type='html'>IT RUN AND DRIVE BUT I MADE A MISTAKE OF BUY IT BECAUSE MY LEG CANT IT BECAUSE IT A 5SPEED STICKAND IT HAS AN OPEN TITLE ON IT. CALLXXX-XXX-XXXX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yet another victim of grammar... Is he seriously blaming his leg for not being able to drive a 5 speed? Wouldn't you know it was a 5 Speed before you bought it? Well, at least it runs AND drives. That is lucky... and how did you buy it if it has an open title??? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Whatever. NEXT!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this car i bought 2 days after new years &lt;em&gt;(in America, we call that day January 3rd) &lt;/em&gt;need a car for work and i bought it for 1700 of a dealer paid it in cash (&lt;em&gt;ok, thanks for letting us know)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and already changed OIL sensor and TRENSMISION sensor &lt;em&gt;(well, I have no idea what that is, but I am glad you changed it) &lt;/em&gt;and this car is awesome to me it got me to work i bought it with 148,8xx miles and&lt;br /&gt;has 155.xxx know its all high way miles for work and am selling so cheap because am moving out of the country and need the money END OF JUNE amd&lt;br /&gt;leaving JULY 7th SO I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SELL IT THIL JUNE 30TH OR JULY 3RD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am asking 1000 OR... OBO.......&lt;em&gt;(dude, you don't have to put OR.. the first "O" in OBO stands for OR) &lt;/em&gt; NO TRADESS........ because this car is worth more then a 1000 the way it is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know why, but I just couldn't stop laughing while reading this&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its a V6 automatic 2.5L never i never went over 80 because i DO NOT RACE it like other idiots &lt;em&gt;(you let other idiots race your car? That is a really poor decision) &lt;/em&gt;its just a work car to get me A to B&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the GOOD..&lt;em&gt;(oh, good there's more!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the car runs GREAT&lt;br /&gt;has moon roof&lt;br /&gt;has a cd player that can plug up UBS and ipods&lt;br /&gt;the ENGINE IS VERY CLEAN &lt;em&gt;(oh, good. I hate when I have to look at dirty engines)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i bought the car wit check engine light on and the dealer passed it for me &lt;em&gt;(What? What does this mean? You cannot pass emissions with a check engine light on... no dealer can do that. Unless he is scamming you because he wants to sell you a car)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and he put new engine mounds on it to hold it together &lt;em&gt;I am guessing you mean that he put new MOUNTS in the car to hold the engine in place. But I may be wrong. Maybe he built up giant mounds Native American style to pay homage to engines everywhere, in the hopes that this would keep away evil engine demons who wish to tear your engine apart. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;it has no rust on enigne &lt;em&gt;Yes, you have established how clean it is already&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the bad.....&lt;br /&gt;check engine light is on&lt;br /&gt;driver seat goes back its broken its automatic seat &lt;em&gt;huh?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it has little bit rust on the side skirts because of its age&lt;br /&gt;owner before me tryed setting up the wiring to the speakers and they messed it up and know i never tryed to fix it but i bought a twitter from walmart &lt;em&gt;What?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and on the side fender has a dent in it i got sit by a drunk and he ran off &lt;em&gt;I am sorry, but I just keep imaging some drunk guy with running up and *sitting* on this guy's fender and then running away like a mad-man. Maybe those engine mounds didn't help after all...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Please, I know I am being a bitch, but look at this grammar and spelling. PLEASE STATES EVERYWHERE IN THE U.S.A.: THIS IS A PERFECT EXAMPLE OF WHY WE NEED *MORE* FUNDING FOR EDUCATION. NOT *LESS.* WE HAVE PEOPLE DRIVING CARS AND WORKING WHO CANNOT SPELL SIMPLE WORDS LIKE *TRIED* AND THEY DO NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN *NO* AND *KNOW.* AND THEY CANNOT FORM GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT SENTENCES EVEN WHEN MONEY AND WELL-BEING DEPEND ON IT! And it really pisses me off. The system has been failing all over the place. Ok, rant over.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-784781873318355173?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/784781873318355173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/05/more-fails-brought-to-you-by-craigslist.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/784781873318355173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/784781873318355173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/05/more-fails-brought-to-you-by-craigslist.html' title='More FAILS brought to you by craigslist...'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-7805733391720351022</id><published>2010-05-19T10:25:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T14:39:51.867-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Craigslist Fail'/><title type='text'>Welcome to a new segment I like to call: Craigslist FAIL</title><content type='html'>I have had the pleasure of needing to use craigslist a lot lately. I use it to hunt down jobs for people, and right now we are in the market for a new vehicle (read: any used car that still runs and gets more than 20 miles to the gallon). So, I have run across quite a few interesting ads and decided to share them with you all (I have x'ed out all phone numbers and other identifying information). First one I ran across today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"VERY BRITY BLACK CADILLAC MIGHT HAVE A HEAD GASKET LEATHER SEATS SUNROOF PRICE TO SELL CALL XXX-XXX-XXXX"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;This is the classic, "I don't understand punctuation nor do I care to know it's relevance in the English language" post. It MIGHT have a head gasket? I sure as shit HOPE it has a head gasket. In fact, if it is a V6 or V8, I hope it has TWO! WTF? And what the hell does "brity" mean? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FAIL&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next one I found today that made me chuckle to myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For Sale: 1990 Nissan 240SX. In Fair condition. Needs interior work. No A/C, electric headlights don't work, Motor is not working. Doesn't run. &lt;/strong&gt;(&lt;em&gt;Okay at this point I am beginning to doubt the seller's knowledge of the meaning "fair condition.")&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Nice car to fix up a little, and is a good racing/drifting car.&lt;/strong&gt; (&lt;em&gt;I am guessing he means when it runs?) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Is asking $1000.00 OBO. If you have any questions just contact the e-mail provided. Car is a 2 door hatchback, manual, some rust spots, has sun roof, No radio. We will detail it before pickup. &lt;/strong&gt;(&lt;em&gt;What the frick for? Are you kidding me? You are going to waste money getting this POS DETAILED???)&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nice Peppy car once it runs.&lt;/strong&gt; (&lt;em&gt;But in the mean time, I want you to pay me $1000 for a 20 year old car that has no a/c, no headlights, no working motor, no radio, and has rust--the car equivalent of cancer. MmmmkSureThanksbubye!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come as I run across them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-7805733391720351022?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/7805733391720351022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/05/welcome-to-new-segment-i-like-to-call.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/7805733391720351022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/7805733391720351022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/05/welcome-to-new-segment-i-like-to-call.html' title='Welcome to a new segment I like to call: Craigslist FAIL'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-3139951716252852588</id><published>2010-05-13T06:43:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T15:44:36.245-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Road Raging'/><title type='text'>Driving In The Rain</title><content type='html'>I don't know what it is about rain that makes many of you crazy. Is it the over-stimulation of all the pretty lights being reflected in the puddles in the street? Do you get distracted by the wipers going back and forth, back and forth across your windshield? I know; Maybe it is that the pitter-patter of the drops falling on the roof of your car lulls you to sleep at the wheel. Is that it? Please help me out. Because if I have to drive behind one more vehicle going 15 mph's under the speed limit during rush hour because it is sprinkling, I am going to scream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will make this very simple. If you cannot drive in the rain, or if you are too scared to drive at the first sign of cloud cover, please do the rest of us a favor and stay at home. We know you have places to be, but please call-in sick to work, find a bus or a friend who can take you where you need to go. It will make everything more pleasant for all of us. I understand if it is a down-pour. Please, if you feel like you can no longer drive safely due to rain fall, pull over and wait it out. Oh, and turn your flashers on so everyone can see you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who just HAVE to drive in the rain despite your complete absence of sense while doing so, here are some tips: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) If it is raining hard enough that you need your wipers on, you should also have your headlights on. Not only is this a law in many states, it is also just a really swell idea. You see-- as my four year old pointed out the other day as we were driving in the dreary, London-like fog-- when it is raining the sun is hidden from view, making early morning rush hour look much like dusk, or even nightfall! Lights are a grand idea if you would not like other drivers plowing into you on the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Hydroplaning is not that big of a deal if you have both hands on the steering wheel. In other words, when it is raining put your fricking phone, donut, or mascara down and drive the car! And don't swerve all over the place trying to over-correct yourself. Just hang on to your wheel and keep the tires going forward! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) If you do not know what hydroplaning is, stay home. Seriously. I don't care if Christ himself invited you over for dinner. Stay the hell away from the car until it clears up outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) If you have found this post to be confusing or rude, please find someone who thinks it is funny and have them drive your dumb ass around next time it rains.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-3139951716252852588?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/3139951716252852588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/05/driving-in-rain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/3139951716252852588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/3139951716252852588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/05/driving-in-rain.html' title='Driving In The Rain'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-1004852860333608653</id><published>2010-04-27T16:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T16:29:40.036-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ridiculousness'/><title type='text'>Dear Wii Balance Board:</title><content type='html'>Dear Wii Balance Board,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a jerk. Here is why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) You are constantly telling me to do the body test and then when I do you mock me and tell me how off-pace I am to reach my goals. You then proceed to ask me invasive questions about my snacking habits that leave me feeling insecure all day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) After said body balance tests, you continually ask me if I walk into things on a regular basis. I don't know what you are trying to get at with this line of questioning, but you should know that it is pretty rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) You are always telling me how old I am and you are always wrong. You know how old I am. You asked me before you would let me do anything else. Ass. Don't try to say it is just my *Fitness Age* I am so sick of that excuse. How can my fitness be 21 one day and 39 the next? What kind of game are you playing here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) The other day you told me to go easy on my afternoon snacks. I don't know how you knew I had just eaten four girl scout cookies you psychic bastard, but I really don't like to be lectured about my snacking habits when all I want to do is skateboard in the virtual world. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5) Your batteries are always going dead. For someone who just sits there, you sure do drain a lot of batteries. God, you're so wasteful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) When I first got you and you asked me to "Step On," you would always say, "GREAT!" as I did. Now everytime I step on you groan, "OH!" like the last thing you want to do in the entire world is support my fat ass. Well guess what you insensitive prick, I am getting sick of it. I haven't even gained any weight since I bought you, so I don't really know what your problem is. Get over it because I am addicted to the snowball throwing, obstacle course, and skateboarding games now. I kick ass at virtual kung-fu and virtual boxing, and I'm not going to stop now just because of your bad attitude. Oh, and no one cares that you can weigh a freaking dog on you. That is stupid. Was that your idea? I bet it was. Pet and baby statuses? Really? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In closing, I hope this letter has opened your eyes as to why I have been so short and temperamental with you lately. I am sorry I stomped on you the other day when you made my Mii fall off the ice on the advanced obstacle course. That was uncalled for. Please straighten our your attitude though, so that these things will be unlikely to occur in the future. See you at home, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bec&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-1004852860333608653?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/1004852860333608653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/04/dear-wii-balance-board.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/1004852860333608653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/1004852860333608653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/04/dear-wii-balance-board.html' title='Dear Wii Balance Board:'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-7215987126569793680</id><published>2010-04-21T12:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T12:33:31.212-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Crazies Are Out</title><content type='html'>Well, it is summer again and you all know what that means.... The Crazies are out again! Just like the heat and sun bring out the mosquitoes, bees, ticks, and ants, the warm weather is also the cue for letting out the people you want to look at and ask, "How did you get dressed by yourself this morning?"  But these people are usually comic relief to the backdrop of my life and so I don't mind them too much (unless they are trying to drive cars or are in my way at the grocery store). No, they are fine. Last night though, I saw a new level of crazy.  This wasn't an ant, tick, or mosquito. It was the Queen Bee of crazy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was stopping to get gas and a little blue chevy cobalt pulled up behind me. I know a couple of people who drive such a car, so I turned to see if I knew this person. Of course, it was no one I knew. It was an older man, dressed kind of shabbily, with long, messy, salt and pepper hair wearing rather large eye-glasses. So, I turn and get back to my gas-pumping. I am almost finished when I hear this very loud shriek that shocked me so much that it took a few seconds to even realize where it was coming from or what was being said. It was so startling I almost "hit the deck" and threw myself on the floor with my hands over head. I can't even describe it in words... It sounded like a signal to the end of the earth--like the screamer was trying to get the attention of everyone within a ten mile radius. It scared the hell out of me. I thought there was a gun-wielding maniac on the loose and some samaritan was trying to signal for me to get the hell out of there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not find my keys fast enough. The screaming continued. It was definitely coming from the man who just pulled up behind me. I was sure of it now. I turned around to see if he was being ripped apart by coyotes. He was not. He was just standing there pumping gas, a little boy was now standing next to him. It was quiet now, but surely one of them was the screamer! The noise was definitely coming from the parking lot and no one else was there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scrambled to get the keys in the ignition, stomped on the clutch to start the car, put her in second (I didn't have time for first at this point!) and left as quickly as possible. Once safely out into traffic, I began trying to process what in the hell was going on behind me. The man with the cobalt was still there pumping gas, now looking as calm as can be. I replayed the screams. I am pretty sure the man was screaming (not yelling, but actually SCREAMING), "GODDAAAAMMMNN CAP!! GODDAMNIT CAP! FFFUUUUUUUUCCCCCKK!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, my word of advice is this: If your gas cap gives you this much trouble, you should probably stay at home. There are many things more complicated than a gas cap out in this big, scary, world. Oh, and if you are that fucking crazy, you probably should not be driving, nor should you be allowed around small children. Please go back into hibernation and quit scaring the shit out of those of us who are innocently pumping our gas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-7215987126569793680?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/7215987126569793680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/04/crazies-are-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/7215987126569793680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/7215987126569793680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/04/crazies-are-out.html' title='The Crazies Are Out'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-7393183860904762541</id><published>2010-01-31T22:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T22:33:00.327-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Rant about Wal-Mart...</title><content type='html'>Now, it really is my fault for going into the store in the first place. I mean, I should've known from the start that it was not going to be a fun trip. Besides the mountains of anecdotal evidence from past experiences, there were also signs in the parking lot that I should have just turned around and went back home, or gone a quarter mile further to Shop 'N' Save and paid the 20% mark-up on all the groceries I buy. I mean, what's a few dollars compared to your sanity? But, no. I decided to wait behind the moron, waiting behind the moron in aisle twelve who had yet to even put one bag of groceries into his car. NEWSFLASH: If you are waiting for a parking space occupied by a person who has yet to even unload one bag from his cart, you are an IDIOT unless one or more of the following criteria have been met: 1) It is -10 degrees and you have a car full of tiny children you need to parade across the vast expanse that is the Wal-Mart parking lot, 2) You are 8+ months pregnant, or 3) You are 80+ years old, or 4) Grossly handicapped and all the handicapped spaces are taken. If none of these apply, well then you are just a moron. Sorry about your luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once inside the wonderful shopping atmosphere that IS Wal-Mart's trademark, I was not even greeted by the door greeter. And it wasn't even an old person wearing tri-focals who probably couldn't even see her watch if you asked her the time. It was a girl probably younger than me, with full function of both retinas. You know what... if you aren't going to do your job and at least say Hi to the people walking in, what is the point? You are just being paid to stand there and do nothing. What a waste of Wal-Mart's valuable resources. I mean, they could've paid 20 six year olds in China to make airsoft rifles for a month with your wage, and here you are just taking advantage of your white privilege and slacking on your duty to say, "Hello. How are you this evening?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I don't know why I wait til Sunday night to do my shopping...it just always seems like the most opportune time to get away from my screaming children. I should really pick a different day though, because many of the things I wanted were sold out. And even though the store was packed with customers, there seemed to be an unseemly number of stockers in the aisles, getting in the way and making each aisle seem like an episode of Ninja Warrior. I mean, it is bad enough that you have to make your way around the idiot customers who seem to LIVE in certain aisles, but when you have to dodge giant racks of produce as well, it gets a little tedious. However, I finally did get through the two mile journey that is the Super-Wal-Mart grocery section, only to be met with Tweedle Dee &amp;amp; Tweedle Dum in the check-out lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They needed two carts instead of one, because apparently their four year old had not yet learned how to walk beside them in the store, so one whole cart was devoted to transporting her. The other one had the groceries in it. Ok, fine. Whatever works for you! However, once they got the little rascal out of her cart and had packed all their bags in the first cart, they never moved the empty cart out of my way... they just left it there in front of the conveyor belt... and did not move far enough out of my way so that I could move the cart without running them over (which I must admit, I was half-way considering doing). They finally did move out of my way, but left the cart there in my way. I mean, shit they just pushed that entire cart around the entire store, they can't be expected to move it 20 feet more. That would just be asking too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I realize I am a grown person fully capable of moving a cart out of my way (I do it all the time in the parking lot since no one seems to understand what those Cart Corral things are for), but I find it uber-hard to believe that a GROWN COUPLE with CHILDREN need to be reminded to GET THEIR SHIT OUT OF OTHER PEOPLE'S WAY. How hard is it to pull your head out of your ass for the short time you are around other people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What really saddens me is that Wal-Mart seems to be the microchasm of the entire American Society. This worries me deeply...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-7393183860904762541?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/7393183860904762541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/01/another-rant-about-wal-mart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/7393183860904762541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/7393183860904762541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/01/another-rant-about-wal-mart.html' title='Another Rant about Wal-Mart...'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-2783150565578028879</id><published>2010-01-16T23:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T23:25:14.516-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ER Doctor haz a dumb...???</title><content type='html'>So, the only thing more terrifying than finding yourself in an Emergency Room with weird symptoms that make you feel like you are going to lose consciousness at any moment, is the realization that the doctor you have been assigned to for, no doubt the rest of the afternoon, evening, and night is the same idiot doctor your husband had about a year earlier. The doctor who didn't seem able to comprehend small sentences, didn't listen to any of the answers to the questions he asked, and gave your hubby about three minutes of his time... spaced over about five hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, you are given a nurse who seems to have an IQ that is in fact, higher than his shoe size and even has a sense of humor. He doesn't blow out any of your veins taking blood samples, nor does he ask the same idiotic questions over and over again. However, this cannot save you from Doctor Moron, who dwells on ONE of your symptoms, over-looks all the others, and immediately dismisses you (assuring you that everything is *normal) giving you discharge papers listing reasons to come back. And when you look at the reasons you need to come back up to the dreaded ER, three of the five symptoms are things you presented with in the first place. Lovely. Well, at least you have the comfort of knowing that you will be charged thousands of dollars to find out how normal you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the next day you go to your own doctor, who is actually NOT a moron and walks you through all the tests the hospital ran. He even shows you all the results from your blood tests and explains what each one means. And guess what? Many of them are NOT normal!!! In fact, some are SO not normal, that he decides that maybe other tests should be run to rule out more serious conditions. I mean, afterall--it isn't everyday that you feel so loopy and out of it that you call someone to pick you up from work and let her drive you to the ER, barely putting up a fight. After ordering his own blood tests, Dr. Not-A-Moron decides also to have an EEG run on you. In fact, you can have it done immediately! And guess what? Lucky YOU, those results need to be sent off to a cardiologist. I mean, not many 26 year olds can say they have had a cardiological consult. But you are so lucky, that you can now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now after this fun, eventful week we can just sit back and play the waiting game. But don't worry too much about me, folks. I am probably just a neurotic mess suffering from some kind of anxiety disorder... Dr. Not-A-Moron just wants to rule out any other possible causes for my feelings of impending doom, near-loss of consciousness, trouble breathing normally and loss of concentration. But, send me some prayers and positive vibes, just in case :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-2783150565578028879?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/2783150565578028879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/01/er-doctor-haz-dumb.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/2783150565578028879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/2783150565578028879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2010/01/er-doctor-haz-dumb.html' title='ER Doctor haz a dumb...???'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-3016340900323275762</id><published>2009-08-05T22:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T23:22:12.584-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Too Serious'/><title type='text'>The New Happy</title><content type='html'>Going through life without someone who is *supposed* to be there is extremely difficult. It makes everything so much harder. Times that are supposed to be great, are tainted. You feel guilty being happy about things you should be able to feel happy about. You feel such a variety of emotions on days most people would only feel joy. And it is hard. Sometimes you just sit and beat yourself up about the *good times.* Eventually, you have to give yourself a break...and let yourself lower your standards for *Happy.* They aren't going to be the same as other people. Your happy times will always have that haunting feeling overshadowing the occasion. It is similar to that feeling you get when you know you are forgetting something important, but you cannot remember what it is. Or the feeling I assume shoplifters get when they steal something really good. Sure, they are excited about their new item, but can they really enjoy it knowing it was ill-gotten? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best way I can explain it is by looking at a jigsaw puzzle. Imagine you have a one thousand piece puzzle. You put that whole damn thing together, only to realize that somewhere along the way you lost three pieces. Sure, you still put 997 pieces together in their correct places, but it still isn't right. Because you know, those other three pieces SHOULD be there...and the picture is a little off without them. But you can't do anything about it. You can't truly be happy that you did all you can do, even though you should be. It isn't your fault the pieces are missing after all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst (unfortunately) is when a fantastic occasion comes up. Your brother gets married to a girl you absolutely adore. Or your son is about to turn one year old. Or your daughter gets along with her new step-cousin-in-law (or whatever the hell the girl is)...You feel that sting in your heart behind every smile. Because you know that this New Happy is the happiest you will ever truly be. And anything above that would feel like a betrayal, a farce, a denial of things past. And it becomes hard to determine what is worse: Not allowing yourself to enjoy any of life's truly amazing gifts, or feeling guilty about everyday that you *do* enjoy. Some days, it's a toss-up. And it totally depends on how much alcohol you have consumed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, you have to redefine *happy* for yourself. You have to lower the bar. You have to realize that the hand you were dealt had no wild cards, no straights. Shit, it didn't even have a low pair.  But eventually, you have to be ok with it. Sure, the good times will always be bitter-sweet. You will always have that home-sick feeling even when you are already home. But, if you just realize that your Happy is a hard-earned, hard-won Happy--well, maybe it will be all right in the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-3016340900323275762?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/3016340900323275762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-happy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/3016340900323275762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/3016340900323275762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-happy.html' title='The New Happy'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-8733593666835505730</id><published>2009-07-23T21:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T21:54:11.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Into a Routine</title><content type='html'>Lately I have been thinking a lot about "routines." Now, if you know me well, you also know that I don't use this word very often, and at times I have even cursed the concept. You also know that I am a giant mess of a person. But, I am working on it. It is hard. Here's why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, when you don't have a routine and you are always flying by the seat of your pants, you realize and accept the fact that your entire day will be rushed and hurried, and you will probably forget things. You learn to live with it and every day is a new challenge. I was really pretty damn good at getting by this way...for a very long time. But, after kiddo number two I decided I should try to be more of a grown up and get my shit together. Stress levels were beginning to reach all-time highs. And besides, I always saw all these other people with all of their shit together and they always seemed way happier than me. So, I figured what the hell do I have to lose? Get a schedule together, how hard can it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I will tell you that it wasn't really hard at all. I had to start waking up half a day earlier than usual so I could have some *me* time. My *me* time includes working out and playing around on the computer. Then I have to get ready for work. Then I have to get the kids ready, get out the door, go to work. It was amazing how everything fell in line once I made a conscious decision to do the exact same thing everyday. Go figure. I started feeling so much better, less stressed, and just happier with my life. It is absolutely amazing...but here is the catch. Once you get into a Feel-Good routine, the minute life throws you a curve ball you are screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really. I'm serious. It's worse than the days I had no routine at all. You sleep through your alarm clock? Well, pre-routine Becqui would just shrug it off and go about her day. Big deal. I was great at improvising. I could get anything done no matter the time crunch. In fact, I usually thrive under pressure. Now? Forget it. I miss my morning run and I am an absolute lunatic the rest of the day. Out of my breakfast cereal so I have to eat something else? My caloric intake for the rest of the day is pretty much put into a tailspin til I hit the sheets. One little hiccup in the morning schedule, and my whole day is out of whack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if anyone else has this problem. I hope so. But if you don't, possibly you have the number of  a helpful therapist you can pass along ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-8733593666835505730?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/8733593666835505730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/07/getting-into-routine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/8733593666835505730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/8733593666835505730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/07/getting-into-routine.html' title='Getting Into a Routine'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-1520013471286689607</id><published>2009-07-03T09:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T09:43:03.387-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that bug me'/><title type='text'>Ok, Hardee's We Get It</title><content type='html'>You may as well change your slogan to, &lt;em&gt;Hardee's: The Preferred Fast Food Chain of Perverts and Sex Offenders Across the Nation.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get it. You are proud of your perviness and the fact that your marketing executive has the emotional maturity of a thirteen year old. You think boobs, butts, and sexual inuendo are the way to win over America's heart and disctract everyone from the fact that your food isn't fit to give to my dog. WE GET IT. But I just wanted to let you know that everytime I watch one of your commercials or hear about your biscuit holes on the radio I feel like vomitting, taking a shower, and reporting my TV to the local police station for sexual harassment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-1520013471286689607?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/1520013471286689607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/07/ok-hardees-we-get-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/1520013471286689607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/1520013471286689607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/07/ok-hardees-we-get-it.html' title='Ok, Hardee&apos;s We Get It'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-4010789377141794937</id><published>2009-06-19T20:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T21:08:19.555-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Newsflash for the Morally Confused...</title><content type='html'>There seems to be some confusion on what "good" and "bad" really mean to us in everyday language. See, when you are "good," you *don't* do things that most people find morally reprehensible. For instance, being an ADULTERER is bad. Especially for Catholics. They really frown on that sort of thing :( GOOD people think about others and how their actions effect other people around them. BAD people do whatever the fuck they want and pay someone to clean up the aftermath. See how that works? BAD people (I know I am using very elementary language on this subject, but that is because I really feel that anything more advanced may confuse those who think being a narcissistic asshole is the right way to live), are so confused in their own mind that they sometimes actually start believing that no matter what they do, Justice and God or Nature of the Universe or Whatever they believe in, is on their side and will smite all in opposition. Sometimes it goes so far as to become a delusion of grandeur--which is a common trait seen in paranoid schizophrenics. Just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, when someone is actually *good,* Justice (in theory) is on the side of GOOD. So, when you say something like, "Hoping justice will prevail for the good" (or something similar) you would be talking about justice being served for the wife who probably now has a venereal disease because you couldn't keep your penis in your pants while out on your little *work trips.* Or, maybe justice being served would mean that your new little tart face steals every cent you have while banging your co-worker every night on your desk. Who knows? But do you see how that works now?  Justice for the Good, means that the one who is actually in the wrong gets taken to the cleaners. Not the other way around. But I can see how that gets confusing for someone who has no moral compass. It can be really tricky. I mean, most people develop empathy and compassion before elementary school, but some people are just slow, I guess ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. No, just because you *say* you are Catholic doesn't count as being moral. Sorry. You may actually have to act like a decent person to NOT burn in hell--so good luck with that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-4010789377141794937?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/4010789377141794937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/06/newsflash-for-morally-confused.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4010789377141794937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4010789377141794937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/06/newsflash-for-morally-confused.html' title='Newsflash for the Morally Confused...'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-6545174035718508088</id><published>2009-06-06T12:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T12:19:48.619-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Proposal: The Stupid Tax</title><content type='html'>No, I am not calling taxes *stupid.* I am proposing that whenever someone does something insanely moronic we tax that person. The fee will positively correlate with the level of stupidity. For instance, you drive the wrong way down a one way street absolutely littered with ONE WAY signs, you pay a couple hundred bucks. If you call 911 because McDonald's is out of chicken McNuggets, that's a thousand dollars. If you run into me on the highway because you are texting while driving, well not only should you face the law, but you also get slammed with a "Stupid Tax" of fifty dollars per word you texted while behind the wheel, you idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about it. I bet California would be back in the black within the first month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, for repeat offenders, I suggest mandatory attendance for a Common Sense class. Sure, it will probably be hard to find enough teachers to teach these classes (my very unofficial figures hypothesize there are about 5,875 idiots for every one person with actual common sense in our nation right now--and it is only getting worse out there). These classes will last for an undetermined length of time--however long it takes for the morons to pass a test showing that they are in fact capable of thinking beyond themselves and their own bubbles of security. Unfortunately, I am quite sure some offenders would be lifers...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-6545174035718508088?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/6545174035718508088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/06/new-proposal-stupid-tax.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/6545174035718508088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/6545174035718508088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/06/new-proposal-stupid-tax.html' title='A New Proposal: The Stupid Tax'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-3676614597441986314</id><published>2009-04-03T08:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T09:12:56.842-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Today Show and other Psuedo-News</title><content type='html'>So, I am really sick and tired of the media talking about the economy. I am especially sick of hearing people who are not having a hard time right now, giving advice about how to deal with the economy! Jean Chatsky was on the Today show this morning talking about how UNbelievable it is that SO many people are unprepared for a job loss. She had NO idea why everyone isn't throwing money into savings accounts since pretty much EVERYONE in today's job market should assume they could lose their job at any time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? You don't believe that 51% of people don't have savings, Jean Chatsky? You don't understand that in today's world, just because you HAVE a job, that doesn't mean you are well off? You don't understand that many two-income families are having to live paycheck to paycheck because their property taxes have doubled in two years, insurance premiums have sky-rocketed, grocery prices have sky-rocketed, employers are cutting hours? If you don't understand these things, maybe you shouldn't be going on national television talking about how idiotic people who aren't saving for an impending job loss are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it UNbelievable that Chatsky and others like her are still talking about  the average family saving money as if it is as simple as giving up Starbucks or the nail salon to make ends meet. Are they fucking kidding us with this horse shit? They talk about saving money as if it is just a matter of giving up tofu take-out or other useless shit that no one needs. NEWSFLASH: For many people, to save enough to be considered *prepared* for a job loss means NOT paying the mortgage, or eating ramen noodles every day. Get off your fucking high horse and quit talking to the American people as if we are all bad children who don't listen. We aren't all squandering money on lavish lifestyles instead of saving money for a rainy day. Some of us live in the real world and even though we know there is a very good chance we will be unemployed in the near future, there isn't a damn thing we can reasonably do to prepare for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-3676614597441986314?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/3676614597441986314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/04/today-show-and-other-psuedo-news.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/3676614597441986314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/3676614597441986314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/04/today-show-and-other-psuedo-news.html' title='The Today Show and other Psuedo-News'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-5847733911246260896</id><published>2009-03-26T11:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T12:22:27.927-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religious Babble'/><title type='text'>Connections</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm pretty sure I have written about not believing in coincidences. I like to pay attention to all the little things going on around me and believe that all those tiny, little, intricate happenings are for a reason. It seems like whenever I am missing somebody or really needing a pick-me-up, I find a sign. Something always occurs to let me know that we are all connected, that we all have a purpose and that the people who are in my life are there on purpose. It isn't just some random chaotic situation, even if I feel like it is sometimes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So onto my point--the reason I bring this up. Lately I had been feeling kind of lonely and missing my friends and family (who seem to keep flinging themselves all over the country). And it seems like it is harder and harder to stay in touch with some of them. I had been feeling really down about a few friends in particular who I used to talk with all the time, for hours on end. I finally got to get together with one of them a week or so ago, but our third party girl could not make it :( I began thinking that this is just how life is. Sometimes your best friend for years becomes an acquaintance and even though that feeling broke my heart, I knew that this kind of thing happens to many people. And hey, why should I be any different? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Then I got a message on Myspace this week. Yes, I do Myspace. It is a great way to keep up with people I haven't seen in a long time. Anyway, the message was from my long, lost friend. She had noticed my Henry Ford quote I have posted as my personal quote on my profile: Whether you think you can, or you think you can't--You're right. I love this quote because it is so true. I even printed it onto a big piece of paper to put up in my office for students to look at. I think it is so important to realize that your attitude really does affect the outcomes in your life. My friend saw this quote and said, "I have that same quote hanging in my classroom for the students to see." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And when I read that, it gave me the warm fuzzies. I didn't know she had ever read that quote, and I am sure she never knew I had, either. Yet we both found it and thought it was inspirational enough to hang somewhere for others to see. Some might say it is just a coincidence, but I don't. It reminded me why we were friends in the first place. We get each other. We think alike and even when we don't think alike, we can still understand the way the other one is thinking. And even though we live far apart and don't have time for hour long phone conversations anymore, we are still connected. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I think too many people these days are too busy to stop and think of all the little things in the universe that are trying to cheer them up. They may be small things, but if you pay attention you may be surprised by how often the ordinary things in life can give you a new appreciation for a situation. Maybe it was your favorite song that came on the radio right after you had a fight with your husband. Maybe it was your mom's pumpkin bread recipe that magically reappeared the day you were really missing her. Maybe it was an old friend calling out of nowhere when you really needed someone to talk to, or wild flowers blooming in your yard when you didn't have time to plant anything. There are so many different ways God can talk to us and through us... you just have to be open to them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ok, preaching over now...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-5847733911246260896?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/5847733911246260896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/03/connections.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/5847733911246260896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/5847733911246260896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/03/connections.html' title='Connections'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-9085053733123957756</id><published>2009-03-13T10:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T10:42:07.824-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Road Raging'/><title type='text'>Stop Signs</title><content type='html'>I know stop signs are tricky for some people. Especially four-way stops. So I am going to break it down for everyone. See, negotiating a stop sign is a two part process. You must stop. Then you must look. Repeat after me: Stop and Look. Stopping is pretty self-explanatory. You must stop at the line. If there is no line, do not pull past the stop sign itself. But you aren't done, yet! Nope. Let's explore the second half of the rule: LOOKING!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I must admit, that if you at least stop you are more intelligent than many of your fellow drivers. But just because you stopped, doesn't mean it is safe to go. I know life is unfair. But, the stop sign isn't a magic button that makes all the other drivers on the road disappear from your path. So you must LOOK before pulling into the intersection. If there is another car, you must wait until they are gone before you can go. They have the right-of-way. It is tricky, but with some practice I am sure you will get the hang of it. This is especially important when cross traffic does NOT have to stop. That means, if you don't look before pulling out, there is a good chance someone is going to plow your ass off the road. And it will be your fault. So, I hope you have good insurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let's talk about four-way stops. These seem to befuddle many drivers today. I should know because I have to stop at a huge four-way stop everyday on my way to and from work. Here are some tips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) You must stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) You must look! (see how easy? same rules as for a 2-way stop!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) If someone else got to their stop sign first, they get to go before you. It is just like taking turns when you were in grade school. Same concept. My three year old daughter has mastered this concept, so I have faith that you can, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) If you and another driver arrive at your stop signs at the same time, the one to the right gets to go first. If you don't know where the right is, please drive off a cliff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Just because the person in front of you stopped at the stop sign, doesn't mean YOU don't have to. This is the trickiest rule. I know it seems like you should be able to go just because the person ahead already stopped, but it doesn't work that way! You still have to wait your turn! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) If you need to turn at the intersection, turn your fucking blinker on so the person across from you doesn't think it is safe to cross at the same time. There is no reason two people can't use the intersection at the same time as long as everyone follows the rules!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? See how easy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-9085053733123957756?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/9085053733123957756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/03/stop-signs.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/9085053733123957756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/9085053733123957756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/03/stop-signs.html' title='Stop Signs'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-6171115074612983287</id><published>2009-03-06T10:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T10:14:08.470-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Road Raging'/><title type='text'>Driving is bad for my blood pressure</title><content type='html'>Well, those of you who know me well may be surprised that I don't already have 47 blogs about idiots with cars. There are so many freaking moronic drivers out there, and I am usually bitching about some kind of wreckless encounter or near-death-experience I have been exposed to as the result of some self-important retard on a cell-phone, or stuffing their face, or doing make-up, or trying to read a damn book while driving. The scary thing is, though, that a lot of the time, the wreckless incompetent fool isn't doing ANYTHING distracting at all. They are just dumbasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an especially interesting drive to work today (I only go 10 miles. I can only imagine if I had to go farther). I have decided that you are an idiotic driver if:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You cannot figure out the left lane is for passing or turning. Passing or turning. Repeat to yourself. If you are in the left lane going exactly the speed limit, because you have to turn left ten miles down the road, well, you are a moron and shouldn't be surprised to see me behind you, riding your ass, honking incessantly and waving you off the road. Get a clue, move your ass to the right lane so everyone else can get where they need to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. You slam on your brakes every time you see a cop car on the road. I mean, honestly. Do you really think the cop didn't see you going 80 mph, and then stomp on the brake? Give. Me. A. Break. But the scary thing is, most people who do this brake-stomping are already going the speed limit or close to it. Last time I checked most cops didn't pull people over for going the speed limit, so chill the fuck out. You are causing fifty car pile-ups behind you because the rest of us are assuming you are about to run over a small child or that a crater the size of the Grand Canyon has just opened up in the road the way you are frantically braking ahead of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. You have to pull all the way over into oncoming traffic to make a right turn. Honestly. I actually saw someone do this today. If you can't make a right turn from your own lane, then maybe you shouldn't be driving. I can understand if you are in a semi, but most of the time the guilty driver is in a tiny compact or a sedan or something. If you can't handle a bigger car, don't buy one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. You assume that just because you clicked your blinker on, that no one is in your way and you have the right to change lanes. Ok, so at least you are ahead of most of the morons who don't even use their blinkers. HOWEVER, just because you flipped that little switch, doesn't actually mean that all the cars in the other lane magically disappeared. You still have to use these little reflective, rectangular doo-hickeys that we like to refer to as *mirrors* or turn your head a little and see if anyone is in your way. Just because I see your blinker doesn't mean I have to slow to a crawl to let you over, or that I myself can get over to let you in. Wait your turn and don't be a jerk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You are wondering what a *blinker* is while reading 4. And I bet there are a lot of you (well, not MY blog readers, but out in the world in general). See, on the left side of your steering column there is a little stick that comes out. If you push it down, it means you want to turn left, or get in the left lane. If you flip it up, it signals that you want to go right or get in the right lane. I know how tricky that must be for some people, but you are going to have to work on it because the rest of us aren't freaking mind-readers and I, for one, have no problem letting you wreck into me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. You think you need to slow to a crawl anytime there are cops or emergency vehicles on the side of the road. Unless you personally know someone, KEEP MOVING. I understand slowing down a little to ensure others' safety. But for the love of all that is good and holy, quit the rubbernecking. Some of us have places to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. You think you can drive however the hell you want because you are in a giant truck. I almost got plowed this morning by a garbage truck who just pulled right across the street. But non-commercial trucks are just as bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. You think you can talk on your phone, eat, and drive a stick shift all at the same time. You can't. Trust me. No matter how good you think you are driving, there are ten people behind you (and maybe a few in the car with you) wondering what the hell you are doing, and hoping you stop soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. You take up two or three spaces every time you park. You aren't that special. Neither is your car. Get over yourself. Some of us are toting around toddlers and infants and it is a hassle to park 8 miles away just because some fucking self-righteous moron took up three spaces up close. If you are worried about scratches and dings, YOU park eight miles away. Besides, you are more likely to get scratches and dings from other drivers who are pissed off that you took up three spaces when you park like a jack-ass. Or, if my husband is in the right kind of quirky mood, you will come out to find your car covered with all the garbage from the inside of our car :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Lastly, you are an idiotic driver if you read all nine of these and have no idea what I'm talking about, or think I am a jerk for belittling your daily driving routine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-6171115074612983287?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/6171115074612983287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/03/driving-is-bad-for-my-blood-pressure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/6171115074612983287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/6171115074612983287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/03/driving-is-bad-for-my-blood-pressure.html' title='Driving is bad for my blood pressure'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-4242693543287315019</id><published>2009-02-25T13:06:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T13:32:01.953-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Personal Quirks'/><title type='text'>I laugh too much</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Lately, I have been noticing how often I laugh. Now, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course. In fact, one study found that mothers who breastfeed their babies and laugh often have healthier breast milk. So, my kids should be golden on that front. But what is the ettiquette for laughing in public? My laugh is pretty loud. I could be seen as a nuisance by some, I'm afraid. And have any of you ever gone to the movies and experienced that one person laughing when the rest of the audience is completely silent? I've got news for you--that lonely laughing hyena is me, folks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not usually self-conscious about my laughing. In fact, I never realized I laughed an abnormal amount until college. I was sitting watching a sit-com with one of my roommates. She suddenly turned to me and said, "I love watching shows with you. You always laugh out loud at everything. It's so funny." I was a novelty because I laughed at funny things. I just thought that was what everyone did. If something is funny, you laugh! Laugh, damn it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day this past week I went to the gym to work-out. I really needed to relieve some stress after a very, very trying day with my three year old daughter. My gym is fairly new and has all the latest fancy, shmancy equipment. All the cardio-machines have the built-in TV's and a jack to plug your earphones into so you can hear. After weight lifting for a while, I decided to plop myself down on one of the stationary bikes and watch one of the many sit-coms I love. The Big Bang Theory was on, and if you haven't seen it, it is pretty funny (obviously, or I wouldn't watch it). So, I start pedaling and watching the show. That Sheldon, what a crack up. He is so neurotic and hilariously literal, I am thinking to myself...and then I realize I am laughing out loud, sitting there in the midst of hundreds of people, &lt;em&gt;none&lt;/em&gt; of whom are laughing out loud. How crazy must I look, sitting there pedaling and watching the little screen and laughing to myself? I mean, no one else can hear the show, and I look around and no one else is watching the same thing so they don't know what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, oh well. Maybe if people at the gym start thinking I'm a little crazy I can get them to give up the machine they are on when it is too crowded. And at least my breast milk is choc-full of melatonin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://stanford.wellsphere.com/healthy-eating-article/mother-s-laughter-makes-breast-milk-healthier-for-baby/423471" target="_blank"&gt;http://stanford.wellsphere.com/healthy-eating-article/mother-s-laughter-makes-breast-milk-healthier-for-baby/423471&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-4242693543287315019?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/4242693543287315019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-laugh-too-much.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4242693543287315019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4242693543287315019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-laugh-too-much.html' title='I laugh too much'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-4042498652679685887</id><published>2009-02-20T10:59:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T13:30:43.831-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='societal failings'/><title type='text'>Supporting Our Troops...?</title><content type='html'>As if there aren't enough things to worry about today. We have an abundance of reasonable complaints everyday thanks to our failing economy, our high crime rates, climbing unemployment rates, and the never-ending wars across the globe. You would *think* that people had enough to worry about besides publicly showing their horror and disgust at a downtown group doing something as unTHINKable as helping out our veterans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, folks. Horror of horrors. Someone has given housing to 23 VETERANS in downtown St. Louis. These veterans have fought for our country. We are told that they are heroes and that we should all gather around them and support them. They have given their time, strength, and freedom because that is what the government and it's people has asked from them. What do they get in return? Not much apparently, since many of them are homeless. Many of them have turned to drugs and alcohol to deal with the stressors they are faced with every day, in a country that told them they should be proud of their service then abandoned them. Yes, some of these men and women have problems. That doesn't make them bad people. Sometimes you get dealt a bad hand. Sometimes, someone comes in and offers you a second chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is what is happening right now. A new development downtown has been established to help homeless veterans get back on their feet. The veterans are given housing and must adhere to "strict guidelines." This includes a drug-free lifestyle and keeping a job. This sounds like it should be a "feel good" story, does it not? My warm and fuzzy moment was cut-short by the following comment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;We made major investments downtown," Don Wallace said. "I've got ten grandchildren that come downtown to visit with me and I'm concerned about them. There's a lot of concern and we need to address that." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me, or does anyone else hear Mila Kunis' character Jackie Burkhart from "That 70's Show" in their minds when reading that comment? In one episode she is talking to Hyde (Danny Masterson) and she is saying to him, "Of course you don't know any better. You grew up poor, and poor people are bad!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Likewise, it seems that many business investors hear the word "homeless" and automatically believe that these veterans are drunk, dirty drug-dealers who don't deserve to live near their businesses. Maybe they think we should put them in vans and move them across the river to East St. Louis? Maybe we should move them to the north end of town and let them fend for themselves? Maybe these venues are more *fitting* for these men? After all, we can't have the grandkids of important businessmen seeing how we treat those who served their country!!! We can't let them know that sometimes the world isn't all roses and rainbows! What if one of these kids has to share a &lt;em&gt;sidewalk&lt;/em&gt; with one of these men? Wouldn't that just be awful?!? Think of the implications! Oh, dear me what should we DO WITH THESE VETERANS?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry but this story just makes me ill. I hate it when people complain about something good and decent. Here is the link to the story. Maybe if enough of us leave our comments these business owners will get over themselves and see this program for what it is: An attempt to do the right thing and help out our fellow men and women in this crappy society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ksdk.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=167918&amp;amp;catid=3"&gt;http://www.ksdk.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=167918&amp;amp;catid=3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-4042498652679685887?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/4042498652679685887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/02/supporting-our-troops.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4042498652679685887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/4042498652679685887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/02/supporting-our-troops.html' title='Supporting Our Troops...?'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-1985315810360519974</id><published>2009-02-19T13:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T13:32:55.609-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yelling at the TV'/><title type='text'>Babies In Beauty Pageants</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Last night I watched two shows about little tiny girls in Beauty Pageants. Wow. I know what you are thinking. I watch too much TV. I really do. Especially in the winter when it is too cold to go outside and do anything productive. Anyway, I was watching these shows and two things kept going through my mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;1) How do they get 3 and 4 year olds to DO those things? My daughter (who is 3) would be running all over the stage asking the other girls if they had any candy. Then she would probably skip to the front of the runway when they called her name, fart loudly, giggle and run away. If we were lucky we would get an *Excuse me* out of her, but it would depend on the time of day and if anyone had procured any candy for her, yet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;2) What the hell is wrong with these parents? Some of them spend thousands and thousands of dollars just on CLOTHES for these beauty contests. One mom even admitted her husband would rather she put that money into an account where it could accrue interest for her daughter's education (gasp!) and she disagreed. Another mom stated that parent's who thought Pageant Parents were doing something wrong had ugly kids. Are you freaking serious? And why do all of these parents have southern accents and bleach blonde hair? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I don't pretend to understand anything about these types of settings. I can't understand wanting my small child to dress like a prostitute and flirt with a weird man singing out-dated love songs to all the contestants who are wearing fake teeth and (sometimes) fake hair. I can't relate to parents who think beauty pageants are a way to teach their kids about *real life.* I don't want my daughter to think her worth to me depends on how cute she is, how well she can sing or dance, or how tan she is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I would like her to quit farting and burping loudly in public, though. So if anyone has any suggestions, let me know. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-1985315810360519974?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/1985315810360519974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/02/babies-in-beauty-pageants.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/1985315810360519974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/1985315810360519974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/02/babies-in-beauty-pageants.html' title='Babies In Beauty Pageants'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-1707634460406938294</id><published>2009-02-13T10:46:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T11:28:07.396-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religious Babble'/><title type='text'>The Only Church That Can Save Your Soul...</title><content type='html'>Every day on my way to work I pass this giant monstrosity of a church. I don't believe modestly or humility is a priority here. At least it doesn't seem that way. They have one of those marquee signs where they change the saying every week or so. It stands high and tall so all the people sitting in traffic can see it from the ramp going into town. Their sayings are usually fairly benign as far as church marquee signs go. When I was in college in a very small town, one of the churches always had sayings on their sign condemning people to Hell for various infractions. Very depressing to read on my way to class in the morning. Those types of things really aren't my taste, but whatever. Usually Monster Church's sign announces upcoming sermon topics or invites people in on Sundays. Last week they had some request for everyone driving by to stop in. Ok. Sure, most churches are looking to fill their pews. No biggie. But this week, as a follow up from the previous invite, the sign said, "You are STILL driving by. Tick, Tock!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh? What is all this tick, tocking about? Is the apocolypse drawing near and the only way to save ourselves is to cut our commute short and rush into Monster Church even though it is 7:30 on a Thursday morning? Never mind the fact that many people already belong to a church and Monster Church isn't the only spiritual home in America, let alone Illinois, let alone this region, let alone this city? Is time really running out? Is God going to smite us all because we drive by a church on the way to work everyday? Should we rework our route so as to bypass that part of the city altogether so the wrath of the Almighty does not rain down on us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just really don't see the point in most church signs. Sometimes a church will have a funny or witty phrase and I will chuckle to myself, but mostly they make me roll my eyes. Don't get me wrong, I am a spiritual person. I believe in God. I believe in treating others the way we wish to be treated. I believe that all of us have some deeper purpose and I don't believe in coincidence. What I *don't* believe in is guilting people into churches. I don't believe there is *one way* into God's good graces. I don't believe people who don't go to church are going to Hell just because they don't go to church. I don't believe in shunning people and I don't believe that a church's worth is determined by how many people they can pack into the sanctuary every week. I don't believe I will turn into a pillar of salt if I never step foot into Monster Church.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-1707634460406938294?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/1707634460406938294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/02/only-church-that-can-save-your-soul.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/1707634460406938294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/1707634460406938294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/02/only-church-that-can-save-your-soul.html' title='The Only Church That Can Save Your Soul...'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-7366651827303281792</id><published>2009-01-21T15:59:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T16:13:42.398-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that bug me'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't understand two things. Ok, there are definitely more than two things I don't understand. But for today, I will just focus on two things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I don't understand my computer. Every time I come to work and turn it on I have a little icon that comes up on the bottom right hand corner of my desktop that says, "Updates are ready for your computer!" And I usually ignore it because every time I click on that little icon, Mr. Computer tells me I must restart my computer, and well I just don't have time for that kind of nonsense. So, I go about my business, trying to ignore the fact that my computer is running slow and freezing every fifteen minutes. Finally I break down and decide to update the damn thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I click on the icon. It says *Installing 20 updates* or some ridiculous number. It says "Do not shut down. Windows will automatically shut down when updates are installed." So, I go get a soda, and I hang out in the break room. I wait for this stupid computer to get done updating itself. Finally, it is done. I turn it back on. As soon as the desktop comes back on, my icon pops up and says, "New updates are ready for your computer!" What the hell? So, I scold Mr. Computer and tell him he already had his chance and should've updated himself completely. I cannot be held responsible for his procrastination. He has frozen up 36 times since then, but I will not cave in. I must teach him a lesson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second thing I don't understand today is the thought process behind certain signs at the grocery store. I saw a sign this weekend for avocados. They were on sale for 58 cents. The sign said, "Normally $1.18" This is a lie. I have been buying avocados there for the last six months and I have literally never paid $1.18 for one. I have paid $2.00 in the off season, and lately they have been 78 cents. What do these people think they are trying to pull? Honestly. Do they think that us regular shoppers have retrograde amnesia, resulting in an overbundance of joy at finding avocados for such a great deal? How many avocados can one person eat in a week before they go bad, anyway? Am I really going to adjust my avocado spending budget because of an imaginary increase in money saved? Doubtful. Highly doubtful. I am on to you, Super Market Sign Guy. I have a mind like a steel trap and I am not going to fall prey to your deceitfulness. No siree...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-7366651827303281792?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/7366651827303281792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-understand-two-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/7366651827303281792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/7366651827303281792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-understand-two-things.html' title=''/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-8943995053360414298</id><published>2009-01-15T15:55:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T13:33:58.383-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yelling at the TV'/><title type='text'>American Idol</title><content type='html'>I'm not gonna lie...I hate this show. I hate it. I hate American Idol. I am sorry to all of you who love it. I know you are out there. I know it is a family show many people like to watch together. My mother-in-law *loves* it. Even my brother-in-law watches it with his girls. I get how some people like it, I am just not one of them. However, there was absolutely. nothing. on. last. night for most of the night. So, I ended up flipping back and forth between American Idol and the shows on CBS (Gary Unmarried is SOOO Funny!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the first few episodes of American Idol are usually the most entertaining because they have all the nutjobs from the state they are visiting in one line, and they parade them around and put them on the air, and it is funny (sometimes. Other times it is just cruel). What I don't get though, are the PARENTS of these nutjobs. Honestly. What the hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so you have little Suzie who you have been grooming for stardom since she was 2 years old. All your life you have told little Suzie how great she is at singing. From the time she learned her ABC's you have been praising her voice and putting her up in front of friends and family and throwing crackers at her to get her to perform. You bought her cute little outfits. You got her teeth whitened. You paid to have her hair the right shade of blonde at all times. You would've even paid for voice lessons had they been needed ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course you didn't do ALL the work. Little Suzie *did* get herself into the choir and she *did* try out for all those solos at school. She sang in front of everyone who would listen. She even sings in the middle of class and on the bus, and during soccer practice! So, when little Suzie heard American Idol was coming to audition people in her state, well of course she decided to go stand in line for 48 hours with her excited parents!!! After all, what could go wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you can't really blame little Suzie for thinking this way. I mean, look at her. She *is* beautiful. Her parents and friends and family members have told her how beautifully she sings since her chubby little two year old hand could grasp a microphone by itself! She is so excited to meet Simon, *Dawg* Jackson, Crack-head Abdul, and that new judge lady I don't know her name. She sings her little heart out. She really gets into it. She is bobbing her head, closing her eyes, doing jazz hands. She is giving it all she's got. If you had it on mute, you might actually buy that she was good. The problem is, she isn't good. Not even remotely. She makes sounds that mimic a cat being ripped apart by a pitbull. You check to make sure your ears aren't bleeding. Even the judges can't keep a straight face. They are in shock. Such high hopes for a pretty little girl, but alas she gets booed out of the audition room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, then the parents are out waiting in the hall. When little Suzie comes out crying, no yellow sheet in her hands, the parents erupt into hateful cries. "Those Judges are CRAZY! They have no idea what they are talking about! Ohmigosh, the HORROR!" And I just want to say to them, "What the HELL are you talking about?!?!" I want to reach into the screen and shake them. I feel bad for Little Suzie. I really do. It isn't her fault that her parents are delusional, tone deaf nutjobs. It isn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, who is worse here, the judges for being assholes, or the parents for setting their children up for failure? I mean, unless you are completely deaf, there is no way anyone can *truly* think little Suzie is a good singer. I'm not buying it. There is no way anybody who LIKES music can say that Suzie has a future in the music industry. No way, no how. What are these parents thinking? Why would anyone encourage little Suzie to go on national television and humiliate herself? Its like telling a quadrapalegic he has a real shot at the Ping Pong championship. It's just cruel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm just wondering. Are there really that many tone deaf people in America? I think it's doubtful. I think some people just truly believe if they say something over and over and over again, it will come true. If we all *believe* little Suzie is a good singer, other people will believe it, too! If we dress her up real pretty, and tell everyone she is going to be a star, they will have to agree with us! Yes! That is so obviously how the world works! And then we will all just sit around eating rainbows and pooping butterflies (haha that's from Horton Hears a Who)! Someone should take these parents out to a dark alley and beat them with a pillow case full of cheese. And buy little Suzie a drink. She needs one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-8943995053360414298?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/8943995053360414298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-not-gonna-lie.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/8943995053360414298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/8943995053360414298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-not-gonna-lie.html' title='American Idol'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8289893436464282918.post-978261607453541994</id><published>2007-09-28T13:54:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T13:34:50.469-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that bug me'/><title type='text'>No Sauce!</title><content type='html'>i go to Subway two or three times a week for lunch. it is right across the street from work, i don't feel guilty after eating it, i can get a meal for around $5.00. the same lady is always working when i go there. everyday i get the exact same thing. i'm just like that. i know what i like, why screw with it? so, anyway, every single day after putting on the meat and cheese she asks me, "Do you want your sandwich toasted?" and everyday i say, "No thanks." and then everyday she asks, "What do you want on it?" and everyday i say, "Just lettuce, please." and everyday she says, "That's it? You don't want any sauce?" and i say, "No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EVERYDAY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, holy crap, i realize that if you are in your forties and are still working at a fast food restaurant, you may not be the most intelligent person in the room. but she really doesn't seem to be mentally deficient in any way, i mean, she counts change without screwing up (of course, it isn't too difficult since the freaking cash register tells you what to give back, now). Maybe she suffers from anterograde amnesia, i don't know. it is really annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i used to go to a different Subway all the time when i worked at a car wash as a teenager. i would go there everyday at lunch. i would just walk in and they would start making my sandwich before i even got up to the counter. it isn't that difficult. chances are, since i have been getting the EXACT same sandwich every single time for the last year, i'm probably not gonna walk in all of a sudden and order something else. i mean, if i did decide to do that, i would preface my order by saying, "Hey! Guess what! I'm trying something new today!" because I, being an intelligent observer of human nature and tendencies, would assume that the "Sandwich Artist" would be getting ready to pull out the same loaf with the same meat and cheese and lettuce, and I would give them a fair warning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, i don't have to worry about all of that with this woman because she is apparently suffers from some sort of short term memory loss. maybe i should put a polaroid of myself on the counter with a caption saying, "NO SAUCE!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8289893436464282918-978261607453541994?l=apileofemptywords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/feeds/978261607453541994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2007/09/no-sauce.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/978261607453541994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8289893436464282918/posts/default/978261607453541994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://apileofemptywords.blogspot.com/2007/09/no-sauce.html' title='No Sauce!'/><author><name>A Manic Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09637496757937902097</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
