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  <title>brmxld</title>
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  <pubDate>Thu, 14 May 2009 21:42:14 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>So I&apos;m sitting here watching little miss perfect and I just feel so strongly on the topic of child pageants.  Frankly speaking, they disgust me immensely.  I cannot get over the fact that some of the parents involved in these things are so damn driven to push their child into focusing time and energy in things that don&apos;t matter in the end.  Why should a child have to worry about whether she is pretty enough? Talented enough? Good enough?  In the end you could be the most physically attractive person on the outside, but if you haven&apos;t learned what makes a person truly beautiful you will never be aware of what steps to take to improve yourself.  I am blessed with a beautiful son, and while I am certain that as he grows he will become even more apparently physically attractive the focus will not be on looks but on who he is, his persistence in achieving whatever he aspires to, his consideration for others.  In short he will learn true beauty.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/25147.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Tue, 17 Mar 2009 17:11:29 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>Some of you may know that I&apos;m Dysthymic, and some may not, but let me tell you it&apos;s no walk in the park to constantly be in a low mood.  Nothing upsets me quite like having people get all pissy and ask me what&apos;s wrong with me.  For Christ&apos;s sake, I&apos;ve been depressed pretty much at least sixteen years.  Do you think if I fucking knew how to feel better I would be like this?  Do you honestly think I would purposely feel like shit more days than not if I could seriously feel more than halfways alive.  No you shut the fuck up.  Unless you&apos;ve lived it you cannot even begin to imagine how fucking exhausting it is to go on living like there&apos;s nothing wrong.  From an outside perspective I should be happy, and in ways I am, but I am still plagued with an emptiness, a sadness so immense that nothing on this earth can lift it completely.  Bill asks me how I can have so much love to give and still be sad but I guess it&apos;s just my way.  I give love because I need to.  Because it&apos;s important to me. Just Because.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/24966.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Wed, 04 Feb 2009 02:29:29 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>You know I was watching american idol tonight and I am still just dumbfounded about the deal with &quot;bikini girl&quot;.  Her voice is okay but she doesn&apos;t strike me as particularly talented and what&apos;s more I am irritated about her self absorbed play on her sexuality.  It&apos;s not just grown men and grown women who view this show but there are also little girls and girls just coming into their womanhood.  What are we teaching our children if we see that sexualizing ourselves in such a degrading fashion will get us what we want?  It is of dire importance for young girls to be aware that the body is not the way to achieve greatness, at least not in a fashion that turns you into a sexual object.  It&apos;s true that sex sells but it should not be so blatantly displayed in a platform where little girls discover that their sexuality is the ticket to succeeding in the world.  Little girls and young women should be shown examples that hard work and dedication is the way to make it in the world and not by abusing their sexuality.</description>
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  <pubDate>Thu, 22 Jan 2009 03:37:22 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>You know what really gets me?  People who blatantly and openly condemn certain individuals for being gay.  They come from a so-called religious standpoint and give themselves hypocritical airs as to their own righteousness in the sight of God and the Christ.  They talk of how homosexuality is an abomination and yet they fail to realize that they themselves are also not without sin.  They falsely believe that they are perfect in the sight of God and so choose to ignore the most important aspect of the Bible - that is, that we should love one another despite the sins which we may commit.  God loves all His creation and to persecute one for their sins in an effort to feel superior is the same as if you were to persecute God Himself.  It is immensely evil and wrong to pretend we are God and to believe we have the right to judge someone based on the belief that we are so damn perfect.  These people so conveniently forget the word of Christ Himself:  &quot;Let he who is without sin be the first to cast the stone.&quot;</description>
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  <pubDate>Fri, 16 Jan 2009 21:17:40 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>As you all know, I work with an exceedingly irritating woman.  Cathy frequently moans about what a shithole the place is and expects constant validation and non-stop gratitude when she is too blasted full of herself.  All I ever hear from her is woe is me bullshit and constant whining and blatant requests for attention for whatever the fuck is her problem on a given day.  It&apos;s like she thinks that crap only happens to her and that she is singled out by the administration to be mercilessly picked at.  I can&apos;t stand woe-is-me type people.  Especially when the whining gets around to talk about current wages.  Cathy makes more than many of the people working at Copa, myself included.  For God&apos;s sake, there are people who live in cardboard boxes out on the street and she chooses to be ungrateful about the fact that she has a roof over her head and a means to keep that level of comfort.  Woe-is-her. OMG. SHUT THE FUCK UP. Seriously.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/23741.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Wed, 10 Dec 2008 20:06:27 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>Michigan&apos;s economy is in the shithole and with that said, it amazes me that not everybody in the shop is hoarding the pop cans like I am.  Every so often I&apos;ll see one in the garbage can or laying on the floor.  I scoop it up, put it in my locker, and at the end of the day I put my pop cans in a plastic bag in the truck.  Cans and bottles from pop, beer, and energy drinks are worth TEN CENTS a piece so when I find them in the trash or discarded in any place other than the company&apos;s designated can and bottle depository in the break room I claim them as mine and take em.  When I&apos;m good and ready or when I need them on a rainy day I take them to the grocery store and I get the money.  I can shop or I can just do can and bottle return and go on my merry way.  When you buy pop and beer or anything else that you can get ten cents out of you have to pay a ten cent deposit in addition to the ticket price for each can or bottle in the package.  Finding them on the ground or in trash cans is like free money here! WOOT!</description>
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  <pubDate>Wed, 10 Dec 2008 04:08:41 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>A shot in each limb plus getting blood drawn for bloodwork equals one cranky baby.  Poor little guy I felt so bad for him having to get poked FIVE times at the doctor today.  Now he&apos;s all bandaged up and I know he&apos;ll be okay but every time he wakes up I think he must be one sore little dude.  It really is awful to see your baby get multiple shots in one day because he cries so hard he can hardly catch his breath and all you want to do is scoop him up and just snuggle him until it&apos;s all better.  It&apos;s hard to see it but it&apos;s better for him to have the vaccinations to help build up the immune system than to risk him getting severely ill.  I might still wait on forcing the issue with his nighttime feedings maybe start spending a little bit longer not answering the call until he starts to associate the day with eating and the night with sleeping.  I also need to work on feeding him solids.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/23066.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Tue, 09 Dec 2008 04:20:38 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>So we all got together and celebrated Zachary&apos;s birthday yesterday. My little boy is a year today. During this get together, as usual it was necessary to change him and being as she is a curious little girl, my youngest niece came to watch me do my duties. She touched him asking why he had a &quot;thingie&quot; on the front of his body. She is a three year old girl and has a sister so it was something relatively unfamiliar to her. Some people would get all freaked out about being asked by an opposite sex child about their baby&apos;s body but to me that would be both confusing and shame producing to shoo her away without an explanation as to the differences between sexes. She asked me why and I told her that it was because he was a boy and that it was his penis. No big deal. I am not ashamed of my son&apos;s maleness and I will not make a stink about a girl becoming aware that he is different than she is. Children are naturally curious about others so why make them feel that it is weird to ask about new discoveries. We all learn</description>
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  <pubDate>Thu, 27 Nov 2008 02:15:33 GMT</pubDate>
  <title>Writer&apos;s Block: The Wrath of Ohrwurm</title>
  <link>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/23013.html</link>
  <description>&lt;div class=&apos;appwidget appwidget-qotd&apos; id=&apos;LJWidget_3&apos;&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot;&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div style=&apos;border: 1px solid #000; padding: 6px;&apos;&gt;&lt;p&gt;German has a word for everything, like &lt;i&gt;ohrwurm&lt;/i&gt;. Translated literally as &quot;earworm&quot; in English, it&apos;s the word for songs that get stuck in your head and won&apos;t go away. What earworm of a song do you most dread burrowing into your head?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style=&apos;font-size: 0.8em;&apos;&gt;Submitted By &lt;span class=&apos;ljuser ljuser-name_willard41&apos; lj:user=&apos;willard41&apos; style=&apos;white-space: nowrap;&apos;&gt;&lt;a href=&apos;http://willard41.livejournal.com/profile&apos;&gt;&lt;img src=&apos;http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif&apos; alt=&apos;[info]&apos; width=&apos;17&apos; height=&apos;17&apos; style=&apos;vertical-align: bottom; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;&apos; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&apos;http://willard41.livejournal.com/&apos;&gt;&lt;b&gt;willard41&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;input type=&quot;button&quot; value=&quot;Answer&quot; onclick=&quot;document.location.href=&apos;http://www.livejournal.com/update.bml?qotd=688&apos;&quot; /&gt; &lt;a target=&quot;_blank&quot; href=&quot;http://www.livejournal.com/misc/latestqotd.bml?qid=688&quot;&gt;View 500 Answers&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!-- end .appwidget-qotd --&gt;
It&apos;s hard to say really as there are a lot of songs that I like that get stuck in my head all the time.  I work in a manufacturing facility where I am allowed to listen to my radio at pretty much full blast (it&apos;s noisy in there) but I make sure to either turn down the volume or bugger off to the bathroom when do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight... or that&apos;s the way uh huh I like it uh huh uh huh comes on the airwaves.  I don&apos;t necessarily hate these songs but I tire of them fairly quick into the melody.  I also loathe I would do anything for love but I won&apos;t do that.  Dude sounds like he&apos;s ready to croak as well as what in the hell is he talking about here?  I find it too damn vague for my taste as I like to be able to relate to the lyrics.  I also hate anything that reminds me of my bastard ex boyfriend.  Now he used to play shit I hated from the get and I am grateful I never have to hear it again.  Hallelujah! Praise The Lord!</description>
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  <category>songs</category>
  <category>writer&apos;s block</category>
  <category>ohrwurm</category>
  <category>earworms</category>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/22691.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Fri, 14 Nov 2008 22:44:11 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>I have finished one of the front sides to the hooded cardigan I am knitting for my sister.  I now have the back panel and one front side done.  I am starting the next side today and from there I will make the sleeves, hood, and finishing edges.  I like this pattern and have thought about making one for the other woman at work as well as maybe one for myself but it&apos;s a lot of knitting and my hands are often tired from the work I do so I don&apos;t always feel up to tiring my hands out more.  I would wonder if she would appreciate the long labor I would have to endure to make the sweater.  I think my sister will but I am not as close to Cathy as I would be to Jennifer. Decisions, decisions, decisions...</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/22297.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Wed, 29 Oct 2008 01:09:12 GMT</pubDate>
  <title>Writer&apos;s Block: Ghost Stories</title>
  <link>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/22297.html</link>
  <description>&lt;div class=&apos;appwidget appwidget-qotd&apos; id=&apos;LJWidget_4&apos;&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot;&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div style=&apos;border: 1px solid #000; padding: 6px;&apos;&gt;&lt;p&gt;Everyone enjoys a ghost story. Or at least knows one. What is the scariest ghost story you&apos;ve ever heard?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style=&apos;font-size: 0.8em;&apos;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;input type=&quot;button&quot; value=&quot;Answer&quot; onclick=&quot;document.location.href=&apos;http://www.livejournal.com/update.bml?qotd=632&apos;&quot; /&gt; &lt;a target=&quot;_blank&quot; href=&quot;http://www.livejournal.com/misc/latestqotd.bml?qid=632&quot;&gt;View 501 Answers&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!-- end .appwidget-qotd --&gt;
I don&apos;t know, but when we were kids, my two older brothers and I would tell each other stories around Halloween time. One of mine went like this: Once a very long time ago there was a man who had a golden arm, it was his prized posession more prized than his wife and this fact made her incredibly angry. It made her so angry that her husband would go on and on about his precious golden arm that one day as he reached into the toilet to retrieve a handful of change that had fallen in, she flushed in the hopes that the arm would go down the tubes and out of her life for good, but unfortunately the man died with this action. Filled with remorse the woman came to his grave not knowing his spirit was still restless and his spirit came upon her and asked her the rest of her days the same question, &quot;where&apos;s my golden arm?&quot; and his spirit still looks for the golden arm so if you ever see an arm in the toilet DON&apos;T SIT DOWN!  :D more funny than scary really but I was a kid at the time</description>
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  <category>scary stories</category>
  <category>writer&apos;s block</category>
  <category>ghost stories</category>
  <category>halloween</category>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/22021.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Tue, 28 Oct 2008 01:07:06 GMT</pubDate>
  <title>Writer&apos;s Block: The Undead</title>
  <link>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/22021.html</link>
  <description>&lt;div class=&apos;appwidget appwidget-qotd&apos; id=&apos;LJWidget_5&apos;&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot;&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;div style=&apos;border: 1px solid #000; padding: 6px;&apos;&gt;&lt;p&gt;With Halloween on the horizon, burning questions about the undead need to be answered: Can being a zombie be considered suffering?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style=&apos;font-size: 0.8em;&apos;&gt;Submitted By &lt;span class=&apos;ljuser ljuser-name_destynnee&apos; lj:user=&apos;destynnee&apos; style=&apos;white-space: nowrap;&apos;&gt;&lt;a href=&apos;http://destynnee.livejournal.com/profile&apos;&gt;&lt;img src=&apos;http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif&apos; alt=&apos;[info]&apos; width=&apos;17&apos; height=&apos;17&apos; style=&apos;vertical-align: bottom; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;&apos; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&apos;http://destynnee.livejournal.com/&apos;&gt;&lt;b&gt;destynnee&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;input type=&quot;button&quot; value=&quot;Answer&quot; onclick=&quot;document.location.href=&apos;http://www.livejournal.com/update.bml?qotd=631&apos;&quot; /&gt; &lt;a target=&quot;_blank&quot; href=&quot;http://www.livejournal.com/misc/latestqotd.bml?qid=631&quot;&gt;View 500 Answers&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!-- end .appwidget-qotd --&gt;
Let&apos;s say theoretically zombies really exist as they are portrayed in such films as Night of the Living Dead, whether they suffer must be dependant on whether or not the soul still inhabits the body.  Suffering is felt by the soul or shall we say that part of us that lives inside that we so easily forget or brush aside as merely a figment of our imaginations.  It is the core of our being, what prompts us to love, to feel those deep wounds and strive to heal such that the gifts we have been granted can be realized and shared with others.  Without this element within a theoretical zombie, it cannot be considered to be suffering but rather it becomes like a puppet animated by an unknown force.  The soul holds all memory of what has passed and the body is merely a vessel and does not recall emotions.  It becomes lifeless as its own personal being and the body is used to carry out the whims of an entity that is separate of that body.</description>
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  <category>undead</category>
  <category>zombies</category>
  <category>writer&apos;s block</category>
  <category>halloween</category>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/21898.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Sat, 25 Oct 2008 02:35:24 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>So it appears that it&apos;s a &quot;heinous crime&quot; to fucking wash my hands at work in the shop sink.  Today Cathy comes up to me bitching and moaning that I&apos;m too pokey and that I spend five minutes at the sink.  GOD DAMN CUNT. I wash my hands real good because that metallic shit irritates the fuck out of my skin and it is hard to clean it off sufficiently.  There is a sink in the bathroom as well as in the fucking break room for god&apos;s sake and apparently she cannot use one of those if she&apos;s so god damn impatient that she cannot wait a couple minutes.  I have to wait to use the sink sometimes too but I don&apos;t come over and practically push people out of the way and then insult them for wanting to get clean.  It&apos;s not my god damn fault if she&apos;s going through nicotine withdrawals or whatever the fuck is her god damn problem.  I get sick to fucking death of her expectation to have everybody kiss her ass as if nobody else in the world needs validation.  Jesus Christ, I&apos;m nothing but kind to her and she treats me like shit</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/21749.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Fri, 03 Oct 2008 03:33:51 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>And what&apos;s more she bitches about people not offering things to her and then totally disregards me when she offers everybody else in the room food.  Doesn&apos;t even ask.  Most of the time I am okay but sometimes I am hungry and would like the gesture of being asked if I would like something too.  I think she demonizes me or something, makes me feel that I mean nothing, consistently comments that she forgets that I am there.  Gee Thanks.  Just what I want to hear when I am already feeling fucking invisable and unappreciated.  So thoughtful.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/21445.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Fri, 03 Oct 2008 03:16:04 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>Cathy talks of essentially thanking her for every little thing she does for me, and while I do appreciate it, is it necessary to thank someone who never does what she asks of me?  Has she ever taken a moment to thank me when I go to get more forks for the lunch room?  When I change the roll of paper towel in the bathroom?  When I bring extra rolls of toilet paper to put in her stall?  Nope.  Not once.  For that matter has she ever offered me her friendship?  Has she thought for a moment to ask me what I thought, when my birthday is, what&apos;s going on in my life, what I do in my spare time?  No.  Has she ever invited me anywhere outside the workplace, to her home?  Clearly I am not good enough to be considered for friendship but rather she just tosses me aside and expects me to be oh so grateful that she is nice and occasionally generous but she also vicariously insults me, condescends to me, and generally ignores me unless she wants my attention to her &quot;wonderful virtues&quot;.  More to come.</description>
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  <pubDate>Thu, 02 Oct 2008 20:17:45 GMT</pubDate>
  <link>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/21154.html</link>
  <description>Cathy kinda ticked me off at work today.  We went on break and at one point I asked her if she would mind if I ate some ancient cupcake outta the fridge to which she replied that it wasn&apos;t hers and ended up offering some fruit and jello cup to me which I gladly took.  I thought I said thanks or whatever but sometimes it is hard to hear over a room full of noisy people.  Apparently, I never say thank you according to her.  I swear I will never ask her for anything again because god forbid I may forget to say thanks or she just doesn&apos;t hear me say it she will treat me like I am the most ungrateful person ever.  I resent that very much.  Make me feel like you are generous when I hardly ask for anything at all and then chastise me for accepting it on the belief that I wouldn&apos;t do the same if you asked me for help or just a little kindness.  Oh no, the world fucking revolves around her and there&apos;s hell to pay if I don&apos;t kiss ass and treat her like the queen of the castle.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/20739.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Thu, 02 Oct 2008 19:19:39 GMT</pubDate>
  <link>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/20739.html</link>
  <description>God people piss me off, especially these jackasses who fucking honk at me when I&apos;m at an intersection.  What gives them the right?  Just cause they just gotta get to their next destination?  Is it my god damn fault they didn&apos;t allow for some extra time if they had an appointment or another job to go to? NO IT FUCKING ISN&apos;T.  When I am in my truck and no doubt when I have my son with me his safety takes precedence over some dickhead&apos;s desire to get the fuck out of there.  Pardon me for looking out for my little boy&apos;s wellbeing as well as my own.  I have the right to ensure that my baby isn&apos;t going to get hurt or god forbid, killed.  Anyone out there, please explain what the big fucking deal is to wait a few minutes more?  What happened to patience and understanding that some people have lives at stake and would prefer to only advance when it was all clear and was risk free? Fucking cocksuckers. ugh!</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/20718.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Thu, 02 Oct 2008 00:38:55 GMT</pubDate>
  <link>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/20718.html</link>
  <description>So Gary tried to kill me at lunch today. LMAO! He gave me this gorgeous looking little pepper. Red bright red and beautiful. There was mention of it being hot but Gary often brings in peppers that are bearable without the seeds being eaten if they are a bit hot. Let me tell you. This thing was so hot my eyes were just overflowing with tears. It also gave me insta-heartburn. I almost didn&apos;t want to eat the burrito I had brought for lunch but I did eat it and it helped some. I also hit the box of cheez-its on top of the breakroom fridge for a couple handfuls because the heartburn was just awful. Wow that was crazy hot it was. I ate like half the pepper in one bite. Said, &quot;wow that is hot&quot; and it hit me after three seconds, ten seconds later my eyes were a-crying and my nose was running. Damn. Hot hot hot. I ate more than Tim had of that pepper and Gary said he had only eaten about half of what I had the other day.  I guess I must have more balls or something. Not looking forward to habanero ass but I&apos;ll survive</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/20412.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Wed, 01 Oct 2008 00:33:01 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>I have plans for us in terms of the bills.  I think we may be able to take care of the problematic parts by November 15th or at least a good chunk.  Job don&apos;t fail me now.  It&apos;s hard to plan when you don&apos;t know what&apos;s coming up with bills as well as having a questionable occupation.  It&apos;s hard to predict consistency of income but I am hoping that my job will stay reliable.  There are a couple weeks within the plan that leave us with less than a dollar after bills and groceries.  We will just have to find a way to perhaps eat super cheap for the week.  I&apos;m thinking sandwiches for lunch.  Wouldn&apos;t it be great to make it through those weeks with barely anything and then gradually end up with enough to cover more than the minimums, then pay off the debt and then be free of the hassle of more than the basics utilities and rent.  Wow that would be wonderful and we could say we made it from the bottom up.  I hope it all works out I really do.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/20078.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Mon, 29 Sep 2008 21:57:57 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>Man these credit card people are fucking woo-woo.  We&apos;ve got a couple that are wanting an insane amount, no doubt because the payments got behind but I&apos;m hoping we can maybe call the worst of them and workout a plan to pay partially over a matter of a few weeks or so because I would really like to get to work paying the debt off and finally being free of the hassle.  One step at a time Meggie, one step at a time.  I&apos;m gonna do it baby I&apos;m gonna, I just need to keep working at it and hopefully I won&apos;t get screwed out of work because I know I&apos;m helping with my added income.  Man that&apos;d be sweet to get a raise it really would.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/19524.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Sat, 27 Sep 2008 15:41:08 GMT</pubDate>
  <link>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/19524.html</link>
  <description>Zachary has taken to saying &quot;mamamamamama&quot; all day long especially when he&apos;s being a fussbudget and apparently does it when I&apos;m off at work too. awww my baby loves me. He loves his daddy too though, last night when Bill left the room to go on back to bed (as it was late and naturally he was tired) Zachary started to cry I think because he thought Bill had gone away forever and had forgotten Mama was still there for a moment. Bless his heart. He really is a sweet thing and I love him to pieces and I see the interactions Bill has with our son and I just know in my heart that he loves baby too. Some men have nothing to do with their children when they are still small and I think that is so sad. I want my son to know that both his parents see him as worthy of the time and effort it takes to support him in all that comes his way. I want him to be happy and capable of standing on his own two feet when he becomes a man. Confident, secure, and kind. I hope he knows how unnecessary it is to be a bastard to others.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/19206.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Thu, 25 Sep 2008 20:29:43 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>Sometimes I get so miffed at work.  I work a relatively easy job in that shop and at times certain coworkers make me feel that I have no true place unless I run mill, lathe, screw machine, or any of the other major machinery there.  They condescend to me and say basically that I shouldn&apos;t be upset over being laid off for a week because apparently I don&apos;t do anything else useful besides magnets which is pretty much nothing in comparison to their skills.  I wasn&apos;t really all that upset - okay maybe a little but only because of a lack of supplies and therefore a lack of work I was capable of.  I&apos;m willing and likely able to learn the workings of other machines but no one offers to teach me and I don&apos;t like begging so I don&apos;t ask. Getting back on topic, it upsets me when people insinuate to me that I&apos;m getting stressed over nothing. Well pardon me, but how about you come in every morning on three to five hours of sleep from caring for a demanding baby that you can&apos;t blow off and get no thanks for working despite</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/18963.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Tue, 23 Sep 2008 20:40:52 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>Here I lay with the blankets up around my face.  Cold. so cold. Lonely. Sad. And Hungry. When will it end? Will anyone notice when I&apos;m gone? Will they care? I work so hard but it is never good enough. Nobody appreciates the effort it takes just to get out of bed and show up on time let alone what type of revenue I help to bring.  No. I am expendable. There is no sense of value. Not one ounce of appreciation. Not an inkling of a notion that I&apos;m more than just a cash cow that can be thrown away at a moment&apos;s notice if a better model comes along. Am I even human? It seems the world has forgotten if I still am. What is so God awful about showing gratitude once in a while? Would it kill someone to give a damn about how I might feel? Is it too much to hope for some acknowledgement, some semblance of importance? Nobody cares anymore. They forget the good things and highlight the bad. Who gives a damn about ethics and morality when an asshole brings more bacon to the table than the ones who actually care about shit.</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/18926.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Mon, 22 Sep 2008 05:55:42 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>I&apos;m having those feelings of guilt. I swear to God I feel like I&apos;m commiting some heinous crime all because I&apos;m going to have my period soon. Ugh of all the things to feel guilty about why this? Why do I feel so damn worthless when it&apos;s totally natural? I put a lot of focus on my sexuality and I just don&apos;t feel like I should even exist during that time of the month. In fact from the moment I woke up today all I wanted to do was just hide under the covers and pretend I wasn&apos;t there. I&apos;m useless right now anyways. Are these the aftereffects of an abusive relationship? To live with an impression that I&apos;m obligated to be sexual at all times? Why should I feel bad that I can&apos;t always be in the mood? Why should I deny myself the right to choose when I want to just relax and not have to worry that my bodily functions are a disappointment to my lover? I wish that I could always please my man and I wish I could feel okay with womanhood. I wish I could stop feeling that my body betrays me when it does what its meant to</description>
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  <guid isPermaLink='true'>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/18446.html</guid>
  <pubDate>Sun, 21 Sep 2008 19:51:00 GMT</pubDate>
  <title>Recollection of a time</title>
  <link>http://brmxld.livejournal.com/18446.html</link>
  <description>Here I sit shaking to the bone seething with so much anger.  Hopeless. Trapped. Forgotten. Cast aside nonchalantly. You punched me for having the audacity to be angry at you. FUCK YOU. I will go and swallow six Tylenols because I fucking can. I am in control.  I have eaten twenty aspirins in one sitting before and I survived.  It was nothing but constant ringing in my ears and a bit of a hearing loss for a day.  I survived. You cared not about my feelings then.  Why would you care now?  I am a fool. Stupid. Useless. You tell me I burden you. I am worthless as anything more than my genetalia.  I will not give up my family, my friends to appease you. I do not want to do everything that you enjoy.  I have my own pasttimes. So what if I find watching you fuss on the computer boring as all hell. I don&apos;t like doing photoshop with you. I don&apos;t like posing for pictures. All you do is criticize me and you won&apos;t let me just entertain myself without having to do everything your way. Will it always be this way?</description>
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