<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302</id><updated>2009-10-17T06:35:13.042-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Real (Married) Girl</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>89</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-1514464963110503836</id><published>2009-09-27T21:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T20:30:05.578-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Men &amp; Cleaning!</title><content type='html'>ORGINALLY POSTED 1/28/08...I love this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/R56zzIaJRDI/AAAAAAAAADI/zdXth6VdG1I/s1600-h/A-woman-wishes-for-no-housework,-cooking-and-cleaning.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160759914025010226" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/R56zzIaJRDI/AAAAAAAAADI/zdXth6VdG1I/s200/A-woman-wishes-for-no-housework,-cooking-and-cleaning.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Is there a crime against teaching our young boys how to clean a house? I think there must be. I have had this conversation with many friends, all with the same problem. Let me explain.&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago, I snapped! I was in the middle of my usual Sunday cleaning, when I noticed my husband playing a computer game. I stared at him, and tried really hard to find a way to filter my words. Well, it didn't work! Before I knew it, I asked him a very serious question. The same question I want other wives/ girlfriends to ask their mates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"When you were growing up, did your mother make you help clean the house?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replied, "No." I suddenly became Linda Blair, and spewed words from my mouth that will not be repeated on this blog. All you need to know is, I &lt;em&gt;SNAPPED!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am pleading with mother's of future boyfriends/husbands, teach them how to clean. Who cares if it is not perfect, but let them practice with &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;YOU &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;NOT&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; their wives. We (wives/girlfriends) should not have to teach these men how to use a mop, or clean their hair/urine off the toilet! Ladies you are only hurting your sons, by not teaching them these fundamental skills. I understand you may be tired, since you are teaching their fathers, but why not teach them together. Sounds good to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must add, after I flipped out, my husband has been trying. Yesterday, he cleaned the whole house. But for the last 24hrs, every other statement out of his mouth has been about him cleaning. I am almost sick of hearing it, but realize he is proud of his work. And he should be. However, where is my cheering squad after cleaning? Can anyone tell me? I just hope the next time I clean, he will be more cognizant of his facial hair in the bathroom sink. I know my future son(s) will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Real (Married) Girl&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I did tell him the house looked great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(picture source: beconfused.com)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-1514464963110503836?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1514464963110503836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=1514464963110503836&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1514464963110503836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1514464963110503836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/is-there-crime-against-teaching-our.html' title='Men &amp; Cleaning!'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/R56zzIaJRDI/AAAAAAAAADI/zdXth6VdG1I/s72-c/A-woman-wishes-for-no-housework,-cooking-and-cleaning.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-3880903554005693533</id><published>2009-09-22T20:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T21:35:16.660-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fashion! turn to the left</title><content type='html'>Second edition to the best of RMG...orginally posted 2/5/08.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/R6kJj4aJRJI/AAAAAAAAAD4/JEC-A7qTD00/s1600-h/jeans2tight1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163668959799100562" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/R6kJj4aJRJI/AAAAAAAAAD4/JEC-A7qTD00/s200/jeans2tight1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I am clearly not Stacey London or Clinton Kelly, but there are just some styles that need to go away! Some of us remember wearing the hideous "jam" shorts, British Knight sneakers, spandex shorts/pants (sad to say, I had a whole body suit), mullets etc. Admit it, some of you had mullets, even if you burned the pictures. The point I am trying to make is that these fashion faux pas's were cool and acceptable, when compared to some of the things that are being worn now. Okay, wait! The mullet has never been cool or acceptable, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even still, the recent fashion fads are ridiculous. Yes, I am speaking to those of you that wear the silly butt plastered Angel, Sexy, Sweetie &amp;amp; Juicy pants. &lt;strong&gt;YUCK!&lt;/strong&gt; Why in the world would someone want to have the word juicy written across their ass? IMO, it is just not a flattering word. The word Juicy has a bit of a "smelly" connotation. Think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem with these pants, besides the name, are the people that wear them. Many seem to have really mishapen butts. You know the ones I speak of, the crater/lumpy surfaced, football shaped, saggy butts. These are the same behinds that try to wear the gaucho pants. Who are their friends? Why haven't these friends told them how they look?&lt;br /&gt;Put some on, I bet you will find out who your real friends are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Final thoughts: Just because clothes are made in your size,doesn't mean they are flattering for your figure. And, stop trying to squeeze in clothes that are too small. Everyone can tell you are not wearing the correct size. Let's just get &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Real &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;people. Buy clothes that fit and not what's trendy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The always truthful,&lt;br /&gt;Real(married)girl&lt;br /&gt;(picture source: ergonmenon.files.worldpress.com)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-3880903554005693533?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3880903554005693533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=3880903554005693533&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3880903554005693533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3880903554005693533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-am-clearly-not-stacey-london-or.html' title='Fashion! turn to the left'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/R6kJj4aJRJI/AAAAAAAAAD4/JEC-A7qTD00/s72-c/jeans2tight1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-5771047132757447589</id><published>2009-09-15T19:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T22:46:08.844-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Best of RMG- Confessions of a Passive-Aggressive Wife</title><content type='html'>Since I am in lurk phase, I have noticed many people are landing on this post. I guess it was popular. So without further adieu I give you a repeat of &lt;em&gt;Confessions of a Passive - &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aggresive&lt;/span&gt; Wive. (I have to admit I love this post. Orginally posted December 2008)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SVtlRBOisbI/AAAAAAAAATs/xVn24T_VZjE/s1600-h/The_confession.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 162px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285929930711019954" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SVtlRBOisbI/AAAAAAAAATs/xVn24T_VZjE/s200/The_confession.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ietro&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Longhi&lt;/span&gt;, The Confession,&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1755 Galleria &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;degli&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Uffizi&lt;/span&gt;, Florence &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have chosen this title proudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the greatest coping mechanisms I have found (and works for me), in this marriage, is to find ways to end an argument in a passive/aggressive way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Typically when the man I married really ticks me off, I try to go to bed before he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This way, I can throw his pillow across the room, and then I lie in wait to watch him frantically attempt to locate his pillow - in the dark. At this point, I find myself laughing quietly (you know the laugh that hurts, but you cannot make a sound...okay the classroom laugh) as he pats the bed to find this pillow. All the while, it's on the floor!!!! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hehehe&lt;/span&gt;, oh I love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, he is hip to this treatment and no longer searches on the bed for his missing pillow. He goes straight to the floor. Darn him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is truly sick and probably unnecessary. Clearly, as a Master's level clinician, I really should have better conflict resolution skills. But, it is different when you are in the thick of it. Personally, that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I got mad at my husband, but this time there were no pillows thrown. Instead, he was on his way out to get a Christmas gift and I noticed his pants were very noticeably unzipped. I parted my mouth to tell him,but then I thought F' it and closed my mouth and smirked as he left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had complete confidence that he would discover what I knew. Well about an hour later, he returns home with some of our favorite snacks ( I guess trying to make amends). And yes, his pants were still UNZIPPED!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that moment, I realized, I let this man walk around a store with his &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;underoos&lt;/span&gt; showing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instantly, I felt guilty but still (of course) found it funny. I guess I am a mental terrorist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I find it's a better option than snapping his little &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;friggin&lt;/span&gt;' head off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me, I am plenty direct and in his face, but I know my limits...and that's when this behavior is helpful. For us both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I am not the only wife/girlfriend that does or has done something passive-aggressive to their mate when they really piss you off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So come on women confess. I'll be here waiting - for some new ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-5771047132757447589?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5771047132757447589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=5771047132757447589&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/5771047132757447589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/5771047132757447589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/confessions-of-passive-aggressive-wife.html' title='Best of RMG- Confessions of a Passive-Aggressive Wife'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SVtlRBOisbI/AAAAAAAAATs/xVn24T_VZjE/s72-c/The_confession.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-3758423257396378406</id><published>2009-08-22T20:55:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T15:21:47.514-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hiatus</title><content type='html'>After spending almost a year posting on/off on various topics, I have found lately that I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;struggling to post anything interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I am feeling like it's more of a chore than enjoyment to write entries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that said, the RMG is taking a break!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this time away, maybe I will get my mojo back. Let's hope. If not, then we shall see what will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then check out Ps22 on youtube...these kids are AMAZING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take Care,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-3758423257396378406?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3758423257396378406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=3758423257396378406&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3758423257396378406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3758423257396378406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/hiatus.html' title='Hiatus'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-1669587353897962632</id><published>2009-08-19T22:10:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T22:23:29.138-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you think?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SoyyoKgynXI/AAAAAAAAAcU/CId7GwpEjUw/s1600-h/0,,6854832,00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371864858632559986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 350px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SoyyoKgynXI/AAAAAAAAAcU/CId7GwpEjUw/s400/0,,6854832,00.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's all over the headlines. Is Semenya female or male? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She ran over the weekend in the women's World Championship -800m race...and of course won!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already know that I believe, he is...oh excuse me; I meant she (eyes rolling). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My gawd look at those muscles and facial hair! Really, do we need a test? I am not even trying to be politically correct about this. Sorry. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what do you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Picture Source:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.news.com.au/perthnow/story/0,21598,25951731-948,00.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;http://www.news.com.au/perthnow/story/0,21598,25951731-948,00.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-1669587353897962632?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1669587353897962632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=1669587353897962632&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1669587353897962632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1669587353897962632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-do-you-think.html' title='What do you think?'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SoyyoKgynXI/AAAAAAAAAcU/CId7GwpEjUw/s72-c/0,,6854832,00.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-1870610071394783591</id><published>2009-08-16T11:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T11:29:05.349-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Real Doll experiences (pt1/5)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/Xrvbj2aRT1I' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/Xrvbj2aRT1I'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay so I know a week ago, I was going to talk about my weight. Nevemind that.  This video is much more interesting. &lt;br /&gt;I was watching Lars and the Real Girl and wanted to know if these dolls were real-so to speak. &lt;br /&gt;As I was searching the net,  I stumbled upon this Youtube documentary. You just have to watch these guys. Very sad,IMO. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;br /&gt;~RMG&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-1870610071394783591?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1870610071394783591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=1870610071394783591&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1870610071394783591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1870610071394783591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/real-doll-experiences-pt15.html' title='Real Doll experiences (pt1/5)'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-9199890437993406596</id><published>2009-08-03T22:45:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T23:08:03.049-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmmm, who's that girl?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/Snei4WydW6I/AAAAAAAAAb8/BQdn8gX78rg/s1600-h/gemmabirthday001-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnekTPw7ILI/AAAAAAAAAcE/tASp5p8API8/s1600-h/gemmabirthday001-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnekTPw7ILI/AAAAAAAAAcE/tASp5p8API8/s1600-h/gemmabirthday001-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365935378768090114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnehzAssVAI/AAAAAAAAAbs/UuuKEFL2K6Q/s400/IMG_1633.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later this week, I'm going to talk about how these beautiful vegetables changed my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Literally. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The pictures will shock you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yes, I ate all of these veggies in a wonderful dinner salad tonight. Yummy!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;~&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay,Okay here's a sneak peak. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/Snei4WydW6I/AAAAAAAAAb8/BQdn8gX78rg/s1600-h/gemmabirthday001-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnekTPw7ILI/AAAAAAAAAcE/tASp5p8API8/s1600-h/gemmabirthday001-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/Snek9Pe2stI/AAAAAAAAAcM/GquVFsKEg9I/s1600-h/gemmabirthday001-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365938853070156498" style="WIDTH: 159px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/Snek9Pe2stI/AAAAAAAAAcM/GquVFsKEg9I/s400/gemmabirthday001-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-9199890437993406596?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/9199890437993406596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=9199890437993406596&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/9199890437993406596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/9199890437993406596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/hmmm-whos-that-girl.html' title='Hmmm, who&apos;s that girl?'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnehzAssVAI/AAAAAAAAAbs/UuuKEFL2K6Q/s72-c/IMG_1633.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-7545030218213395853</id><published>2009-07-31T22:08:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T22:56:11.049-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you smell and tell?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnOtAc4kSPI/AAAAAAAAAbk/qkDz4fXj4RQ/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364821804393449714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnOtAc4kSPI/AAAAAAAAAbk/qkDz4fXj4RQ/s400/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, so what if I don't understand the phrase &lt;em&gt;"be back in a minute." &lt;/em&gt;The point is, I am back to deliver or ask only a question I would- &lt;em&gt;"Would you smell and tell?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me explain. While in Syracuse last weekend, we (my husband, his brothers and sister-in law) were sitting at the rehearsal dinner at a lovely little Italian joint. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had just finished a meal of &lt;a href="http://www.cnycommunity.org/main/viewtopic.php?t=9&amp;amp;f=50"&gt;Utica Greens&lt;/a&gt; (oh my these are Delicious!!!!) , Chicken Marsala or steak and the best darn Connoli's I have ever tasted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess before I go on , I should plug the restaurant- &lt;a href="http://www.delmonicositaliansteakhouse.com/"&gt;Delmonico's Italian Steak House&lt;/a&gt;. Great place, check them out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now back to us sitting around the table stuffed with good food and laughter. As we are sitting there the Bride's sister ventures over to our table to introduce herself and to talk shop about her life. Well all of sudden,in the middle of this lovely conversation, I stop dead in my tracks,words or thoughts..can't seem to remember, it was like someone glamoured me (little vampire talk,sorry) and that part of the night has been erased.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I instantly became paralyzed,except my mind's voice was saying- "&lt;em&gt;Hey little girl,what's going to be your next move....are you going to sit here or get up?" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Clearly, I wasn't sure what to do. That was, until I realized the &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;warm rotten egg&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;smell that had escaped my bro in laws tookus, had drifted in my direction and was headed towards this complete stranger.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was only one obstacle between me and this young lady...&lt;em&gt;my husband&lt;/em&gt;. I quickly tapped him on the shoulder to move, cause I was not taking the blame for this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fortunately, this girl was quick. She looked at me and said what did he fart? Honest me, said yes and I wouldn't stay here if I were you. And with that, our conversation/meet &amp;amp; greet was over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later my sister in law had the nerve to say, if you didn't react in that way - she wouldn't have known who did it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In which I agreed, on some level. However, ( I explained) that smell crept into my space and I didn't want this unknown person to get the wrong idea about me. Especially, since we are from Kentucky. You know, the state that tends to be the butt of many jokes regarding class. Maybe this thought is selfish, not sure, but obviously I do not care. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I continued tell my sis, since your husband was soo brave in doing this at a dinner table, then clearly he is okay if people know he is the one who did it. If not, maybe next time he should excuse himself from the table. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This incident leads me into, &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Would you smell and tell, as I did?&lt;/strong&gt; You already now what I would do. Just watch your fumes around me. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Picture Source: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://mirrorcracked.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/fart.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;http://mirrorcracked.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/fart.jpg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-7545030218213395853?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7545030218213395853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=7545030218213395853&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/7545030218213395853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/7545030218213395853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/would-you-smell-and-tell.html' title='Would you smell and tell?'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnOtAc4kSPI/AAAAAAAAAbk/qkDz4fXj4RQ/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-606034349080725356</id><published>2009-07-30T19:36:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T22:57:10.730-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dress....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnIvwehPfMI/AAAAAAAAAbc/C3ZK_I-pRYc/s1600-h/Picture018-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364402616024399042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnIvwehPfMI/AAAAAAAAAbc/C3ZK_I-pRYc/s400/Picture018-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Check me out in the dress.....oh man! I need to find another occasion to where this again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Be back in a minute to talk about something&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; only&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I would....stay tuned!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S. DH doesn't look soo bad. Although, I wish we had time to get his suit tailored. No worries! To me, he still looked awesome!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-606034349080725356?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/606034349080725356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=606034349080725356&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/606034349080725356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/606034349080725356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/dress.html' title='The Dress....'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SnIvwehPfMI/AAAAAAAAAbc/C3ZK_I-pRYc/s72-c/Picture018-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-7864872101964240729</id><published>2009-07-20T17:25:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T22:14:20.338-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Syracuse here we come....or should I say here I come</title><content type='html'>This weekend we are traveling to Syracuse for DH's cousin's wedding. I am really excited for a few reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999900;"&gt;So let's look at this small but truly important list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Having the chance to get away for the weekend, is always exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) Getting the chance to meet DH's cousins in New York. We have been together 10 years and I have never ever met his cousins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) Since DH's family is soo small (on both sides), it is important that they get to know each other better. Hopefully, this will help make them a bit closer. (Doubt it - yeah I said it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number one is...... drum roll please&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Getting to wear this &lt;a href="http://www.thelimited.com/detail/solid-sleek-strapless-dress/3274468"&gt;dress&lt;/a&gt;!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I know this really shouldn't be number one. However, we are talking about me - &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The RMG.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; What I do/say never has to make sense or be nice. It's all about &lt;em&gt;honesty and being real. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What's real, is how  awesome I look in this dress in this dress! Especially, with the cute gold &lt;/em&gt;heels I bought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is why I am truly excited about going on this trip. I will try and post pictures sometime next week. Cannot wait to show it off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-7864872101964240729?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7864872101964240729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=7864872101964240729&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/7864872101964240729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/7864872101964240729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/syracuse-here-we-comeor-should-i-say.html' title='Syracuse here we come....or should I say here I come'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-2424965238601217641</id><published>2009-07-07T19:30:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T07:50:46.372-04:00</updated><title type='text'>In Memoriam</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SlPlGqnumjI/AAAAAAAAAbU/Z3uv995uLMM/s1600-h/large_thrill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355876284556548658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SlPlGqnumjI/AAAAAAAAAbU/Z3uv995uLMM/s200/large_thrill.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight, I am sharing a Michael Jackson memory. I feel this is the best way, I know of, to say goodbye to a wonderful artist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I never had the honor or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;privilege&lt;/span&gt; to get to meet or see M.J. in concert. None of that mattered. He always,through his music, attended (and still will) many a wonderful dance party. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing can get a party started like P.Y.T. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This genius not only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;influenced&lt;/span&gt; the way we danced, sang, and styled our hair. Oh yeah, when people saw Michael with a curl, the black hair salons were full of us trying to cop' his style. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well let me tell you, Mr. M.J. also &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;influenced&lt;/span&gt; the choice in my first boyfriend. Let's take a trip down memory lane to fully &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;understand&lt;/span&gt;........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the Spring of 83' (now you know I don't remember if it was the Spring or Fall,but it sounded good), I was in first grade heading home on the school bus. I remember this boy from my class turned and looked at me. In my mind it was slow motion and then he said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt; sit next to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I shimmied my way to Louis Starr. Wasn't his name dreamy? Okay I digress, I instantly fell in love when I saw that he was wearing a replica Michael Jackson red leather jacket. Yes, I believe it was the &lt;em&gt;Thriller &lt;/em&gt;version.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe that romance lasted all,&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ummmm&lt;/span&gt;, the way to my house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's all she wrote. That was my Michael Jackson memory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you Michael for all the great memories and future ones to come. Your legacy will live on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peacefully,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;~&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Picture Source:&lt;a href="http://blog.nj.com/entertainment_impact_music/2008/02/large_thrill.jpg"&gt;http://blog.nj.com/entertainment_impact_music/2008/02/large_thrill.jpg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-2424965238601217641?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2424965238601217641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=2424965238601217641&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/2424965238601217641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/2424965238601217641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-memoriam.html' title='In Memoriam'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SlPlGqnumjI/AAAAAAAAAbU/Z3uv995uLMM/s72-c/large_thrill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-4333254268631183399</id><published>2009-07-05T17:10:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T19:42:48.020-04:00</updated><title type='text'>**WARNING!!!!  This is not a nice blog***</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SlEe1oRu0aI/AAAAAAAAAbM/t2-TTez-G2M/s1600-h/2007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355095338613920162" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SlEe1oRu0aI/AAAAAAAAAbM/t2-TTez-G2M/s200/2007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously. I am not sure I even know how to start this blog,cause I am really irritated that I am not being heard. Or when I am, it is being considered nagging/bitching. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's the problem and it's an old problem that's being revisited. I was always told that when you get married, you marry their family also. Well it's true. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the addition to our marriage is in my face at least 2 to 3 times a week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DH's&lt;/span&gt; brother is at our house 2 to 3 times a wk (sometimes more), playing Halo, eating up the food and talking non-stop. At this point I am not even trying to be nice anymore. I have a problem with anyone being in my house this often. I just don't think it's fair that my freedom of peace, quiet and nakedness is jeopardized. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, when I say something it's considered bitching.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that the gloves are off, I don't care. I have the right not to see someone this often...in my house! I get very irritated that his brother has a sizable savings, owns his own business,but still lives at home. Yeah and his 25. I think something is wrong with this picture. I think only a few people, at this age, should be allowed to live at home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of them being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MRDD&lt;/span&gt;. Although, many with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MRDD&lt;/span&gt; can make it to independent living. So why can't he? Good question. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He had the nerve, when I asked him (the brother) about a time frame of when he thought he was going to move out, to shrug his shoulders and continue to pay attention to the Halo game. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Awww&lt;/span&gt; hell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;naw&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am over his complacent attitude. And, I am tired of my husband being an enabler by allowing him to come over here and mooch off our shit. Sad thing is, his brother earns more than both of us,but continues to live with his parents. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;, maybe something is wrong with him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess DH is falling for the fact that he is driving around looking into apartments.Basically he talks a good game, but ( I believe) has no intention of following through. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe that his brother is going to be the death (sorry not literally) of this marriage. We are always in arguments over this crap- and I am tired of it. However, I am done speaking to the husband about it. I am going straight for the jugular. Hope their ready. If not, too bad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I need some chips, damn them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;~&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Picture Source: &lt;a href="http://www.yalespizzwinks.org/winkipedia/album.php?Year=2007"&gt;http://www.yalespizzwinks.org/winkipedia/album.php?Year=2007&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-4333254268631183399?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4333254268631183399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=4333254268631183399&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4333254268631183399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4333254268631183399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/warning-this-is-not-nice-blog.html' title='**WARNING!!!!  This is not a nice blog***'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SlEe1oRu0aI/AAAAAAAAAbM/t2-TTez-G2M/s72-c/2007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-4911098888624471089</id><published>2009-07-01T18:29:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T20:44:08.673-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep Going Strong</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkvlD_gKB8I/AAAAAAAAAbE/AtPbKc0fsDI/s1600-h/logo_rw_community.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353624438808643522" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 23px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkvlD_gKB8I/AAAAAAAAAbE/AtPbKc0fsDI/s200/logo_rw_community.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As some of you know back in Jan. (of this year)I decided I was going to start running. Of course, this came about after a cousin asked me to run in some races (5K, 10K, 10miler and the mini) around town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;initial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; shock of saying yes, I realized this was going to be a challenge, but I was going to do it. However, I just knew I would hate it. I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child, I remember enjoying all running activities. And usually, was picked first for many running games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well as time went on, I never kept it up. I guess it had something to do with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;neighborhood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I just never remember seeing lots of people running, just because. Plus, I was too busy chasing boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I do remember one man that ran our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;neighborhood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. In fact, I can still vividly see his outfit (orange/red sweat pants, a homemade white tank top and a white headband). Why is this memory clear? Maybe I yearned to run. Who knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After training months for these races, I realized I had finally found a sport. I loved running. Especially, on race day. There is nothing like the energy you feel from those around. Even though these races are over, I have kept up with my training-though not as intense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well today after deciding I was tired and needed my couch, I headed home. Once there, I checked the mail and saw that I had received a package. I thought it was something Social Work related. Wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I opened the package, I saw a note attached to a &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Runners World&lt;/span&gt; Magazine&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Dear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (Ha! you thought I was going to tell you my name),&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Keep going strong! Just wanted to let you know that you are one of the warmest and encouraging women I know. I always enjoy your beautiful spirit. Thank you for being you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;I took the liberty of getting you a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;subscription&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Enjoy and keep going strong!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Love, Peace, Happiness- C (not giving her name either)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her letter was well timed. It came when I have been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;analyzing&lt;/span&gt; if I was the real deal or a fraud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I enjoy running, it is slow; however, steady. I have really been struggling with, does speed make you a runner? If that is true,I am not. And may be considered a jogger.&lt;br /&gt;Even though there is nothing wrong with this, I just like the sound of runner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After reading this letter, I realized that I am a runner!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see this letter came from a RUNNER-just (at the moment) a non-practicing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;practitioner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically if a real Runner sees what I am doing as running, then dangnabbit-I'm a Runner!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I believe, once a runner always a runner. Even if you are a little rusty or &lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Sloow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as C says, &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keep Going Strong!  &lt;/strong&gt;And, that is what I plan on doing. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Picture Source: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Runnersworld&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-4911098888624471089?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4911098888624471089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=4911098888624471089&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4911098888624471089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4911098888624471089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/keep-going-strong.html' title='Keep Going Strong'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkvlD_gKB8I/AAAAAAAAAbE/AtPbKc0fsDI/s72-c/logo_rw_community.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-4922810250196517652</id><published>2009-06-26T17:05:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T19:53:16.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Buddy &amp; Turtle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkU2jZ8zCfI/AAAAAAAAAas/XyFvUsAD8Hk/s1600-h/IMG_1511.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351743714088913394" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkU2jZ8zCfI/AAAAAAAAAas/XyFvUsAD8Hk/s200/IMG_1511.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkU2u0OG34I/AAAAAAAAAa0/SEbHUADJwZA/s1600-h/IMG_1518.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351743910119399298" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkU2u0OG34I/AAAAAAAAAa0/SEbHUADJwZA/s200/IMG_1518.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I have to say is, Buddy loves his Turtle. It was Ptolemy's (my boxer boy...that's his butt in the background in pic # 1) turtle first,but I guess he happily donated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buddy cannot go anywhere without Turtle. He sleeps, eats, and plays and everthing else with Turtle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkU230Rgr6I/AAAAAAAAAa8/nNeYX3vuZts/s1600-h/IMG_1514.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He seriously brings that Turtle over to us to throw about every 5 seconds. No joke!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just too darn cute. However, I think Turtle is begging for a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkU230Rgr6I/AAAAAAAAAa8/nNeYX3vuZts/s1600-h/IMG_1514.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351744064752496546" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkU230Rgr6I/AAAAAAAAAa8/nNeYX3vuZts/s200/IMG_1514.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S. Turtle just caught a break. Now Gorilla is the hot toy. He has already lost an ear. Wait! Turtle's breaks over. Poor guys-Buddy is rough. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-4922810250196517652?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4922810250196517652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=4922810250196517652&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4922810250196517652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4922810250196517652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/buddy-turtle.html' title='Buddy &amp; Turtle'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SkU2jZ8zCfI/AAAAAAAAAas/XyFvUsAD8Hk/s72-c/IMG_1511.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-3995570074186979562</id><published>2009-06-25T19:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T19:09:43.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Farrah Fawcett, 1947-2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/AsfjVFk-DQg' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/AsfjVFk-DQg'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;R.I.P Farrah. You will be missed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~RMG&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-3995570074186979562?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3995570074186979562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=3995570074186979562&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3995570074186979562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3995570074186979562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/farrah-fawcett-1947-2009.html' title='Farrah Fawcett, 1947-2009'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-4856846563711393271</id><published>2009-06-25T19:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T19:05:27.936-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Michael Jackson - Rock With You</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/7hK3Y1Ehv9c' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/7hK3Y1Ehv9c'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;R.I.P Michael. Thank you for all the great music. You will be missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~RMG&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-4856846563711393271?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4856846563711393271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=4856846563711393271&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4856846563711393271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4856846563711393271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/michael-jackson-rock-with-you.html' title='Michael Jackson - Rock With You'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-3702277617110469125</id><published>2009-06-17T21:17:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T20:30:19.080-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Buddy's Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/Sj1-8Q6fuBI/AAAAAAAAAag/P4tXZkOAdMY/s1600-h/IMG_1498.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349571506183583762" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/Sj1-8Q6fuBI/AAAAAAAAAag/P4tXZkOAdMY/s200/IMG_1498.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/Sj19fN_mAPI/AAAAAAAAAaY/7CyQehp8uD4/s1600-h/IMG_1488.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A rare opportunity came our way this week. For years my husband and I have talked about starting a rescue for older dogs. And recently, spoke about becoming a foster home to a small dog (due to the size of our home with already having two large dogs). We openly said we would love a Boston Terrier. In fact, for some reason my office had started to fill with dog pictures-Boxers (my own) and Boston Terriers (pictures of clients dogs). However, we never started the search to rescue a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;BT&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess none of that mattered. God had other ideas/plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week a new client, to the social service agency I work for, had a dog that needed a home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well guess what! He is a Boston Terrier (maybe a mix,but cute nonetheless), named Buddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The home Buddy came from was very troubled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was living with an owner who has probably early stage dementia combined with a physically/verbally abusive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;meth&lt;/span&gt; addicted son occasionally living in his home. Needless to say, after the son was arrested and the client was taken to a nursing facility, Buddy was invited into our home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The transition into becoming a Foster "parent" has had it's challenges/rewards. &lt;/p&gt;Due the sons abusive nature and the clients possible forgetfulness, Buddy has come with a set of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;unique&lt;/span&gt; issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let's go on an adventure to look at what these are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1) 5yrs old and not housebroken;however, we have him about 90% housebroken. Yes after only 5 days!!! (crate training/food schedule)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2) He is quite fearful of new people coming into the home/being outside for too long. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3) Cannot walk on a leash (we had a break-through today, he is walking on the leash!) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4) Sometimes likes to BITE!!!!!! not because he is aggressive,but from FEAR of mistreatment. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5) He is a fully intact male....please I am not going to jump on my soapbox...moving on&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, we haven't had a problem (with biting) since Tuesday,it's clear dogs are like us. They have their good and bad days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After visiting with his owner today, I realized how important these little beings are to our well-being. It was a great visit for both owner and Buddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This experience has taught me patience and has made me think... what a great idea it would be if there was a group of people who would offer their homes to Dogs/Cats of older people going into facilities that did not accept animals,but would allow occasional visits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How neat would that be? Hmmm, I bet you all would agree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S. I almost gave up after one day,but Nick (the husband, for those that didn't know) said let's give this guy a chance. And, how blessed and happy I am that he said this to me. To be honest, I was scared and uncertain. Now it's clear, we can do this. And, so can others. My only fear now is, how will I react when/if Buddy leaves this home. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SjwIDcF4THI/AAAAAAAAAZo/-fouRA4MCjI/s1600-h/IMG_1474.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SjxiwvHQTpI/AAAAAAAAAaA/lvvmc81LDF0/s1600-h/IMG_1471.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349259046829444754" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SjxiwvHQTpI/AAAAAAAAAaA/lvvmc81LDF0/s200/IMG_1471.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Final Thought- Let's stop sending these precious creatures to Kill Shelters and open our homes. Sad to say, that was almost Buddy's fate.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-3702277617110469125?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3702277617110469125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=3702277617110469125&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3702277617110469125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3702277617110469125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/buddys-story.html' title='Buddy&apos;s Story'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/Sj1-8Q6fuBI/AAAAAAAAAag/P4tXZkOAdMY/s72-c/IMG_1498.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-4308296942771618665</id><published>2009-06-09T22:34:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T22:34:15.211-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Maxwell - Pretty Wings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/7mLfC2kkvPw' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/7mLfC2kkvPw'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;July 13th, here I come!!!! Hmmmm, I wonder if I have enough money to bail myself out of jail. Yeah that's right, I'm getting on that stage . Okay not really, but I sure will think of a way to make it happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess my sister will keep me in line. Either way enjoy this song. I can't get enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;br /&gt;~RMG&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-4308296942771618665?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4308296942771618665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=4308296942771618665&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4308296942771618665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4308296942771618665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/maxwell-pretty-wings.html' title='Maxwell - Pretty Wings'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-3116929638784725807</id><published>2009-06-08T23:53:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T23:53:58.033-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bret Michaels Gets "Dropped" at Tony Awards</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/2dA-AL90_RE' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/2dA-AL90_RE'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Come on, you know it's a little funny. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;br /&gt;~RMG&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-3116929638784725807?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3116929638784725807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=3116929638784725807&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3116929638784725807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/3116929638784725807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/bret-michaels-gets-at-tony-awards.html' title='Bret Michaels Gets &amp;quot;Dropped&amp;quot; at Tony Awards'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-1982529828886401746</id><published>2009-06-06T20:50:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T22:57:51.237-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Anteeger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SixW0YLaybI/AAAAAAAAAYY/7hxniP6aAN8/s1600-h/IMG_0853.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344742315625466290" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 112px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SixW0YLaybI/AAAAAAAAAYY/7hxniP6aAN8/s200/IMG_0853.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As many of you know, I just travelled to the Caribbeans about a week ago. One of the places we visited was Antigua or as it is said there - &lt;em&gt;Anteeger. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we stepped foot on land, we were greeted by about a thousand folks offering to take us on tours or drive us to a beach. Seriously, every step or turn someone was pushing a map into our faces. Of course, as imagined, I became a bit irritable. However, never rude.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After feeling overwhelmed we decided to take a tour,but with a company insured through the ship. (Still ran by the residents of Antigua) Once on this tour, our guide Donna (Donner-yes that is the way she pronounced this...everything had an R added on to it) began to tell us about the history and the economy of this beautiful place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I listened, I learned their main source of money comes from tourism. Yes, that's right -&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tourism&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;**(Other than tourism, Antigua gets money from their brand of rum &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cavalier&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; and local hops &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wadadli.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; My beer connoisseur, Nick (the husband), was very pleased with the taste of the Wadadli. So much so, he had to buy a shirt with it's branding.) **&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I began to think about how we Americans often complain about the shape of our economy. But after being there, I can honestly say that we should probably close the mouth a bit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are blessed in the fact that we do not have to rely solely on tourism (even though all states benefit from it and some more than others). While in there, one could see how poor this island is,but only through the condition of the homes. Their poor economic status was never reflected in their faces or attitudes. That's right, even with a defunct banking system.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I began wondering, how would Americans fair if our economy was the same as Antigua? I suspect not very well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Agree or disagree with my assessment, it doesn't change the fact that there are many jewels in this world, and Antigua is one them. It's a place I look forward to seeing again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-1982529828886401746?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1982529828886401746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=1982529828886401746&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1982529828886401746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1982529828886401746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/anteeger.html' title='Anteeger'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SixW0YLaybI/AAAAAAAAAYY/7hxniP6aAN8/s72-c/IMG_0853.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-2994639207394082564</id><published>2009-06-06T20:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T20:50:15.995-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Confession</title><content type='html'>I love the X-BOX!!!!!!! For those that have been reading this blog, know this statement is a far cry from a few months ago when I was complaining about that silly machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well now that I have a use for it,other than watching my husband and his brother play Halo, I have fallen madly in love. Yes, really it's love!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That little ugly white box has given me the abililty to watch nextflix (instant) movies on the television versus the computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe now you, the reader, can understand my feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to spend time with my new companion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Currently watching Dial M for Murder)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-2994639207394082564?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2994639207394082564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=2994639207394082564&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/2994639207394082564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/2994639207394082564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/confession.html' title='Confession'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-1196289090487959457</id><published>2009-05-31T08:49:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T09:01:37.558-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn Cruise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SiJ_Hd1wC7I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/4jDE3jdcc0U/s1600-h/IMG_0286.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341971874260716466" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 112px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SiJ_Hd1wC7I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/4jDE3jdcc0U/s200/IMG_0286.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that I am officially off the cruise ship, I am happy. Not because I had a bad time,but because the food is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; good. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I attempted many days to have a salad like the one you see above. However, the dinners were very good and I enjoyed more than (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt;) my share of &lt;em&gt;melting chocolate cake, lobster bisque, prime rib, fried oyster, etc.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a day on vacation I knew I had a problem. So my solution was to enjoy the food but make sure I ran as much as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;possible in&lt;/span&gt; the gym. Which I did, but struggled some with motion sickness. We shall see if that worked when I get home and step on the scale........&lt;em&gt;biting my nails from not wanting to see the number. I'll let you know how it turns out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;~&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;RMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;**Yeah, yeah I know creamy dressing is not the best for someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;watching&lt;/span&gt; their weight. But I cannot eat a salad with anything else.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-1196289090487959457?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1196289090487959457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=1196289090487959457&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1196289090487959457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/1196289090487959457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/damn-cruise.html' title='Damn Cruise'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SiJ_Hd1wC7I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/4jDE3jdcc0U/s72-c/IMG_0286.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-6427028330381639000</id><published>2009-05-31T08:43:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T20:14:12.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Clippers anyone? (No these are not Nick's feet)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SiJ8RRRkdfI/AAAAAAAAAYI/ZdMSEJ9qLUY/s1600-h/IMG_1344.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341968744151545330" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 112px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SiJ8RRRkdfI/AAAAAAAAAYI/ZdMSEJ9qLUY/s200/IMG_1344.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you go on vacation and there will be chance others will see your feet...cut your nails. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it me or is it completely disgusting to have long toenails. Can I say especially on a man? &lt;br /&gt;I don't care if you are with a bunch of people who may never see you again,it's gross! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This picture is from a day trip we took to Virgin Gorda, BVI&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yuck!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Always Truthful,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;~RMG&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-6427028330381639000?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6427028330381639000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=6427028330381639000&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/6427028330381639000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/6427028330381639000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/clippers-anyone.html' title='Clippers anyone? (No these are not Nick&apos;s feet)'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2CAtXfmeohg/SiJ8RRRkdfI/AAAAAAAAAYI/ZdMSEJ9qLUY/s72-c/IMG_1344.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-4222572837505938334</id><published>2009-05-19T20:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T20:36:24.738-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation</title><content type='html'>RMG is going on vacation stating May 21. Since I have been quite laaaaazy, I will bring my laptop with me and share photos/write about this trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I am going on a cruise,so just imagine what I will see and even say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-4222572837505938334?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4222572837505938334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=4222572837505938334&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4222572837505938334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/4222572837505938334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/vacation.html' title='Vacation'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2101677123621697302.post-8539210686252268487</id><published>2009-05-09T21:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T21:08:30.271-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Catherine Tate - Gay Son</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/ifUQq5p5i2g' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/ifUQq5p5i2g'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;HILARIOUS!!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2101677123621697302-8539210686252268487?l=therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8539210686252268487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2101677123621697302&amp;postID=8539210686252268487&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/8539210686252268487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2101677123621697302/posts/default/8539210686252268487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://therealmarriedgirl.blogspot.com/2009/05/catherine-tate-gay-son.html' title='Catherine Tate - Gay Son'/><author><name>The Real (Married) Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14366153237577492450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08247127346234461493'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>