tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44551118858974964092024-02-19T03:20:20.212-05:00teh cheese stands aloneEmbarrassing or entertaining? Both. These are my childhood diary entries. Join me for the drama! The most recent entries posted are from middle school... and they go all the way back to kindergarten.kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.comBlogger212125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-50200406641486504212011-10-21T18:58:00.018-04:002011-10-23T20:09:31.661-04:00Your Mom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxs_WAyyE63bLSTOQFgbLuckKBYlnRFs-4xGz_r3heAbvr-WbMwBTLaFdPs-wzJlwVQzofrBtEuUzcQRJB04WQevMyLWZz9AhaZsr1kiHA_OVCAGZMg0JuBMVDHY19K6zTXMPH2Yn-mQY/s1600/1997-03-04+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxs_WAyyE63bLSTOQFgbLuckKBYlnRFs-4xGz_r3heAbvr-WbMwBTLaFdPs-wzJlwVQzofrBtEuUzcQRJB04WQevMyLWZz9AhaZsr1kiHA_OVCAGZMg0JuBMVDHY19K6zTXMPH2Yn-mQY/s400/1997-03-04+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666083707743281234" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ivqj6oK3wZcP6c-_hTMnbzayy5ERwzdkTZMyb8XWFSTFLwjOh2VdHKabd3jYpiSa-Wah34aNN8Airr3Ls8IkXd93sv1_hZ8Nx_IukySHfcidCRIA-iEMZco2qZjgY4erjVEy0ZKw4pg/s1600/1997-03-04+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ivqj6oK3wZcP6c-_hTMnbzayy5ERwzdkTZMyb8XWFSTFLwjOh2VdHKabd3jYpiSa-Wah34aNN8Airr3Ls8IkXd93sv1_hZ8Nx_IukySHfcidCRIA-iEMZco2qZjgY4erjVEy0ZKw4pg/s400/1997-03-04+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666083702683111394" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhep4SJ96bYM_TvzIOlgJ6-O8m2Mft6y0yMeBE9cusMBKjS79Nn-gB820mWJ3EArPyyAjOlhkiFMwpBlGlj7O_M4r-dl-aSYTFS4ShC-M2hZ5134FaWdWPYaaB3P0ssotNGb3Bqm3BqDcY/s1600/1997-03-04+pt3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhep4SJ96bYM_TvzIOlgJ6-O8m2Mft6y0yMeBE9cusMBKjS79Nn-gB820mWJ3EArPyyAjOlhkiFMwpBlGlj7O_M4r-dl-aSYTFS4ShC-M2hZ5134FaWdWPYaaB3P0ssotNGb3Bqm3BqDcY/s400/1997-03-04+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666083701319110130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm seriously having a problem understanding the adolescent mind. You'd think after reading all these diary entries, I'd be better able to appreciate the emotions and predict the actions. Nope. Apparently when it comes to girls in early adolescence, there is no understanding... there is no predicting.<br /><br />Wasn't I JUST in love with Richard? Just a week earlier I was saying how cute and sweet he was. Clearly ripping him to pieces as I did in the past couple diary entries was some sort of weird defense mechanism. Not sure what I was defending myself against... but I <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> I didn't really feel that way.<br /><br />Other things to address:<br />1. <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Un-Rogaine"</span>... Richard's thick hair became the object of my aggression. Why???<br /><br />2. <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Crimeny!"</span>... Where the heck did this word come from? Or rather, where did it go? I haven't heard it in ages. TO THE GOOGLE! First off, I guess it's more commonly spelled "criminy". Weird. I don't like the way that looks. Secondly, YES! I love when researching old diary entries leads me to uncover other relics of the time! Turns out "criminy" was often said by Helga on the Nickelodeon cartoon <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://heyarnold.wikia.com/wiki/Criminy" target="_blank">Hey Arnold</a><span style="font-style: italic;">!</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Hey Arnold</span> first aired in October of 1996, so that is without a doubt where I picked it up. Mystery solved.<br /><br />3. <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Your Mom"</span>... What a great all-purpose insult this was for awhile there. I still hear it jokingly from time to time but man was it rampant in middle school. Yo Momma jokes were HILARIOUS back then. Most of the ones we used to laugh at are super-lame <span style="font-style: italic;">("Your momma's so fat when she sits around the house, she sits AROUND the house")</span>, but if you haven't heard Yo Momma jokes in a long time, I encourage you to google it because there are a ton of smart and funny ones I had never heard. Yes, lots are still lame... but I was happy to come across these...<br /><br /><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://pleated-jeans.com/2011/01/31/7-super-nerdy-yo-mama-jokes/" target="_blank">Harry Potter:</a><br />"Your mama's so fat, the Sorting Hat sorted her into the House of Pancakes."<br /><br /><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.reddit.com/r/funny/comments/b9ssz/nerdy_yo_mamma_jokes_ill_start/" target="_blank">Nerdy:</a><br />"Select * FROM Table.YoMamma<br /><code>........................................<br />........................................<br />........................................<br />Server Timed Out</code>"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Literature (from Act I Scene 1 of </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Timon of Athens):</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br />Painter: "Y'are a dog."<br />Apemantus: "Thy mother's of my generation. What's she, if I be a dog?"<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I bet you didn't know Shakespeare "invented" the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maternal_insult" target="_blank">Yo Momma joke</a>!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“3-4-97. Dear Diary, I did dump Richard! I’m so happy! I feel so free. I feel like a new person! I love it! Ahh! Richard still likes me, a lot. He wrote me a note saying that we can still be friends & he’s not mad at me. At the bottom of the note, it said- I love you. I feel so bad. But I don’t care, I’m NOT asking him back out- EVER! Ugh! He is so ugly. Like I’ve said before- he needs un-Rogaine. I wonder who I’ll like next. Hmm. Jaime & Kara say that Rob & I should go out. You think? Nah. It would never happen. In SWEP, the strangest thing happened. I was talking to Doug. Suddenly he stepped forward so we were almost touching. He was looking down at me & I was looking up at him. My God! It looked like he was about to kiss me! Crimeny! You don’t know how close we were! I’ve never stood by him that close face to face. Anyhow, we stood there for awhile just looking at each other & then I said, “I could beat you up!” He said, “Ya sure, your Mom.” And then we both walked off in different directions. Do you think I’ll like Doug again? I don’t know. Mom thinks he’s cute. I didn’t ask her- she told me. I think Doug & I would be better of as just friends. But hey, you never know! -Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-91248471743657658952011-10-14T17:21:00.003-04:002011-10-17T13:11:27.770-04:00I want my freedom & stuff<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bkUWk-IkCXKMSQajppYApXYjASSWK3pDyJ97Aj3ahiD6_FphUwvA8TJQqJWBPzz9mvbjjL4u21amZ0Acj8OtU63dtqa7F7zS7l2aBRB43DCE-eUC7xEkDGeeCeWk-hunYH__IPgPI_M/s1600/1997-03-03+pt1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 368px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bkUWk-IkCXKMSQajppYApXYjASSWK3pDyJ97Aj3ahiD6_FphUwvA8TJQqJWBPzz9mvbjjL4u21amZ0Acj8OtU63dtqa7F7zS7l2aBRB43DCE-eUC7xEkDGeeCeWk-hunYH__IPgPI_M/s400/1997-03-03+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663461309468629346" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwY9T_HLNB1QcURE7zFuOH3G5oXwIjJc6SWJYY8K4zHUc7T8XkO5G8zBR4Eh9WgRml1W4bXLDmtiSrOveTCGQQw2mPCUwFGhsY_v6Tp68Q7SZK4SIua079Kl7yQxRybG990xwfBCeYVk/s1600/1997-03-03+pt2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 368px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwY9T_HLNB1QcURE7zFuOH3G5oXwIjJc6SWJYY8K4zHUc7T8XkO5G8zBR4Eh9WgRml1W4bXLDmtiSrOveTCGQQw2mPCUwFGhsY_v6Tp68Q7SZK4SIua079Kl7yQxRybG990xwfBCeYVk/s400/1997-03-03+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663461301264338258" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"I want my freedom"... from what?? We never saw each other outside of school, we never talked on the phone, we didn't even sit together at lunch. We exchanged notes in the hallway and that's about it.<br /><br />And my alternative was Rob, a boy who I would definitely make a really cute couple with, but who may not go out with me. Hell, he may not even LIKE me.<br /><br />I'm really anxious to see how this is going to work out... haha.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"3-3-97. Dear Diary, I might dump Richard tomorrow. I'm not sure. At lunch & after I was really serious about it. I told like everyone I saw! Now I'm not quite sure if I should. I still like him but I don't want to go out with him anymore. I want my freedom & stuff. Should I OR shouldn't I? HELP. I think I've told too many people to not dump him. Ugh! HELP! Kara, Lianna, & Jaime all think that Rob & I would make a really good couple. Jaime said so even though she likes him! Agh! What to do, what to do? I'm starting to agree with them. Would he ever go out with me though? Krista"</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-81091845979684218692011-10-11T21:13:00.020-04:002011-10-11T22:01:45.728-04:00B.O.<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm back!! I'm so sorry I abandoned you there for FIVE months but-- whoops-- life got busy again. This time, I bought a house. And houses can be total time-sucks. Very rewarding... but veritable vortexes of time and money. Wheee!<br /><br />Anyhow, enough of my boring adult life... back to juicy middle school drama!<br /></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Bg41aOegw7W-tN0wSaGasTwU8uiwxdNWcMOH14g32naY564eXp7Bcfn8wyGYPHvJx7YVQcnEGudGVFUq_fo7lycxS-6dbCavecjV_hoISy6GlpMVoate-v6aYeyVCGJzygyt0XTwFhc/s1600/1997-02-27+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Bg41aOegw7W-tN0wSaGasTwU8uiwxdNWcMOH14g32naY564eXp7Bcfn8wyGYPHvJx7YVQcnEGudGVFUq_fo7lycxS-6dbCavecjV_hoISy6GlpMVoate-v6aYeyVCGJzygyt0XTwFhc/s400/1997-02-27+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662408158030517074" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YZJllqBavIICcm-va8uJWDcIbTfEUu8X9Dde7UHzJiumY-qTSEByhxpH5H85gxaAZlaL4dQ6JIP1ecAvUqNPObHc8ikm5EH5tauPjTdTa0_8Slh2us2nfNRc0qD-qN_2kex-oz-RGQM/s1600/1997-02-27+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YZJllqBavIICcm-va8uJWDcIbTfEUu8X9Dde7UHzJiumY-qTSEByhxpH5H85gxaAZlaL4dQ6JIP1ecAvUqNPObHc8ikm5EH5tauPjTdTa0_8Slh2us2nfNRc0qD-qN_2kex-oz-RGQM/s400/1997-02-27+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662408154931700226" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh the joys of puberty. I still remember my first "Teen Spirit". <br /><br />Poor Richard. It needed to be his mom's responsibility to tell him to use deodorant... not his girlfriend's! Nooo, his girlfriend's responsibility was to make fun of him behind is back and write funny pop songs on the matter.<br /><br />Oh yes, this was during the phase of my adolescence where I wrote songs. I didn't actually compose music... I just wrote down lyrics and kept the melodies inside my head. If all the songs I wrote in middle school were released on the radio today, <span style="font-style: italic;">"B.O."</span> would definitely be the one to top the charts as a #1 hit single.<br /><br />I scoured my old cassette tapes hoping to find a recorded version of this song but came up empty-handed. For now, you'll just have to imagine the awesomeness until someone begs or bribes me enough to record it fresh. Sometimes I still sing it around the house to this day... AND... even my HUSBAND has been found humming it after it's gotten stuck in his head.<br /><br />Before you read the infectious lyrics, I should point out that there are some parts written in black, others in blue, and some kind of in both colors. That's because the song is intended to be sung by two people so the colors represent the two parts. AND the parts that are sung together are sung <span style="font-style: italic;">in harmony</span>. This is very sophisticated music. <br /><br />Here is my masterpiece!!<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29x_pPD6gj_X-LUyP48kBuHGjaBgNZhVLCh2hXAK2CEvpB0foi5VBe5yE8P42eZszA4KCcWZMN9ITA7jd3jcrdCxWbZ_4HMLp5AiGEmhYKwGLZiELwL3xdGKy7JUCkb1S5lcXeV-jI3c/s1600/BO1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29x_pPD6gj_X-LUyP48kBuHGjaBgNZhVLCh2hXAK2CEvpB0foi5VBe5yE8P42eZszA4KCcWZMN9ITA7jd3jcrdCxWbZ_4HMLp5AiGEmhYKwGLZiELwL3xdGKy7JUCkb1S5lcXeV-jI3c/s400/BO1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662417119358920306" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EbJtsPcxIelSM6dK6qLJIqd1fAPB3gTnbPQCx-Ihx-McxjyLZnk8EaaQdXjwK2AW-oSnsVOZdtcrqeLxVrAgjRGFw7XtqwVqrrnoqaYfKdvGxcf9fONX7fKSskqgVOp9VJORfHz6d8Y/s1600/BO2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EbJtsPcxIelSM6dK6qLJIqd1fAPB3gTnbPQCx-Ihx-McxjyLZnk8EaaQdXjwK2AW-oSnsVOZdtcrqeLxVrAgjRGFw7XtqwVqrrnoqaYfKdvGxcf9fONX7fKSskqgVOp9VJORfHz6d8Y/s400/BO2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662417115908581666" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Speechless? I thought so.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“2-27-97. Dear Diary, Richard is still kinda annoying. I’m not mad about the I LOVE U’s all over anything anymore but I am mad about his stench! Geez! He smells like a whole football team after playing a 5 hour long game! He smells so darn bad. Can’t he use deoderant? IT’S CALLED B.O. DEAR! UGH! -Krista AKA The Girlfriend of one heck of a smell boy! & that isn’t a good thing!"<br />"Two quiet lovers / Sitting together / Arms around each other / Loving one another. / The boy smells flowers & perfume- what a dream. / The girl smells B.O.! / (CHORUS) Boy you've got stench, stench, stench / Boy you smell really bad / Boy you've got stench, stench, stench / Have you been sittin on a bench / Boy you reek, reek, reek / Boy you smell really bad / Boy you reek, reek, reek / Boy all through the week. / The boy looks deep into her eyes / The girl remembers all her lies / Cuz he's got B.O.! / (CHORUS) / The boy leans over to be kissed / The girl thinks of what she missed / Cuz he's got B.O.! / (CHORUS) / The girl stands up & runs away / The boy hopes maybe another day / (Spoken) Too bad there won't be / Cuz he's got B.O.! / (CHORUS) / Look at those underarms / smelly underarms / look at those underarms / smelly underarms / look at those underarms / smelly underarms / Yea!"<br /></span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-27064243369161133482011-05-08T19:25:00.007-04:002011-05-08T20:10:39.175-04:00Lunch Table Drama<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sKy5FY-Tz75sviFpOv6besz-rj8urE33iV4z8h_AQCrh0h99clP9HBzkUbH2H4g2xTQhWjpg4pY4CcQ2MmtLMv2secMG97IKPNCs0_lbNClIo2wYIPuibVto7gjAHc2O0m553l6QqLg/s1600/1997-02-26+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sKy5FY-Tz75sviFpOv6besz-rj8urE33iV4z8h_AQCrh0h99clP9HBzkUbH2H4g2xTQhWjpg4pY4CcQ2MmtLMv2secMG97IKPNCs0_lbNClIo2wYIPuibVto7gjAHc2O0m553l6QqLg/s400/1997-02-26+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604490813123235474" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaNjpdhpyYh_URLZwn9-e9nZe3cAPoosY_IWf6IegFuFF4f1_2IbwXhyphenhyphenP8BHwhqkw6dMlANZdUPLjVK6Hglv2aUGxwxjye6P9cuRwDyGpa4PCuSZ93G899jFoA_G1BkWjpEqLOf_R_XDo/s1600/1997-02-26+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaNjpdhpyYh_URLZwn9-e9nZe3cAPoosY_IWf6IegFuFF4f1_2IbwXhyphenhyphenP8BHwhqkw6dMlANZdUPLjVK6Hglv2aUGxwxjye6P9cuRwDyGpa4PCuSZ93G899jFoA_G1BkWjpEqLOf_R_XDo/s400/1997-02-26+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604490810614277586" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1ZIVN1ebabMAP5mpHatNKTb__xemElWaW5_bu14C0Luup_axPA_DKFH18-jSIQO-tGjntNoDAohzpI2o5h1XzZPT980UHZe9QnhT5KPGHrKoS6GgnLkvmPtn3lznb1jUeT8w71PfmYk/s1600/1997-02-26+pt3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1ZIVN1ebabMAP5mpHatNKTb__xemElWaW5_bu14C0Luup_axPA_DKFH18-jSIQO-tGjntNoDAohzpI2o5h1XzZPT980UHZe9QnhT5KPGHrKoS6GgnLkvmPtn3lznb1jUeT8w71PfmYk/s400/1997-02-26+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604490804197915954" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjomTfz0qD4JHZRxDI4awZD-PixXW7xCUbGaBTncy4te-L5fRiTgdThD0ck51DIP24o_2ZS5lOVuABQoxNMPdHZ_msrB17rmnns3bpRHp8qJp8RovHX9N1VrW2xvfq6glgE3FKfhvEXouQ/s1600/1997-02-26+pt4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjomTfz0qD4JHZRxDI4awZD-PixXW7xCUbGaBTncy4te-L5fRiTgdThD0ck51DIP24o_2ZS5lOVuABQoxNMPdHZ_msrB17rmnns3bpRHp8qJp8RovHX9N1VrW2xvfq6glgE3FKfhvEXouQ/s400/1997-02-26+pt4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604490796099738898" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This diary entry is a prime example of middle school drama. Something as simple as cafeteria seating arrangements could end friendships. Well, temporarily at least. Even though I <span style="font-style: italic;">said</span> Jaime was taking Lianna's place as best friend, in reality, Lianna and I are still friends today and my friendship with Jaime fell out in high school. So now, Lianna and I have been best friends for 22 years... almost three times the *long* 8 year friendship I mentioned at the time in the entry. Wow that makes me feel old. But I also feel so lucky to still have best friends that I've had since elementary school. We went through all the drama together and our friendships are so much stronger for it!<br /><br />Not sure how I jumped to the conclusion that people didn't like me because I had a boyfriend. Well, I guess I do kind of remember what that felt like. I felt kind of isolated because I had less in common with my friends. It was like, when I didn't have a boyfriend, I felt like I was the only one in the school without a boyfriend... and then once I got a boyfriend, I realized that actually, none of my friends had boyfriends. Which meant, no one to talk to about boyfriend stuff... and if anyone were to actually bring it up, they'd be annoying and all "ooooh how's your BOYFRIEND??? hehehehe" about it.<br /><br />Of course that electronic dictionary that Richard used for romantic purposes is the same one that got me the infamous <a href="http://tehcheesestandsalone.blogspot.com/2009/09/saturday-detention.html">Saturday detention</a>.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“2-26-97. Hi Diary, It’s 7:03am. I have to leave soon. Personally I don’t like sitting with Kara, Jessie, Mike, etc. at lunch. Because they’re creeps. Mom wants me to sit with Christina & them. Tell you the rest when I get home. Gotta go. Sorry! -Sabi I’m back. Okay. Lianna started sitting with them about every other day a week ago. Monday, they had enough room at their table so me, Jaime, & Lianna could all sit there. Tuesday (Lianna’s day to sit with us) she sat with them. She said, ‘Ya, maybe you guys (me & Jaime) can sit with us tomorrow.’ First of all, when did she become one of ‘them’? Second of all, why is she so conceited? Geez, I hope she doesn’t read this! If she is reading this, then Lianna, I’m sorry for saying all this mean stuff but it’s the way I feel. Sorry! I think that is really rude of her. I mean, being my BEST friend for 8 years & then just dropping me like a hot potato. I want to be good friends with Christina, Meghan, Kristin, Leah, Michelle, Diana, & Amy but I don’t think they like me. Maybe it’s because I have a boyfriend. Well, hello? Having a boyfriend isn’t going to change my personality! Geez! I feel like it’s Lianna’s fault for ignoring me so suddenly & being so rude. But then I also think that they’re in the wrong. They’re stealing my friend, my BEST friend. Well, to bad, see if I care! From now on, I declare, Jaime is my BEST friend. Go ahead Lianna, leave me with the creeps. Don’t care about me. All she cares about is herself. SHE IS SO CONCEITED! O-kay. Today in Language Arts, Mrs. Decker has this electronic dictionary thing. Well, you can make it say stuff. Anyhow, Richard was using it. He said, “listen to this” and put the speaker part up to my ear. He made it say, ‘I love you!’ How sweet! Awhh! I read 2 notes that he put in my file server. They say like I LOVE YOU all over them. I think he’s getting annoying again. I almost want to dump him! I want to be a free woman! HELP! -Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-23169747233663918952011-04-26T22:22:00.005-04:002011-04-26T22:34:03.703-04:00Knote (get it, like 'knife'?)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEe1QaT0hUGNnVw6hGOk1zMY42BSOgS13Qmd8YCDZ59HJ-sNkyyqdXy1VDzw0SVkAYgEQQ4zXYAqfp0cqQ7Kks-JB2EUntJszKMheuHUjGXoSkVcBO_y93y5ALllA_yi6NVRmpda4lCJg/s1600/1997-02-24+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 371px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEe1QaT0hUGNnVw6hGOk1zMY42BSOgS13Qmd8YCDZ59HJ-sNkyyqdXy1VDzw0SVkAYgEQQ4zXYAqfp0cqQ7Kks-JB2EUntJszKMheuHUjGXoSkVcBO_y93y5ALllA_yi6NVRmpda4lCJg/s400/1997-02-24+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600083330646871570" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphY3hCF5XEPRvQJ8KyIsRh_byIQk4SLOiifEAwraJRqGtfE7wxV_85JL-gclH65i_m0NWUXc7JNR6gz6FJjSuBJxMkY6lSZX5MmTYB0dE3u7ODVVstb2qKGAmGqLXqoaFwEQD4ADT5kE/s1600/1997-02-24+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 371px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphY3hCF5XEPRvQJ8KyIsRh_byIQk4SLOiifEAwraJRqGtfE7wxV_85JL-gclH65i_m0NWUXc7JNR6gz6FJjSuBJxMkY6lSZX5MmTYB0dE3u7ODVVstb2qKGAmGqLXqoaFwEQD4ADT5kE/s400/1997-02-24+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600083321273420642" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Yayyy after a month of putting up with my boyfriend, I was finally 100% content convinced we were meant to be. Can't wait to see how long this bliss lasts!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“2-24-97. Dear Diary, Howdy Shmowdy! I got a knote (get it, like ‘knife’) from Richy today. Contents: -Everytime he heard a slow song on the radio he’d remember us dancing. -That was the closest he’s ever danced to anyone. -He wrote: ‘I cant’ think of much more to say except how much I like you. I’m really, really glad that we’re going out.’ -He wrote I love you! Aww! He’s so sweet! I think this relationship is going to be great! It’s already been a month & 4 days! Remember how like when we were first going out, I found him annoying? Well, I am very super happy & glad that I didn’t dump him! I LOVE HIM A LOT! -Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-42913964436022148392011-04-20T19:52:00.007-04:002011-04-20T20:52:56.046-04:00Hot & Sweaty Heaven<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Xm120YfwPZKjRb57GUOe7aEfpwLg2UewNjXJVwiohWDc28ANk_nB7o-aWzruvavicn8qph8_kjhVwnhIeV0hqP3kquQdSWmTLU5p7kK86BFpKpFjn-11vTBwkF7R0SeyQIltNHAAapY/s1600/1997-02-21+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Xm120YfwPZKjRb57GUOe7aEfpwLg2UewNjXJVwiohWDc28ANk_nB7o-aWzruvavicn8qph8_kjhVwnhIeV0hqP3kquQdSWmTLU5p7kK86BFpKpFjn-11vTBwkF7R0SeyQIltNHAAapY/s400/1997-02-21+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597818321351521698" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpivUyb74YLpG1UAJltGx3snoeMUEtp5XUBERJKnrO0SpQhWHdr7j1O0l5C7TNe8NvgMo-uDZvlfB7D4Laicn5k1ho7d5pJRjMwO3GbgmssjmJugNmvaFW515GSpLTtEzym2-cWwIPbg/s1600/1997-02-21+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpivUyb74YLpG1UAJltGx3snoeMUEtp5XUBERJKnrO0SpQhWHdr7j1O0l5C7TNe8NvgMo-uDZvlfB7D4Laicn5k1ho7d5pJRjMwO3GbgmssjmJugNmvaFW515GSpLTtEzym2-cWwIPbg/s400/1997-02-21+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597818310319812354" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGa33eJ3VU-O6QvdNYnlQMGYbOeU_bHjq41VIeAoc7vFnTR2Byw7fpQncg1bPDFPfSdmB8lewLXE1EOdQQNJgXTBMPizLjRHwRdrDHZyCBal12V13Lpyd1Lo_VgihzY_o1vBMH3gZMWk/s1600/1997-02-21+pt3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuGa33eJ3VU-O6QvdNYnlQMGYbOeU_bHjq41VIeAoc7vFnTR2Byw7fpQncg1bPDFPfSdmB8lewLXE1EOdQQNJgXTBMPizLjRHwRdrDHZyCBal12V13Lpyd1Lo_VgihzY_o1vBMH3gZMWk/s400/1997-02-21+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597818307042123954" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZo8o_MkHIEiy5D67lEOZNPWPkfT6vmjon181VAOVNt2i51VfCBlZ3hrqk1aFyh-utIfPATu1bDNP00arS_rEfoEdVN7Jexj3Ut7cNSpEqI_6_9SWrH8H17RsXYxlSJYP4PmzYQ15KEw/s1600/1997-02-21+pt4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZo8o_MkHIEiy5D67lEOZNPWPkfT6vmjon181VAOVNt2i51VfCBlZ3hrqk1aFyh-utIfPATu1bDNP00arS_rEfoEdVN7Jexj3Ut7cNSpEqI_6_9SWrH8H17RsXYxlSJYP4PmzYQ15KEw/s400/1997-02-21+pt4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597818304786599618" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The dance was so magical... Richard and I were so close, he bought me a plastic rose, everything was perfect, and also Kevin was #1 on my list of compatible matches. Where did Kevin come from? Random.<br /><br />In the messages that my friends wrote, the first was Lianna and the second was Jaime. The whole grandpa thing must have been an inside joke... I don't understand it now. I can't remember who code names Zeus and Marv were. I thought Marv was Doug but that wouldn't make sense because Jaime danced with him.<br /><br />I'm not sure that "Still in Love" by New Edition is the best song to associate with Joanne's crush on Richard. The lyrics would imply that Richard loved her too and his friends were jealous of them. Minor detail. As we've read before, I've picked weird songs to relate to my middle school relationships too. In our defense, we didn't have the Internet back then to check the lyrics. And we were moody dramatic 13-year-olds who liked finding sad sappy love songs to listen to and cry ourselves to sleep.<br /><br />For your enjoyment: </span><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/RT1MAzyUkJE" allowfullscreen="" width="450" frameborder="0" height="390"></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“2-21-97. Dear Diary, Hi! It’s after the dance! Lianna’s sleeping over too! COOL! At the dance I danced with Richard to every slow song. We were really close! My head was resting on his shoulder! Then he bought me a rose! It is so awesome! It lights up! It’s not real, it’s plastic. On my data match #1 compatible person is Kevin! The nose picker! Lianna danced with Cutter! Jaime danced with Doug! Christina danced with Chris! When I was dancing with Richard he kept holding me really close. Ahh! I was in heaven! I very hot & sweaty heaven! Well, here’s a word from Jaime & Lianna. Hi! Who do I love? I don’t know! - Me. To: My Grandpa. I love Zeus. I hate Marv. This is cool. My butt hurts. Not. From: Your granddaughter Randy. Joanne told me that every night she listens to ‘I’m Still in Love With You’ & thinks about Richard. I feel bad. Oh well! He’s all mine! See ya! Sab”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-13395045540161453642011-04-17T20:06:00.002-04:002011-04-17T20:12:45.212-04:00I hope I don't have to hang out with my boyfriend<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqn2qcJXBAeQxMB3WcNLgVijW6NMUm6oHBNDCjKy5YGePYfKwAAZfwsV5L-Alf2OHOgtCRqWqmogkDjN03w3B7bzA0KLhJtqxUtAz0kH2b_FmX94flsTRnxN0rOSR38h-a837ST-7g0WI/s1600/1997-02-20+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqn2qcJXBAeQxMB3WcNLgVijW6NMUm6oHBNDCjKy5YGePYfKwAAZfwsV5L-Alf2OHOgtCRqWqmogkDjN03w3B7bzA0KLhJtqxUtAz0kH2b_FmX94flsTRnxN0rOSR38h-a837ST-7g0WI/s400/1997-02-20+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596708346016040738" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZA8ukTq-yoZbt6P3NbO7GZaZT6p_TVUgADBtsTgBsXRs538QjE10o0t5_OA939omFsqM5s_YhM-oKW_BaguYC1QePOIIkN4lXUHh6uyv5OPl0X0f0OJ6lhtclek2n0uyMK2D2fbShP0/s1600/1997-02-20+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZA8ukTq-yoZbt6P3NbO7GZaZT6p_TVUgADBtsTgBsXRs538QjE10o0t5_OA939omFsqM5s_YhM-oKW_BaguYC1QePOIIkN4lXUHh6uyv5OPl0X0f0OJ6lhtclek2n0uyMK2D2fbShP0/s400/1997-02-20+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596708339857370194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Of course I didn't want to hang out with my boyfriend at the dance. I just wanted him to be there for the slow dances so I didn't look LAME like all the single girls. But the rest of the time, I just wanted to stand around, gossip, and giggle with my girl friends. DUH.</span><br /><br />---<br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“2-20-97. Dear Diary, Today Richard gave me a note. Highlights: He can go to the dance! But he just needs to get a ride. That’s about all. I hope I don’t have to hang out with him the whole time. Because I’d rather hang out with Jaime & Lianna. After the dance Jaime’s sleeping over! I hope Lianna isn’t mad. Joanne really likes Richard! I was reading a note she wrote to her neighbor. It said, ‘I really like Richard! But he really loves Krista & she really loves him. I’ll get my chance. He doesn’t like me but oh well, I’LL MAKE HIM!’ Weird! Gotta go! Sabrina.”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-83293634759873898042011-04-14T20:53:00.005-04:002011-04-14T21:28:12.297-04:00I'm going to LOVE being a teenager<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZLPSfNja4AKlhgtfiVdcQL4L1IebxpyBoSem2MoBgT8bHqRyZqbFcdKBowuGgTFb83_hmncAOHpU0F9sq5E_I3BjkOb-XufR7MaA7W_gFw7O0mAsBJSRaw0ak7brjPImG3rs0gjvE-A/s1600/1997-02-14+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZLPSfNja4AKlhgtfiVdcQL4L1IebxpyBoSem2MoBgT8bHqRyZqbFcdKBowuGgTFb83_hmncAOHpU0F9sq5E_I3BjkOb-XufR7MaA7W_gFw7O0mAsBJSRaw0ak7brjPImG3rs0gjvE-A/s400/1997-02-14+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595607282943525138" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwkYs9dKxqapXlSePpM272hnUdRBpbFF9KF6NskmdD5E4a6QIMprlQcAo97ryFb7D5oPH-m_y5iiusH6FA-ISgt0viyW0Y0zgqp1Wkm9UNbBjLRqPAVVqJUGmjPdd9zZEaC43da19g0Q/s1600/1997-02-14+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwkYs9dKxqapXlSePpM272hnUdRBpbFF9KF6NskmdD5E4a6QIMprlQcAo97ryFb7D5oPH-m_y5iiusH6FA-ISgt0viyW0Y0zgqp1Wkm9UNbBjLRqPAVVqJUGmjPdd9zZEaC43da19g0Q/s400/1997-02-14+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595607280597814354" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0ooE0D8ev0odCfLRE6KGK-2nt-j4m0thT_JOCzTy2jseT59D6OMhedANbFMYxIAtvsYAkeSIerxSpUlMFbTTPJkvI8s8CnsVxK5bMGhpP6FEBL3nQsqixtVWdrA8L91C-amTZbNBiXY/s1600/1997-02-14+pt3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0ooE0D8ev0odCfLRE6KGK-2nt-j4m0thT_JOCzTy2jseT59D6OMhedANbFMYxIAtvsYAkeSIerxSpUlMFbTTPJkvI8s8CnsVxK5bMGhpP6FEBL3nQsqixtVWdrA8L91C-amTZbNBiXY/s400/1997-02-14+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595607277075237874" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So many great things in this entry!<br /><br />First of all, I was happy and relieved to learn the "real" reason Craig broke up with me. Unfortunately, I think I interpreted it a *little* wrong. Apparently he didn't necessarily break up with me because he didn't like me... that much IS true. However, I thought he broke up with me because he could never see me outside of school. Sounds innocent enough. After all, he did say, "I couldn't see her out of school ever and that's why I dumped her." So literally, yes, it does sound that way. However, I didn't take what Mark asked into consideration. "How far did you get with Krista?" Craig's answer? "Nowhere [...], that's why I dumped her." Oops. So in fact, he actually dumped me because we could never make out or do whatever else unsupervised 13-year-olds do. Not so reassuring now, huh? Poor little naive me.<br /><br />And while I didn't read far enough into Craig's answer to Mark's question, I read WAY too far into Richard's "lights are out" comment. Seriously unnecessary.<br /><br />The most exciting thing of my LIFETIME was walking between two boys. Need I remind you, I didn't even have to DO anything to get the attention! And how cocky I was about it! When I read the first, "I was so cool!", I was sure I missed a letter and meant to write, "IT was so cool!" But then two sentences later, I wrote, "I was so awesome!" What are the chances I wrote it wrong twice? Oh sigh. I really have nothing else to say on the matter.<br /><br />All this amazing excitement led me to conclude I was GOING TO LOVE BEING A TEENAGER! So full of hope. So wrong.</span><br /><br />---<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“2-14-97. Dear Diary, I just remembered this: one day in Math (not too long ago) Mark was talking to Craig. Mark said, ‘Craig how far did you get with Krista?’ He said, ‘Nowhere. I couldn’t see her out of school ever & that’s why I dumped her.’ I felt a whole lot better about things! I thought he dumped me because he didn’t like me anymore! He’s a butt, though! On the note Richard wrote me on Tuesday the last note he’s written so far. It says, ‘lights are out!’ I had no clue to what he meant by that & still don’t. Jaime thinks that his mom came in & said, ‘Richard, hunny, it’s time for bed!’ & turned out the lights. But Monica thought that maybe he meant that the relationship is over! I sure hope that’s not what he meant because I love him! A lot! I don’t think that’s what he meant because he wrote also: P.S. WBS, I luv ya! And a heart. Plus, I’m pretty sure he still loves me! I HOPE HE CAN GO TO THE DANCE! On the way out of school yesterday Doug walked up & said something to Richard (I forget what). But then instead of walking next to Richard, he walked next to me! So I was walking in between 2 boys, one I like now & one I used to like! You should have seen it! I was so cool! I mean, attention from 2 boys when I didn’t even do anything! I was so awesome! I think I’m going to love being a teenager! -Krista AKA Sabrina.”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-79830095451625984792011-04-13T20:02:00.002-04:002011-04-13T20:13:03.728-04:00Outline<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVdGVVwGed53U3t-Leg4-FULA0jAJGQfc6IbihQx3ifHFM2SgCd1rXynjQ1Sd7q2xeLYRNvwJeXpW2YCcTHczfnDZIES1h4WjpQkacG1NOh7Ymf0olMcPkAfUqPc4Gw_3OMajO5ya_ZE/s1600/1997-02-12+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVdGVVwGed53U3t-Leg4-FULA0jAJGQfc6IbihQx3ifHFM2SgCd1rXynjQ1Sd7q2xeLYRNvwJeXpW2YCcTHczfnDZIES1h4WjpQkacG1NOh7Ymf0olMcPkAfUqPc4Gw_3OMajO5ya_ZE/s400/1997-02-12+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595223244807048482" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3_LjkGtlkQIXafyXMz7Pviuix9qzVx_D2RNZHiQki_l1AgDq8naAQhHhtbzCMNctvEAcscnIz9ZtyPYqzN8nAtwrsGz4IPP9jCndWP8ZEhdorG74ghb-1UwDbUhGk6vaxr4V5jAqymc/s1600/1997-02-12+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3_LjkGtlkQIXafyXMz7Pviuix9qzVx_D2RNZHiQki_l1AgDq8naAQhHhtbzCMNctvEAcscnIz9ZtyPYqzN8nAtwrsGz4IPP9jCndWP8ZEhdorG74ghb-1UwDbUhGk6vaxr4V5jAqymc/s400/1997-02-12+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595223242509624674" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAP6fCsd5MCu9hZr-_r8VyZMeAJAfpe6sJ2PRkxmAhzp-sHWORu83FLlM_Qq5KIxgp-qnK1sYvu5nS8gQNxROV8Mi58ZVscisi2XpWx56SRdquROqrc12RJ6y_zaKXfIJZfwzbH-eWzs/s1600/1997-02-12+pt3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAP6fCsd5MCu9hZr-_r8VyZMeAJAfpe6sJ2PRkxmAhzp-sHWORu83FLlM_Qq5KIxgp-qnK1sYvu5nS8gQNxROV8Mi58ZVscisi2XpWx56SRdquROqrc12RJ6y_zaKXfIJZfwzbH-eWzs/s400/1997-02-12+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595223236413167010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Yes, I wrote outlines in my diary. Not very good ones either. In my defense, I was probably just learning. My mom used to punish me by making me outline chapters of my textbooks. I guess that's what you get when your mom has a Masters in English. There are worse ways a parent could punish their child.<br /><br />The swearing in this entry is a little intense. I'm not sure what my problem was with Monica. I remember us being good friends and don't remember ever feeling so negatively toward her. Geez. I wish we had more details on that. It was probably a good story!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“2-12-97. Dear Diary, Richard didn’t give me a note today. He said he had too much stuff to do. Today at lunch I saw Doug hand in 3 candy grams. Because he was near me, I walked over to him & asked him who they were to. The 1st name he said was me & then he started naming off every other girl in the cafeteria. Then back in the company are, Doug came up to me & said, ‘Do you really want to know who I sent them to?’ I said ya. Here’s how it went: Doug: Okay, I sent one to Rachel. Me: Why? Doug: Because I want to go back out with her. Me: Don’t even try because she will never go back out with you! Doug: Um, good cause I was lying. And I sent one to you that says ‘Fuck you, you’re a bitch.” And I sent one to Teri that said the same. Me: Oh, ya, whatever. Well, 1) if he really wrote Fuck you you’re a bitch, they wouldn’t send it cuz they look at all of them. So: a) He wrote me one & I won’t get it. b) He wrote me one, but was lying about what he wrote in it. c) Or, he didn’t write one at all. 2) He might possibly be lying that he wrote me one, but I doubt it. I think he really wrote one to me. Why? Because I know he likes Rachel. And I know he’d write one to Teri cuz they’re friends. I hope he wrote me one! Why? I’m not quite sure, I just hope he does. I wrote him one, but I wrote it as a joke. I wrote it like ‘I love you’ & stuff from a secret admirer. I HOPE HE REALLY DID WRITE ONE! Now, what do I get Richard? He’s giving me my gift on Tues, therefore I have awhile to get him something. BUT WHAT? Monica’s a bitch. She’s so damn fat & annoying. Ugh! She is so bossy! I really hate her guts! -Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-80908075402260026422011-04-06T21:15:00.003-04:002011-04-06T22:14:39.487-04:00Gold Chain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMZP5MqVbZZqnxdp2IphAf7okurgRlw3Iy4wWYKU6Hst2W8siCEbOrF5eRxCLuZ9h6DMGXt98jTVN4CyzfAit1Sw2jIX0LA-gwiBm-4jYkH44nAVKBVPx_TZZBoxP0XSx0xnwfCNs4RQ/s1600/1997-02-11+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMZP5MqVbZZqnxdp2IphAf7okurgRlw3Iy4wWYKU6Hst2W8siCEbOrF5eRxCLuZ9h6DMGXt98jTVN4CyzfAit1Sw2jIX0LA-gwiBm-4jYkH44nAVKBVPx_TZZBoxP0XSx0xnwfCNs4RQ/s400/1997-02-11+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592644521361796898" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDEpxgFnhS9zXv8yUHngev3Z-rJ2I3e1jmQyO73kFEmexMVEEz-3Pi2pC5GY5PeaKMP8Lwb_6kmNkQ8PJ3qav1GUjdluupYouYX9nCfQ7WxsT4xbPkILdVxG_uNYFDI2P-_sbbJOLotk/s1600/1997-02-11+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDEpxgFnhS9zXv8yUHngev3Z-rJ2I3e1jmQyO73kFEmexMVEEz-3Pi2pC5GY5PeaKMP8Lwb_6kmNkQ8PJ3qav1GUjdluupYouYX9nCfQ7WxsT4xbPkILdVxG_uNYFDI2P-_sbbJOLotk/s400/1997-02-11+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592644517350947842" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Remember when we used to call guys "fine"? Haha. No one does that anymore, right? It sounds so funny to me now. Just as funny as "get your swerve on" sounds. The 90's were weird.<br /><br />My only sources of income at that age were birthdays and babysitting, so I didn't spend a lot of money. But I'm really disappointed in myself for thinking that a GOLD CHAIN would be an affordable alternative to a t-shirt or a hat. Aw. And how serious I was! I definitely wasn't making a joke in the entry. I really thought that a gold chain would be a decent option. And maybe I could have found a <span style="font-style: italic;">cheap</span> chain... but probably not cheaper than a t-shirt or hat! Oh... unless I went to Claire's. Ahhh I bet that's it. I gotta remember to think like a middle-schooler.<br /><br />Spoiler alert (because I'm not sure I mention it in the upcoming entries): I didn't get Richard anything. It's all good because he didn't get me anything either. And all that time I spent worrying!<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“2-11-97. Deary Diary, Today was an okay day. Richard gave me a note but it wasn’t very interesting so I’m not going to write its highlights. At the reflections ceremony today I showed Kasey who Richard was. She kept saying he was cute, hot, & fine! But, she likes every man on Earth anyway! Joanne told me Richard’s getting me earrings! GREAT! WHAT AM I GOING TO GET HIM! Tomorrow is the last day I can buy it! WHAT DO I DO??? Not a shirt! Too much $. Not a hat! Too much $. A gold chain? I DON’T KNOW! WHAT THE HELL DO I DO???!! HELP! -Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-37744253493093118332011-04-02T21:22:00.007-04:002011-04-02T21:34:25.020-04:00The Charmer<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqL2i4vObJDxhxGxdu6wYIAWsZNM3YhYS1idRkKSueJiDqwwcXgKUBW_9-sSKMDX6rsRHP5KHWG-3s0M4ISA9fWz52jqQAifMjr9YLLaOAfFzfVBc0Ktc5penm0KSCA7XbnLEUThx5VW4/s1600/1997-02-10+pt1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqL2i4vObJDxhxGxdu6wYIAWsZNM3YhYS1idRkKSueJiDqwwcXgKUBW_9-sSKMDX6rsRHP5KHWG-3s0M4ISA9fWz52jqQAifMjr9YLLaOAfFzfVBc0Ktc5penm0KSCA7XbnLEUThx5VW4/s400/1997-02-10+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591161905545615618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BwSiDS7GAXEgaTjcgBWMphb5z_3GFIGXIevHXzMxnCkwlh58P8RAL6ldj4QtETB9PBvjxtZ72EBvwpK8Y_5mustM9drRjs_ROs8MpKQekSf-wJcnazx2Rq0fHVXX_aSvUGaJnJ2cCcY/s1600/1997-02-10+pt2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4BwSiDS7GAXEgaTjcgBWMphb5z_3GFIGXIevHXzMxnCkwlh58P8RAL6ldj4QtETB9PBvjxtZ72EBvwpK8Y_5mustM9drRjs_ROs8MpKQekSf-wJcnazx2Rq0fHVXX_aSvUGaJnJ2cCcY/s400/1997-02-10+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591161858542857474" border="0" /></a><blockquote style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">"You're beautiful, you have a great personality, you're funny, and then there's that one thing about you (which I have no clue as to what it is) that makes me like you more & more every day."<span></span><br /></blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Wow, what a charmer! How could someone <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> like a guy who gives those compliments (especially when you're an adolescent with low self-esteem)? That is seriously romantic stuff. At thirteen, where did Richard even learn to talk that way? Women would be lucky at any age to have a significant other say those kinds of things to them. I'm just glad I appreciated him at this moment instead of thinking he was annoying like I had in other entries! What a good guy. </span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;" >“2-10-97. Dear Diary, Today Richard gave me 2 notes! The first one was just because he was thinking of me. On it he wrote URSoCute! 2nd notes highlights: ONE WHOLE PARAGRAPH EXACTLY IS: Joanne told me that she asked you at the Otters game why you liked me. She also told me that your response was, ‘He’s really really really cute & sweet.’ So I thought that it would just be fair to tell you why I like you. I like you because you’re beautiful, you have a great personality, you’re funny, and then there’s that one thing about you (which I have no clue as to what it is) that makes me like you more & more every day. Today I didn’t find Richard annoying one bit. I found him sweet! I knew our relationship was going to get better! On the way out of school, Mike gave Richard a note. Richard was reading it & he let me read it too. I was leaning on him so I could see the note too! We were so close! I really love him! Mrs. Decker & Mr. Jones know we’re going out. They’re butts! Mrs. Decker said we make a ‘very nice couple’! NOW WHAT DO I GET HIM FOR V-DAY??? HELP! -Krista P.S. Craig got his seat changed again! Bummer!”</span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-545227770863667482011-03-18T19:27:00.006-04:002011-03-18T19:40:50.209-04:00dickbroken<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7LAuA9OnbViwAIRM1uCST8hNVBvGHJJS7iDmBIHxqR6AT-OsIN06nfhu3OswSuXrEghNSfRYSufankQS5F4lu-yLJIgfjOTtE5NrRLfrjtXZ0GqU2ICLoFWqiezl0ng6dX3zJg6SZEo/s1600/1997-02-09+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7LAuA9OnbViwAIRM1uCST8hNVBvGHJJS7iDmBIHxqR6AT-OsIN06nfhu3OswSuXrEghNSfRYSufankQS5F4lu-yLJIgfjOTtE5NrRLfrjtXZ0GqU2ICLoFWqiezl0ng6dX3zJg6SZEo/s400/1997-02-09+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585566284515808642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETcKwrXYySIIcw8vOe_w6Z3_ahM7KtYr7R-EweR1daNB1dh_z1hZSOPiEV1W681mx2fl5TCRqzQjCMTFXjHPZUD4feZGHngLsgu2DYx2unfL4Xd9bgCrAASX3uybZQOLRTuRFTCP_Ol8/s1600/1997-02-09+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETcKwrXYySIIcw8vOe_w6Z3_ahM7KtYr7R-EweR1daNB1dh_z1hZSOPiEV1W681mx2fl5TCRqzQjCMTFXjHPZUD4feZGHngLsgu2DYx2unfL4Xd9bgCrAASX3uybZQOLRTuRFTCP_Ol8/s400/1997-02-09+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585566282227125762" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKb5QLdh4fJiadYSLdyskJ8-Flnk7QDlM-a9n_F9yeS9xDF4fY5HAnH65tIgHdpl33-_6PmxNJM57hz-0EUdDzbElhx6ryMQUFnWm1fBPqd13R4pMaOc4vqQPDYXMRfEwae6o4l772J4/s1600/1997-02-09+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKb5QLdh4fJiadYSLdyskJ8-Flnk7QDlM-a9n_F9yeS9xDF4fY5HAnH65tIgHdpl33-_6PmxNJM57hz-0EUdDzbElhx6ryMQUFnWm1fBPqd13R4pMaOc4vqQPDYXMRfEwae6o4l772J4/s400/1997-02-09+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585566277207498578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Yes, Richard would be heartbroken and 'dickbroken'. Jaime and I had an interesting sense of humor back then. I'm not sure we even <span style="font-style: italic;">meant</span> anything by 'dickbroken', I think we just liked the way it sounded. Certainly Richard wasn't getting any further than possibly holding hands at that time... so I can't imagine we were thinking he'd actually be let down in the dick department. So weird.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“2-9-97. Dear Diary, Today the phone rang. My Dad & I picked up the phone at the same time. I heard the person on the other end ask for me. I said hi & the person at the other end said, ‘Hi Krista! Oh, this is Anthony!’ It really was him, seriously. All he told me was that he thought that I should get Richard the Nike hat. That’s all he wanted to tell me! That’s all! Then he ran outside & got Richard. He put Richard on the phone. We talked for awhile. I just can’t believe Anthony called me! I’m not going to get Richard the hat because it costs too much. Now I have absolutely no idea what to get him! HELP ME! I have so many dilemmas! I really like Anthony but if I dumped Richard to go out with Anthony then Richard would hate me & Anthony & Richard might get in a fight. Jaime says I should stick with Richard. She doesn’t want me to go out with Anthony because he’s only in 5th grade & Richard would be heartbroken & dickbroken (don’t ask). I really don’t know what to do. I have a lot more fun & a better time when I’m around Anthony than when I’m around Richard. Seriously, I think my relationship with Richard is going absolutely nowhere. So then I got this idea that in the summer when Richard & I are long over I can go out with Anthony. No one will care what grade he’s in cuz it won’t matter! The more I think about it, I think Anthony & I would make better friends like me & Doug. I DON’T KNOW! HELP ME! -ME”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-9106355164936125792011-03-15T22:19:00.013-04:002011-03-16T09:42:11.440-04:00TL;DR<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My husband, brother-in-law, and I had a big debate a month or so ago about the term "TL;DR" ("Too Long; Didn't Read"). Bro-in-law & I maintain that it's used to reply to someone's email, form post, whatev that is too wordy... to let them know you're replying without having read the whole content and possibly to also give them a hint to write more succinctly in the future. Husband, however, still asserts that it's used to summarize one's OWN writing as a preface. So I guess you write a really long email and then after realizing it's way too long and no one is going to want to read it, you go back up to the top, write "TL;DR", and then summarize what you wrote in a few bullet points. Not sure why you wouldn't just delete the rest of your email at that point, after realizing that it's garbage... but anyhow.<br /><br />So, realizing that this diary entry is 6 pages long, here's a husband-style TL;DR for you with all the most-important, most-entertaining parts...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">TL;DR</span><br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Jaime & Rachel say that when I’m around Richard that I act like I want him to go away."</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"I never thought [Anthony] would even want bodily contact with me (don’t take that the wrong way!)!" </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In a Pro/Con list for whether to date Anthony: "CON- I don’t know if he likes me."</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"I’d hate dumping Richard for his younger, shorter best friend!" </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"When I’m around Richard, he is so annoying & I hate him."</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"If I’m reading a note from him at school, I just want to kill someone it’s so sickening." </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Then, if I read the same note at home, I think he’s the sweetest creature on Earth!" </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Using the Magic 8 Ball for advice...</span></li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"<span style="font-weight: bold;">KRD:</span> Should I keep going out with Richard?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M8B:</span> My Sources Say No.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">KRD:</span> Is it because of how I don’t like him when I’m around him?" </span><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"HOW DUMB I NEED REAL HELP FROM A HUMAN BEING NOT A PLASTIC BALL OF SHIT FILLED WITH PISS!" </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Who do I really like? I need a sykyatrist!"</span></li></ul><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And if you really care to read the whole thing... here you go...!<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKFgWUSZNmcgHZVZmR6BW5E5YvnCeBMAezBLgUy1BXRyZyhQCvfJVIL8QXVpO-DZQ99go9eoJU8KPAq7rBUuoImU-X8hIzFINf_Bt-o1En7Ils65XpzVnpWXnJ0W66yNgtsV-6gv613k/s1600/1997-02-08+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKFgWUSZNmcgHZVZmR6BW5E5YvnCeBMAezBLgUy1BXRyZyhQCvfJVIL8QXVpO-DZQ99go9eoJU8KPAq7rBUuoImU-X8hIzFINf_Bt-o1En7Ils65XpzVnpWXnJ0W66yNgtsV-6gv613k/s400/1997-02-08+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584497155542703698" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jOL3mb27eap8B3sWRK0t3w4wV2Prh1dkMr-Gh6acesvO0LFVJx7Ou30SIVXghPEnB51px2ASfRGq0phgdfiZDhtGBqJT0kzZq9anfxheeF3G4ShfbZDB4JszvZ9kAgOWaC-IHRUs65c/s1600/1997-02-08+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jOL3mb27eap8B3sWRK0t3w4wV2Prh1dkMr-Gh6acesvO0LFVJx7Ou30SIVXghPEnB51px2ASfRGq0phgdfiZDhtGBqJT0kzZq9anfxheeF3G4ShfbZDB4JszvZ9kAgOWaC-IHRUs65c/s400/1997-02-08+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584497146232104498" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtYMDKCwIPEI1sTkdgAyK90VZYalNeJ8CAk7zeWnZBfAxO7f-YqdG-YHtouBukSQMOqEybPYdGSCNQEzOWKGl8kwVQB7k7YR5RCiYvb32BXHGl8HsEVOvr5cDZZnthZPv3oAcFVx7yVA/s1600/1997-02-08+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtYMDKCwIPEI1sTkdgAyK90VZYalNeJ8CAk7zeWnZBfAxO7f-YqdG-YHtouBukSQMOqEybPYdGSCNQEzOWKGl8kwVQB7k7YR5RCiYvb32BXHGl8HsEVOvr5cDZZnthZPv3oAcFVx7yVA/s400/1997-02-08+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584497141728397618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-6lz9DOluagro4CHkTPghUY_zpG-eVq8oxm5AjR48vaP70d49CRUZj1Um8HzDN_1xkLPh_d0bJnRLEClGNNsStluIMs2IDxG1hXQ7koqzL7PRramReNGKGiS_9ojArZ9mRIudXL5L6A/s1600/1997-02-08+pt4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-6lz9DOluagro4CHkTPghUY_zpG-eVq8oxm5AjR48vaP70d49CRUZj1Um8HzDN_1xkLPh_d0bJnRLEClGNNsStluIMs2IDxG1hXQ7koqzL7PRramReNGKGiS_9ojArZ9mRIudXL5L6A/s400/1997-02-08+pt4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584497133551961026" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVMJU_LCACSa7bsFsGQ9NT3qYVrbADOZo0EZWxR6VYShrQhCCZwORb7rJrTPyJlQ-WYVZT8YlJDItK7ziybVh4mnz_z1vuLr-0Z9yE3Q8KAjiseSBEmkmbPUNL6CjbZrAJ0e5epjwnAU/s1600/1997-02-08+pt5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVMJU_LCACSa7bsFsGQ9NT3qYVrbADOZo0EZWxR6VYShrQhCCZwORb7rJrTPyJlQ-WYVZT8YlJDItK7ziybVh4mnz_z1vuLr-0Z9yE3Q8KAjiseSBEmkmbPUNL6CjbZrAJ0e5epjwnAU/s400/1997-02-08+pt5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584497831129576770" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JFNM1EJObs0vOT3ibtYa8QtWZmWgRpNIoqcrYahs1laSz3Ot9CIVTwTqIaroXhjdeXWpFklwkhGrdnzhMl3gr5ri-_HsA9gDaoOSVRqYDnwYW-b1SitVpUP0yPPPN7bpfi-GaW4lpoA/s1600/1997-02-08+pt6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JFNM1EJObs0vOT3ibtYa8QtWZmWgRpNIoqcrYahs1laSz3Ot9CIVTwTqIaroXhjdeXWpFklwkhGrdnzhMl3gr5ri-_HsA9gDaoOSVRqYDnwYW-b1SitVpUP0yPPPN7bpfi-GaW4lpoA/s400/1997-02-08+pt6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584497828067783410" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“2-8-97. Dear Diary, Richard gave me a note yesterday. Here are the highlites: He said that if I want to hold his hand, that he’s okay with that. He’s probably thinking that he’s dying to hold my hand! Jaime & Rachel say that when I’m around Richard that I act like I want him to go away. They say I ignore him & act really mean towards him. Jaime says that she doesn’t think he notices. I sure hope he doesn’t notice! Today (actually tonight) we’re going to another hockey game (Otters). I hope there’s a lot of fights! I love it when they break out & start fighting! Gotta go! Krista! I LOVE RICHARD! SAME DAY AS LAST: Hi! It’s me again. I just got home from an Otters hockey game. The whole time I hung out with Lianna. Some of the time (about half) I hung out with Lianna, Joanne, & Anthony. Anthony told me that Richard’s getting me a rose, a necklace, & earrings for Valentine’s day! He told me I should get him a Nike hat. I will if I have enough money. I think Anthony does like me! Anthony is really nice. Lianna agrees that he’s kinda cute. Towards the end of the game I was at the drinking fountain. I was last in line, behind Seth. Anthony came out of nowhere (I didn’t even know he was there!) and pushed me a little from behind! I never thought he would do that. I never thought he would even want bodily contact with me (don’t take that the wrong way!)! I don’t know who I like more: Richard or Anthony. I’ll make a Pro/Con list. Here: RICHARD-- PRO- my age, cute, tall, he loves me, goes to my school; CON- shy around me. ANTHONY-- PRO- cute, not shy around me; CON- too young, short, I don’t know if he likes me, Joanne might get mad at me, doesn’t go to my school. That’s all I can think of. Because Richard has 3 more Pros and 4 less Cons, I guess I should stick with him, huh? I sure hope that’s the right thing to do. I really need some assistance, bad. I’d hate dumping Richard for his younger, shorter best friend! Richard would hate me forever! I really hate it! When I’m around Richard, he is so annoying & I hate him. If I’m reading a note from him at school, I just want to kill someone it’s so sickening. Then, if I read the same note at home, I think he’s the sweetest creature on Earth! Somehow, that doesn’t seem right at all. At school walking out, if Jaime asks me if I want to hold hands with Richard I think ‘Definitely Not!’ But then when I think about it at home afterwards, I totally regret my decision. That seems very wrong. Here, let’s use some help from Mr. Magic 8 Ball dude. KRD: Should I keep going out with Richard? M8B: My Sources Say No. KRD: Is it because of how I don’t like him when I’m around him? M8B: My Sources Say No. KRD: Is that all you can say? M8B: Very Doubtful. KRD: Would I be better off with Anthony? M8B: Most Likely. KRD: Are you telling the truth about all of this? M8B: My Sources Say No. HOW DUMB I NEED REAL HELP FROM A HUMAN BEING NOT A PLASTIC BALL OF SHIT FILLED WITH PISS! HELP ME! Someone… Anyone…! Agghh! -Krista P.S. Do I love Richard really? Do I love Anthony really? Who do I really like? I need a sykyatrist! HELP!”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-70511256703002206052011-03-13T21:03:00.005-04:002011-03-13T21:26:30.080-04:00AC DC<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKmvK6BMi22Y1-E1V_qhLXdmaPfV8aGG1vHuAOzDSvW4COTkTkGwRDgBEErfXTG8F1fXqhyS2uetxWWx2oWMbvvjMXS-_dUWgcEi8O5DoSD2IzmVXxDp9r17KW_KcH1KOSxkPo8Z9gToE/s1600/1997-02-06+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKmvK6BMi22Y1-E1V_qhLXdmaPfV8aGG1vHuAOzDSvW4COTkTkGwRDgBEErfXTG8F1fXqhyS2uetxWWx2oWMbvvjMXS-_dUWgcEi8O5DoSD2IzmVXxDp9r17KW_KcH1KOSxkPo8Z9gToE/s400/1997-02-06+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583735112316539634" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMw6pMwErYsjKlLxj71PS-7xgU0PEDUnsk9I7NudC_fH5ImcBoNlAaNQUGQo5PjtvjSEFziC-YwPNbxtraOLkz1mrCjIKv02n3YNMtNfOZD03pieaAh8TF_RcEXv7dBmciT0q9aC5HXpU/s1600/1997-02-06+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMw6pMwErYsjKlLxj71PS-7xgU0PEDUnsk9I7NudC_fH5ImcBoNlAaNQUGQo5PjtvjSEFziC-YwPNbxtraOLkz1mrCjIKv02n3YNMtNfOZD03pieaAh8TF_RcEXv7dBmciT0q9aC5HXpU/s400/1997-02-06+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583735111188213218" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEVNPt52SCScHQNmrix9EuFppa2oDDg6Jj0zuVR33dbM3y9T4qYYp4t5ugDrIo5BQNdabIUmXPr0VlyCSKA7o4_L9RxSWv4GyLkoPANHGrABhi9x13QTcPcY2NyilnAIyv5i3sc71sOs/s1600/1997-02-06+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEVNPt52SCScHQNmrix9EuFppa2oDDg6Jj0zuVR33dbM3y9T4qYYp4t5ugDrIo5BQNdabIUmXPr0VlyCSKA7o4_L9RxSWv4GyLkoPANHGrABhi9x13QTcPcY2NyilnAIyv5i3sc71sOs/s400/1997-02-06+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583735099637189282" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Did I really <span style="font-style: italic;">think</span> I was being a good girlfriend? I would buy Richard a <a href="http://tehcheesestandsalone.blogspot.com/2010/01/candygrams.html">Candi-Gram</a> "if I remembered." I imagined a time in the future when Richard and I were "done with our relationship". I don't think anyone was expecting to marry their middle school boyfriend, but it's funny to see it addressed so plainly. What was the point?<br /><br />I like how I just casually mentioned I had safety goggles from Erie Plating as if I went there every day. Actually, if I remember correctly, I was somehow chosen to "shadow" someone at Erie Plating with a 3 or 4 other students. I feel like whoever we shadowed was a pretty intelligent chemist or something... but I was not interested. Here's what I do remember...<br /><ul><li>Free safety goggles</li><li> Dipping a quarter in some kind of liquid to plate it... that was pretty cool</li><li>Learning that AC-DC can mean "bisexual." A piece of equipment had a voltage label for AC & DC and one of the boys on the tour told me the slang.</li></ul>Unfortunately, it seems "AC-DC" is the only thing I learned that day. At least I learned something?<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“2-6-97. Dear Diary, Richard didn’t give me a note today. I don’t really know why, but I don’t really care. He put a Happy Ad on announcements for me. The whole school saw it! It said, ‘To: Krista. I’m thinking of you! Love, Richard.’ He told me that he’s putting another one on for me tomorrow! I think that’s really sweet! He also is giving me a Candi-gram! I’m gonna buy him one tomorrow if I remember. Before I went into Social Studies, Doug stopped me & gave me a broken pencil. He said, ‘Here’s a little present!’ Then Teri said, ‘Yeah Krista, it’s his Valentines Day present to you!’ What was that supposed to mean? I’m not quite sure. Then, I was walking out of school with Richard & Doug was walking next to me but with his friends. He didn’t know I was there until I pushed him. Then he looked at me & said, ‘Oh, hi!’ Then I put on my safety goggles I got from Erie Plating today. Then Doug said, ‘Oh, cool! Where’d you get those?’ I told him & then he asked me if he could wear them. I said, ‘Sure!’ & gave them to him. Then he put them on & started running around the lobby with them on. I practically had to strangle him to get them back! I think we’re just friends. But when Richard & I are done with our relationship & if Doug wants to go out with me, I’d probably say yes. But for now, we’re just friends. Gotta go! Krista I love Richard. P.S. KC said that Richard’s getting me a rose for Valentine’s Day.”</span></span><br /></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-45980896562209552862011-03-01T21:23:00.014-05:002011-03-01T22:32:18.662-05:00Fashion Offenses<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_atU9emwbiukQlMnvtw_VmNbDKdmmrQyCeOVUwdYVj2CB1UUXFW7tAeU8sgHhEMUKbji6zG25Xm-8zCD2pjXi21K8qJuGZQ1vJ530Ivo5_f1ZlaPtQ6QG75-HVpje3EghL5vPgDxE-g/s1600/1997-02-05+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_atU9emwbiukQlMnvtw_VmNbDKdmmrQyCeOVUwdYVj2CB1UUXFW7tAeU8sgHhEMUKbji6zG25Xm-8zCD2pjXi21K8qJuGZQ1vJ530Ivo5_f1ZlaPtQ6QG75-HVpje3EghL5vPgDxE-g/s400/1997-02-05+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579302964673139618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgZk4IHyK4F5XgDzcGOpgedoYvky8FkNeQa8lGdYmO-Y4dSikEGkUYuHka71TLkavY2eHvab8oiNdKIV97LwM3ZPm90mhMNeFVo8lyot8T-v8EDw1QlO0A7oUMMOPrYSOyYOdkkcoQLA/s1600/1997-02-05+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitgZk4IHyK4F5XgDzcGOpgedoYvky8FkNeQa8lGdYmO-Y4dSikEGkUYuHka71TLkavY2eHvab8oiNdKIV97LwM3ZPm90mhMNeFVo8lyot8T-v8EDw1QlO0A7oUMMOPrYSOyYOdkkcoQLA/s400/1997-02-05+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579302959407107442" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMZ2RicYhOVcLFxnz_ZMlXvrJR5YQpWMLVxTylxgplpCKwvsx0QDVAh3UE-ROmB7myWLH6wiW0PF7GvB_qOfj04avTCkyxE2oYJRRJzqmnHwcU7UZobQVIPetS4OJ8BVMaaPtyQIjAxyw/s1600/1997-02-05+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMZ2RicYhOVcLFxnz_ZMlXvrJR5YQpWMLVxTylxgplpCKwvsx0QDVAh3UE-ROmB7myWLH6wiW0PF7GvB_qOfj04avTCkyxE2oYJRRJzqmnHwcU7UZobQVIPetS4OJ8BVMaaPtyQIjAxyw/s400/1997-02-05+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579302956720363090" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was a terrible person. I can't believe we ganged up on Craig for only having five shirts and one pair of shoes. That's really sad! I still feel bad about it. Well, look on the bright side... at least he had one shirt for every day? I shouldn't have been one to talk though, I was guilty of plenty of fashion offenses in middle school too.<br /><br />Here are some I can think of right now (1 for every shirt Craig owned)...<br /><ol><li>In 6th grade, I only had one pair of jeans which were too short on me because I was going through a growth spurt. It was the first time I had ever heard anyone ask, "You waitin' for a flood??"</li><li>In 7th grade, I reeked of gasoline for a few months because I stepped in a puddle at the gas station wearing my only pair of brown shoes.</li><li>Inside-out sweatshirts.</li><li>Scrunchies on my wrist all day, coordinated with my outfit, but never intended to be worn in my hair because I wasn't good at putting my hair in a ponytail. Also, scrunchies period.<br /></li><li>Brassy orange hair from learning the hard way that using Sun-In on dark brown hair does not make it beautiful beach blonde.</li></ol>There's plenty more... but that's enough for now. Goodnight!<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“2-5-97. Dear Diary, Today I was walking into school alone & Craig walked up beside me! He started a conversation! WOW! Then in homeroom Jaime started teasing Craig about how he wears the same shirts every day (Jaime & I started doing that awhile ago. He only has 2 brown, a Metallica, a gray one, & a denim one). So then I started teasing him too & then Mark got into it. Mark started saying that he wears the same shoes every day. Then Craig looked like he could cry! I felt so bad! I think we hurt his feelings! I’ll never tease him about that again! Then in Science I got a question on a work sheet a long time ago & he was stuck on it. I told him the answer & he admitted I was right. Then I said, ‘Craig, say I’m smart. Make me feel good!” Then he said, ‘Krista, you’re the smartest person I know. You are so smart! I am so stupid!’ I never thought I’d get that out of him! Today Richard gave me a note! I can’t write the highlights in here because I need to do my homework! Krista Hi! It’s the same day as last, just later. I felt I needed to add something. Okay, I’m not sure what I should do about Richard. When I’m not around him, I’m crazy about him! I just love him! But when I’m next to him talking or something I usually find him really annoying & I hate it! I don’t think I’m gonna dump him because I know I still like him a lot- when I’m not around him! What do I do? HELP ME! I love Richard! For now…”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-50798655569780218972011-02-26T21:44:00.005-05:002011-02-26T22:31:00.227-05:00#1 on the Good Looking System<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfxkSUsVtMAMMQ8akXURSWx1JsIC4C5F3Lh_F-JuXu-oDo3VqKD93OeKtDygyeJ4qgJlaZ6SSypxOdIc8wU0Wo5SXp_9EyeQgsgz-pJR8j5aeLA9axRdq7Ih28RmiUQ_kvLck-Kw25gg/s1600/1997-02-04+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfxkSUsVtMAMMQ8akXURSWx1JsIC4C5F3Lh_F-JuXu-oDo3VqKD93OeKtDygyeJ4qgJlaZ6SSypxOdIc8wU0Wo5SXp_9EyeQgsgz-pJR8j5aeLA9axRdq7Ih28RmiUQ_kvLck-Kw25gg/s400/1997-02-04+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578194990639664082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUO50YJAzEmKM6Gcql4q4PdZzAA31re4roebp7MTtlSk87Df3VuBMrDSCCDMTngp8lDbLmNKjZghnqECoTjQe954LPiiW65RXayTYyDGitPWZH8zWSxvSIaC9ZU0MlN7y-JL2Q0715wjw/s1600/1997-02-04+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUO50YJAzEmKM6Gcql4q4PdZzAA31re4roebp7MTtlSk87Df3VuBMrDSCCDMTngp8lDbLmNKjZghnqECoTjQe954LPiiW65RXayTYyDGitPWZH8zWSxvSIaC9ZU0MlN7y-JL2Q0715wjw/s400/1997-02-04+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578194991182394978" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbrjuP2qYHibF9LoqcdVMnMrkLRreSLNBLpq9wp4dBJjWC5ibuOypzkxJ-UY8jOn1TL8-vQmJhyDDmPocjkE71flWfh9iYPOBV8OGGgjJit-xuxSCjQqXJPIynO0n-zub4-F6i2yIJnL8/s1600/1997-02-04+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbrjuP2qYHibF9LoqcdVMnMrkLRreSLNBLpq9wp4dBJjWC5ibuOypzkxJ-UY8jOn1TL8-vQmJhyDDmPocjkE71flWfh9iYPOBV8OGGgjJit-xuxSCjQqXJPIynO0n-zub4-F6i2yIJnL8/s400/1997-02-04+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578194988283012514" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Back then, I thought Richard was annoying because he gave me too much attention and said he loved me too much. Sounds weird and backwards because shouldn't someone </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">want</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> love and attention in a relationship?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Obviously the answer is yes... but that love usually grows over a period of months and years. In this case, Richard and I had only been dating for two weeks... and the "I love you"s started almost immediately. Even though I never said it and I'm not sure I even actually realized it, I think the real problem was that we just didn't have anything in common. Or rather, that we didn't even </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;">know</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> if we had anything in common because we never took the time to find out! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">One day we were classmates, the next day we were going out and saying "I love you." We didn't know any better. We just thought that's what people in relationships do. Any time we talked or wrote notes to each other... it was nothing of substance. "What's your cat's name?" "What's your favorite radio station?" Let's be honest, we didn't even spend that much time together. I don't think we talked on the phone much and when we saw each other in school, it was during class, so we didn't really hang out. We quickly passed notes in the hallway and that was about the extent of our communication.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I think what I was realizing, but didn't know I was realizing, was that there was no way we could actually love each other and the whole thing just felt like an act. I was too immature to confront it... so instead I just complained about it and called him annoying. Let's see how much longer this lasts...</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“2-4-97. Dear Diary, Joanne told me that her brother is always talking about me. She says he’s obsessing over me. Before SWEP, Doug & I were standing outside the door. We were reading my note from Richard. Because we were both looking at it, we were standing shoulder to shoulder. Then after SWEP we were walking together to our next class. Again shoulder to shoulder! (Sorry Richard) We’re just friends. But like I’ve said before, I can very well see me & Doug going out in a few years. In Science I asked Craig if I could wear his hat (it was a Cat in the Hat type hat, it was Hat Day). He did that kind of moan that he did when I asked him out at one of the dances. I begged. And he let me! He let me wear it all through Math too! We’re friends. Back to the subject of Richard. Here’s the notes highlights: (Monica has this book & in it, it has a part titled ‘Stereotypes for Common Names.’ My name wasn’t in it. But Richard’s was. His name is stereotyped as ‘very good looking.’ I told him that.) A whole paragraph from his note was: About that stereotyped names thing. I think your name should be in that section of the book. And stereotyped as ‘Very beautiful & #1 on any Good Looking System that anyone made up.’ Because you are beautiful and very good looking. He also wrote Love you very MUCH!! Excuse me but he’s getting a little to into it. He’s really pissing me off! Why does he have to say he loves me every day? I don’t understand! I wish he could just write normal notes! HELP ME! -Krista I think I love Richard”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-64971080634153968592011-02-25T21:15:00.037-05:002011-02-25T22:34:56.100-05:00Butt Munch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0AqWbx8-1u0tnlzJ5Blui7lTAvDn6ALMmybFLpZZ5zmi3HGM2vUIf6itxgpEl9yKybyCQYfYbjSe3U90OfkfNflrr_cmWFSB4GZlzI5rf32bQH6nOZ6TvjQKWE1M-NTXvNgNtiYWTdo/s1600/1997-02-03+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0AqWbx8-1u0tnlzJ5Blui7lTAvDn6ALMmybFLpZZ5zmi3HGM2vUIf6itxgpEl9yKybyCQYfYbjSe3U90OfkfNflrr_cmWFSB4GZlzI5rf32bQH6nOZ6TvjQKWE1M-NTXvNgNtiYWTdo/s400/1997-02-03+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577816547930455218" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOwKBHkHoFvjWmBU6DiasP8EVOyYgzx4os5UEBYK-X7hehSsDj5jV1VGz9A2PfnVTzBcgcJEl_dIyxnjdY29zA-EnnTd6uqCfhlvbzP1Miy00QoLn3PesVTW523zT4E6uE0qtXkZPIz8/s1600/1997-02-03+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOwKBHkHoFvjWmBU6DiasP8EVOyYgzx4os5UEBYK-X7hehSsDj5jV1VGz9A2PfnVTzBcgcJEl_dIyxnjdY29zA-EnnTd6uqCfhlvbzP1Miy00QoLn3PesVTW523zT4E6uE0qtXkZPIz8/s400/1997-02-03+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577816547185988578" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOtuxARd5FqRx-j7g90FR5qSE_zydVZN70ZOBCO01xtfPO1MXwVQYNRtD2HTYlwBZozG_6-ApZ3vbfJrnz1azhdkrmjbKNZJA6gP3vFdweOq7uZ_34EbF8hu9m7D1VARPuXyiUENV5XF4/s1600/1997-02-03+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOtuxARd5FqRx-j7g90FR5qSE_zydVZN70ZOBCO01xtfPO1MXwVQYNRtD2HTYlwBZozG_6-ApZ3vbfJrnz1azhdkrmjbKNZJA6gP3vFdweOq7uZ_34EbF8hu9m7D1VARPuXyiUENV5XF4/s400/1997-02-03+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577816545026658418" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />There are a couple ways one may interpret this situation:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />1. The Mature and Rational Way - Giving Kara the Benefit of the Doubt</span><br />Kara used to date Mike. Even though Kara doesn't like Mike anymore, she is driven to tears after finding out that a good friend (Jaime) betrayed her and asked out her ex-boyfriend. Jaime should have known he was off-limits. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. The Immature Middle School Way - What Really Happened</span><br />Kara used to date Mike. But Kara doesn't like Mike anymore, or so she says. Jaime and Mike are going out. But Jaime also likes Mark and Richard, so what's the point? Everyone likes everyone but somehow no one ever gets what they want. Everyone cries. Welcome to Middle School.<br /><br />Also, before I go, I'd like to explore the etymology of "butt munch". Google, don't let me down now.<br /><br />Unfortunately, I didn't come back with much. I'm sure most of us can already trace our first memory of "butt munch" back to Beavis and Butthead. Aaaand that's about as far as I got. But I did find <a href="http://sonic.net/%7Egoblin/9beavis.html">this interesting interview</a> with Mike Judge (the Creator of B&B) in which Judge discusses MTV's censorship of the show:<br /></span><blockquote style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">"For example butt-munch -- which they say a lot: originally in junior high people used to call each other ass-munch. So we put ass-munch in a script but the MTV standards department said no. We changed it to butt-munch and said that for about a year. Then I forgot they said no to ass-munch and I put it in there. By then they were so used to butt-munch that they didn't even notice ass-munch."</blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Probably the most comprehensive definition I found is courtesy of <a href="http://www.chacha.com/question/what-is-a-butt-munch">ChaCha</a>:<br /><blockquote style="font-style: italic;">A butt munch (noun) is defined as 1. An annoying person that you would like to shut up. 2. A bothersome sibling. 3. A friend who is being a jackass. It is also a stupid or idiotic person, or a person that munches on a butt. </blockquote>A person. That munches. On a butt. Somehow in the past 14 years I never spent enough time thinking about "butt munch" to realize the literal, obvious meaning of the phrase. I love you, Internet.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“2-3-97. Dear Diary, Today Richard gave me a note (like usual). Highlights: He wrote: I’ve been thinking of you a lot! At the end of his dream we were going back out. He wrote on the note: I love you! Luv ya! And XXX OOO. His friend Pete wrote on it: Richard loves Krista. That is really weird because the note I wrote him I wrote these things: I’m just thinking about you, I’ve been doing that a lot lately. I told him that Joanne told me about his dream. I wrote, ‘Luv ya’ on it. Those things are practically the same! Joanne told told me that Anthony likes me! She told me that Anthony is always saying, ‘I have to call Krista! I have to call Kasey! I have to talk to Krista! I have to talk to Kasey!’ Joanne told me he’s obsessing over us! If I wasn’t going out with Richard, I’d probably want to go out with Anthony. Jaime might dump Mike. Because Kara’s mad at her. Kara wasn’t mad at Jaime for going out with Mike until she found out that she asked him out. Kara even said she doesn’t like Mike. But apparently she does. Kara said she was crying in chorus. Like we give a damn! We don’t care about her butt munching hell of a life! She is such a bitch! She is such a freaking liar! I really hate her! I don’t know what Jaime should do. Actually I think she should ignore stupid Kara & go on with her life. She should tell Kara that no matter how long Kara cries & no matter how long she complains she won’t dump Mike. She should just blow Kara off. Who cares about her? Jaime told me that she kinda likes Mark again. She said that she kinda likes Richard too! -Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-13586314453766544552011-02-23T20:16:00.012-05:002011-02-23T21:14:58.841-05:00More Keith Sweat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNQfn5zfgkWs8mMV5h-tsr_Zsa2Any2Y1QNCoG3OCiPMraIzqcOf_SslanSugqGlzlGZFCrrJKht63EA39N8BsYvhi9b2Zv6Fi7DPjzE4hSdNNqn5WkUMo4Kkf-IDPaXEEefYjKFTfJE/s1600/1997-02-02+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNQfn5zfgkWs8mMV5h-tsr_Zsa2Any2Y1QNCoG3OCiPMraIzqcOf_SslanSugqGlzlGZFCrrJKht63EA39N8BsYvhi9b2Zv6Fi7DPjzE4hSdNNqn5WkUMo4Kkf-IDPaXEEefYjKFTfJE/s400/1997-02-02+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577060542090837490" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYWtOcFewPmJPighMfWpkG4tnzhNt7wNAiaQa59xVjlf04ZizMRg3grifo_ABjr5NFu4meFBNMjGhwm3MRKdkg_PX6L8hU1_WjDYvYjv23tN2GgLld9NqihRzX36whncslqFR_1WVhwg/s1600/1997-02-02+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYWtOcFewPmJPighMfWpkG4tnzhNt7wNAiaQa59xVjlf04ZizMRg3grifo_ABjr5NFu4meFBNMjGhwm3MRKdkg_PX6L8hU1_WjDYvYjv23tN2GgLld9NqihRzX36whncslqFR_1WVhwg/s400/1997-02-02+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577060541135760066" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02uyxQ4V5iaixlnRftnAlpub-ZWcP1F4o-6XFfY3CZjAhE1b90HYwbzwjDRasC_vWs5JI8Flf_yxIZ6KJKqbeTWyVl8QuTmc1XDXNAIsHAKxzSGrX45Ftwce5L6dDDKL4FTB8J9BLRpA/s1600/1997-02-02+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02uyxQ4V5iaixlnRftnAlpub-ZWcP1F4o-6XFfY3CZjAhE1b90HYwbzwjDRasC_vWs5JI8Flf_yxIZ6KJKqbeTWyVl8QuTmc1XDXNAIsHAKxzSGrX45Ftwce5L6dDDKL4FTB8J9BLRpA/s400/1997-02-02+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577060534868245538" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I already addressed the scandalousness of <a href="http://tehcheesestandsalone.blogspot.com/2009/12/toni-braxton-r-kelly-define-me.html">"Nobody"</a>. But in case you've forgotten and because the chorus the girl sings is slightly different than the chorus Keith sings that I posted before... here are some of the lyrics I sang (assuming I actually knew the lyrics):</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ></span><blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And who can love you like me </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Who can sex you like me </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Who can lay your body down </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Nobody, baby</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And who can treat you like me </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Who can give you what you need </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And who can do you all night long </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Nobody, baby</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /></span> </blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I think the weirdest part of all this is that Chris and I were singing this sexy song in his mother's car WHILE HIS MOTHER WAS DRIVING. I made it clear in the diary entry that it was <span style="font-weight: bold;">not</span> funny at the time... we weren't joking around like "haha it's so funny we're singing this totally inappropriate song"... we were serious. I obviously didn't have a problem with it then but ew ew EW it is creeping me out now just thinking about it. I'm so embarassed. <br /><br />Wait wait... possibly weirder is that we were two hormone-filled teenagers casually singing a song about sex on the way home from<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">RELIGIOUS ED.</span> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---<br />“2-2-97. Dear Diary, Nothing much happened today, really. I forgot to tell you, Richard dropped out of the play! He said something else he was doing was conflicting with practices. Anthony told me that Richard has an electric guitar! Cool! Today I carpooled with Chris J to & from CCD. On the way there, like usual we were both singing to the songs. But on the way home ‘Nobody’ by Keith Sweat came on. It was so funny because he sang all of the male parts of the song & I sang the female! It was so funny (but it wasn’t funny then). Then when I was getting out of the car to go inside my house afterwards, Chris said, ‘See ya!’! That’s funny because that’s what Richard usually says to me. And see ya is short for see ya later! When we were walking to the car, we were pretty close together. People who saw us probably thought 1 of 2 things. They either thought, ‘They’re brother & sister’ or they thought, ‘They’re going out!’ Kasey told me that I should go out with him. I would but I don’t think he’d go out with me! He’s kinda cute. Mom & Kasey & Monica all say that Doug & I would make a good couple. Monica keeps saying, ‘I think you & Doug would make the best & cutest couple!’ I’m sorry to say that buy I agree. I mean put our pictures side by side and it just looks ‘right.’ I don’t like him, at all. But, somewhere down the line, in a few years, I can very well see us going out. But for now, I’m not looking forward to it! -Krista I LOVE RICHARD!”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-31883128254115505362011-02-22T18:46:00.005-05:002011-02-22T19:52:39.803-05:008 months later...<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Holy crap... how has it been EIGHT months since the last time I posted?!? I am so sorry for falling off the face of the earth! Hope you weren't worried about me. :P Things just got really crazy last year planning a wedding, getting married (spoiler alert: not to a middle school crush), honeymooning, and enjoying life as a Mrs! But I'm finally back! </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDR-TK0_tNz_mIxRcTiROxpqVxkZZR4M2uz0mjI1wQpvsRE8QfBunKaHWwXqPLifrGXIbc2XlHaGllZt4DFjDuakL9AHYPScG1d0dJYVOYtyavW8gcF_EgGKaIR2GQPFdsaZqr-uzGV8/s1600/1997-01-31+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDR-TK0_tNz_mIxRcTiROxpqVxkZZR4M2uz0mjI1wQpvsRE8QfBunKaHWwXqPLifrGXIbc2XlHaGllZt4DFjDuakL9AHYPScG1d0dJYVOYtyavW8gcF_EgGKaIR2GQPFdsaZqr-uzGV8/s400/1997-01-31+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576666880321645298" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHK4dimfWcoo73sHjsp-jsoib95NH8ORU_6rcBcxtUwda1-KNe2BYMA_xuw99ZnODd66JhaJBPxW0xIoRd5wv1MCuHTUK9aS7jzSbS-RQdLaMTNlAQZnbUOd_F5Gb2WwaOnD8cqTqLtes/s1600/1997-01-31+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHK4dimfWcoo73sHjsp-jsoib95NH8ORU_6rcBcxtUwda1-KNe2BYMA_xuw99ZnODd66JhaJBPxW0xIoRd5wv1MCuHTUK9aS7jzSbS-RQdLaMTNlAQZnbUOd_F5Gb2WwaOnD8cqTqLtes/s400/1997-01-31+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576666881793542834" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZTIiw4s4SM-YyVUTN1f-pB4LkRzY0A7w19TtyLu7DMOElVjf7LOVLCRPv7jJivUY-RZnPJDqVwfcGpMH71paqL3z6KkwzIbbbJdvRHZsF6I-Hnyg5HWbStlSs9DBsN3qzYBRLft0RTw/s1600/1997-01-31+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ZTIiw4s4SM-YyVUTN1f-pB4LkRzY0A7w19TtyLu7DMOElVjf7LOVLCRPv7jJivUY-RZnPJDqVwfcGpMH71paqL3z6KkwzIbbbJdvRHZsF6I-Hnyg5HWbStlSs9DBsN3qzYBRLft0RTw/s400/1997-01-31+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576666878259041362" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">HA. The <span style="font-weight: bold;">highlight </span>of the first note from Richard was that he had a dream I dumped him. Even though I enjoyed being told he loved me, his dream almost came true that day. We already know he was walking a <a href="http://tehcheesestandsalone.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-want-to-vacuum.html">fine line</a> between being cute affectionate and crazy-annoying over-affectionate. But it wasn't fair to him because he didn't know that. How do you tell someone, "I know you're my boyfriend, but can you stop saying 'hi' to me in the hall and writing me notes with hearts all over it? It's annoying"?<br /><br />I went with my family to the Pinewood Derby at Grandview Elementary to watch my brother compete (?). You know, whatever you call it when you have a car in the race. Clearly I don't remember... I was talking to Anthony and making phone calls on the pay phone in the hallway most of the time.<br /><br />That's right, kids, PAY phone. No cell. No texting. No Facebook. Real quarters in a real pay phone. And Richard was on his house phone. It may have even had a cord. And it's possible his mom answered and we had to awkwardly ask to speak to him. Today's youngins will never appreciate what we went though.<br /><br />Okay, one more thing. I don't understand why I suddenly hated Mike. Earlier that school year, I had a crush on him and even when I look back on it now, I don't remember ever being on bad terms with him. Mike and I were always pretty good friends all throughout school. Hm. Maybe I was just jealous? Who knows.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“1-31-97. Dear Diary, Today Richard gave me a note (Duh!). Highlights: he had a dream that I dumped him! He’s putting a happy ad on announcements for me! He’s going to put it on Monday. I guessed that it was going to say, ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ Jaime told me I was right. At the bottom he wrote, ‘I love you!’ In another note he gave me today here are the highlights: All that is important really is that it said I love you. When I got home from school I called Jaime. I was so totally sick of Richard that it wasn’t funny. I was very close to dumping him. But now I don’t think I want to. I went to the Boyscouts Pinewood Derby thing. There was Anthony. I spent most of my time flirting with Anthony & his friend Cameron. Anthony is really nice. I kinda like him, but not very much. He’s kinda cute too. He has a nice smile. He acts like he likes me, I don’t know. I asked Anthony what Richard says about me. He wouldn’t tell me but he says its very good. Anthony called Richard from Grandview & talked to him for awhile. Then he gave the phone to me. So Richard & I talked about nothing much for awhile. Anthony & I are good friends now, I think. I hope he thinks of me as a friend. -Krista P.S. Jaime’s going out with Mike! That’s sick! I hate Mike!”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-29193478765863350022010-06-27T21:12:00.007-04:002010-06-27T21:59:53.951-04:00Beanie Babies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-cWyoTBTdD8Pb9OxQFn4LrCYI74lJ9IWtZmV8triEB-QC-jBLY-bwk1lsgcZicr4kzUO-x4GxV2Ex2WsHSnhTiGPTBMnlFXVp9HUhBu7vkAB9NpLNmHvErF1RK0hoI7M-5IlooJh6xk/s1600/1997-01-30+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-cWyoTBTdD8Pb9OxQFn4LrCYI74lJ9IWtZmV8triEB-QC-jBLY-bwk1lsgcZicr4kzUO-x4GxV2Ex2WsHSnhTiGPTBMnlFXVp9HUhBu7vkAB9NpLNmHvErF1RK0hoI7M-5IlooJh6xk/s400/1997-01-30+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487626647360450114" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9VrUwH5siuVMRwiT8iZzIUDN1rBJMCYv1anDsllMQnr1hQBtEMs0_Li0oT4_kdi8d7-nZZ_RxD7nCImB2nt5ecSC-tvxs8LQgZmLeZ8ph14Sk6SJqZhojFbY75zTuEiopWY7i5P8tWHg/s1600/1997-01-30+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9VrUwH5siuVMRwiT8iZzIUDN1rBJMCYv1anDsllMQnr1hQBtEMs0_Li0oT4_kdi8d7-nZZ_RxD7nCImB2nt5ecSC-tvxs8LQgZmLeZ8ph14Sk6SJqZhojFbY75zTuEiopWY7i5P8tWHg/s400/1997-01-30+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487626644950000386" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTIXyW7smQEtI7t8H7ZRoZOn_vIMUK11mYj6f8aHc9cMhJqMKY6-8LjT0eCzrx6SQJzvH_rFtNfFj9pCXvFRwBGZD5zTjQ1uGex9R6lFnimTa_0eI27ofgu3ERjp3_jD5Xo7f1TcU3lI/s1600/1997-01-30+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTIXyW7smQEtI7t8H7ZRoZOn_vIMUK11mYj6f8aHc9cMhJqMKY6-8LjT0eCzrx6SQJzvH_rFtNfFj9pCXvFRwBGZD5zTjQ1uGex9R6lFnimTa_0eI27ofgu3ERjp3_jD5Xo7f1TcU3lI/s400/1997-01-30+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487626638040062178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what an 13-year-old boy would want as a gift: a Beanie Baby. Sike. It's not even an argument to say that at that time they were collector's items and some doubled value in a matter of months. It's still just a cute little furry animal stuffed with plastic pellets. Why the heck would he want a Beanie Baby? Trick question. The answer is: he wouldn't want a Beanie Baby. No teenage boy wants a stuffed animal. No teenage boy wants to explain his new pink bear friend to all his Mom. And he especially doesn't want to explain it to his buddies. A Beanie Baby is probably the <span style="font-style: italic;">worst</span> gift idea for an adolescent boy.<br /><br />Girls are so stupid. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“1-30-97. Dear Diary, This morning Richard gave me a note. Highlights: On the outside it looked like this: URAQT! On the inside, on the top margin it had this! And at the bottom it said: URAQT! A whole paragraph read: I don’t know what else to say. All I can think of is how much I like you. He has 2 cats! As a P.P.S. he wrote: Be Mine and he also wrote XXXXOOOO. Jaime asked him in Latin what he was getting me for Valentines Day. She knows but won’t tell me. I only know it’s jewelry. He gave me another note. Highlights: He thinks my middle name is cool! These 2 letters are the first letters that he wrote ‘Dear Krista’ in! See ya! Me P.S. I think I’m gonna get him a Beanie Baby for Valentine’s Day.” P.P.S. Jaime asked Mike out & he said probably!”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-2570919571999796552010-06-20T19:07:00.004-04:002010-06-20T19:24:48.390-04:00My best friend likes my boyfriend<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpjlREOOYdeSGkovOjwnNKLJgAM64jYY9ELf83-ZiAYOh-S66Ji2bdeVgkbuWxJslKxn41-IH50Jaf7mjB1dZ2VD8_mSBrS6y6ton0CbKYiTEOfjSV-F23_sUr6jVAxwmsuh8mz8zGhM/s1600/1997-01-29+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpjlREOOYdeSGkovOjwnNKLJgAM64jYY9ELf83-ZiAYOh-S66Ji2bdeVgkbuWxJslKxn41-IH50Jaf7mjB1dZ2VD8_mSBrS6y6ton0CbKYiTEOfjSV-F23_sUr6jVAxwmsuh8mz8zGhM/s400/1997-01-29+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484996723704577858" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCAC3785-_OAm0l4KWKiWHNUIMxWc3Xf7P4QyIYJkaBf0UXtYSEWzdiZ_yvOotKZUzBaVxfotA-5Cw4eDhLOZrEfUNnHyAnxKt_IMPwyI2Q9e_mPw_J52FTubpA9Odzlxds2U5vTW0Q8/s1600/1997-01-29+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCAC3785-_OAm0l4KWKiWHNUIMxWc3Xf7P4QyIYJkaBf0UXtYSEWzdiZ_yvOotKZUzBaVxfotA-5Cw4eDhLOZrEfUNnHyAnxKt_IMPwyI2Q9e_mPw_J52FTubpA9Odzlxds2U5vTW0Q8/s400/1997-01-29+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484996717715095842" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg35NGFEjd6lPCSwBzuZhBzI-1399Sd2vsfSPZXz77XxK-FYC_ukzjZfFR9BHyMs6W0Px58jmkjcbib2QM_wTlaxHfaQ7Wusop_WXMfHcxzEYDt5SO406Y8tciFVBTd4eRox4Y2fU8LZCw/s1600/1997-01-29+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg35NGFEjd6lPCSwBzuZhBzI-1399Sd2vsfSPZXz77XxK-FYC_ukzjZfFR9BHyMs6W0Px58jmkjcbib2QM_wTlaxHfaQ7Wusop_WXMfHcxzEYDt5SO406Y8tciFVBTd4eRox4Y2fU8LZCw/s400/1997-01-29+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484996697837759810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's interesting that it was perfectly acceptable for my best friend to tell me she had a crush on my boyfriend. Interesting, but not surprising considering the average length and fickleness of relationships at that age. But it's something that you don't hear too often as teenagers or adults. If a girl told you they liked your boyfriend in high school, you'd probably start a nasty rumor that she had syphilis. But in middle school, it was no big deal. "You have a crush on my boyfriend? Cool. So do I." Weird. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“1-29-97. Dear Diary, Today in homeroom I read a note that Richard put in my file on the computer. IT said, “You brighten my day! I LOVE YOU!” It said some other stuff, but I forget. He gave me another note today. Highlights: His password on the computer is 117546. His locker number is 296 & his combo is 28-2-24. His middle name is Geoffrey. This note had a heart in each corner & a heart at the bottom with XXX & OOO (hugs & kisses) in it. At the top he wrote: URAQT (& he underlined QT). In LA Jaime told me she wrote “Richard loves Krista” on his paper. She said he said, “I know, that’s true, but we have to erase it now!” Today on the phone Jaime told me that she kinda likes Richard! She thinks I’d get mad at her for that! Ya right! I don’t care if she likes who I like (as long as I get him! JUST KIDDING!). See ya! Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-87466875430817360292010-06-14T21:58:00.004-04:002010-06-14T22:21:50.384-04:00Beautiful<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiLa0X3fMhhbbF8kvNQhi0osXrsu5aVJ4RCgAKiJdNL25ZY0AEmOAlw3PERaVa3VWiCoMGSXIRIG0Vo3WJFnX8ZxqkLd23-whkXW3aW-KTm4CqUzh5q5Dqz-QoGYt8nxeYFjs5q6NH0J8/s1600/1997-01-28+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiLa0X3fMhhbbF8kvNQhi0osXrsu5aVJ4RCgAKiJdNL25ZY0AEmOAlw3PERaVa3VWiCoMGSXIRIG0Vo3WJFnX8ZxqkLd23-whkXW3aW-KTm4CqUzh5q5Dqz-QoGYt8nxeYFjs5q6NH0J8/s400/1997-01-28+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482814327531200258" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLlz5kJKGVlKNfPE4nBPifR0p1rov0e_SggK52DXuvJEToRAEx7WbXPPT5kA8KrtAQDOT1tIB7iLmJeLo2hM-Q4h2M3Tasl3Z0tG_Uo0uLMxs8y627Pxo2W9Uu4NFBXPIqSLRqyHE5WFE/s1600/1997-01-28+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLlz5kJKGVlKNfPE4nBPifR0p1rov0e_SggK52DXuvJEToRAEx7WbXPPT5kA8KrtAQDOT1tIB7iLmJeLo2hM-Q4h2M3Tasl3Z0tG_Uo0uLMxs8y627Pxo2W9Uu4NFBXPIqSLRqyHE5WFE/s400/1997-01-28+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482814323211598978" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpK4U0RLjLHuKXDabMYCeQ5dJNPAqX0fiXBzuYyHBI6IT0OqxYuz12BTdZZ-_lk3pkLY_JLyF0NwG0iodk39h18xwcNav08tumm8MbnsHh8-ieKa-lk_epk21sGqnvNBNChkOl_fvIjwA/s1600/1997-01-28+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpK4U0RLjLHuKXDabMYCeQ5dJNPAqX0fiXBzuYyHBI6IT0OqxYuz12BTdZZ-_lk3pkLY_JLyF0NwG0iodk39h18xwcNav08tumm8MbnsHh8-ieKa-lk_epk21sGqnvNBNChkOl_fvIjwA/s400/1997-01-28+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482814318320400754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This is one of the diary entries that make me glad I kept a diary as a kid. It captures the first time someone said I was beautiful... the first time, in an age of adolescent awkwardness, that I actually <span style="font-style: italic;">felt </span>beautiful. <br /><br />Of course, it was hard to believe that anyone dressed in my mid-90's wardrobe of purposely inside-out sweatshirts and overalls (only one strap attached) would be beautiful. So of course I was surprised and somewhat skeptical, but it was a start. <br /><br />Middle school marked the beginning of popularity wars and the subsequent introduction of insecurities... so this small comment made by Richard meant a lot to me. It's possible that maybe I really was just dating him "for the words he wrote"... but perhaps he was dating me for the same reason. I see nothing wrong with two pre-teens building up each other's confidence... that's exactly what they need at that time in their life... well, that is, until the inevitable breakup... Hm. On second thought, maybe kids should find other ways to gain confidence. <br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“1-28-97. Dear Diary. Today I gave Richard a note that had my school picture in it. In my note I asked if he thought I looked stupid. Anyhow, this morning Richard gave me a note. Highlights: He wrote that there’s really no point to the letter. He was just thinking of me. And he’ll still be (he wrote that). This note had a big heart at the bottom & it ended with Love Richard! Then he gave me another note before 6th period. Highlights: A whole paragraph, in his words: “Of course you don’t look stupid in your picture. You look beautiful.” He said I was beautiful! No one other than family has called me beautiful. And I never really thought I was! Richard wrote me a note in my file server on the computer. I didn’t see it yet. But Jaime told me it says “I love you” in it! Here are our old seats for Language Arts. Now it’s: I SIT BY RICHARD! Know what? I’m starting to think I only like Richard for the words he writes. But then, maybe I’m wrong. Ya! I’m wrong, totally wrong. Doug called to tell me to call Jaime & tell her he doesn’t want to go out with her anymore. So I did. Jaime was really sad at first. But she isn’t anymore cause she doesn’t like him anymore. She likes Mike. The bad thing is… I wrote a note in his file server that said: Jaime & Doug sitting in a tree… etc.! Anyhow, Doug called me back for no reason just to talk. He calls me ‘Bob’. Why? I don’t quite know. Mom thinks he likes me! He’s okay. Mom thinks he’s cute. I don’t even want to think about liking him! After liking him for 3 consecutive years – I’m done! – Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-27781288394256877542010-05-30T19:13:00.010-04:002011-02-04T14:39:55.564-05:00Love Letters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViJ73X_ZeTufghXewQbYOsncsPnpkKRIFyAfOyaq3O0BkWaVMVrhsjk5YCZCV-rplEoSlu6RyCO_zRGuPQirloT5S2tqCYfLu6eNd9Ge8WXBe3j6ti3Q2y4VD8_d14DM32bGsbPKjwS4/s1600/1997-01-24+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViJ73X_ZeTufghXewQbYOsncsPnpkKRIFyAfOyaq3O0BkWaVMVrhsjk5YCZCV-rplEoSlu6RyCO_zRGuPQirloT5S2tqCYfLu6eNd9Ge8WXBe3j6ti3Q2y4VD8_d14DM32bGsbPKjwS4/s400/1997-01-24+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477205283096590802" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9K5BuPJL6peS4gXQEnOry2HbGyRzKD6e9-WR3TX_A4l4KpG9I9f1u7cjl4fHm_5dljHu0YlFlAU9Gz7O8xCFI3y83KnIIS4iS1DzCGWPVY1OBc_lKenoqNldDcnYZoJw0wBgIHhVPcVY/s1600/1997-01-24+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9K5BuPJL6peS4gXQEnOry2HbGyRzKD6e9-WR3TX_A4l4KpG9I9f1u7cjl4fHm_5dljHu0YlFlAU9Gz7O8xCFI3y83KnIIS4iS1DzCGWPVY1OBc_lKenoqNldDcnYZoJw0wBgIHhVPcVY/s400/1997-01-24+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477205279289989906" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hmmm spinning a rod, eh? For some reason I don't think Richard and his siblings had cable TV or Nintendo... either that or maybe this was just a weird boy thing to do that I can't relate to. All I know is that I don't think my sister and I ever used to "spin rods". I'm not sure I even know what that means.<br /><br />Do kids who forget their lunch money really have to go lunch-less for the day? That's so sad! You'd think <span style="font-style: italic;">someone</span> would have lent him money. But if not, I bet Richard learned his lesson and never forgot his lunch money again.<br /><br />Oooh the teacher caught Richard reading a love letter! He's lucky he didn't get it taken away. This was the same teacher that caught my friend Jaime and I writing notes to each other. Jaime and I weren't in the same science class, but had the same teacher and realized that we sat in the same seat. So we decided to be super-sneaky and leave each other notes taped under the table. When I was in class, I'd write her a note, tape it to the underside of the table and a few periods later, she'd find my note, write me back and repeat. We thought we were pretty clever until one day, my tape didn't hold and the note fell to the ground. Mr. Lohse found it, had a talk with us, and we never did it again. But we <span style="font-style: italic;">did</span> start using code names in our notes. Duh.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“1-24-97. Dear Diary, Here are the highlights from the note that Richard gave me today! His birthday is June 11, 1983. Last night his brother was spinning a rod & it lost control & hit him in the eye. Here’s a whole paragraph, word for word: I forgot my lunch money today. So I’m not going to be eating lunch (duh!). I hope today gets better than it’s been so far. But with you around will brighten my day! This note had a heart in every corner & a little thing that looked a lot like this: XXX OOO. It had hugs & kisses inside! Awww! How sweet! Richard came up to me at my locker and told me this: He was reading the note from me in Science class when Mr. Lohse walked in the room. Mr. L asked Richard what he was doing. Someone in the class yelled out, “He’s reading love letters!” Then he had to put it away. O-kay?! -Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-43747889038599151342010-05-25T21:07:00.024-04:002010-05-25T22:46:50.310-04:00Getting Someone to Dump You<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdshCM0bkBV4hVj4Vc03lxhvlgnodqRRil7ERqjWUrWAfehJdf9vppn1U3gmQMlbcK3hJrDKbwUC9kcYNQvIr3JdzOpCrEGETVHkfW8hLCGfY7lYYeRuge-WW0ehvw1AQqCwzhPfyD_NI/s1600/1997-01-23+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdshCM0bkBV4hVj4Vc03lxhvlgnodqRRil7ERqjWUrWAfehJdf9vppn1U3gmQMlbcK3hJrDKbwUC9kcYNQvIr3JdzOpCrEGETVHkfW8hLCGfY7lYYeRuge-WW0ehvw1AQqCwzhPfyD_NI/s400/1997-01-23+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475379424717559314" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmW0zj_z-s-CvBtj0HOcUxocPsmqMJXJ3mkhnltpVY2S12WPx-wLaHt8ZEbH8bsgSYaTIKLtQspXqURFcnl3tLKfBBotYMGoUSrXHteAM94S-wPXVfZpOGGWJn6XMyYmufLLZTwV0pQ8A/s1600/1997-01-23+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmW0zj_z-s-CvBtj0HOcUxocPsmqMJXJ3mkhnltpVY2S12WPx-wLaHt8ZEbH8bsgSYaTIKLtQspXqURFcnl3tLKfBBotYMGoUSrXHteAM94S-wPXVfZpOGGWJn6XMyYmufLLZTwV0pQ8A/s400/1997-01-23+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475379419193919378" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6LcZxppT-PcdR1h0-jbXeVErLZcaIRqTagaSWuDGwoih1pfQXBXFJtQDweIEUoFbN1MfxcoPyFOzLTS-Xfeu3u2eLDmrr7kH_oSqzRSkZ-PDV9muNJAhCFBC1adubADIvPojJ7qCoK5U/s1600/1997-01-23+pt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6LcZxppT-PcdR1h0-jbXeVErLZcaIRqTagaSWuDGwoih1pfQXBXFJtQDweIEUoFbN1MfxcoPyFOzLTS-Xfeu3u2eLDmrr7kH_oSqzRSkZ-PDV9muNJAhCFBC1adubADIvPojJ7qCoK5U/s400/1997-01-23+pt3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475379412878125522" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Quick historical fact-check on Eva Peron's death... she died of cervical cancer... which is not exactly something you can fix with "those shock things" (AKA an external defibrillator). I wonder if Richard's team lost points for that.<br /><br />I feel like Rachel D's ploy to get Brandon to dump her is not unique to middle school. I think there are people at every age who don't deal well with confrontation and see that as an easy out. However, I think there are two differences.<br /><br />1. Rachel had already dumped Brandon three times in a time period, I'm guessing, of less than five months MAX (since the beginning of that school year). Adults, on the other hand, would have already given up on a relationship with that kind of track record... or with that kind of on-again, off-again status, adults wouldn't even consider it an exclusive relationship-- thus, no need for an official break up at all.<br /><br />2. I'm just guessing that most adults wouldn't fictitiously criminalize themselves to get a significant other to break up with them. They would actually criminalize themselves. What's the point in spreading <span style="font-style: italic;">false </span>rumors that you've been cheating? If people are going to think you're a cheater anyhow, you should probably just cheat and at least get some pleasure out of it. Hey, if that's what it takes to get your boyfriend or girlfriend to fall into your "trap" and dump you, you might as well kill two birds with one stone.<br /><br />Okay, just to clear things up, I do not condone or support cheating by any means. I think cheaters are selfish cowards who want what they can't have and are afraid of honest communication with their partner. Pretty much goes hand-in-hand with the type of people who devise plans to get their significant other to break up with them. And now we've come full circle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />“1-23-97. Dear Diary, Here’s something that I forgot to tell you yesterday. Richard had play practice after school. But he came all the way back to my locker just to say goodbye! I got another note from Richard today. Highlights: His favorite radio station is Jet, same as me. This note had a heart at the bottom also. When I look at where he wrote ‘Love’ at the ending of the note (Love Richard) that reaches deep down inside my heart. He really meant it when he wrote ‘love’. It’s just touching to know that someone loves you that much. Richard did his presentation in Social Studies today. Their country was Argentina. Richard’s timeline was all on Evita and Juan Peron. Him & his group acted out when Evita Peron died. Ryan was a doctor using using those shock things on Evita. And Richard was Juan, Evita’s husband. Well, they had Christina be Evita! When Ryan announced that Evita (Christina) was dead, Richard pretended that he was crying & he said, “Oh no! Not Evita! My poor dear Evita!” That really bothered me. I’m kinda mad! I guess I shouldn’t be worried because he still signs his notes with Love & a big heart. Rachel D told me that she doesn’t want to go out with Brandon anymore. But she wants him to dump her because she already dumped him like 3 times. She told me not to tell anyone, not even Amy. She wanted me to tell Brandon that I saw her flirting with a bunch of boys. So I did & I think he’s mad. She told me & not Amy! I was talking to Rachel about what Brandon said when I told him & Sandy was around. When Rachel left, Sandy said, “I know what she’s trying to do.” I asked her what & she said, “Trying to get him to dump her.” I asked her how she knew & she said that she & Rachel are like best friends & Rachel tells her everything. Does that mean that I’m like Rachel’s best friend too? Well, if she told me & didn’t want anyone else to know… ? I hope so cuz Rachel’s really nice & she would make a cool friend (she already does). –Krista”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455111885897496409.post-597320520651269212010-05-24T21:13:00.017-04:002011-02-26T22:33:09.356-05:0090-110<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45qJckzUS3UAv4g1wrF0r6ZHzadL0ssaZ93WrcU8noKkkfsv7_R-v99NRYhzRnPGlEbcF-iyspEF1KfMX8WJoe5wf5mFJzUZlpma8eC0DhGhD2pi2WUZMa8L9cHwv7ef2VpjiAE0fO60/s1600/1997-01-22+pt1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45qJckzUS3UAv4g1wrF0r6ZHzadL0ssaZ93WrcU8noKkkfsv7_R-v99NRYhzRnPGlEbcF-iyspEF1KfMX8WJoe5wf5mFJzUZlpma8eC0DhGhD2pi2WUZMa8L9cHwv7ef2VpjiAE0fO60/s400/1997-01-22+pt1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578207029642679442" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWEcIHDOMHGzgdH3TtjXxJCe8ssPu3NwOajKyCdhU0CNasgwZWubNIJjd4kItOVNJ2CnGhoecjlBJntoilE5VAg8HNobkVOyr0IWx6mDFDCNo39kMiG3OVHIYTeiomlsndDtWDUAGrnw/s1600/1997-01-22+pt2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWEcIHDOMHGzgdH3TtjXxJCe8ssPu3NwOajKyCdhU0CNasgwZWubNIJjd4kItOVNJ2CnGhoecjlBJntoilE5VAg8HNobkVOyr0IWx6mDFDCNo39kMiG3OVHIYTeiomlsndDtWDUAGrnw/s400/1997-01-22+pt2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578207030626579314" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So you would think that being liked 90-110 on a scale of 1 to 100 is pretty darn good... but I'd like to question... <span style="font-style: italic;">what does that really mean?</span> How can you say that you like someone a <span style="font-style: italic;">range</span>? Does that mean on a bad day, he liked me a 90 and on a good day, he liked me 110?<br /><br />Or does it mean that there were some things about me that he only liked at a 90 level and other things he liked at 110 level? If so, I would guess those things were my braces and my sense of humor, respectively.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Perhaps it means that he hadn't really decided how much he liked me... he just knew it was a lot. But in that case, why would he ask to quantify something he couldn't even quantify himself? Seriously, what's the point in setting a scale if you can't even pinpoint a single number?<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I wonder how I responded to him. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">---</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“1-22-97. Dear Diary, Richard gave me a note this morning. Highlights: He gave me his picture. He doesn’t know if he can go to the movies Friday but, & I quote, “he sure hopes he can go.” He’s the Bishop in the play. Listen, here’s a whole paragraph that he wrote WORD for WORD, this is exactly what he wrote! This might sound stupid but if it doesn’t, then that’s okay. From a scale of 1-100, what number would represent how much you like me? Mine would have to be 90 and up to 110. That’s how much I like you. He said that Lance said, “If Richard had braces, Richard and Krista would make sparks!” As a P.P.S., he wrote, I’ll be thinkin of ya! This note also had a heart on it. Everytime I read the scale part of the note, I just melt! Even though he doesn’t have much dating experience- he sure knows what I want to hear! Well, I’ve gotta go! See, there I go! Krista. I LOVE RICHARD!”</span></span>kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17451046982118390592noreply@blogger.com0