<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052</id><updated>2012-02-16T04:45:29.920-08:00</updated><category term='moving'/><category term='pants'/><category term='babies'/><category term='TV'/><category term='sexy times'/><category term='linguistics'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='frisbee'/><category term='perverts'/><category term='movies'/><category term='food'/><category term='TC'/><category term='California'/><category term='SAD'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='papasan'/><category term='Harry Potter'/><category term='boys'/><category term='music'/><category term='Disney'/><title type='text'>Little A</title><subtitle type='html'>Be like the bluebird and sing&lt;p&gt;
&lt;img src="http://students.washington.edu/alike/pictures/bluebird%20blog.bmp"&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-2233209918350352733</id><published>2008-02-26T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T10:27:40.463-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frisbee'/><title type='text'>Ultimate injury</title><content type='html'>Last Friday's game of ultimate was slightly annoying.  Although my friends and I have been playing at least once a week all year long, as soon as the sun comes out, everyone else wants to get involved.  Normally this would be a good thing except that last week we had more than 30 people show up.  This meant that we had to split the field to accommodate two games and that (especially as more people continued to show up) every team was over-saturated with players.  In other words, over-participation is an easy way to ruin a game of ultimate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up putting the n00bs on one field and us regulars on the other but we were still playing 8v8 on a tiny field.  Having so many players on the field meant that injuries were more likely to occur, and they did, to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I got clothes-lined by my friend Ben, who is 6'4" or something like that.  "Clothes-lined" might not be the right word because my forward momentum (I'm super fast guys) met the swing of his backhand with full force.  I came out the side with a bloody lip, having successfully bitten through a large chunk of skin that was still attached to my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The healing has been fine but now the wound is starting to sting like a damn canker sore and it limits the kinds of foods I can eat for now (sorry jalepeno chips).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, my other friend Ben stepped on my foot.  He's a pretty fast guy so I could've guessed that his legs were powerful, but I not nearly as powerful as they felt when he bore down squarely on the top of my foot with his cleats.  Ouch.  The good news is that the bruise is starting to yellow, which my roommate says indicates that it's getting better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is that I'm very small and so any contact with other, larger, players tends to end in injury on my behalf.  It's a rough life but I'd like to think it makes me a little tougher (bitchier).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-2233209918350352733?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/2233209918350352733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/2233209918350352733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2008/02/ultimate-injury.html' title='Ultimate injury'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-5471608394020278220</id><published>2008-02-14T10:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T10:50:59.350-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Disney'/><title type='text'>Cuptertino</title><content type='html'>I leave for Cupertino, California in approximately 4.5 hours and I am decidedly unhappy about it.  Perhaps &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;unhappy &lt;/span&gt;isn't the best word for it, but I'm definitely in a crabby mood and there's no changing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the fact that this quarter has really done a number on me.  It seems like I'm constantly tired and always in a rush.  I never seem to have enough time in the day to do the things I want to do and when I do take my time, I fall precariously behind.  The recent string of sunny days has been refreshing but is by no means a substitute for Spring and everything associated with it: new classes, trips to the beach, playing ultimate, and looking for a new apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the fact that I'm leaving on Valentine's Day.  I'm not a particularly sentimental person but my recent moodiness makes me vulnerable to a whole slew of typical human emotions.  Sometimes I think that sentimental people are foolish and unrealistic.  But today, I'd like nothing more than a bouquet of tulips and to snuggle under the covers watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Beauty and the Beast&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the fact that I'm generally an angry person and the idea of committing to something that would otherwise be fun (i.e. a free trip to California, a road trip during Spring break, or any other number of events) makes me uncomfortable and crabby.  Someone in my major actually called me out on being an angry person yesterday when I was under the impression that only my closest friends were aware of that.  It's sad to think that I exude so much anger that even a person who I only interact with during classroom conversations can tell I'm an angry person.  I should probably work on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-5471608394020278220?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5471608394020278220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5471608394020278220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2008/02/cuptertino.html' title='Cuptertino'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-3086033659879610411</id><published>2008-02-12T16:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T16:58:20.580-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SAD'/><title type='text'>Wintertime blues</title><content type='html'>I'm flying out to Cupertino on Thursday for two days of training at Apple.   I'll be missing Valentine's Day but I'm a practical girl and it doesn't bother me; we're celebrating on Saturday anyway.  I rescheduled my tutoring hours and I'll be turning in some of my papers early.  Instead of going to class, I'll be spending time in California visiting Apple headquarters.  My flight, meals, and lodgings are all paid for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I don't really want to go.  I'm tired and overworked this quarter and I've never longed for Spring more.  Every ray of sun beckons to me - I really just want to go to the beach, or fast-forward to the Spring when I can play ultimate every day and lay out in the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck you, Winter!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-3086033659879610411?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/3086033659879610411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/3086033659879610411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2008/02/wintertime-blues.html' title='Wintertime blues'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-1041144048740479634</id><published>2007-09-09T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T09:22:11.281-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='papasan'/><title type='text'>Fucking papasan</title><content type='html'>Tonight I went over to a friend's house to watch the MTV Video Music Awards.  Since they've just moved in they are missing a few crucial items yet - a couch, for instance.  Being the guest, I was allowed the honor of the only cushy seat in the house: the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Papasan"&gt;papasan&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are unfamiliar with a papasan, I will describe it for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is comprised of two pieces:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A circular wooden base&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A large wooden half-sphere seat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Now the half-sphere seat sits loosely on the base and for the most part moves freely, as there is no default position for it to rest.  Comfortable yes, but a hazard?  You be the judge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During a commercial break, I got up to grab my sweatshirt.  As I was putting it on, I plopped down (rather forcefully, in hindsight) into the papasan.  And as it began to tip over, I made a horrified, prolonged glance at my friend as she watched me fall over in slow motion.  I tried to stop myself from falling but my arms were restricted by my half-on sweatshirt, t-rex style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the seat finally came completely off the base and landed on the ground, it of course rolled back and forth several times, much to the chagrin of my other friend, who I had landed on top of.  Unable to pull myself up from a combination of sweatshirt entanglement and gut-renching laughter, I rolled helplessly back and forth for a minute or two until I regained composure and had my wits about me enough to pull my sweatshirt all the way on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's why I now officially distrust papasans.  First they lure you into a false sense of security with their extreme comfort and large size.  Next thing you know, you're falling all over yourself in slow motion with no way to stop yourself.  Fucking papasan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-1041144048740479634?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/1041144048740479634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/1041144048740479634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/09/fucking-papasan.html' title='Fucking papasan'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-9060762280140474169</id><published>2007-09-05T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T11:04:27.112-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving'/><title type='text'>Moving sucks</title><content type='html'>Today I am moving for the third time this summer.  Although I did this exact same thing last summer, that doesn't make it any less of a hassle or any more enjoyable.  The only good thing that comes from moving is that it forces me to clean my room and to get rid of old junk that I don't need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently waiting for my mother to come and help me move (a last minute decision, made in part by her own parental proddings) and I've been trying to "pack" my buttload of clothes into garbage bags to minimize difficulties, since everyone knows that clothes are probably the most pain in the ass thing to move.  The worst part to pack is the clothes on hangers - whose idea was it to hang clothes up anyway?  Stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some things that I've realized should've appeared by now while packing but have failed to do so yet:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/lost-vibrator.html"&gt;Vibrator&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;CDs from car&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Various items of clothing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;And here are some things that have spontaneously appeared in my room, much to my excitement:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 GB flash drive&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;An extra pair of scissors (probably stolen accidentally - oops!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Plenty of AA batteries&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;An exorbitant amount of cash, hidden in various places around my room&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Judging by the swiftness of my last move (which was done all on my own, thank you very much) and the level of preparedness I'm at right now, I feel comfortable saying that this should be the smoothest move of them all.  At least, that's the hope, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-9060762280140474169?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/9060762280140474169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/9060762280140474169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/09/moving-sucks.html' title='Moving sucks'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-1483659379004529816</id><published>2007-08-24T01:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T02:00:56.531-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>"Stupid for you"</title><content type='html'>(Hey, remember that ambitious plan to blog every day?  Yeah, that was a good idea...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the premiere of the Hills, my favorite summer song "&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Umbrella_%28song%29"&gt;Umbrella&lt;/a&gt;" was played, as well as an acoustic cover by some then-unknown artist (I was unfamiliar at least).  Of course I looked up the artist, &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=589Mvlz6LWE&amp;mode=related&amp;amp;search="&gt;listened to her cover&lt;/a&gt;, and discovered a pretty cool singer/songwriter type with a lovely voice by the name of &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/mariedigby"&gt;Marié Digby&lt;/a&gt;.  Here's one of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fqzLclWPY_w"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fqzLclWPY_w" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-1483659379004529816?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/1483659379004529816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/1483659379004529816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/stupid-for-you.html' title='&quot;Stupid for you&quot;'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-607745305539511774</id><published>2007-08-19T00:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T01:04:03.575-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Shake it off</title><content type='html'>Earlier this week I locked myself and my two roommates out of my apartment at 6pm and had to wait for our fourth roommate to get home from work at 10pm before we could get back into the apartment.  Fortunately none of us were any worse for wear - aside from my badly damaged pride, everyone was in pretty happy spirits, all things considered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then today I locked my keys in my car and I have to wait for my parents to bring me a spare key tomorrow.  I love being an idiot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a rough week, and if there was ever a reason for some &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Always_Be_My_Baby"&gt;Mariah therapy&lt;/a&gt;, it's tonight...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-607745305539511774?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/607745305539511774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/607745305539511774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/shake-it-off.html' title='Shake it off'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-3291356986886075932</id><published>2007-08-17T01:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T01:31:29.625-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Orange Tic Tacs</title><content type='html'>... Breath mints, candy, or pure happiness?  You be the judge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-3291356986886075932?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/3291356986886075932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/3291356986886075932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/orange-tic-tacs-breath-mints-candy-or.html' title='Orange Tic Tacs'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-5987432037737899410</id><published>2007-08-13T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T23:31:35.717-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babies'/><title type='text'>Oh baby</title><content type='html'>My niece Camille is nearly 8 months old now and is a perfect sweetheart.  She's talkative (not really any words yet, but boy does she babble!), observant, smiley, and fucking adorable.  We all love her and - seeing as she's got three sets of grandparents - she's truly brought the family together like never before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also pissed all over my mom the other day while she was getting her diaper changed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;THE STORY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were babysitting Camille before my party this weekend so my brother and his wife could take the weekend off for fishing.  My mom had twisted her ankle in a bad way and was essentially bed-ridden, so when Camille needed to have her diaper changed, I bravely and stepped up to bat.  After all, I've changed baby diapers before, no big deal, yeah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out Camilla had really let 'er rip.  I opened the diaper to large gobs of &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);"&gt;mushy greenish poo&lt;/span&gt; and I faltered.  My mom though this was pretty funny and volunteered to take over for me, being the generous mother that she is.  So, I helped her down from the recliner to kneel in front of the couch in a position that she could manage without hurting herself further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as mom had removed the soiled diaper, Camille &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;started to pee&lt;/span&gt;.  My mom frantically grabbed a diaper and held it on the... peeing area until Camille had stopped (or so we thought).  Of course, she had caught my mom by surprise and didn't manage to sop up all of it, so she grabbed some wipes and started to clean it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she started peeing again.  My mom reached for another diaper, but this time it was &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);"&gt;way&lt;/span&gt; too late.  Camille got pee &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;all up her back&lt;/span&gt;, soaking her one-sy, and it's all over her changing pad.  Again, my mom held a diaper to Camille until way past when she has finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point it became clear that Camille needed to be washed.  I started to fill the sink with water while my mom stripped Camille for a bath.  As my mom stood Camille up to pull the one-sy over her head, I noticed her peeing &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);"&gt;for the third time&lt;/span&gt;.  Unfortunately my mom did not see this until I yelled "MOM!" and pointed to the baby.  By this point, a sizeable puddle had formed in the changing pad and we were both amazed by the apparent size of this kid's bladder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything ended up just fine of course - we bathed her and yes, she eventually stopped peeing. It was an interesting experience and it certainly gave me a heightened appreciation for mother's everywhere and the shit that they put up with (literally, in this case).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-5987432037737899410?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5987432037737899410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5987432037737899410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/oh-baby.html' title='Oh baby'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-3041425983240257592</id><published>2007-08-09T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T23:01:54.529-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexy times'/><title type='text'>The lost vibrator</title><content type='html'>My dad thinks he has a sense of humor.  Whenever he and my mother have helped me move (several times now in the past few years) and he's off in some corner attending to some harmless task, he likes to pop his head up and go "Oh, a stash of condoms!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, this joke only works because&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;My dad and I have the kind of relationship where we can joke about things like this, and&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I actually have/had a condom stash in my room&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Fortunately, neither of my parents have ever found said stash because I'm sure I would endure a lifetime of teasing from them if they ever did uncover it.  However, because my parents are cool, I never really worried too much about it.  I was always far more concerned that they'd find my vibrator, the discovery of which I'm convinced would be much more awkward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, this story does not end with either of my parents finding my vibrator because I've somehow lost it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes this most interesting is the fact that I don't ever recall removing my vibrator from my room at any point, but I'm positive that it would've been uncovered during my most recent moves, which it obviously has not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this presents a problem for me in my recent single-dom, for obvious reasons.  It's probably better this way anyway, that thing was a cheap piece of crap, maybe it's time for an upgrade...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-3041425983240257592?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/3041425983240257592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/3041425983240257592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/lost-vibrator.html' title='The lost vibrator'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-4962808743519394643</id><published>2007-08-08T22:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T23:36:02.330-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>S.O.L. at the D.O.L.</title><content type='html'>Went to renew my license today at the Department of Licensing downtown.  What I really wanted was to make a funny face for my drivers license, but after consulting with a few friends, I decided to tone down the idea and just try going for what I'd like to call the &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;nontraditional smile&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically that idea didn't work out at all.  As I stepped up to take the picture and get ready to make the funniest face you've ever seen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the guy asks me a question and just as I'm answering, takes the damn picture.  As the picture loads on a computer screen, he has the nerve to ask me if I want to take the picture again.  &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);"&gt;WTF MY MOUTH IS OPEN IN THE PICTURE, YES I WANT TO TAKE IT AGAIN&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it ended up okay because when I took it again, it was a decent picture, but it wasn't funny like I wanted.  I suppose I could've just kept the first one - which was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;technically&lt;/span&gt; funny - but it was too ugly-funny and not enough funny-funny, which wasn't okay with me.  Oh well, I can take a funny picture in another five years I suppose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-4962808743519394643?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4962808743519394643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4962808743519394643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/sol-at-dol.html' title='S.O.L. at the D.O.L.'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-7355428671422359586</id><published>2007-08-08T00:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T00:25:18.760-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>Happy birthday!</title><content type='html'>It's my birthday today, I'm 21.  Just in case you still haven't gotten me a gift, here are some ideas:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boyfriend (&lt;a href="http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-like-little-boys.html"&gt;you know the one&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cash&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Thanks ahead of time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-7355428671422359586?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/7355428671422359586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/7355428671422359586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy birthday!'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-7842584206005506471</id><published>2007-08-07T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:53.065-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Summer movies, Pt 2</title><content type='html'>I realized today that I've been out to see a lot of movies this summer so I've decided to dedicate yet another post to my new favorite sedentary hobby.  I know my movie watching has become pretty intense compared to the normal school year because Fandango.com has been given its own spot on my Bookmarks Toolbar, yowza!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What follows is a breakdown of the new movies I've gone to see this summer, a suggested tagline, and a few sentences on how I feel about the movie...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Transformers &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- "Badass motherfuckery all over the place."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up seeing this movie by myself through an ironic series of events.  This turned out to be unfortunate for me because the whole first half of the movie I was squirming with awe and nearly called someone just to brag about how badass the movie was.  I still want to go see this movie again because I loved it so much - the effects were amazing, the action was bomb, and I gotta love me some Shia.  Oh, and Megan Fox was out of control hot, like, out of this world, way unnecessarily hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ratatouille&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Disney, Pixar, Brad Bird = extreme genius."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I expected a lot from this film considering how much I adore &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The Incredibles&lt;/span&gt;, the other brainchild of Brad Bird and Pixar.  Although it didn't live up to its predecessor, the movie was pretty damn good.  Equal parts cute, charming, and funny, the movie was (of course) brilliantly animated, with so many scenes reminiscent of Bird it's not even funny.  I actually did see this one twice and I'll definitely buy it when it comes out on DVD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rrk1IkCw9cI/AAAAAAAAAEU/R8nD_sMd4Lc/s1600-h/RAT_122-remy-saffron.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rrk1IkCw9cI/AAAAAAAAAEU/R8nD_sMd4Lc/s320/RAT_122-remy-saffron.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096162874576926146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Ministry of Magic much?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes yes, lots of anticipation for this one.  Mostly I'd just like to say that Neville's hair was surprisingly tolerable and the casting for Luna and Umbridge was remarkable.  Can't wait for the special features on the DVD release!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Paris Je T'aime&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Je l'aime vraiment!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I saw this movie &lt;a href="http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/paris-je-taime.html"&gt;awhile ago&lt;/a&gt; and I had only gone to see it out of curiosity, I keep thinking about it, which to me speaks volumes.  The whole thing was so artistic and moving that I've been tempted to go see this one a second time too, just because of the feeling I got from watching the movie.  Probably another future DVD purchase...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;ntroducing the Dwights&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"And you thought BRITISH boys were cute..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was another movie-on-a-whim that I had read about and had sounded interesting.  For sure a good film but kinda depressing at the same time.  Very cute Australian boy in it though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Hairspray&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Don't take your Travolta-obsessed parents."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rrk17UCw9eI/AAAAAAAAAEk/IIBWwB4rcFU/s1600-h/edna.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rrk17UCw9eI/AAAAAAAAAEk/IIBWwB4rcFU/s200/edna.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096163746455287266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My parents are the ones in the theatre who make outrageously loud comments during the film, laugh obnoxiously at stale puns, and ask questions about what just happened.  They also love to elbow me in the side when something funny happens, which turned out to be unlucky for me because I was sitting between them getting elbowed from both sides.  Anyway, the movie was enjoyable (a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lot&lt;/span&gt; of singing) and my mom will surely buy it on DVD, though I dunno if I would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The Simpsons Movie&lt;/span&gt; - "The longest episode you'll ever see!"&lt;br /&gt;Not bad.  I wasn't impressed by any means, but I did have a good time and it was fairly classic Simpsons-brand humor with only a hint of that wacky, pop culture shit that most Simpsons episodes have nowadays.  I did enjoy seeing some things that are normally too "adult" for TV.  Would've liked to see more peripheral characters, but it was all good.  I'll always love the Simpsons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Becoming Jane&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I want to have James McAvoy's children."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/please-mum-i-want-some-more.html"&gt;You already know&lt;/a&gt; what I thought of this movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The Ten&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Waaaay out of control."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Even more so than &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Wet Hot American Summer&lt;/span&gt;, this film was beyond outrageous.  Good overall and I definitely had some good laughs, but this movie was so diculous, it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ri&lt;/span&gt;-diculous.  Sex with wooden dummys, Jesus Christ, and between convicted felons...  Go see it though, seriously.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's all for now.  This week I'll see Stardust, which I'm sure I'll have a few choice words for as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-7842584206005506471?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/7842584206005506471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/7842584206005506471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/summer-movies-pt-2.html' title='Summer movies, Pt 2'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rrk1IkCw9cI/AAAAAAAAAEU/R8nD_sMd4Lc/s72-c/RAT_122-remy-saffron.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-4946411394309986621</id><published>2007-08-06T00:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T00:23:58.238-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><title type='text'>Happy Anniversary, Nordstrom!</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow (or today, technically) is the last day of this year's Anniversary Sale at &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nordstrom"&gt;Nordstrom&lt;/a&gt;&lt;tear&gt;.  Granted, I've already been to the sale about four times now, but I offered to go one final time to pick up some things for my mother, so I will be doing some last minute shopping tomorrow downtown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier in the sale I purchased a messenger bag; within two days, the strap had started to rip.  Knowing Nordstrom's lax return policy, I returned the bag later that week, no questions asked, giving me another excuse to visit the sale.  It's customer service like this that makes gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside (is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; what an orgasm feels like?) when I shop at Nordstrom.  Who needs alcohol when I've got retail therapy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I found the sale pretty disappointing this year, I'd like to commemorate the end of the sale with the old Nordstrom Employee Handbook; the whole thing used to be printed on 5x7 gray index cards and distributed to employees upon hire:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/tear&gt;&lt;blockquote style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WELCOME TO NORDSTROM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're glad to have you with our Company. Our number one goal is to provide outstanding customer service. Set both your personal and professional goals high. We have great confidence in your ability to achieve them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nordstrom Rules: Rule #1: Use your good judgment in all situations. There will be no additional rules.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please feel free to ask your department manager, store manager, or division general manager any question at any time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-4946411394309986621?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4946411394309986621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4946411394309986621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/happy-anniversary-nordstrom.html' title='Happy Anniversary, Nordstrom!'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-5722500486068840161</id><published>2007-08-04T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:53.683-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Please mum, I want some more...</title><content type='html'>Last night I went to see &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Becoming Jane&lt;/span&gt; and it was just okay.  I will admit that I was partially distracted by the glory of James McAvoy, which may have kept me from appreciating the movie to its fullest, but I have no regrets.  In fact, James McAvoy gave quite an enjoyable performance...  I therefore dedicate this entry to Mr. McAvoy and a few other Scottish actors who have garnered my own, hard-won acclaim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;James McAvoy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where you've seen him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;Becoming Jane&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wimbledon&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why I love him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a very Hugh Grant-like way, James McAvoy has a sweet, endearing charm that's absolutely irresistible.  Plus, who ever thought a faun could be hot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrS3QkCw9ZI/AAAAAAAAAD0/bwHJDveJGX4/s1600-h/normal_eva_vermandel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrS3QkCw9ZI/AAAAAAAAAD0/bwHJDveJGX4/s400/normal_eva_vermandel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094898573643937170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ewan McGregor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where you've seen him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;Trainspotting&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Star Wars Episodes I-III&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Moulin Rouge&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Big Fish&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Island&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why I love him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I know he smokes and I know he has a big forehead-mole, but I can't help it, he's so damn adorable.  He sings, dances, and he's f-ing Obi Wan, come on!  Yeah, I'm pretty much in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrS4SECw9aI/AAAAAAAAAD8/MbLo0jP-Kxw/s1600-h/BoEM_069.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 227px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrS4SECw9aI/AAAAAAAAAD8/MbLo0jP-Kxw/s320/BoEM_069.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094899698925368738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Gerard Butler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where you've seen him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dracula 2000&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Phantom of the Opera&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;300&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why I love him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gerard's badass-factor is off the charts.  He's been Dracula, a phantom, and King Leonidas.  Granted, he wasn't exactly Mr. Thing as the phantom, but I can't resist a guy who sings, even if he is creepy, disfigured, and obsessed with a young girl...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrS5MECw9bI/AAAAAAAAAEE/N4pIa6ypXCo/s1600-h/fraser02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrS5MECw9bI/AAAAAAAAAEE/N4pIa6ypXCo/s320/fraser02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094900695357781426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Dougray Scott&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where you've seen him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;Deep Impact&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ever After&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dark Water&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why I love him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to lie, the only reason Dougray made this list was because of &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Ever After&lt;/span&gt;, one of favorite movies (which I also just recently watched).  In fact, I'm not sure that I recall him in any of his other movies, but that's alright.  His single performance as Prince Henry II secures his place on this list (and in my heart).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dougrayscottinfocus.com/gallery/images/giles04.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 180px;" src="http://www.dougrayscottinfocus.com/gallery/images/giles04.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-5722500486068840161?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5722500486068840161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5722500486068840161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/please-mum-i-want-some-more.html' title='Please mum, I want some more...'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrS3QkCw9ZI/AAAAAAAAAD0/bwHJDveJGX4/s72-c/normal_eva_vermandel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-4061034406215291013</id><published>2007-08-02T23:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:54.000-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><title type='text'>Losing things makes me a loser</title><content type='html'>Sunglasses and me don't get along very well for the most part.  My little Asian nose can't handle big or heavy sunglasses, but I don't really look good in smaller frames.  So you can imagine my jubilation at finding the perfect pair of sunglasses last weekend while shopping with friends at &lt;a href="http://www.nyandcompany.com/nyco/"&gt;New York &amp; Company&lt;/a&gt;.  I've basically been looking all summer long and I finally found a pair that not only fit, but that didn't look too shabby either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, in a wonderful twist of fate, I seem to have lost them already.  Yes, that's right, I've lost the perfect sunglasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've searched the only place I've been all day (work) and can only think of one other place they could possibly be.  If I can't find them, I'll have to go buy another pair before I die of a broken heart.  Until then, I'll just reminisce on the wonderful four days we had together...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrLSXUCw9WI/AAAAAAAAADc/0vp4G01vIc0/s1600-h/n10700242_34940230_7395.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrLSXUCw9WI/AAAAAAAAADc/0vp4G01vIc0/s320/n10700242_34940230_7395.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094365426468582754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-4061034406215291013?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4061034406215291013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4061034406215291013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/losing-things-makes-me-loser.html' title='Losing things makes me a loser'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrLSXUCw9WI/AAAAAAAAADc/0vp4G01vIc0/s72-c/n10700242_34940230_7395.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-1447616321204149478</id><published>2007-08-02T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T00:17:01.293-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Summer movies</title><content type='html'>Two movies come out tomorrow that I really want to see, and you should really want to see them too.  Well, at least one of them.  The second film might only be attractive to you if you have a vagina.  Either way, these are two good films that should keep you preoccupied from going to see the simultaneously-released &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Bratz&lt;/span&gt;, just in case you were in danger of getting some &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;brattitude&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The Ten&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever seen &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Wet Hot American Summer&lt;/span&gt;?  If not, borrow it from me and watch it, immediately.  It's amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the creators of this brilliant comedic gem have made a new movie called &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The Ten&lt;/span&gt;.  The movie features ten short stories, all based on the ten commandments.  See for yourself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dlKgqZw06Nc"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dlKgqZw06Nc" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fortunately for you, despite the movie's limited release, it's playing in &lt;a href="http://www.fandango.com/theten_53488/movietimes"&gt;a couple places&lt;/a&gt; that are close by, so take advantage of that and go see this movie.  It'll be awesome, lots of laughs I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/d/d6/Becoming_Jane.jpg/200px-Becoming_Jane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 241px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/d/d6/Becoming_Jane.jpg/200px-Becoming_Jane.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Becoming Jane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, so this recommendation is a bit self-indulgent.  I haven't even decided if I think this movie actually looks like it's going to be good or not, but I generally like Anne Hathaway and boy do I enjoy watching James McAvoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This movie is also in limited release but is still &lt;a href="http://www.fandango.com/becomingjane_102893/movietimes"&gt;playing at more theatres&lt;/a&gt; than &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The Ten&lt;/span&gt;, go figure.  If you want indulge your feminine side, go see this movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-1447616321204149478?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/1447616321204149478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/1447616321204149478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/summer-movies.html' title='Summer movies'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-5049230352571744501</id><published>2007-08-01T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:54.319-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Disney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Why I love Lilo and Stitch</title><content type='html'>As is a regular habit of mine and my roommates, &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrFDAkCw9UI/AAAAAAAAADM/hYNb4IptYck/s1600-h/200px-Movie_poster_lilo_%26_stitch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 260px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrFDAkCw9UI/AAAAAAAAADM/hYNb4IptYck/s320/200px-Movie_poster_lilo_%26_stitch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093926330487076162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;we had a Disney Movie Night in our apartment tonight. Tonight's feature?  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Lilo and Stitch&lt;/span&gt;, a traditionally animated feature released way back in the summer of 2002.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had seen this movie once before when was first released.  However, I don't believe that I blubbered like an idiot through the whole thing the first time around, like I did tonight.  Yes, that's right, I cried... A lot. At first I was just tearing up but by the end, I just let loose and was full on crying.  Thank goodness we keep a box of tissues next to the TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, this movie is unbelievably adorable in every possible way, but never strays into the overly saccharine IMHO, the main reason I'm not a huge fan of &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Monsters, Inc.&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might recall the innovative ad campaign employed by Disney prior to the release of the film, including fun trailers such as the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TtNEL4WgS_c"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TtNEL4WgS_c" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;From the ridiculously feisty Lilo ("I'm sorry I bit you... and pulled your hair... and punched you in the face...") to the equally lovable Stitch ("This is my family. I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good." - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;excuse my while I die a little&lt;/span&gt;), the film is fucking brilliant.  Beautiful watercolor backgrounds, spot-on voice acting, Elvis/Hawai'ian soundtrack, it's all great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I don't recall being enamored with this film after the first viewing, it will certainly be filed henceforth under "Disney favorites" in my brain.  Like &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Tarzan&lt;/span&gt;, this movie left a much better taste in my mouth after the second viewing (although I have yet to cry during Tarzan).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I strongly encourage you to go out and watch this movie again, it's good stuff.  Don't forget to grab a box of tissue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrFFzECw9VI/AAAAAAAAADU/wQvi3vv9Y-M/s1600-h/lilostitch2.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrFFzECw9VI/AAAAAAAAADU/wQvi3vv9Y-M/s320/lilostitch2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093929397093725522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-5049230352571744501?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5049230352571744501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5049230352571744501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/08/why-i-love-lilo-and-stitch.html' title='Why I love Lilo and Stitch'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RrFDAkCw9UI/AAAAAAAAADM/hYNb4IptYck/s72-c/200px-Movie_poster_lilo_%26_stitch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-6265781054258311254</id><published>2007-07-31T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:54.731-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Disney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>Nickelodeon 0; Disney 1</title><content type='html'>Do you all remember &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grimm%27s_Fairy_Tale_Classics"&gt;Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics&lt;/a&gt; from when we were little kids?  I do, and it was amazing beyond all belief.  The best part about it is that you can now find &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/profile_videos?user=Jeffp23"&gt;complete episodes on YouTube&lt;/a&gt; for your viewing pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just one example of the kind of show that needs to be released on DVD.  I just bought a whole lot of &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Rocko's Modern Life&lt;/span&gt; from eBay that I'm terribly excited to be getting. However, similar searches for other beloved cartoon shows on eBay yield slightly less successful and far more inappropriate results:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rq_vdkCw9TI/AAAAAAAAADE/eQYtpI4DEMs/s1600-h/00oz3.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rq_vdkCw9TI/AAAAAAAAADE/eQYtpI4DEMs/s320/00oz3.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093552994749838642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rq_vZUCw9SI/AAAAAAAAAC8/njhnS2f-ok0/s1600-h/00nx4.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rq_vZUCw9SI/AAAAAAAAAC8/njhnS2f-ok0/s320/00nx4.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093552921735394594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So yeah, probably won't be buying those shirts anytime soon.  But if Nickelodeon decided to release any of the following TV shows on DVD, I'd be much obliged:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;Rocko's Modern Life&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Angry Beavers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kablam!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Salute Your Shorts&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hey Dude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank goodness for Disney, who releases so many of their old TV shows on DVD it makes me want to goo myself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Chip 'n Dale Rescue Rangers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;TaleSpin&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Gargoyles&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;DuckTales&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Goof Troop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;We all know by now that companies like Nickelodeon have &lt;a href="http://www.azcentral.com/ent/tv/articles/1019tvondvd19.html"&gt;everything to gain&lt;/a&gt; by releasing their old shows on DVD so I'm not quite sure why they're dragging their heels.  I don't even need any special features here, I'd just like some good ol' reminiscing fodder for the long, boring, summer nights.  Until then, I guess I'm stuck with fan-subbed anime and marathons of &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The Hills&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;on &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.the-n.com/"&gt;The-N&lt;/a&gt;.  Or videos like this that keep me wishing for more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1EkmnlmtNLo"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1EkmnlmtNLo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YNmnfBumkLc"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YNmnfBumkLc" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-6265781054258311254?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/6265781054258311254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/6265781054258311254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/nickelodeon-0-disney-1.html' title='Nickelodeon 0; Disney 1'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rq_vdkCw9TI/AAAAAAAAADE/eQYtpI4DEMs/s72-c/00oz3.gif' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-5132074319028333888</id><published>2007-07-31T12:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T20:02:56.672-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><title type='text'>I like little boys</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I played intramural softball, the first of the single-elimination playoffs (which we predictably lost - haven't won a game all quarter).  Now softball is definitely not my game, and most of my time on defense in right field was spent eyeing the boys on the field next to us, warming up for a game of ultimate&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was then that it occurred to me that I really need to find a way to meet people (read: boys) who are my own age, or older.  Somehow being around freshmen and high schoolers has turned me into even more of pervert than I normally am, and this needs to be remedied as soon as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the &lt;a href="http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/10-years-of-being-potterhead.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Harry Potter&lt;/span&gt; book launch&lt;/a&gt;, I asked my friends what the youngest age is appropriate for me to be crushing on.  Without missing a beat, the response I got from my friend's boyfriend was "half your age plus 7," which I responded to with an enthusiastic "YES!"  There is clearly something wrong with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here it is: once the school year starts up, I vow to spend less time crushing on boys who are more than a year younger than I am (that seems like a reasonable cutoff, yeah?).  Because even though it's totally legal and they're super cute and you know what they say about grass on the field... It simply isn't healthy, despite being being just as beautiful and natural as other relationships.  I mean, it's not wrong if we love each other, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*Seriously though: studly boys with their shirts off, tossing discs around, wearing baseball hats.  I was okay with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-5132074319028333888?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5132074319028333888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5132074319028333888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-like-little-boys.html' title='I like little boys'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-335850640325198565</id><published>2007-07-30T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T01:05:45.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Regrets</title><content type='html'>My mom always told me to never leave a conversation angry.  I've done my best, but haven't always succeeded, it's a lot harder to do than you'd imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In general however, I'm not very good at arguing with people I care about when I'm angry.  You know that nasty trait that women get in the habit of when they're angry, so that all their anger just gets worse and worse by the second until you talk to them again?  Well that happens to me too, except when I see you the next time, my anger usually melts within seconds, typically not even long enough for me to get my point across.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when you got angry at me tonight, I melted.  Everything I was being irrational about became clear to me, but you didn't stay around long enough for me to tell you that.  You left the conversation angry, and I let you go.  I'm sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-335850640325198565?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/335850640325198565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/335850640325198565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/regrets.html' title='Regrets'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-4857056678650952157</id><published>2007-07-29T18:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:55.070-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><title type='text'>Fun with hats</title><content type='html'>I look good in hats.  It's a fact of life, just like the fact that &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rq1hfkCw9PI/AAAAAAAAACg/YpcFXq6g6X4/s1600-h/n10700242_34904049_8553.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rq1hfkCw9PI/AAAAAAAAACg/YpcFXq6g6X4/s200/n10700242_34904049_8553.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092833948505011442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;George Lucas will never again make another good film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer I've done a lot of shopping and have tried on dozens of hats of all different shapes and sizes.  Sometimes I try them on for a laugh (like this one from a costume shop on the right), but mostly I try them on because I appreciate my own natural ability to wear hats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;What makes a hat person?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've thought a lot about this matter because as fashion goes, I understand why there are certain items that I can pull off and others that I can't.  For instance, I'm short.  Yes, it's funny, I can sleep under the couch, hardy har.  But beyond that, I know I can't pull off those short little half-sweaters that are so popular (aside from the fact that I think they're already ugly anyway).  Anyway, the point is, there doesn't seem to be any defined characteristics of someone who pull-off hats, so what makes me so special?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quick search on &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?q=+hat+person&amp;ie=utf-8&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;oe=utf-8&amp;aq=t&amp;amp;rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&amp;client=firefox-a"&gt;Google&lt;/a&gt; gives us a &lt;a href="http://www.ediehats.com/library/articles/hatpeople.html"&gt;brief essay&lt;/a&gt; by a hat designer and her thoughts on the matter.  She essentially argues that hats, as a fashion piece, can be worn by anyone, and it's really more of a psychological barrier that keeps people from reaching their inner hat person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This seems like a load of bullshit to me.  Some people look good in hats (I am one of them) and some don't.  It has little to do with one's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to wear hats - even though I can wear them, I rarely do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So unless you know someone who's undergone a psychological transformation that has manifested itself in their ability to wear hats, I have no choice but to believe that hat wearing is just another one of my God-given abilities, granted to the few, the proud, the Marines.  Well, not the Marines, but the few and the proud, certainly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-4857056678650952157?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4857056678650952157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4857056678650952157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/fun-with-hats.html' title='Fun with hats'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/Rq1hfkCw9PI/AAAAAAAAACg/YpcFXq6g6X4/s72-c/n10700242_34904049_8553.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-5617837676720118669</id><published>2007-07-28T01:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T01:30:44.638-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Paris, Je T'aime</title><content type='html'>Just because it's late and I'm feeling sentimental, I want to recommend everyone to go to see &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Paris, Je T'aime&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nSZOGywlhzE"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nSZOGywlhzE" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;I just happened to see it advertised at a theatre here in the U-District but by the time I looked it up to see what it was about, the theatre had stopped showing it.  Fortunately, it was (and still is) playing downtown by the Seattle Center in a theatre on &lt;a href="http://www.fandango.com/amcloewsuptown3_aaayu/theaterpage?date=7/27/2007"&gt;Queen Anne&lt;/a&gt;.  Go see it, enjoy it, and fall in love with Paris.&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fandango.com/amcloewsuptown3_aaayu/theaterpage?date=7/27/2007"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-5617837676720118669?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5617837676720118669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5617837676720118669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/paris-je-taime.html' title='Paris, Je T&apos;aime'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-7648297458696389509</id><published>2007-07-27T21:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T01:30:44.649-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='perverts'/><title type='text'>Oops!  You're racist</title><content type='html'>Most of my friends have heard this story already but I feel like this it ought to be preserved for all of eternity.  It involves me and the studly men that I attract.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;PART ONE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday I was walking home from a friend's after dinner.  It was about 9 pm and I was only a few blocks from my apartment.  I was walking on a pretty busy street and there were a lot of people walking around still, including a person across the street walking in the same direction I was, of whom I was keenly aware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let me tell you a little about this guy.  He was tall, black, had a large beer belly, and had a shaved head.  He appeared to be coming back from grocery shopping since he had two full grocery bags and was wearing a t-shirt and shorts.  I'd guess he was in his mid-30s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He eventually crossed the street and it became apparent that he would soon pass me, so I started walking to the side a little.  At this point, there were three thoughts going through my head:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am a small girl.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm alone and it's kind of getting late.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm racist.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Right as I expect this guy to pass me, he instead walks right up beside me and starts talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Excuse me, I saw you walking and thought I'd introduce myself."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;He pulls two business cards out of his wallet and hands them to me.  He then proceeds to make awkward small talk with me, asking about whether I'm a student (I said that I was) and what I was studying (I said Linguistics), and on and on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time we've almost walked two block together - him asking questions, me trying to answer as shortly as possible.  Eventually he goes "I'm not trying to follow you home or anything, I just thought you should give me a call or e-mail me sometime.  Have a nice day," and turns down the street before my apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;PART TWO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, as I was walking to work on the Burke-Gilman trail, this guy about fifteen feet in front of me turns around and asks me what time it is.  You thought the last guy was a winner: this one is white, wearing sweat pants, has his greasy, curly hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, huge glasses, and is missing at least one tooth (that I can see).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"A quarter to twelve," I say politely, without moving any closer.  Then comes the line of a lifetime:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just wanted to tell you that I think you are really beautiful," he says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh... Thanks..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Talking to you has made my day.  I hope you have a nice day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You too," I smile rigidly and pull a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walk_Away_%28Kelly_Clarkson_song%29"&gt;Kelly Clarkson&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Flattery might cross the mind of a weaker woman.  However, I'd probably be more flattered by the attention of these two weirdos if I didn't picture the both of them acting this way around every random Asian girl they see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, those are the kinds of winners that I attract.  Which means if you're attracted to me, you will probably end up just like these two wonderful men.  I suppose I should just resign myself to the fact that I shall be doomed to be the object of many a pervert's affections based solely on the color of my skin.  Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The title for this entry was stolen from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://maddox.xmission.com/"&gt;Maddox&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-7648297458696389509?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/7648297458696389509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/7648297458696389509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/oops-youre-racist.html' title='Oops!  You&apos;re racist'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-4520303742617839021</id><published>2007-07-26T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T01:31:50.451-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Try cock and balls yourself</title><content type='html'>For a little bit of heaven in your mouth, &lt;a href="http://www.tcby.com/"&gt;TCBY&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-4520303742617839021?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4520303742617839021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4520303742617839021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/try-cock-and-balls-yourself.html' title='Try cock and balls yourself'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-5294234649642674053</id><published>2007-07-25T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:55.386-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frisbee'/><title type='text'>Sex v. ultimate frisbee</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;There comes a time during the development of a blog when the blogger must make a conscious choice to reveal or not reveal certain aspects of their personal life.  Being that I am fairly open about a few select topics in my life, let me just preface this entry by saying that - as it being a public blog might imply - I consider any subject matter published here to be under free range in casual conversation.  So try not to be uncomfortable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I struck gold this year when I managed to find a fun &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqflrkCw9NI/AAAAAAAAACM/pTDFVa3gMhA/s1600-h/deceptacon.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqflrkCw9NI/AAAAAAAAACM/pTDFVa3gMhA/s320/deceptacon.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091290440338044114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;group of guys to play ultimate frisbee with on a regular basis.  Once or twice a week (or three times, if we were really lucky) we'd go out and scrimmage for an hour or two and just have a good time.  We did intramural ultimate in the spring and did only okay, but the point was that we had a blast and got to experience some real competition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then school ended and all my frisbee pals went home for the summer.  No thanks in part to this, my summer has basically been like torture - no one to toss with, definitely not enough people to run a game with, so generally nothing to fill my free-time with.  My frisbee withdrawals have been accentuated by my recently acquired bachelorette status, making this summer a real party and a half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, I used to laugh at my friend when he told me that frisbee was his outlet to release pent up stress and aggression.  Mostly I laughed because at the time I was getting laid often enough to not have to worry about alternate methods of stress release.  Now, after nearly two months without any major physical activity of &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;any kind&lt;/span&gt;, I'd say I'm marching to a different tune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to toss yesterday (and the day before) for the first time since the end of school.  I'm not talking about tossing for funsies, I'm talking about my whole middle is sore today from full on &lt;a href="http://www.whatisultimate.com/what/what_glossary_en.html"&gt;hucking&lt;/a&gt; for several hours.  I broke nails, I have bruises, and I sweat like the out-of-shape asshole that I am.  It was like coming home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that last paragraph contained enough innuendo to get my point across.  Who needs boys when you've got frisbee?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/auqGozAKmBQ"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/auqGozAKmBQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Alicia's new pr0n.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-5294234649642674053?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5294234649642674053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/5294234649642674053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/sex-v-ultimate-frisbee.html' title='Sex v. ultimate frisbee'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqflrkCw9NI/AAAAAAAAACM/pTDFVa3gMhA/s72-c/deceptacon.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-6678216605996295476</id><published>2007-07-23T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:55.877-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Harry Potter'/><title type='text'>10 years of being Potterhead</title><content type='html'>Ten years ago, I was in SeaTac Airport with my mom trying find something to read to entertain myself for a few hours on the plane ride to California.  I chose two books to buy that day: &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone&lt;/span&gt; and some other random fantasy book that fell to the wayside, eclipsed by the novel that would spawn the massive intellectual franchise created by the now infamous J. K. Rowling.  I don't think I ever started that second book; instead, I read &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sorcerer's Stone&lt;/span&gt; twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqUcN0Cw9LI/AAAAAAAAAB8/jTU_0AgYwQk/s1600-h/hpdhcover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqUcN0Cw9LI/AAAAAAAAAB8/jTU_0AgYwQk/s200/hpdhcover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090505977446331570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have a lot of oddly distinct memories attached to the Harry Potter books that stand out to me much like that one: staying up Christmas night until 6 am to finish reading &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Goblet of Fire&lt;/span&gt; (which I still cry at the end of to this day), reading page 806 of &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Order of the Phoenix&lt;/span&gt; over and over again in disbelief, literally shrieking in horror after reading page 596 of &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Half-Blood Prince&lt;/span&gt;, and now, crying tears of sadness and joy ("Is this the moment?") at &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Deathly Hallows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think that the Harry Potter series is the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Star Wars&lt;/span&gt; of my generation, and that J. K. Rowling is somewhat of a George Lucas, except much better looking.  In that sense, I'm glad that I had the opportunity to take part in a movement that has defined my generation.  Mostly though, I'm glad to have been a part of something universal, a worldwide community that all share a single commonality: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;we love Harry Potter&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that the series has been completed after 10 long years, what do us Potterheads have to look forward to? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Re-reading the books without having to speculate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel much more at peace now that the series is over, the questions have been answered, and I don't have to scour each page for hints of what's to come.  I find this this kind of literary security very comforting and I'm sure so do many other fans.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Reminiscing about the series, and how, for 10 years, we got to be a part of something big.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;We were there for the book launches, the movie launches, &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/harryandthepotters"&gt;the concerts&lt;/a&gt;.  I have the costume, which is still being updated to perfection, by the way. We've actively been a part of a cross-cultural phenomenon and I know that I'll be happy to think back on these days, and how I participated in something that was bigger than life itself.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Reading the series to our children in the future.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a long way off (hopefully?), I know, but I still can't help feeling that being able to share the series with my own children will be a uniting experience.  Plus, sharing the HP love is always a good thing.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;The release of the final movies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Only two more movies to go!  If I feel at peace after finishing the books, I can't imagine how euphoric it will feel when both the movies &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; the books are finished!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqUenUCw9MI/AAAAAAAAACE/ASedNe8ypCQ/s1600-h/harry-potter-and-the-order-of-the-phoenix2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqUenUCw9MI/AAAAAAAAACE/ASedNe8ypCQ/s320/harry-potter-and-the-order-of-the-phoenix2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090508614556251330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-6678216605996295476?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/6678216605996295476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/6678216605996295476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/10-years-of-being-potterhead.html' title='10 years of being Potterhead'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqUcN0Cw9LI/AAAAAAAAAB8/jTU_0AgYwQk/s72-c/hpdhcover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-8867184352774692575</id><published>2007-07-20T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:56.051-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='linguistics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pants'/><title type='text'>Meet Alicia</title><content type='html'>Some important things you should know about me, in no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I am a dork.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Really, I am.  I don't (really) drink or party, and frankly I get kind of insulted when people assume that I just haven't "tried" either enough or in the right contexts.  I like Harry Potter and I've been known on occasion to read fanfiction.  I like computers and video games, though I wouldn't consider myself an expert with either.  I have terrible vision, asthma, I break out in hives around dogs/grass/&lt;a href="http://allergies.about.com/od/urticariahives/a/coldurticaria.htm"&gt;extreme cold&lt;/a&gt;, the list goes on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I play ultimate frisbee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not very good, but it's basically the only sport that I am willing to exert myself for.  I've met some of my better friends through ultimate and it's just a great way to get some exercise and pretend that I'm athletic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I'm majoring in&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://depts.washington.edu/lingweb"&gt;Linguistics&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://uwtc.washington.edu/"&gt;Technical Communication&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Some of the things I can get really excited about (other than technology and HP) include language in any form and the opportunity to format random crap, both of which fit conveniently into my two majors.  Unfortunately, I also happened to choose two majors that most people only have a passing familiarity with, if they've even heard of either.  I'll break it down for you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Linguistics&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;is the study of language at all levels.  This includes the rules for how sentences (syntax), words (morphology), and sounds (phonology) can be organized within any given language, and things like language acquisition, or computational linguistics (the study of how computers understand and process language).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Technical communication&lt;/span&gt; involves processing material of a technical nature (think topics in science or technology) and presenting it to a very specific audience in a way that meets their pre-determined needs and knowledge base.  A lot of TC is based around technical writing, which is classically exemplified as writing manuals, proposals, memos, resumes, etc., while also incorporating a design element.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I don't offend easily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I'm sure there are things that I do get offended by, I just can't think of them at the moment.  Some people might call me "racist," "sexist," or "ignorant," but I prefer to think of myself as "a heartless bitch."&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I don't like wearing pants.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I don't mean that in the sense that I'd rather wear some alternative (skirt, dress, etc.), I mean that at any given time, if I'm wearing pants, I'd rather not be. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqBa2BD-yFI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hbc8rgLmOdQ/s1600-h/pants+venn.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqBa2BD-yFI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hbc8rgLmOdQ/s200/pants+venn.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089167462973229138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This preference has put me in several embarrassing/humorous situations that are best not described in detail here.  If you want to know more, e-mail me and I swear I'll tell you - they're good stories, trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I'm single.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Doesn't really sound like a big deal, but it kinda is for me.  I've been in two long-term relationships, one right after the other, so that I haven't been actually single for about four years.  Kinda terrifying actually, and I'm doing my best to figure out what's what right now, but it's not easy.  Some of my ridiculous ways of trying to cope with the crippling loneliness include:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watching an exorbitant number of movies&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eating my feelings, usually in the form of tortillas, granola bars, or Goldfish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Being attracted to boys I really shouldn't be attracted to&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Shaving my legs as infrequently as possible (not entirely positive how this is related to me being single, I suspect it has more to do with me being lazy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Blogging&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;And that's about it, in a nutshell anyway.  Although I didn't intend for this entry to read like a personal ad, it seems to have come out that way, so if you happen to know any takers, send 'em my way.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-8867184352774692575?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/8867184352774692575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/8867184352774692575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/meet-alicia.html' title='Meet Alicia'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/RqBa2BD-yFI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hbc8rgLmOdQ/s72-c/pants+venn.bmp' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8954262405879847052.post-4835002238271581247</id><published>2007-07-19T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T20:42:19.571-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Harry Potter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>Birthdays and book launches</title><content type='html'>I've decided that I'm going to ask for a digital camera for my birthday from my folks.  I'm getting kind of tired of depending on my friends to bring a camera/take pictures, especially considering how long it takes everyone to eventually get their pictures up and shared.  The only person I know who keeps a quick digital picture turnaround time is Alan, who seems to be the only one who loves taking/sharing pictures just as much as I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is the big launch for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows&lt;/span&gt;, and amidst the &lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/07/19/AR2007071900484.html"&gt;media hype&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://investing.reuters.co.uk/news/articleinvesting.aspx?type=media&amp;storyID=nN18367292"&gt;scandalous leaks&lt;/a&gt;, I am sorry to say that my personal enthusiasm level plateaued a long time ago and I've never quite regained the same passion I once felt for the franchise.  I think it may be a combination of not being surrounded by my fellow HP-crazed friends anymore on top of a bad case of the summertime blues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depressingly, my horoscope for today is as follows:&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There is a lot of flirtatious energy around you -- romance is definitely favored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8954262405879847052-4835002238271581247?l=bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4835002238271581247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8954262405879847052/posts/default/4835002238271581247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluebirdandsing.blogspot.com/2007/07/birthdays-and-book-launches.html' title='Birthdays and book launches'/><author><name>Alicia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17373706050937423979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4l7de5b4234/STBZYhoK3JI/AAAAAAAAANQ/5j_0ssoe6G4/s1600-R/010205_9.JPG'/></author></entry></feed>
