<?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-1995162589239086277</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:37:38.456-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Sabbatical From Sanctity</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sabatical From Sanctity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15671424143910896138</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995162589239086277.post-8098447532416147294</id><published>2007-04-14T15:17:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-14T15:42:54.857-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Cry Baby Culture, Speaking of Don Imus</title><content type='html'>This is horrible, maybe even terrible, for me to say but I just have to. It is my way. To say things that shock and awe or simply cause people to wrinkle their noses at me while they look down them, so let me just be out with it. My husband is a Cry Baby. Not to say that he is a blubbering idiot but he is a big &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;friggin&lt;/span&gt;' man baby. I know maybe this isn't such a shocking subject but maybe next post I'll tell you about his balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been many things in the long 10 or so years we have been with each other but it is only now, as I grow as a woman and near 30, that I am actually awakening and taking into account all the things that actually occur in my life. I know that my husband is not the only one. Millions of women are living with men just like men. Men they have to roll their eyes at because they can't seem to find their own slipper, which by that way was just under the chair you were standing right next to (or too, I never &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;friggin'&lt;/span&gt; remember and I use lots of commas. Deal with it).  I think being a middle child only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;aggravated&lt;/span&gt; the inevitable situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I hear this man whine one more time about me not heating up a TV dinner, for example,  for him, because I care nothingfor him ahem,  I will pull my hair out strand my strand until I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;am left&lt;/span&gt; with an oozing red patch of baldness. I mean if I woke him up, because yes he was still asleep at 1 PM, he would have simply grumble something at me before &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;falling right&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;back asleep&lt;/span&gt;. And it's a TV dinner. I didn't spend hours preparing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Fillet&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;fucking Mignon&lt;/span&gt;. I spent three minutes in front of a microwave.&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt; And then&lt;/span&gt; I stirred the potatoes. I beleive my actual retort at the time was" Let me know next time you shit so I can wipe your ass."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995162589239086277-8098447532416147294?l=sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/feeds/8098447532416147294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995162589239086277&amp;postID=8098447532416147294&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/8098447532416147294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/8098447532416147294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/2007/04/cry-baby-culture.html' title='Cry Baby Culture, Speaking of Don Imus'/><author><name>Sabatical From Sanctity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15671424143910896138</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995162589239086277.post-5981851428544877638</id><published>2007-04-10T16:59:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T17:02:22.024-10:00</updated><title type='text'>All seriousness asside</title><content type='html'>So tonight my son told his bi-racial cousin he wasn't accepting kisses from black girls. I wish he had said something like "Sorry, I'm not into kissing my cousin" because I think the whole relative factor trumps the race one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995162589239086277-5981851428544877638?l=sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/feeds/5981851428544877638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995162589239086277&amp;postID=5981851428544877638&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/5981851428544877638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/5981851428544877638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/2007/04/all-seriousness-asside.html' title='All seriousness asside'/><author><name>Sabatical From Sanctity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15671424143910896138</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995162589239086277.post-1256423614904758135</id><published>2007-04-07T02:53:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-07T02:57:14.269-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah, she's a Republican</title><content type='html'>One Question Test....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This test only has one question, but it's a very important one. By&lt;br /&gt;giving an honest answer, you will discover where you stand morally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The test features an unlikely, completely fictional situation in which&lt;br /&gt;you will have to make a decision. Remember that your answer needs to&lt;br /&gt;be&lt;br /&gt;honest, yet spontaneous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please scroll down slowly and give due consideration to each line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE SITUATION:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are in Florida, Miami to be specific. There is chaos all around&lt;br /&gt;you caused by a hurricane with severe flooding. This is a flood of&lt;br /&gt;biblical proportions. You are a photojournalist working for a major&lt;br /&gt;newspaper,&lt;br /&gt;and you're caught in the middle of this epic disaster. The situation is&lt;br /&gt;nearly hopeless.  You're trying to shoot career-making photos. There are&lt;br /&gt;houses and people swirling around you, some disappearing under the&lt;br /&gt;water.&lt;br /&gt;Nature is unleashing all of its destructive fury..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE TEST:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly you see a woman in the water. She is fighting for her life,&lt;br /&gt;trying&lt;br /&gt;not to be taken down with the debris. You move closer.  Somehow the&lt;br /&gt;woman looks familiar. You suddenly realize who it is. It's  Hillary&lt;br /&gt;Clinton!&lt;br /&gt;At the same time you notice that the raging waters are about to take&lt;br /&gt;her under forever. You have two options: You can save the life of&lt;br /&gt;Hillary&lt;br /&gt;Clinton or you can shoot a dramatic Pulitzer Prize winning photo,&lt;br /&gt;documenting the death of one of the world's most powerful women (in her&lt;br /&gt;mind, at least).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE QUESTION:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the question, and please give an honest answer... Would you&lt;br /&gt;select high contrast color film, or would you go with the classic&lt;br /&gt;simplicity&lt;br /&gt;of black and white?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;initial&lt;/span&gt; reaction after reading this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOTHER (my mind even used an exasperated playful tone)! This from the woman who think MTV contributes to gayness and wants me to move to Florida. So she sends me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;email&lt;/span&gt; depicting it's destruction. If you could see my face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995162589239086277-1256423614904758135?l=sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/feeds/1256423614904758135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995162589239086277&amp;postID=1256423614904758135&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/1256423614904758135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/1256423614904758135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/2007/04/yeah-shes-republican.html' title='Yeah, she&apos;s a Republican'/><author><name>Sabatical From Sanctity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15671424143910896138</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995162589239086277.post-6207564878097193417</id><published>2007-04-05T15:07:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T15:34:29.012-10:00</updated><title type='text'>If you didn't know me......</title><content type='html'>I was just recently asked if I was a glass half full kind of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;girl&lt;/span&gt;. I do not consider myself a half glass full kind of girl, I like to think that I am in fact a realist hoping the glass will get filled back up kind of girl.  I like to look at things in the worst possible scenario so that when and if that very thing should happen I will not have been taken by surprise. I heard once that pessimists die younger than optimists but they usually die right. I still hold out hope for the good in mankind and all that shit. I was asked this question while standing  watching a group of a dozen or so men enjoying a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hump day&lt;/span&gt; cocktail after work. They milled about, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wreaking&lt;/span&gt; of macho. As I watched them someone commented at what a good haul &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; guys were, as if I had been admiring them in a desirable way. Maybe I should not have responded the truth that I had in fact been standing there wondering which one of those men, dressed in sharp suits and porcelain veneers, would go home that evening and beat his wife. Now mind you I am not a victim of domestic abuse and frankly I am not aware of anyone who is. However if you look at it in statistical sense one of those men is likely to lose it after those cocktails loosen him up  and his wife is waiting at the door, disheveled and angry. Judging by the looks I recieved I seriously think my brain is wired differently than most people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995162589239086277-6207564878097193417?l=sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/feeds/6207564878097193417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995162589239086277&amp;postID=6207564878097193417&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/6207564878097193417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/6207564878097193417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/2007/04/if-you-didnt-know-me.html' title='If you didn&apos;t know me......'/><author><name>Sabatical From Sanctity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15671424143910896138</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1995162589239086277.post-2297802484694055963</id><published>2007-04-02T04:53:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T04:59:34.268-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The truth is</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The most vile thing you can do to another person, much less a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;spouse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; or someone whom you pledge your loyalty, love, and possible admiration for, is to eat on their side of the bed. With the covers pulled back. I must tell you I came to this very conclusion while I pulled chunks of fresh Italian bread apart and smeared the soft fluffy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;innards&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; on a half stick of sweet salted butter. On his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;side of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;the bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;. With &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;the covers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; pulled back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1995162589239086277-2297802484694055963?l=sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/feeds/2297802484694055963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1995162589239086277&amp;postID=2297802484694055963&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/2297802484694055963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1995162589239086277/posts/default/2297802484694055963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabaticalfsanctity.blogspot.com/2007/04/truth-is.html' title='The truth is'/><author><name>Sabatical From Sanctity</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15671424143910896138</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
